#jumin fanfiction

[yoosungisbabie]

on call - day one

welcome to Jumin Week 2023! I know I've been gone for a long time, but this event always manages to bring me back. I hope you all are doing well, and I hope you enjoy all the works that will be shared during this wonderful week!

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: T - for teen and up audiences

prompt: free day!

warnings: female pronouns used for mc/reader ♡

word count: 3,266

ao3 link

“I just got out of the shower,” she finally said, making Jumin falter even further. His mind stuttered, multiple questions surfacing as he blinked quickly. “What does that have to do with this?” he wondered aloud, unable to stop himself before he could even think through his own question. She sputtered out a tense laugh, the noise tickling his senses even though he was on high alert. “Jumin, I’m na— I’m not…clothed? Gosh,” she sighed, and Jumin blinked quickly, shaking his head to clear his mind. Of course that was what she meant.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Jumin slowly twisted his pen closed, placing it back in the pen cup next to his monitor. He let his eyes scan over his paperwork and the correspondence pulled up on his computer, assessing whether or not he could consider his task done.

Just as he decided he was satisfied with the outcome, his phone began to vibrate violently in his pocket. It was rare that clients or business partners dialed his personal phone during working hours, so he reached into his suit’s inner pocket out of curiosity.

Flipping it over in his hand, he felt his eyebrows raise at the caller ID. His fingers twitched, and he hesitated for a brief moment before he accepted the call.

“Hello, MC. I’m at my office, but I have a moment to take your call,” he said, unable to help the small smile that began to spread across his lips.

“Hi, Jumin,” she sighed, sounding less than pleased. His anticipation to hear her voice chilled into concern, his posture tightening minutely.

“What’s wrong?” he asked immediately, disregarding any questions in his mind about why he felt so panicked.

“Oh, nothing!” she replied quickly, pausing and letting out another breath. “I just, um…” She pulled the phone away from her face to clear her throat.

“I need help with…something,” she spoke slowly, sounding very unsure. The whole situation had him unsettled, and he immediately stood from his chair, placing a steadying hand on his desk.

“What is it?” he wondered sternly, running through a mental checklist of personnel he trusted.

“I forgot something in my apartment, and I…can’t get it,” she continued, her voice strained.

“Are you injured? You sound like you are in pain,” he said worriedly, pressing his lips together as his mind raced.

“No, I’m fine, but um,” she clarified, calming him only slightly. “I forgot my towel.”

“No problem. I can send someone over immediately,” he said, pushing his chair aside and beginning towards his office door. “What instructions would you like me to give them?”

“No, you don’t have to— I mean,” she started, taking a deep breath. Jumin hesitated where he stood, waiting for her to continue.

“I just got out of the shower,” she finally said, making Jumin falter even further. His mind stuttered, multiple questions surfacing as he blinked quickly.

“What does that have to do with this?” he wondered aloud, unable to stop himself before he could even think through his own question.

She sputtered out a tense laugh, the noise tickling his senses even though he was on high alert.

“Jumin, I’m na— I’m not…clothed? Gosh,” she sighed, and Jumin blinked quickly, shaking his head to clear his mind. Of course that was what she meant.

“And you’re in a first-floor apartment,” he continued quietly, pushing his hair from his forehead. He tried to ignore the way his cheeks had warmed or the distracting route his mind was taking.

“Right, and I just need someone to grab my towel or even some clothes,” she sighed, sounding relieved that someone finally understood her predicament.

“Please send me your address. I will be there within 15 minutes,” he said decidedly, buttoning his jacket closed with one hand and pulling open his office door.

“What? Jumin, you don’t personally have to come, I just thought—“

“Nonsense. There are little to no staff members I would trust with this task,” he said as if his assistance was the only solution to her problem. In actuality, there were many more solutions that didn’t interrupt his workday, and he knew it.

“I suppose,” she relented, and he exhaled with finality, motioning to Jaehee as he strode past her.

“Okay, um. My towel! It’s in the laundry basket on the couch in the living room. I think,” MC said, and he made a mental note as he stepped into the elevator.

“And is your apartment door unlocked?” he wondered, hoping that her unprecedented entrance into the RFA had taught her even a little about prioritizing her safety.

“Oh. No…” she muttered, and he couldn’t hold back a crooked smile. Imagining her befuddled face brought only one word to mind. Cute.

“I’ll call a locksmith to meet me at your apartment,” he smiled, hearing her inhale quickly just before he pulled his phone away from his ear to multitask.

“No, it’s okay! I have a hidden key,” she provided, making his eyebrows furrow.

“I would suggest that you remove that in the future, but surprisingly, it will solve some of our problems today,” he said after a moment of thought. Unexpectedly, she cursed quietly, making Jumin pause as the elevator doors opened.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sighed. Jumin placed a hand against the door of the elevator, holding it open for a moment longer while he listened.

“Why?” he wondered, glancing around the parking garage until he watched Driver Kim pull forward to where he stood.

“I did something as dumb as forgetting my towel, and you’re going through all of this just to help,” she muttered. He could hear the way her lips were pouted through the phone, and it made him all the more anxious to render aid and arrive to her quickly.

“Humans can be very forgetful,” he offered, pulling open the car door and sliding in smoothly. He pulled his phone away from his face to put it on speaker, copying her address from their private message thread and forwarding it to Driver Kim. Putting his phone back up to his ear, he continued.

“I once forgot a client's date of birth during a business meeting and could have made them extremely uncomfortable,” he began, pulling his seatbelt over his lap and buckling it as the car pulled away.

“Luckily, I remembered not a moment too soon that they were born on August the 7th, and I redeemed myself. Not that they knew I had forgotten,” he said, raising his eyebrows as he heard her begin to laugh.

“I didn’t realize I was being funny,” he said, more to himself than to her. She caught her breath, giggling once more before responding.

“Thank you for cheering me up, Jumin,” she said warmly, making him reevaluate what he had said to her. Was that what he’d done?

“I’ll let you go now, but please arrive safely,” she said before he could reply, and he cleared his throat, nodding to himself.

“I will,” he agreed, hearing her hum in contentment.

“And thank you, again,” she breathed, chuckling lightly. He hesitated, fighting the inclination to answer her gratitude with dismissal, wanting to say that it was nothing. It started a strange sensation in his chest as he realized it wasn’t that he didn’t mind helping, but that he wanted to.

“I’ll be there soon,” was all he could say in reply, slightly disappointed in himself when he hung up instead of waiting for her to say her final goodbye.

The car ride there was all too short and much too long as he drowned in his own thoughts. Was he the first person she had called? Did this kind of thing happen often? What other things was she forgetful about? Who else would she have reached out to if he were unavailable?

Once they arrived and he stepped foot outside of his vehicle, Jumin tried to keep his thoughts clinical, focusing on the task at hand and not the way it was making him feel.

He entered the lobby with one of his security guards, glancing at the attendants behind the desk briefly and nodding. They gaped at him in silence as he walked to the elevator.

Once they arrived on her floor, Jumin instructed his guard to wait for him by the elevator doors. He then felt his heart begin to beat in a way he wasn’t quite familiar with. It only persisted as he approached her apartment, his chest feeling tight and warm in an almost uncomfortable way.

He double-checked the number on the door just above the peephole, pausing when he realized that she hadn’t told him where her hidden key was. Scanning the area, he hesitantly reached to feel along the top of the doorway and tapped lightly on the dusty surface until he bumped the key with his fingers. Pulling it down to eyesight, he frowned, wondering why she would put herself in danger in such a way.

He knocked thrice, pausing briefly before pushing the key into the lock and turning it until it clicked. Pressing his lips together in anticipation, he slowly opened the door.

“Please excuse me,” he spoke softly, stepping inside and taking the key from the lock. He closed the door behind himself, looking around quickly.

Her apartment wasn’t very large, but it was decorated in a way that confirmed without a doubt that she indeed lived there. It felt refreshing, with colors that reminded him of her and open spaces, and he could see little touches that were undoubtedly hers. He felt some of the tension in his chest fade, placing the key down on the table near the door and thinking of all the security measures he would like to talk with her about.

Looking down, he instinctively began taking his shoes off. Once he had, he glanced around for a pair of extra slippers for him to use, finding only a small pair of pink, flowery ones. He slipped them on, feeling the back ends hit his heels and wondering if he should just continue in his socks. Feeling strangely apprehensive, he stepped further into her apartment in her slippers, reminding himself of the task at hand.

“MC?” he called out, scanning the apartment to find where she could be. He noticed a closed door as he stepped through to her living area, nearly bumping into the back of her couch. Remembering her instructions, he looked down to see a basket overflowing with clean laundry sitting on the couch. He paused, seeing undergarments in the basket as well as towels and clothes. As carefully as he could, he picked out a blue towel, managing to lift it from the basket without disturbing anything else.

He folded the bath towel over his arm, glancing back to the door where he thought he was hearing movement from.

“MC? It’s Jumin,” he said, wondering why his jaw felt stiff.

“Jumin?” she called out from behind the door, making his eyes widen. He forced himself to take another step forward, clearing his throat.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied, stopping a few paces from the door.

“Thank goodness,” he heard her sigh. His relief quickly turned into gripping tension when the doorknob began to turn. His eyes widened briefly before he shut them tight, turning his head and making sure he still had the towel.

“I have your towel here,” he spoke, his voice coming out strained. He heard the door open, feeling the humidity from the shower rush out to meet him.

“Thank you so much, Jumin,” she said, a smile of relief evident in her voice. He couldn’t reply just yet, taking the towel and handing it out toward her voice. When he extended his arm fully, his hand bumped hers, making his eyes fly open before he could even think.

Luckily, it was only her forearm that was extended past the door. She felt around blindly until she found the towel, his hand lingering in the empty air as he watched her close the door.

“I really appreciate it,” she reiterated, her voice muffled. “I can’t thank you enough, really. I feel so bad that you came all the way here.” He composed himself again, picking a small, blue string from his sleeve with shaky hands.

“It’s no bother at all,” he said loudly enough for her to hear. “Is there anything else you need while I’m here?” he found himself asking, his hands tensing at the thought of making her uncomfortable or overstaying his welcome.

“Oh no, not at all,” she answered quickly, her voice moving farther from the door.

“Alright, then I’ll be on my way,” he said, sparing another glance at the door before starting towards the exit.

“Jumin!” she called, startling him. He rushed back over to the door, his hand lingering just above the metal of the doorknob.

“Yes? What is it?” he pressed, resting his other hand against the wood of the door.

“Do you have time to stay?” she wondered, surprising him so fully that he was silent for a moment.

“Stay?” was all he could get out, his mind racing much too quickly.

“I haven’t seen you since the party, so if you would give me just a minute to get dressed?” she asked, making his eyebrows furrow together. She just wanted to see him?

“O-of course,” he nodded, backing away from the door just a bit.

“Unless you’re busy?” she prompted.

“I have time,” he responded quickly, feeling his thoughts bouncing around uncontrollably.

“Okay! Please make yourself at home,” she said, her smile present in his mind as she spoke.

Jumin stepped fully away from the door, ignoring the way his phone began to buzz more and more often in his pocket.

He took another look around, glancing at the large windows that looked out over the courtyard of the apartment complex. After a moment, he reached up and pulled just the sheer curtains closed, hoping that would make her feel more at ease.

He was drawn towards her television that was mounted on the wall, seeing a plethora of framed pictures on the console beneath it. Scanning each one, he stopped when he landed on the group photo of the RFA that had been taken at the party. It had taken a few minutes to get everyone in one place and to get a picture that everyone was satisfied with, but the picture she had framed was not the final picture they had all decided on. Instead, she had chosen one where everyone was bickering about where to stand, how to pose, and what Luciel should and shouldn’t be doing. He hadn’t gotten to look through all of the photos taken that day, but this still in particular felt like something he needed to have for himself. In the photo, he noticed that his gaze was focused on MC completely, and the expression he was wearing was not one he believed he’d ever seen on himself.

The door opening behind him startled him out of his thoughts, making him jump and turn to look. He turned back around just as quickly, seeing MC begin to step out in just her towel. His hands trembled slightly, the tips of his ears feeling all too warm.

“Nearly done, sorry! Just grabbing some clothes,” she explained, the soft sound of her feet against the wood floor disappearing down the hall towards what he guessed was her room. He was glad he hadn’t wandered in that direction.

Opening his eyes slowly, he focused his thoughts on the photo in front of him once more. Although the party had been less mundane than in the past, the only thing that got him through was seeing MC flourish in that party hall. Apart from looking stunning, she was kind, friendly, and wildly charismatic that night. It was a miracle in motion for Jumin, and it was truly a shame that they hadn’t seen each other since that night.

He turned away from the photo, hoping to distance himself from the surge of emotion that was building in his core that he couldn’t name. She stepped out of her room just then, looking excited to see him as she lit up with a beautiful smile.

The wave of emotion he’d tried to elude washed over him almost painfully, freezing his muscles in place. He was unable to stop the thoughts rushing through his mind, pressing his lips together as he mentally formed a very concerning one.

Is this what love feels like?

He didn’t know what romantic love meant, he only knew that he had decided never to engage in it. Whatever was happening to him right then didn’t feel wrong, but he also couldn’t quite put a label on it. He just knew that he wanted to keep seeing her, no matter what it meant.

“It’s so good to see you again,” she grinned, moving quickly towards him as he tried to regain control of himself. He felt his lips pull back into a smile, his shoulders relaxing and his hands losing their fists.

“Likewise,” he breathed out, watching her blink at him with wide eyes.

“I don’t mean to keep you long, I just…” she started, dropping her smile and then immediately turning her lips upward into another one, almost as if she too couldn’t help herself. “I wanted to see you,” she finished quietly, completely unaware of the way her small admittance made his heart stutter in his chest.

“Anytime,” he nodded without hesitation, watching her meet his eyes in confusion.

“I know how busy you are,” she said, raising her eyebrows for him to agree.

“Anytime. Really,” he repeated, thinking to himself that no matter the issue, he would drop anything if she was the one who was calling. He watched as she pulled her eyes from his and met them again multiple times, her smile growing timid. He blinked, taking his eyes from her and wondering if he was making her uncomfortable.

“Thank you, again,” she said to break the silence, bowing to him and making him frown.

“There’s no need for that,” he said quickly, taking a step forward and drawing her attention down to the ill-fitting slippers on his feet. She grinned, straightening up again and softening at him.

“You’re very kind, Jumin. I admire that about you,” she continued. He felt himself reaching to adjust his cufflinks, signaling to himself that he needed a change of scenery or he would more than likely do something he would regret.

“MC,” was all that left his lips, making her smile falter and the air grow thick around them.

“Well, I shouldn’t keep you. Please get back safely,” she smiled, wringing her hands together. He nodded, breaking eye contact with her and turning himself towards the door.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he said, seeing her shoulders move towards her ears from the corner of his vision. “I have many topics I’d like to discuss with you. Such as security,” he continued, trying to shift his mind away from the precarious edge at which he’d found himself.

“Security?” she repeated, watching him bend down to place her slippers back where he had found them. Stepping into his shoes, he hummed in agreement.

“You never told me where your key was,” he continued, raising an eyebrow at her and watching as her lips tightened in chagrin. Before a moment had passed, her expression broke into laughter, making another effortless smile stretch onto his lips.

“I’ll be more careful,” she chuckled, taking the key from the table and turning it over in her hands. He nodded, feeling his sternum buzz at the thought of returning to her apartment in the future.

“I’m counting on it,” he said softly, bowing slightly before he opened the door and stepped through. She let it close behind him, not saying another word.

Jumin couldn’t help but linger by her door, his back to it as he convinced himself to keep moving. Once he finally found it in himself to do so, he started back towards the elevator and pulled his phone out, checking his calendar for his next available free day.

~~~~~

hello! thank you all so much for reading!! I have been absolutely not on tumblr at all, but like I said, I can't stay away from Jumin Week <3 if you enjoyed this, please consider liking and reblogging! it really means a lot to me, especially if you leave a note in the notes or in your tags!

again, thank you so much, and I hope you all have a great day!

Mel x

#juminweek2023 #jujuw23 #jumin week 2023 #jujuwd1 #jumin #jumin han #han jumin #my writing #jumin fanfic #jumin fanfiction #mysme #mystic messenger #mysme fanfic #mysme fanfiction #ahhhh i haven't written in so long #im glad i already had this one in the works #i love him so much #happy birthday <3 #my laptop is being a pain so I'll add an event banner another day TT

[xelasrecords]

Thank You for the Food

Han Jumin x Reader

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

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

Words: 3.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

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

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

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

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

Your heart makes way for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If it's lower you'd be normal."

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

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

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

His hands are still on you for longer than necessary.

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This innovation could invent a new illness in people.

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you briskly say.

His smile turns into a frown. "No?"

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

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

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

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

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

Keyword: try.

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

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

So much for pretension.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The salt has.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you serious?"

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

"So now you drink poison."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't play coy, Jumin."

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

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

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

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

Not Jumin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

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

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

Bother you?

Bother you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That wasn't a compliment."

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. "You'd be scandalised."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like your ginseng chicken soup?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I simply prepared for all the possible scenarios."

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

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

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

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

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

-

Footnotes:

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

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

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

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

[wrrrenff]

Mystic Messenger: Valentines Day Head Cannons

What these guys would do with you for valentines day! With valentines coming up, what better time to start putting out some valentines related content. There may be some references to the valentines dlc but mainly my own interpretation of what they'd each do/say. Also some of these will take place in the after endings and some wont.

Yoosung:

You're his first valentine so boy is STRESSED trying to plan something perfect

Will go to Zen for advice and takes detailed notes

Saves his money for a month or two to take you out to a really nice restaurant

Gets you a big bouquet of roses

When you've sat down for dinner this poor boy is sweating and a little shaky

He just want everything to be perfect

When you grab his hand and reassure him that anything he did would've been perfect because it was him, he starts to calm down

"MC you're the best thing that's ever happened to me. I just wanted to make this night as perfect as you!"

After dinner, he will take you to and ice cream shop for dessert and then take you to a park nearby to walk through while eating

He'll pull you to a bench nearby and share a nice stargazing moment

Excitedly explains some of the constellations and which stars are actually planets

Ends the night back in the apartment with cuddles and kisses

Jaehee:

Valentines isn't one of Jaehee's favorite holidays but she knows you enjoy it

Decides to plan a nice valentines day in since you both have been so busy at the cafe lately

Cooks your favorite meal for dinner and pairs it with a lovely wine

Followed by you favorite dessert and a cup of after dinner coffee

Feeling a little buzz from the wine, you throw on some slow romantic music and you slow dance with each other for a bit

"I'm so lucky to have met you MC. You changed my life."

Ends the night by falling asleep on the couch cuddled up with both of your favorite one of Zen's musicals playing in the background

Zen:

If there was a competition for most romantic, he would win by a mile

Wakes you up with breakfast in bed

Takes you out to do a couples spa day

He usually treats you like royalty but today especially

Gets a call from his 'manager' and has to go to rehearsal last minute to rehearse an important scene

Super apologetic but reassures you the valentines celebration of you will continue later

Sends you to the movies to keep you busy

Flash forward and Zen is picking you up from the movies and takes you to his secret spot that overlooks the city

You notice there is a whole elaborate sunset picnic set up waiting for you

"I'm sorry I had to lie about work. I just wanted to make today as special as you are"

After your picnic you head home and find the whole house dimly lit by candles and rose pedals leading to the bedroom and covering your bed

The man really is a huge romantic

Jumin:

I feel like he keeps his valentines plans pretty classic

He did want to do something extravagant with you like travel out of the country was a little confused when you said you couldn't accepts something so big like that

Ultimately after some explanation from you he understood and dialed it down

Takes the day off of work to spend as much time as possible together

Asked his private chef to make you a special breakfast

In the afternoon, you go have lunch on his yacht

And for dinner, he gives you a gorgeous outfit personally tailored for you, and takes you out to and extremely upscale restaurant

After an incredible dinner and a few glasses of wine he takes you home and you guy get a little hot and heavy

After certain activities take place, he draws a nice relaxing bath for you both to end the night

"You really are an amazing person MC. I can't imagine the rest of my life without you."

Seven:

Like Yoosung, boy is nervous and has never done this before

Does a ton of research on perfect valentines dates and romantic gestures to do for your partner of valentines day.

He decides to take you to a cat cafe!

But not before surprising you with roses first

He read he's supposed to do that and he's so relived when you love them

After the cat cafe, you go check out the new show at the planetarium

When it comes to dinner, he felt too much pressure going out to a fancy restaurant, he orders in some really nice food

To really help with the romantic atmosphere, he dims the lights, lights some candles, and starts playing some of your favorite music

He looks at you with so much love and adoration throughout the night

"Being with you feels right. Like I found where I'm supposed to be. I will never get tired of being with you. Thank you for loving me MC."

You finish of the night by having a movie marathon all cuddle up on the couch snacking on honey buddah chips in true Seven fashion.

#fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic writing #my fanfic #mystic messenger #headcanon #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme zen #mysme 707 #mysmes #mysme #mysme saeyoung #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #mysme yoosung #mysme jumin #mysme jaehee #zen mystic messenger #jaehee #mystic messenger 707

[threadbaresweater]

The Silent Treatment | Jumin Han

She's angry, and she won't tell him why. Thankfully, Jumin knows a few creative ways to coax it out of her.

I wrote this over two years ago, but it's such a personal comfort fic when I'm feeling out of sorts. It's not meant to be reader insert, though you could certainly interpret it that way. At the time, I was writing with the game MC in mind (long, dark hair, brown eyed, kind of generic). Content warnings: NSFW. Female main character, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, unhealthy communication practices (MC refuses to talk to Jumin with her words). 1.4k words. Divider by @/cafekitsune

She’d been quiet since they left a rather uptight dinner party earlier that evening; Jumin, admittedly, had been rather preoccupied with guests, with other business people. She excused herself halfway through the after dinner cocktail hour and retreated to the courtyard, pretending to be deeply interested in the ornate fountain; with a few glasses of wine and the din of conversation at her back, she grew bored, dizzy, sleepy. Jumin had bought her a new dress for the occasion– royal blue, off-the-shoulder, a scandalous slit along her right leg, and she suddenly felt cheap and attention seeking, wishing she’d thought to grab her shawl from the coatroom before venturing out alone. 

Jumin found her long after most of the other guests had left. He wasn’t angry; no, he was anxious because she’d slipped away without him having noticed, and perhaps even a little disappointed in her and himself for the situation at hand. Tentatively, he cupped her elbow and watched her shoulders tense in response, though she didn’t turn around. “Let’s go home, my love,” he said simply; she allowed herself to be led to the car in silence, where she turned toward the window and refused, still, to talk to him.

They arrived home in deafening silence. She faced forward in the elevator ride, arms crossed, cheeks blazing, jaw set firm. Jumin continued to fret, though mostly inward– his heart beat fast, his stomach bottomed out, his head tingled. And when they reached their floor, she stepped away from him with purpose, inserting her key into the door and leaving it wide open for him as she made a bee-line for the bedroom to rid herself of the dress and slip into a nightgown.

Jumin stood in the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine, took a long drink, then bent to pet Elizabeth, who pranced at his feet. Even she felt the tension, and her silky fur was a temporary reprieve for him. He sensed his wife’s presence before he saw her standing there, barefoot and ethereal even in her ire. And he rose to his full height, taking in her face– blotchy and red from crying, all of her makeup stripped clean. Even then, he thought her radiant as an angel, though her silence had begun to wear on him.

“You do realize…” Jumin began, taking her chin in his hand and lifting her face toward his, “that you’re being incredibly stubborn right now.” 

She still wouldn’t look him in the eye, though his grip was firm, unrelenting. Not in a possessive or hurtful way, but with a touch that said look at me. Stop being ridiculous. She continued to stare at the floor as tears clouded her vision, hot and prickly. She knew damn well she was being unreasonable, but she was far too committed to her mood, her demeanor. 

“Darling,” he persisted, taking one step closer to her to slip an arm around her waist. “If you won’t talk, I’ll have to find other means to coax it out of you.”

She shook her head weakly and sniffled, obnoxiously loud and purposefully long. Jumin recoiled– temporarily derailed– and laughed, derisive and short. She turned and stepped out of the room, down the hall, and flung open the door to the balcony overlooking the city. Grasping the railing, she bent over at the waist and closed her eyes, the tears flowing freely now as the wind blew her hair around her face.  Jumin followed and stood at the doorway to watch her, bewildered. He wanted to apologize, though for what he wasn’t entirely sure. She’d never quite closed off to him in such a way. Sure, there had been arguments, lover’s quarrels, tiny tiffs...but she’d always come around after a few hours. She’d give in and fall into his waiting, aching arms, apologizing for being so stubborn. 

This– this, he could hardly bear. 

“Darling.” He tried again and moved to stand behind her. At his touch upon her shoulder, she gripped the railing harder, gritting her teeth. She didn’t want him to see her softening. She couldn’t look him in the eye because then she’d be putty in his hands, and she was quite insistent on proving that she could be uptight and unforgiving when she so desired. But the longer his hand remained on her skin, the more his warmth seeped into her presence; soon, she felt her hair being brushed over one shoulder and a puff of breath upon her neck before his lips grazed just behind her ear. “Are you ready to talk now?”

She simply shook her head, set her jaw, and closed her eyes; then, she circled slowly so that he could look upon her face, and he leaned forward, encasing her between himself and the wrought iron railing.

“Do you want to...not talk?”

Her answer was a slight protrusion of her bottom lip that looked so enticing and delicious he had no other choice but to claim it with his mouth; his tongue pushed against her teeth until she opened to him with a low whine. 

He carried her off to bed then and took his sweet time working out her anger, her frustration. Smug while he buried his head between her thighs, he quietly thrilled in the way her body bent and twisted while his fingers pressed, possessive, into the muscles that flexed and relaxed. She pulled his hair, she gasped for air, but she refused to make noise. 

“Let me hear you.” He paused and looked up at her, and in a moment of weakness she met his eyes before shutting hers tight once more. 

She refused to give him such satisfaction, though he was making quite sure that she would be satisfied when he was finished with her. 

He only wanted to hear her sing.

So with a broad, careful stroke of his tongue, he found her weakness– the delicate skin upon the inside of her thigh, just outside of where she was most desperate for him. He sank his teeth into the flesh there, then soothed it with a kiss; his fingers gathered the wetness at her core and pushed inside until her lower back arched away from the mattress.

She bit down on her knuckles to quell her cries and exhaled a sharp breath through her nose. Still, she refused to make a sound.

He curled those fingers and cupped her sex, determined to hear her, marvelling in the arousal that coated his fingers and eased his task, though he could hardly consider it strenuous by any stretch of his imagination. A delightful endeavor, one that both enthralled and aroused him enough that he was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to be inside her, to feel her pull him in, slick against his own need.

And so he withdrew his fingers and flipped her without warning so that she was perched on all fours and he could sink himself inside. She fell forward with a surprised grunt, a white-knuckled grip on black satin sheets while she buried her face in a pillow to keep from crying out.

His arm hooked around her middle then and pulled her upright, back against his chest so that he could thrust up into her. She sank her teeth into his forearm, but it only spurred him forth harder; he treated her left shoulder in much the same fashion, admiring his mark against the sheen of sweat on her rosy skin.

“Damn you,”  she hissed, reaching behind to tug at his hair, to hold him close (to pull him further inside her). 

At her peak, she cried out his name in the middle of a string of expletives– blubbering, whimpering, pleading with him to have mercy. He gave her none as he pulled her hair, exposing her neck so that he could taste her there as he came. 

He laid her gently upon the bed and licked a bead of sweat from her cheek when they parted, then nestled himself behind her with a rather self-satisfied chuckle.

“Are you still angry with me?” Words spoken into her skin, fingertips trailing from her shoulder down the length of her arm until he found her hand and slipped his fingers between hers. 

“Yes.”

“Are you going to tell me why?”

She sighed heavily; turned away from him, he couldn’t see the grin that spread across her face, or the way her eyes twinkled with afterglow. “No.”

“Will you tell me if I draw us a bath?” 

That gave her pause, and she flexed her toes, pushing her backside further against him.

“Maybe.”

“Lavender oil?”

“Rose.”

“Noted,” he said, rising from the bed.

In the bathtub, he coaxed her to speak again in whispers and moans, but by then she’d forgotten just why she was angry in the first place.

#jumin han x mc #jumin han fanfiction

[nowayimdie]

Mystic Hotel Messenger ( Hazbin Hotel x Mystic Messenger) Masterlist

Started: 20/3/2024

Last update: 27/3/2024

Origin

Chapter 2: Redemption Inn

Chapter 3: The Gospel

Given information about Mystic Messenger

Some information about the Main Characters

Chapter 4: The Unholy Trinity Reigns

#mc mystic messenger #mystic hotel messenger #hazbin hotel #crossover #fanfiction #jaehee kang #jumin han #zen mysme #zen mystic messenger #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #mysme 707 #saeran choi #unknown mystic messenger #ray mystic messenger #rika mystic messenger #yoosung kim #wattpad #supernatural #comedy #action #romance

[sentinelpri]

Dye

Saeyoung Choi is sick of having red hair. 

It’s three in the morning as the redhead stands in front of the mirror in his bathroom, golden eyes tired and body covered in nothing but a black tank-top and matching boxer shorts. He’s exhausted and should really be in bed considering that he has to take Saeran to therapy at eight, but his dreams have rendered him unable to sleep yet again. He drums his fingers against the edge of the marble that lines the counter, his eyes on the two boxes of bleach and the box of toner that are sat there. 

There’s a shower cap over his hair, that of which is soaking in a copious amount of coconut oil. It’s been that way for a few hours, just as the tutorial he googled at 12AM told him. As he follows the instructions on the first bottle of bleach to develop it before pulling out his phone and logging into the RFA chatroom. 

707 has entered the chatroom.

707: hey guys!

707: guess what

Yoosung☆: What is it Seven?

707: I’M DYEING MY HAIR

Jumin Han: Right now?

Yoosung☆: What color??

707: It’s a surprise!

707: d:

707: You’ll have to catch the glory of it in person next time you see me! I’m still working on it as we speak : D

ZEN: You have such a beautiful natural red that people would kill for and you’re over here dyeing it…

Seven feels his stomach drop at that, a little offended. He’s been wanting to dye his hair for years to escape the striking resemblance he has to his mother. After the new member joined the RFA and everything went to shit, leading to the discovery of Mint Eye and the retrieval of Saeran, things have calmed down somewhat. Saeran is back from the psychiatric ward he was placed in for a few months and is now living along with Seven and Vanderwood in Seven’s large home. The new member has settled into a comfortable romantic relationship with Jaehee (who deserves to be happy after all her years of servitude under Jumin) and helped the former assistant with her new coffee shop. Everything is peaceful and Seven has gotten a lot of closure regarding the situation (minus what has happened with V and Rika, who have been impossible for him to track down), and things are settling.

Seven is ready to escape the past somehow now that things have changed. What better way to do that than to change his classic look?

ZEN: Seven, I sure hope this is just one of your pranks. If not… RIP beautiful red hair T_T

Jumin Han: Seven.

And now Jumin’s there. 

Honestly, Seven didn’t expect for the older man to be online so late, but seeing his name pop up on the chat log makes him smile. While the rest of the RFA may see them as nothing more than friends, their relationship crossed into romantic territory a while ago and their one year anniversary is in less than two weeks. They’ve agreed that for both of their safety, it’s best to keep their relationship under wraps until everything settles down and Jumin inherits C&R from Chairman Han, but that doesn’t bother Seven too much. He’s used to keeping secrets, anyhow.

707: YES DADDY!?!??

ZEN: I suddenly feel very nauseous.

Yoosung☆: Same… ew. 

Jumin Han: Can I call you?

Seven’s heart skips a beat at that. 

707: Yes, daddy (;

Jumin Han: Don’t call me that here. You’re going to disturb the other members.

707: Fine, fine. Master it is, then!

707: Talk to you in a minute then, master Jumin (;

707 has left the chatroom.

Jumin Han has left the chatroom.

Yoosung☆: So are we just going to ignore all of that?

ZEN: For the sake of my sanity and mental health?

ZEN: Yeah

ZEN: We are going to ignore all of it.

Yoosung☆: Ight then ima dip.

Yoosung☆ has left the chatroom.

ZEN has left the chatroom. 

Seconds later, Seven’s phone starts to ring. He answers the call, sets it on speaker, and places the device face-up on the bathroom counter. Then, he puts on the gloves that came with the bleach and starts on his hair. Part of him thinks it’ll turn out great. The other part of him suspects that it’ll be ugly or botched enough for him to have to wear a wig over it, especially considering that his glasses are abandoned in his bedroom and he can hardly see anything.

“Jumin, why are you calling this early?” Seven asks and smiles when he hears Jumin’s low, sleepy voice on the other line.

“Is it early or is it late for you, Saeyoung? It sounds as if you’ve been awake all night,” Jumin subtly calls Seven out like he always does.

“You’re not wrong, but why are you awake?”

“Ah… I woke up on my own. I could sense that you were awake, waiting for me.”

Seven chuckles.

“I don’t know if that’s romantic or creepy.”

“Interpret it as you please, but did you mean what you said in the chatroom?”

“What, about calling you master?” Seven snarks with a quirked brow and starts to paint his hair with the bleach solution.

“No, about dyeing your hair.”

“Oh, yeah, no, I was a hundred percent serious! I’m actually doing it right now!”

“What color?”

“White.”

“...In one night? Won’t that damage it severely?”

Admittedly, Jumin has a point. Hair-bleaching is something you should go get done at a salon, and it’s also something you should only do once every few months to avoid damage to your hair. Bleaching it back to back comes with the risk of frying it off. Seven knows that. He just doesn’t care all that much.

“I don’t care if it does. Worst comes to worst, my hair starts falling out or turning brittle so I have to shave my head and wear a wig for a couple of months. I think I’ll live.”

“Alright, then…” Jumin trails off. There’s an awkward few seconds of silence that makes Seven wonder if the older man hung up until he looks down at the screen to see that the call is still going. Finally, Jumin speaks again. “Are you doing okay?”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“You usually only make sudden, drastic changes to your physical appearance when you’re struggling mentally.”

Seven’s stomach drops at that- mostly because it’s true. He’s done crazy shit to his hair, pierced his own body, and gotten a variety of tattoos when under immense stress. Most of the time, he doesn’t regret any of it, but sometimes… Well, sometimes it’s gone terribly; an infected piercing here, an ugly tattoo there, the occasional hat-over-his-head-for-a-few-months. Still, he tries to deny it, because denying his problems is something that Seven is accustomed to.

“C’mon, Jumin! That’s ridiculous! When have I ever done that?”

“Well… Do you recall illegally buying a tattoo gun to tattoo your own chest a few years back?”

Seven flinches and thinks of touching his chest before realizing that his gloved hands are drenched in hair bleach. Still, he remembers it like yesterday- a shitty hand-done cross with crooked lines that he had to have covered up a few years later. The new piece is nice, the ugly cross turned into a cross-marked gravestone with flowers all over it to cover the bad line-work. Though he wouldn’t say it out loud, he wishes he’d never had any of it done in the first place.

“Yes, yes, I remember! Are you not going to let me live that down?”

“Considering that you cried and squeezed my hand so hard that you nearly broke the bones in it when I took you to go get a cover up done for it last year because of how badly it hurt? No, I’m not.”

“Okay, that was one time when I was like fifteen, and have you ever gotten a tattoo before? Yeah, I didn’t think so! Those bitches hurt!”

Seven can’t help but be defensive about it. After all, his least favorite thing in their relationship is when Jumin tries to scold and parent him like he’s a child. It’s embarrassing, especially coming from someone who didn’t have to grow up nearly as fast as he did- from someone who was handed a kind father and an entire empire from the very start instead of the shit hand that Seven got. And it’s true that Jumin is a responsible adult, much more responsible than Seven, but still. Seven is a prideful man who hates feeling like he’s being talked down to. 

“Alright, fine. How about the instance a couple years ago where you got snake bite piercings done on your tongue and complained afterwards because you couldn’t eat solid food for a week?”

Seven’s frustration quickly builds. Jumin won’t just drop the issue, nor will Jumin allow him so much as a moment to defend himself.

“That was-”

“And when you were eighteen and got gauges in your ears that you tried to upgrade too fast to the point where you had a gauge blowout?”

“Jumin, that’s different!” Seven exclaims.

“You still hide your ears with your hair because of that. Your earlobes are deformed around the holes because of it and they won’t close back. It’s serious,” Jumin continues, going on and on. Seven’s eyes flicker to the mirror and land on his ears, which are- as Jumin said- incredibly scarred and misshapen around the perimeter of his gauges. “And I know you haven’t changed since then, either. Right after we brought Saeran back, you went and pierced your own belly button and it still hasn’t fully healed. Remember when you had to take antibiotics for the infection that gave you?”

“I thought you said it looked good!”

“It does look good now that it’s not red and oozing with puss from a localized bacterial infection. I never said I didn’t like any of the things I’ve mentioned, just that they’ve been rash decisions made under intense stress that you’ve complained about or suffered because of later. I don’t want you going and dyeing your hair only to hate it or risk burning your scalp with bleach, but since you’ve already started the process, I suppose I can’t stop you… Saeyoung, you really need to go to a professional next time.”

“Really? You’re going to judge me for this?”

“I’m not judging you, I’m concerned. There’s a difference.”

“Fine, Jumin… If you’re going to be like that-”

“Saeyoung,” Jumin cuts him off once more, but this time, his tone is much softer. The tension seeps from Seven’s body as the ravenette tries to calm him down. “I’m not judging you. What you’re doing is an unhealthy coping mechanism of yours and I’m trying to make you aware of it so you don’t go and do it again. I’ll stop talking about it if it’s upsetting you so much, but please bring it up to your therapist at your next appointment and get her input.”

“Yeah, okay,” Seven replies. He’s sure it sounds sarcastic, because in all honesty, he didn’t want to hear any of the rants that Jumin just went on about his bad coping mechanisms. Part of getting closer to the RFA and maintaining close personal relationships is accepting concern from others, though, even if it’s expressed in a way that he doesn’t always like. “...Thank you for worrying.”

“What’s got you so stressed out?”

“Who said I’m stressed out?”

“Well, you’re up past three in the morning dyeing your hair. You know you can tell me, Saeyoung.”

Seven sighs and finishes covering his hair in the bleach, careful to cover it so the color develops properly. Then, he answers Jumin’s question while disposing of his gloves and sitting on the bathroom counter. 

“It’s Saeran… He was doing pretty good for a few week stint there, going on walks with me and coming out for meals, but he’s been getting bad again over the last couple days and I’m scared he’s going into a depressive episode. Any time I go to check on him he ignores me or tells me to go away.”

“Can you not just go into his room?”

And of course Jumin would say that because he doesn’t understand being mentally ill- at least not in the way that Saeran is. Since the younger man has moved in with Seven, it’s been a relief, but it’s also been difficult. Between making sure Saeran eats, drinks, showers, and goes to therapy, Seven is starting to crumble. On top of that, following RFA’s party, he hasn’t been able to track down V or RIka- so God knows what they’re up to. 

“Not really? It’s a fine balance, you know! That’s his safe space, I don’t want to invade it unless it’s a life or death situation,” Seven explains. He remembers clearing out his old work room and setting it up for Saeran before he came home from the psychiatric ward. It looks completely different with a brand new bed, a desk, a television, bookshelves, and curtains that weren’t there before. Unfortunately, even though Seven offered to take Saeran to buy decorations and help him personalize it, Saeran hasn’t taken him up on the offer. So, the room has remained incredibly bland and bleak. “I told him that the room I gave him is his to decorate and live in as he pleases and that I won’t go in there without his permission. Plus, he’s an adult… He’s capable of making his own decisions! I can’t infantalize him just because he’s struggling with his mental health. I mean, I’m almost as bad as he is, I just… He’s been through more, and he hasn’t had the chance to really live as his own person- as an adult- like I have.”

“I don’t think it’s fair to either of you for you to compare traumas. Don’t think like that.”

Suddenly, the conversation is far too tense and far more personal than it should be. Seven is at a point where he doesn’t really need to do anything but wait for a half hour to wash the bleach out of his hair, but he figures he can use it as an excuse to hang up on his overly-concerned boyfriend.

“You’re right. Well, I’m going to get off here and finish my hair! I’m pretty sure by the time it develops and everything, I’ll have to take Saeran to his weekly therapy session, so I’ve gotta haul ass.”

“Alright, then. I look forward to seeing how it turns out,” Jumin responds. Seven can hear his smile through the phone. “I love you, Saeyoung.”

“I love you, too… Jumin. Go back to bed and get some rest if you can.”

“I’ll try. Talk to you soon, then.”

Then, Jumin hangs up, leaving Seven with no one but himself and this bleached hair that he’s sure to regret.

Somehow, with enough bleach, a shit ton of toner, and probably a pound of coconut oil, Seven manages to get his hair bright white without making it fall out. Unfortunately, it leaves him with so little time that he can’t even spare half an hour to get a nap in. When he approaches Saeran’s door around 7AM, he’s exhausted and a little loopy.

He knocks, his fist lightly tapping the wood three times. No response. After a couple minutes, he knocks again. Still no response. 

“Saeran, are you awake?” Seven asks, to which Saeran snaps at him.

“What do you want?”

“We need to go to your therapy appointment! C’mon, let’s go- we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave in the next ten minutes!”

“I already texted my therapist,” Seven’s stomach drops at those words. It makes sense that Saeran wants to skip after the decline he’s had over the past few days. It’s frustrating. All he wants is for Saeran to feel better and it just can’t happen fast enough. “I’m not going today.” 

“What? Saeran, we talked about this! You can’t just skip therapy because you don’t feel like going- hell, the times you don’t want to go are the times you need to the most! You have to be consistent if you want to feel better,” The words are met with silence. Seven lets out a groan. Sometimes, he wishes Saeran would argue or scream or hit rather than just close himself off entirely. Part of him wants nothing more than for Saeran to take out all of the pent up sorrow and rage he’s been bottling up on him. But it doesn’t work like that, and neither does Saeran. The only thing that will make things better is time and effort, and Seven knows that. He has to be patient. “Okay, fine. Did you at least schedule a virtual appointment for today.”

“No.”

Seven frowns and holds his head in his hands. His long, shaky fingers tangle in his hair. The wavy locks are totally fried.

“Okay, did you take your meds?”

“No, now fuck off!”

“Wow, um… Sure, I guess! I’m going out for a bit,” Seven says and clears his throat. He’s embarrassed, uncomfortable, and confused. He’s tried to do everything right, but he can’t make Saeran happy by himself and it’s killing him. “Vanderwood’s here if you need anything, or if you don’t feel comfortable asking him, you can just call me. I love you!”

Seven receives no response. Dejected, he decides he’ll at least try to get out of the house. Maybe seeing Zen will lift his spirits…

~

Zen is working on a new movie, so Seven goes to see the actor on set whenever it’s time for his lunch break. How he gets in without clearance, none of them need to know. He knocks on the door of Zen’s large dressing room and barges in before he gets an answer. Zen, who is sitting at the vanity doing his makeup, spins around in his chair after nearly jabbing his eye out with an eyeliner pencil to face Seven with a pointed look.

“Zen!” Seven greets excitedly and stands in the doorway.

“Wow, Seven! I didn’t recognize you for a second there, uh,” Zen looks a little guilty, but that doesn’t stop him from saying the following words as he points to Seven’s hair. “Please tell me that’s a wig.”

“No, it’s not! I dyed it, remember?” Seven reminds him, just hoping that he forgot the conversation from the chatroom last night. Though, he suspects that Zen remembers and just hates how it looks. “C’mon, don’t tell me it’s that bad!”

“It’s not bad, per say… Just doesn’t work with your skin tone. I liked the red a lot better.”

At that, Seven sighs and tries to change the subject. So Zen doesn’t like his hair. With such a sudden change, and with Zen being so particular about beauty, it makes sense. So what? Surely, someone else will like it. Despite the awkward feelings of hurt and rejection that swirl around in the pit of his stomach, Seven plasters on a smile and asks Zen about his upcoming role. 

That night is LOLOL night with Yoosung. Seven almost forgets that it’s happening until he’s reminded with an ‘omw’ text from Yoosung half an hour before it’s supposed to start. He panics and thinks of just canceling it, citing some fake illness or emergency, but then he remembers that Yoosung is one of the few people who can actually get Saeran out of his room. So, he sends back a simple text saying ‘okay’, sets up snacks and drinks at the coffee table, gets his PC set up in the living room, and shoots Saeran a text to let him know that Yoosung will be there.

Right around eight, Yoosung shows up. Seven answers the door and excitedly greets his good friend while leaning against the doorway.

“Hey, Yoosung, you ready for LOLOL night? I’ve got Honey Buddha chips and PHD Pepper set up at the coffee table and-!”

“Seven, what’d you do to your hair?” Yoosung asks with wide violet eyes as he reaches forward and touches one of the dry, bright white strands.

“I dyed it last night, remember? Pretty snazzy, huh? What do you think?”

“No offense, but it looks pretty weird on you! Can’t say I ever expected you to go white,” Yoosung mutters and walks past Seven and into the living room. Seven shuts and locks the door behind them, then goes with Yoosung to the living room couch. The two men sit together with Yoosung still talking about Seven’s new look as he digs his own laptop out of his school backpack. “You even did your brows! You really gotta give us a warning, man, I thought I was having an aneurysm or something when I saw you with white hair!”

“...Huh,” Seven disguises a frown with a fake smile, nothing new. He expected Zen to dislike his new hair, but Yoosung, too? It makes him anxious. If those two have already reacted so badly (i.e. clearly being taken aback and not liking it, but trying to feign that it’s not terrible even though they clearly think it is), what will Jaehee, Jumin, and Saeran say when they see it? “Well, that aside, have you made any progress on that game event yet?”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me! I…”

Yoosung opens his laptop to show Seven his progress on the event, excitedly rambling with a grin that Seven can’t help but find endearing- a grin that Saeran would find endearing, too, if he would’ve responded to Seven’s text and surfaced from his room instead of leaving the former agent on read. 

Seven opens his laptop as well, and with that, LOLOL night starts- even without Saeran.

~~

Saeran never does surface from his room for LOLOL night, much to Seven’s surprise. He figures that the younger man’s depression must be pretty bad right now, but at the very least, there’s signs that he’s alive (the occasional shuffling noise, leaving Seven’s texts on read, etc.), so Seven is relieved.

Still, he’s worried, and he misses his little brother’s face. With Yoosung’s presence not working to draw Saeran out, and with Seven’s attempts at texting Saeran or visiting his room working to draw Saeran out, he decides he’ll do the next best thing; lure Saeran out with ice cream and coffee. Having not seen the former assistant in a while anyway, Seven goes to Jaehee’s coffee shop. 

When Seven opens the front door, a bell rings. Jaehee, whose hair has grown out to her shoulders, rushes to the counter. Though there are plenty of people seated in the cafe who are enjoying their drinks and sweet treats, no one is in line, so Seven approaches the register to talk to her.

“Jaehee, how are ya?” He asks, but he doesn’t get an answer- instead, he gets a comment (or a few) about his newly dyed hair.

“Oh my, Seven… You’ve dyed your hair,” Jaehee reaches out with her perfectly manicured, coffee-brown finger nails. The paint on them is glossy and covered in a light sheen of glitter clear coat. It’s clear that she wants to touch Seven’s hair, but she doesn’t, probably realizing just how impolite it is. Jaehee allows her hands to fall to her side as she continues. “I saw that you’d mentioned it in the chat room the other night, but I honestly thought it was just one of your pranks. Is that permanent dye, or…?”

“It is,” Seven nods. “I guess you’re the only one who hasn’t seen it yet, huh?”

“It’s quite… Different,” Jaehee says with a forced smile, to which Seven gasps and exclaims-

“Oh, come on, Jaehee, don’t tell me you hate it too!”

“No, no, I think you did a good job,” Jaehee frantically rushes to correct herself, even if it’s already too late. It’s obvious that she doesn’t like it, just like Zen and Yoosung. “It’ll just take some getting used to. It works for you, really.”

“...Thanks,” “Can I just get a large caramel frappe, a pint of the homemade vanilla bean ice cream, and a medium iced mocha with a breakfast sandwich to go?”

“Of course,” Jaehee nods, but doesn’t ring anything up. She turns to make the drinks, grab the breakfast sandwich from the warmer, and remove a pint of her homemade ice cream from the small freezer behind the counter. She slides everything forward to Seven with the drinks in a carrier, a smile on her face. “Here you go.”

“How much? You forgot to ring me up.”

Jaehee shakes her head.

“It’s on the house. Tell Saeran and Vanderwood that I said hello.”

“Will do,” Seven grins back and takes the items, ready to head home to his brother and former handler with the treats. “See ya later!”

Upon arriving home, Seven labels the medium iced mocha and the paper wrapper that covers the breakfast sandwich with Vanderwood’s name and a little note so he can put them in the fridge for the older man to have whenever he returns from whatever it is he’s out doing. Next, carries the pint of homemade vanilla bean ice cream and the large caramel frappe along with a spoon to Saeran’s bedroom door.

“Hey, little bro,” Seven knocks. “You holding up okay in there?”

“Don’t call me that… And I’m fine, leave me alone.”

“Saeran… I want you to be happy, but I can’t let you stay in that room forever. I’m starting to get worried about you,” Seven insists as if he isn’t already worried about Saeran when, honestly, he’s worried to death.

“I said to leave me alone!” Saeran yells back.

“Please, Saeran, it’s been days! When’s the last time you’ve eaten? Please, just talk to me… All I want to do is help…” Seven trails off, then sighs. A pit of sadness pools in the bottom of his stomach as tears fill his golden eyes. “Look, you don’t have to come all the way out, and you don’t have to let me in, but I brought you breakfast from Jaehee. I even got you your favorite coffee and something sweet so you’d eat. Just come open the door enough to grab it from me, you don’t have to do anything else. I promise.”

“And you’re not going to drag me out or try to force your way in?”

“Of course not,” Seven relents, as tempting as the idea is. “I want you to trust me.”

“Fine, give me a sec,” Seven hears some shuffling, which is followed by footsteps. The door opens and Saeran is on the other side, matching eyes bloodshot and tired, white and red hair matted, and skin pale. It looks like he’s lost a few pounds, but he’s alive, and he’s okay. Seven expects Saeran to snatch the ice cream and the coffee out of his hands, which does happen, but it’s not immediately followed by Saeran slamming the door shut. Instead, Saeran looks up at him as if he’s grown another head. “...You dyed your hair. Why? Why the fuck did you dye your hair?”

Saeran doesn’t look like he hates it, at least not immediately. He just appears curious. Seven smiles and starts to explain.

“I was getting sick of the red… Makes me look too much like Mom, y’know. It sucks hating what’s in the mirror just because of the past.”

“Okay, but why did you make it the same color as mine?” Saeran asks with narrowed eyes.

“It looked good on you- thought it’d look good on me, too,” Seven explains.

“It looks stupid. You should’ve gone pink or black or something… Would’ve suited you more.”

The words hurt more than they should. It’s just hair dye. Seven likes it, he’s liked it since he did it. But everyone else’s opinions matter to him more than they should, and his feelings are hurt, especially when Saeran slams the door shut in his face with not another word.

“...At this point, I’m not even surprised anymore,” Seven deadpans and turns to walk down the hallway and back to his own bedroom. “Oh well.”

“Seven,” Vanderwood greets lowly. He almost walks right past Seven, at least until he stops in his tracks and stares down at the younger man with a baffled expression. “What the hell is going on with your hair?”

“Don’t even ask, Vanderwood, I’m not in the mood.”

WIth that, Seven storms off to his bedroom, so frustrated with the reactions he’s gotten to his new hair that he decides he’ll just have to cut it all off.

~~~

That night, Jumin stays over. Seven supposes he didn’t think it through very well, but as soon as the older man fell asleep, he finds himself sneaking to the master bathroom. Leaving the door unlocked, he flicks on the lights, plugs in his electric razor, and grabs a pair of hair scissors from the drawer. He’ll have to cut off all the longer parts, then tackle what’s left with the razor. After that, he’ll wear a wig for a few weeks until it grows back red- the only color that looks good on him, apparently.

To his surprise, though, despite Jumin having an incredibly long work day, he wakes up and walks into the bathroom to lean back against the wall. Seven sees him, not because he turns around, but because the ravenette aligns perfectly with the mirror that Seven is currently using as visual aid while he holds the scissors up to the first strand he plans to cut off.

“Saeyoung,” Jumin starts, voice groggy. He’s dressed in his blue and white striped satin pajamas, fully finished with that silly pajama hat that Seven makes fun of every once in a blue moon. His dark eyes are full of sleep and his long arms are crossed over his narrow chest. “What exactly are you doing?”

“Cutting my hair.”

“Why? I thought you trimmed the ends when you dyed it last week.”

“I did.”

“Then why are you cutting it now?”

“Honestly, Jumin, I don’t want to talk about it,” Seven frowns. The thought of how everyone- Zen, Yoosung, Saeran, Vanderwood, and Jaehee- reacted to his new hairstyle, it bothers him. As used as he is to them teasing him for his weird personality and silly jokes, he doesn’t like it when his appearance is judged like this, even if they don’t mean to offend him. “Please just let me shave my hair off in peace.”

“...Saeyoung, put the scissors down for a moment and listen to me,” Jumin sighs, and Seven listens. He sets the hair scissors down on top of the bathroom counter and turns around to face his lover. “I don’t know what inner turmoil you’re going through, and I don’t know what you’re thinking right now. What I do know is you’re stressed, which is probably why you made such a big change in the first place… But I like it. I think you did an excellent job with your hair. Please, don’t cut it off just because everyone else is struggling to get used to it.”

“Jumin, everyone hates it! I’ve had multiple people tell me it looks weird or stupid since I did it, and I know they’re not wrong. At this point, I may as well just chop the shit off and start over.”

“That’s a terrible idea and you know it, because if you cut it off, tomorrow you’re going to be complaining that you’re bald,” Jumin points out, and it’s true. Even if he wears a wig for a while, he’ll hate the way he looks without it; he’s tried shaving his head a handful of times and it never looks proper because of his head shape. “It looks fine, you can’t blame everyone for struggling to adjust to it. After all, we’ve only ever seen you with bright red hair before this- minus the occasional wig. Give it a few more weeks. If you don’t like it after that, you can dye it back to what it was or dye it another color, or even shave your head if you so please. Just don’t go and make a rash decision about your appearance because things haven’t been going well lately.”

“...You’re right,” Seven admits and reaches out to unplug the electric razor. “But you should probably hide the scissors and the razor from me for at least a month. I may get tempted when you’re not here to stop me.”

“Fine. I can do that much after you fall asleep tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Seven moves to push past Jumin and go back to the bedroom to sleep with his sad, ugly white hair, only to get caught by the wrist. He looks over his shoulder and sees Jumin staring down at him with a small smile.

“Saeyoung, wait,” Jumin murmurs and leans down to press a kiss into his hair. Seven’s heart skips a beat at the gesture of affection. “I do mean what I said. You look beautiful. I love the white more than I thought I would when you told me about it over the phone.”

“Thanks, Jumin,”

“Hey, I have an idea,”

“And what would that be?”

“...Got any more of that bleach? Perhaps a makeover for me would distract the RFA from your new look.”

At that, Seven smiles and starts to dig through his bathroom cabinet for the last bottle of bleach.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfiction #juseven #jumin han #seven #mysme seven #saeyoung choi #707 #mystic messenger 707 #mysme 707 #fluff #drabble #oneshot #oneshots #Yoosung Kim #yoosung #jaehee #jaehee kang #zen #hyun ryu #mysme hyun ryu #Vanderwood #mysme vanderwood #tw past abuse #tw past child abuse #tw trauma #tw anxiety #tw depression

[kashwitdabias]

I never liked her she was always in the way of me trying to fuck zen😭😭😭

#mystic messenger #mystic messeger headcanon #zen mystic messenger #mc mystic messenger #jaehee mystic messenger #mystic messenger meme #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger fanart #zen #mc #jaehee #mystic messenger yoosung #yoosung fanart #mysme jumin #juminmysticmessenger #707

[keikaru]

love's imbroglio - mystic messenger (Jumin Han/MC)

“I might not have the experience or knowledge like you, but I am a fast learner. Teach me, and I’ll be able to perform within your range of expectations. If I can’t keep up—dismiss me. But before you let your biases muddle your judgement, at least let me prove myself that I am not incompetent to whatever level you hold me at.”

Her eyes narrowed to the same firmness of her voice. She knew her mild temperament was close to succumbing to fury and disgust, but she smoothed her skirt and reigned in her anger. Once the elevator descended to the lobby, she could walk away and forget everything.

In fact, she could have walked away at any moment, damn the consequences. Yesterday, three days ago, last week when the deal was finalized. Yet she stayed. She couldn’t find it in herself to leave—not when her parents’ businesses were on the line. Not when her mother’s high end fashion line and her father’s grand hotels were at stake.

Although she should have been aghast by the severity of the situation, something far greater than those concerns reeled her attention away. Where did her older sister go?

The eldest was all gung-ho about inheriting her mother’s business that she interned and worked along their mother after high school and the following years. Her sister cut back on college classes and managed to be a part-time model and promote clothing lines and promotional items.

Now she—the second daughter—was thrust amid family problems. Correction—family business problems. Her disinterest in her parents’ business was clear, yet she found herself in the very core of it.

Most importantly, why did her sister disappear? And where did she go?

Her knuckles whitened as she curled her fingers into a tight ball. Her jaw was taut with tension. It was too soon to be reminded of her sister. She disappeared just five months ago. 

She saw Jumin visibly stiffen, but his face was impassive as he brushed her comments aside with a pointed, sidelong glance. His eyes reflected a cold indifference, almost imploring her to utter one more bold statement that would lead to her resigning by tomorrow. 

The air between them was filled with a thick silence. Mingled in with a tension and discomfort on a spectrum she hadn’t known existed until now.

She was going to be fired. She was certain of it. As her gaze caught his reflection in the elevator mirror, she noticed that he crossed his arms—it crinkled the sleeves of his dark tailored suit—and lowered his gaze. He suddenly found interest in the plush carpeting. Likewise, she averted her eyes to the wall beside her. But she had to voice her concern—her irritation about his inability to look beyond the small world he submerged himself in. That, and his obsession with his beloved feline partner, Elizabeth the third. “I apologize for my behavior,” Jumin said quietly, keeping her at a distance. Jumin shifted and leaned his shoulder against the wall. His eyes were trained on the glowing elevator buttons in front of him, but his body partially faced her. “I’ve been under much duress as of late. I didn’t mean to ignore or snap at you this entire week. I’ve been…inhospitable ever since our first meeting. And truthfully, it is not your fault by mine.”

#AU #arranged marriage #mystic messenger #mysme #mysme jumin #jumin han #jumin x MC #jumin x OC #my fic #WIP #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #this was a super old idea with jumin/MC ft arranged marriage trope because of furthering business ties #it features a developing relationship/romance/drama #mc's parents and jumin's dad arranged this marriage #jumin is at first critical of MC but he eventually softens up when they spend time together and he ultimately gives her a choice #if she wants to be married to him #mc is torn because she's still young (early 20s) and figuring out her life and decides to wait #side plot that MC's older sister goes missing (pursue her own things) and eldest sister was supposed to marry Jumin INSTEAD #but then shenanigans happened and MC's parents wanted HER to marry Jumin instead #since jumin has never seen the eldest sister before that's why MC “posed” as the eldest #it's a bit of stolen identities/replacement and jumin pieces it together but doesn't tell MC's family that he knows

[juminsmysticmc]

hiii!❤️❤️lets be honest, we all thought that you would pass it:D this idea came quite unexpectedly😭 mc is most of the times a foreigner, right?? like I believe she would struggle a lot and especially at Jumin’s business parties. But it’s funny indeed when I think that Jumin would help her and teach her some words. Tbh I don’t even know what I am supposed to request based on this plot.. Could you write about mc just being a foreigner and Jumin teaching her Korean, please?

Jumin teaching a foreigner Mc korean

Hello! Noooo I didn’t believe in it, really! I actually have some problems at work and so I was praying every night I would pass to have a higher graduation…now I feel better, ahahah! But thank you so much for believeing in me! I hope you will enjoy reading this One Shot, please tell me your opinion! Have a nice day too!

Once again, you stood in the middle of the room on your own, looking around with an uneasy look on your face. You were scared, nervous, and at a total loss. Korean wasn’t your first language. You were American and so you were fluent in American English, however most guests at these parties didn’t care to speak English with you, even though they were just as good as Jumin. Your husband arrived with Jaehee behind him as he just returned from a conversation with a highly respected investor before he came closer to you. ,,What’s wrong, my wife?’’ he asked you. His English had improved a lot, ever since he was forced to talk to you in English. You, on the other hand, still didn’t do much. Even though you planned on learning Korean, you were still a mess. ,,Nothing, Jumin,’’ you mumbled back. ,,I feel odd and out of place. No one is talking to me. I think I need to study Korean some more,’’ you nodded. Jumin looked at you with a soft smile before he nodded and told you that he could either hire a teacher or teach you himself. And since he was your husband, you agreed to him teaching you Korean.

,,Can’t I study Hangul after I learned the language?’’ you asked him, unmotivated as you sat in front of him while he was trying to show you some signs. ,,I think, my love, learning both at once would be better for you,’’ he said and tried to teach you the basics again. You tried step by step once again, tried to stay focused on him and follow him during his ,,lessons’’ and indeed, you seemed to learn pretty quickly. ,,Hello, how are you?’’ you said in Korean to Jaehee when you saw her again, making the brown haired woman really happy.

You could keep up with basic conversations by now and no one, not even Jaehee, believed that Jumin was that much of a good teacher. ,,I’m telling you, he is very patient. He explained things to me two to three times and made sure that I could use them too in my daily use. He even prepared stickers all over the house to help me understand the names of different gadgets,’’ you tried to assure the others in your group, feeling more than proud to be able to say that your husband was the one helping and teaching it to you.

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

14.05.2022 // 00:35 MEST

#jumin x mc #Jumin #jumin han #jumin x reader #mystic messenger jumin #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #saeyoung choi #luciel choi #saeran choi #jihyun kim #Vanderwood #Headcanon #Mm headcanons #mystic messenger headcanon #fanfiction #fanfic #mm fanfic

[nosferatufaggot]

SO TELL ME WHERE ALL THE MYSTIC MESSENGER DEATH NOTE AUS ARE!!!!!

#No no no LISTEN!!!! I'm going bananas. #Zumin as Lawlight????? #Zen and Jumin and in fact Light Yagami and L Lawliet in my opinion. #I just cannot believe it isn't a fic yet. #There are some Mysme and Death Note crossovers however. #Seven would definitely be Ryuk. But instead of apples it's Elizabeth the Third. #I think Sarah would be a good Misa. #ALSO JUMIN IS INTO DARK MAGIC!!!! IT WOULD MAKE TOTAL SENSE FOR HIM TO BECOME INTRIGUED BY THE DEATH NOTE!!!! #Borsties.....I wish I was good at fanfiction. #But I'm entirely truly not. #Alas...this'll just be an au I write hella notes about in my notebook. #Mystic Messenger #Sentiments of a vampire. #Death Note

[yoosungisbabie]

you're my gift - day two

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: G

prompt: receiving gifts

warnings: none♡

word count: 3,045

ao3 link

“You are adorable, Jumin,” she said, watching his jaw muscles tighten and his eyes flicker to hers. She was savoring the way he began to blush when he pulled her into another hug, leaning down to embrace her completely. “That title is reserved for you,” he mumbled, almost in a pout, making her heart flip at the uncharacteristic way he’d spoken. “We can share,” she responded, hearing him laugh through his nose quietly.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

She hummed lightly to herself, ambling slowly past the shops as she made her way toward Jumin’s apartment building. She was early; he wouldn’t be home from work for another 20 minutes, so she decided to take her time on her way to see her fiancé.

As she approached the small flower shop on the corner, she wondered why the cozy storefront always made her stop and admire all of the different arrangements. Bending down to smell a gorgeous bouquet of lilies, she smiled and wondered if Jumin would enjoy receiving a bouquet of flowers.

Since the beginning of their engagement, she’d been hesitant about giving Jumin gifts. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already have everything, and all of his clients and business partners often provided unsentimental gifts whenever they held meetings or finalized deals. It felt like a losing game for her to try and one-up any previous gift he’d gotten, but that didn’t mean she didn’t want to try.

She glanced around until she found a small, simple bouquet that made her smile. It had a mixture of red and pink roses, daisies, and some gentle, green foliage that made it just intricate enough that she thought it would do.

After purchasing the arrangement and speaking with the shopkeeper about how inviting their storefront was, she continued along the path toward the apartment building. She was thinking it would be a nice change of pace for her to meet Jumin up in the penthouse when he arrived home instead of in the lobby.

She smiled to herself as she rode the elevator up, exchanging a friendly greeting with the chief of Jumin’s security once she’d arrived at the top floor.

“Is there anything you need from us, Miss MC?” he wondered, keeping pace with her as they walked toward the entrance to Jumin’s penthouse.

“Will you make sure he knows I’m already up here when he arrives? I don’t want him to wait for me downstairs,” she smiled, bowing gratefully as he agreed and opened the door for her.

“Thank you,” she grinned, feeling the familiar smell and noise of his apartment settle around her. Elizabeth the 3rd called out to her from Jumin’s room, meeting her at the door excitedly only moments later.

“Hello, lovely!” MC smiled, reaching down to pet her as she slipped her shoes off. She made her way through to the kitchen as the cat followed where she grabbed a simple vase from the cupboard. She prepped the flowers, arranging them nicely and leaving the display visible on his kitchen island.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” she whispered to Elizabeth, receiving a soft meow in reply and chuckling to herself.

“I hope so,” she replied, removing the informational card that came with the flowers from its packaging and leaving a simple ‘I love you’ on the backside.

After only a few more moments, she heard the distant ding of the elevator arriving at the top floor. She headed toward the entryway, turning the corner just as he opened the door and met her eyes in anticipation.

Seeing Jumin soften as soon as he laid his eyes on her was always one of her favorite parts of the day. The slope of his shoulders became less intense, his hands relaxed, and the set of his brow eased up so much that she wondered if it hadn’t been hurting all day.

“Welcome home,” she smiled, rushing over to meet him with a swift kiss and a lingering hug. He pulled her close by the small of her back, exhaling slowly against her and humming a mumbled hello into her ear.

“My last meeting didn’t run over. Was there another strange man in the lobby today?” he wondered, pulling away from her to look her once over. She chuckled, reaching up to loosen his tie slightly and fix a few stray hairs.

“Oh, I can’t meet you up here?” she teased, stepping only a pace away so he could put his briefcase to the side and shrug off his suit jacket. He first replied with a low laugh, lifting an eyebrow at her.

“I’ll admit that I prefer you waiting here in a safe place, but I’m just curious as to why,” he explained, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on her forehead as he awaited her answer.

“I brought a gift home and didn’t want it to be spoiled for you right away,” she smiled, watching his eyes widen ever so slightly and flit around the room.

“A gift? What’s the occasion?” he asked, letting her take his hand and begin to lead him towards the kitchen.

“No occasion,” she shrugged, rubbing a thumb over the backs of his cold fingers. Once they had rounded the corner, she noticed how insignificant the bouquet looked in contrast to his exquisite kitchen and living space. Biting her tongue, she looked up at him, wondering if he would even notice that she’d placed it there.

Instead of looking right past it, she watched as his gaze moved quickly back and forth from her to the gift on the counter.

“You brought me flowers?” he asked, just above a whisper, the question making her stomach tighten even more.

“They made me think of you,” she replied weakly. He reached down to wrap her in a tight hug, making her blink in surprise and hesitate for almost too long in reciprocating his embrace.

“This was an absolutely lovely surprise to come home to,” he murmured into her hair, nearly lifting her off the ground as he pulled her tightly into his chest. She bit back a larger smile, lightly scolding herself for being so insecure.

“Thank you, darling,” he continued, pulling away only enough to kiss her cheek before hugging her tightly again.

“You’re welcome, Jumin. It can only convey a fraction of the love I have for you,” she replied in a whisper, feeling his hands twitch slightly as they splayed out across her back. He didn’t respond, pressing his lips down onto her shoulder for a long moment before finally pulling away.

She was surprised to see the highest point of his cheekbones had slightly reddened, his eyes having a gentle sparkle in them that might have just been from the setting sun across the horizon. He was focused only on her, placing a hand on her cheek and tilting her head up gently.

“I love you,” he said softly, making her heart stutter even though she heard him say it every day, multiple times a day. Placing her hand over his, she leaned into his touch, nodding in complete content.

“I love you, Jumin.”

—

It was only a few weeks later that she decided to get him another gift. They had started having lunch together at his office on a biweekly basis, and it had become such a highlight of her day that she wanted to express that to him somehow.

While exploring the antique shop in the basement of his apartment building one day after work, she came across a picture frame that stuck out to her. While admiring it, she thought of the perfect picture to frame inside it, quickly purchasing it and heading home so she could prepare the gift before their lunch meeting the next day.

“Good afternoon, Jaehee!” MC smiled, walking towards the assistant’s desk the following day and setting down the coffee that she had grabbed on the way. Jaehee smiled, her shoulders loosening as she laughed a little.

“I appreciate you,” she grinned, taking a small sip of the coffee as MC chuckled.

“And I appreciate you, ma’am,” she replied teasingly, knowing that Jaehee felt strange every time MC called her that.

“Enjoy your lunch,” Jaehee chuckled, turning her attention back to her computer screen. MC laughed to herself, walking past her desk and down the hall towards Jumin’s office.

He had begun to leave his door propped open when he knew she was coming, something he would have never done if not for her. She peeked past the door frame, seeing him nearly frowning as he concentrated on his monitor.

“Mr. Han?” she called, altering her voice ever so slightly. His eyebrows twitched downward, his fingers not faltering as he continued to type.

“Not at this moment. I’m waiting for my fiancée,” he replied, almost foregoing a glance in her direction. When he looked up, he immediately sighed in mock annoyance, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Should I have Assistant Kang alert me as soon as you arrive? You are something else, my love,” he teased, immediately standing and smoothing out his slacks as he started towards her.

“Have your phone update you when I arrive at this location if you’d like. It won’t stop me from messing with you,” she replied snarkily, laughing when he narrowed his eyes at her and playfully lunged forward to pull her into his chest. He started to tickle her, pressing multiple kisses to her cheeks as she squirmed. When his hands bumped hers behind her back as she hid her gift from him, he settled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips in greeting and looking at her curiously.

“Did Assistant Kang ask you to bring in a report?” he wondered, leaning forward to look over her shoulder. She pressed the picture frame tightly against her back, holding back a grin.

“No. I brought you something for your desk,” she replied, seeing his expression continue to grow in curiosity.

“My desk?” he repeated softly, stepping back from her so she could present it to him. She pulled it out from behind her back, revealing the picture frame that she had found. It was certainly old, being primarily made of black wood. The frame was outlined in worn, gold trim that had Victorian accents to it, making the whole thing remind her of Jumin. The picture she’d decided to place inside was the photo they’d taken when Jumin had finally convinced her to dress up in a couple’s Halloween costume together last Autumn. It always managed to make him laugh, even just a little.

She watched as his eyes widened and scanned the frame multiple times before he finally looked up at her, grinning briefly before dropping his smile to try and speak.

“It’s–” he started, laughing breathily and shaking his head. “I love this.” She watched him as her heart grew in her chest, her fingertips tingling at the amount of love for him flowing through her veins.

“I’m glad,” she replied softly, letting him take it from her hands and examine it more closely.

“I’ll keep it in my office here,” he nodded, taking her hand in his and leading her over to watch him place it on his desk. “Yes, I think this will be efficient in motivating me when I begin to tire.” He squeezed her hand in his as he continued to admire it, exhaling happily. She looked up at him, seeing how effortlessly he was able to smile and wondering if he had always been like this when he received gifts.

“You are adorable, Jumin,” she said, watching his jaw muscles tighten and his eyes flicker to hers. She was savoring the way he began to blush when he pulled her into another hug, leaning down to embrace her completely.

“That title is reserved for you,” he mumbled, almost in a pout, making her heart flip at the uncharacteristic way he’d spoken.

“We can share,” she responded, hearing him laugh through his nose quietly.

“Thank you for this thoughtful gift. Thank you,” he said softly as she closed her eyes, feeling her emotions bubble up into her throat. She wished she could always make him feel like this. There was so much love for him inside her, and helping to show him even a little bit of it felt like an accomplishment that she could be proud of.

Once she’d realized how meaningful gifts were to him, she put a little more thought into them, waiting for the perfect moment to surprise him with one in particular.

—

After another week of tight schedules, long meetings, and calls that seemed to drag, Jumin was finally finished. He’d been working tirelessly to lock in the biggest deal in years, and all of his efforts had paid off. He’d let everyone in the office go home early, and as he stumbled through the door that night, he felt blessed that his fianceé was already waiting there for him.

“Jumin, congrats!” she exclaimed, having tied up a few silver balloons around the apartment. He smiled tiredly, chuckling as she rushed over to meet him.

“Thank you, my love,” he replied, pressing a swift kiss to her cheek as she stood on her toes to hug him. He reciprocated her embrace, feeling the fuzzy edges of sleep threatening to close in already.

“I’m sure you’re exhausted,” she said, pulling back and taking his jacket for him. He shook his head minutely, smiling at the warmth that constantly emanated from her.

“With you here, I could run a marathon,” he replied, knowing that neither of them believed that. Jumin was more than ready to take time to rest, and he knew that he hadn’t succeeded in hiding how much of a toll the project had been taking on him the last few weeks.

“Okay, strong guy,” she snickered, hanging his jacket up and holding her hand out for him. “I have some wine ready, and I have a little present that I’ve been saving for this occasion.” He blinked down at her, following without complaint.

“You’re much too thoughtful. You didn’t have to go to the trouble,” he said softly, seeing her flash him a feigned look of offense.

“Trouble,” she scoffed, leading him over to the couch to sit down next to her. She handed him a glass of wine, pulling out a large box wrapped in purple and silver foil. Jumin hesitated to continue with the sip of wine he’d been taking, not wanting to stain anything as he moved forward in surprise.

“What kind of present is this?” he wondered aloud, setting the wine down on the coffee table as she giggled quietly next to him. He received the box into his lap, delicately breaking open the wrapping and taking the lid off the box.

Taking out the large, white item, it took his strained eyes just a moment to realize what he was looking at.

“Elizabeth, I think your father needs glasses,” MC muttered under her breath to the cat, glancing back at him as he held the object further away from himself.

“I’m…” Jumin started, trailing off as he struggled to contain the emotions that threatened to spill out.

She had gotten him a pillow of Elizabeth the 3rd’s face. There was no blur; it was a perfect replication of her beauty, and it was unlike any other gift he’d ever even heard of.

“I know it’s cheesy,” she chuckled lightly, looking over to see his eyes sparkling with tears. She blanched, panicking and scooting closer to him.

“I’m sorry, Jumin. Do you hate it?” she wondered, watching as he placed it in his lap and felt at the whiskers that had been placed in the cushion as if they were real.

“Why would you think that? This is the most amazing gift I’ve ever received,” he replied, looking at her in disbelief and awe. She held back a bigger smile, sighing quietly in relief and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You think so? I wondered if you would like to put it on the couch in your office or in the study here at home,” she offered, watching him nod and blink his tears away.

“What an excellent idea. Every time I see this, I will think of my two favorite ladies in this world,” he agreed, moving the pillow back into the box for safekeeping and turning to face her. She grinned, slightly surprised when he pulled her into a hug where they sat.

“I’m sure you’ve had a long day, my love. Would you like me to run you a bath? Is there anything special you’d like to eat? We could even go out if you’d like,” he began, smoothing his hand over her hair as he spoke. She laughed lightly, shaking her head at the outpouring of affection her gift had spurred from him.

“No, I’m alright, Jumin. I’m just here to spend time with you,” she replied with a laugh still in her voice. He hummed, the sound buzzing through her collarbone as he pulled away to meet her eyes. They were filled with such intensity that she didn’t speak before he had a chance to.

“Do you know how much I love you?” he wondered, tracing a gentle finger over her cheek. She felt her heart flutter at his unexpected words, blinking up at him in surprise.

“You tell me every day,” she replied in a whisper, gripping the fabric of his shirt on his forearm that gently held her waist.

“That I do,” he nodded, holding her gaze as their breathing began to slow. “And I know that you love me too. It’s obvious,” he continued, moving forward to kiss the corner of her mouth. She felt her core begin to twist and butterflies begin to swirl, so she cracked a small smile.

“I didn’t realize you liked gifts so much, Jumin,” she said, barely able to speak above a whisper. He pressed another kiss to her cheek, his breath warming her face as he gently laughed.

“Gifts from you,” he clarified, his nose brushing hers as he locked eyes with her once more. She pressed her lips together in anticipation, feeling the heat of his hand against her waist begin to burn.

“You’re my gift.” His eyes looked between both of hers, his eyebrows drawing down ever so slightly before he dove down to bury his face in her neck and pull her into a tight hug once more. He’d lost the ability to form words, feeling like his heart would burst at any moment.

Neither of them let go for a long while, wondering if the other could feel how strongly their hearts were beating with love for each other.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you all for reading! thank you as well for the overwhelming support you gave me on the first entry for this event! seeing reblogs and likes in my notifications is a lovely thing <3

stay tuned, and thank you again!

Mel x

#jumin week 2023 #juminweek2023 #jujuw23 #jujuwd2 #jumin #jumin han #han jumin #my writing #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger fanfic #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #mysme fanfiction #jumin fanfiction #juminweek #jumin week #sfljnslgjnfglj this one is unpolished but thats okay #nothing is perfect #except jumin

[xelasrecords]

Secrets and Sacrifices

Han Jumin x Reader

NSFW

Jumin and you make sacrifices for the RFA. You don't know how much more you can take, but Jumin does not plan to let you out of his sight.

Secret Ending AU where the secrets drag on and relationships are more complicated.

TW: depression, self-harm, controlling behaviour

Words: 2.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Your friends are laughing around you. The restaurant lighting has dimmed, and the lambent glow from the candle on the table illuminates their happy faces. All of you are tucked into a padded leather sofa in the corner, the live music playing behind you.

You echo their laughter. It's the appropriate response.

Seven is sharing an outrageous tale, and Yoosung is his enraptured audience, constantly nodding and asking follow-up questions. Zen chides him for believing everything Seven says but still laughs along. Beside you, Jaehee reaches over you and sets the empty plates aside in anticipation of Seven's dramatic gestures.

Jumin is impervious to the racket. He swirls his wine and watches the advertising screen outside the window, the billboard flashing bright in the evening. His grey eyes are glazed, unfocused. He's missing V, you're sure. That's all he does, aside from worrying about you. Waits for V to contact him.

Languidly, you lay your head against the cushion. This should be a pleasant dinner, but there's a damper placed on your emotion valve. You've lost the means to conjure the excitement you once felt. The knowledge of missing them is not the same as feeling it.

You look down at the corduroy skirt that has ridden up to your waist, exposing more than half of your thighs. You dig your nails into them. Five seconds and release. Little scythes are imprinted on your skin. There, a feeling. You swipe your fingers through the indents with dull fascination.

Today is one of the rare days when you are cleared to venture outside without compromising security, but showing up here feels like a farce. You're playing puppet to prove that you're fine before being corralled back to Rika’s sterile shoebox apartment.

Jumin and Seven's dutiful little puppet, that's what you are.

When you glance up, you can feel the weight of Jumin's attention on you, intense gaze shifting from your lap to your neutral face.

You don't feel guilty. He will find out anyway.

You drag your skirt down and straighten your posture, the band sitting around your hips again.

"Is everything well?" Across from you, Jumin's smooth baritone voice rises above the peals of laughter and the increasingly loud music.

The chatter halts as your friends turn to you with a concerned expression.

You crack a smile. "I'm all right. Just tired." Jaehee squeezes your hand, and you pat hers with reassurance. The friendship you foster with this little group is built on thin ice, and long cracks have been crawling across the surface. "Let's go back, I have work tomorrow. So do all of you."

Seven's shrewd eyes flash at you before he grins widely at the others. "Except for Yoosung!" He pokes Yoosung's side, which earns him a light punch on his shoulder.

"A wise decision," Jumin says. "Everyone should get some rest."

"Easy for you to say." Zen glares at him. "I don't think I can sleep a wink tonight. My skin is ruined from all my lost beauty sleep." He sighs and turns to Seven. "Is there no progress on V's secret files?"

Seven pouts and shakes his head. "I'm still trying to break through the encryption walls, but Jumin can give me Elly to boost my motivation!"

Zen instantly sneezes and curses while Jaehee hurries to pass him a napkin.

An agent with a lifetime of diversion training. You hold back a scoff.

Jumin, Seven, and you are only shrouding yourselves with more secrets because you are determined to reach the same goal: Don't let harm come to the RFA. Don't share any information unless it's crucial. Not even Jaehee. Not yet. Let them live in the almost idyllic bubble as long as they can.

For a split second, Jumin seems as if he's about to scold Seven for the deliberate mispronunciation of his cat's name, but he shakes his head and calls for the bill instead.

Jumin has changed. You wonder how much he has to pay in unravelling V's secrets. If selling his peace is worth the members' peace. But you know what answer he would give. It has never been a matter of choosing for him. He will always protect the RFA.

He will always protect you.

Along with the others, you file out of the restaurant through its gilded swinging doors. Jumin immediately arranges their transport home and reminds them to inform their arrival in the chatroom. You pretend not to see Seven exchanging a calculating look with Jumin, his mask briefly slipping. You wait for your turn, but it never comes.

You have anticipated that, though.

Jumin places his hand on your lower back, his dark hair in slight disarray from the wind. You shiver. His touch still has the power to hold you together just as it has the strength to pull you apart. "Driver Kim is already on his way. You won't have to wait for long."

You nod and stare out the parking lot. Surveillance disguised as an act of chivalry. Since Seven stopped trusting V's contingency plans and revealed your address to the members, he and Jumin have worked together to keep you safe as you help them clean up the mess V left behind.

A familiar black car pulls up before you, and Jumin holds the backseat door open. You climb in, greeting Driver Kim before giving him your address. Jumin enters after and sits so close beside you that his trousers brush against your bare leg.

You press your thigh against him a little more.

Jumin gently caresses your knee, but there's a frown on his face. "Your address is already saved in my car navigation. Did you forget that?"

You have honestly forgotten. Thoughts slip around you these days. Try as you may to capture them, it's as if you have to squint through a lattice window to make out the memory fragments and piece them together. You get away with it most of the time, the fact that you struggle to pay attention.

But Jumin always pays too close attention to you.

"I remember now." You shrug.

Jumin isn't inclined to drop the matter. "I have picked you up more than once. If there's any problem with your memories, you should get it checked out. I will arrange a doctor's appointment for you."

"You're blowing things out of proportion."

The car starts to move. Driver Kim has polished his pretence of not hearing your conversation. He taps the radio screen, and a soft murmur floats through the small space.

Jumin's hand on your knee tightens into a grip, but not firm enough to hurt. "You have been forgetting a lot of things."

"Not when they're important," you say. "I won't compromise our mission, so lay off me. I can forget things. I'm human." You huff out a tired sigh. "Don't you have more things to worry about?"

His voice is constricted. "Do not presume other matters are more important than you."

"V?"

He draws his hand into his lap. "Both of you are of equal importance."

You stare out the window, yellow street lamps and glass towers sweeping past you. You're going back to a place that makes you want to scratch your skin loose. Your freedom is restricted to the apartment and wherever an RFA member accompanies you.

"I've watched the romantic drama you recommended," Jumin says after a few moments. "You're right, I did like it. It's curious how the man is always there to catch the woman when she falls. The distance and his human speed should've made it impossible."

At another time, you would have smiled at his endearing fascination and proclivity to pick apart a mystery until he understood it inside out. Now you glance at him without emotion. "Dramas operate by their own logic."

Jumin tries for a smile. "Nevertheless, it was sufficient entertainment to unwind after work. I must thank you for that."

"I'm glad it helped."

He shifts his body towards you. "How would you feel if I attempted to catch you when you fell?"

You purse your lips. "I won't fall around you."

"But if you do?"

You try to ponder over it, but it's like trying to break through rough currents that threaten to swallow you. The effort is exhausting. "You might not be fast enough," you say. "You're not armed with magical drama abilities."

"Then being there with you at all times would solve it." There's a hint of finality in Jumin's tone.

Of course.

You rest your head against the window, the glass cold against your temple. "That sounds impractical."

"It is better than watching the people I love lose themselves because they're too stubborn to ask for help."

Your lips tug up in the tiniest smirk. "Interesting. Han Jumin feels more than me. I never thought this day would come."

You glimpse at him, but he doesn't seem offended. How disappointing. You're right at the centre where his emotions are concentrated. You thought that would have included his anger.

"I would say it's concerning," Jumin says. "I know how that emptiness feels. If what you're experiencing is worse than that—"

"You'll force me to get treatment?"

His hands curl into a fist in his lap. "I'm not fond of coercion, but if you pose a danger to yourself, then I will do what I must."

You can't keep the irritation out of your voice. "Of course. Thank you for caring."

"I always care." Jumin's fingers hover near your cheek, and you think he's going to touch you, and you wait for him to—but he drops it to his side.

"And look how it ruins you."

Jumin dips his chin sharply. The shadow in the car obscures his expression, but you can make out the lines of exhaustion in the corner of his eyes. There is only so much he can put up with before it eats at him, always bracing for tragedy to befall everyone around him.

You're not supposed to be on the list of the people he wants to protect.

"Loving you doesn't ruin me. It's the best emotion I have ever felt." He runs his hand up your arm and pauses at the slope of your shoulder. "So let me care for you. Don't go. Don't go as far as V has."

You can't wrap your head around the driving force behind Jumin's obsession for your survival. You don't even care as much. It probably has something to do with how you can see right through him. He's attached to the validation you can offer him. You make him feel like a person. You're the only one who sees him as he is, now he can't let you go.

"V is your closest friend. He'll come back to you eventually."

"He won't," Jumin states flatly. "Rika is all he sees, and his range of vision has pathetically narrowed. You needn't bother with consolations. I know where my place is on his priority list."

Pressure burgeons within you like a fist thrusting into your ribcage and twisting your lungs. You hold on to the sensation, thankful to still be able to feel certain pains for Jumin. You wind your hand around his tie and press your lips somberly against his. He tastes of matured grapes and sweet memories long gone.

You have loved him until it ruined you too.

Jumin hooks his arm around your waist and pushes you against the car door, his other hand moving around the back of your head to soften the blow. His fingers trace down your ear and jaw before tilting your chin up and deepening the kiss.

His hand slides up the back of your thigh and toys with the lining of your panties. You hitch your leg up, allowing him to slide between you as he presses himself harder against you, his breathing harsh against your parted lips.

You can feel his need for you between your legs and you wish to satiate him, but it's as though your limbs and nerves are molten lead. You can burn him up with a single touch and you do it without feeling anything.

You want him, but the desire is cerebral.

Jumin pauses and pulls away when he notices your lack of fervour. He opens his mouth to apologise, but you grab his arms, feeling the lean muscles beneath the suit, and shake your head.

Not your fault.

He searches your face, then nods. This has happened before.

You don't know how you reached this point. You keep losing things that you can't afford to lose and you're tired of it. Your freedom, your fundamental need for Jumin. You don't know how to protect your senses from atrophying.

He smooths down your crumpled hair and blouse, murmuring, "I had expressed my wish not to be consoled, yet you still went against me."

"This is the only time I don't have to obey you."

Jumin stills. "I am not trying to restrict you."

"So if I ask you to stop monitoring my schedule and chaperoning me, either by yourself or someone you personally approve of, would you?"

He brushes your swollen lips with his thumb. "Can you promise me you won't get yourself killed if I decrease the security?"

"I promise." You straighten his tie to align it with the buttons and trail your fingers up his chest.

Jumin seems to consider it before shaking his head and chuckling. "You're a good liar."

You grip the lapels of his suit. "It's not up to me if the hacker decides to attack me."

"But you won't put up a fight either."

You let your hands fall and avert your gaze to the blur of passing cars behind him.

Jumin sighs. "It's only until we dissolve Mint Eye and you are safe from the threats that brought you here. Perhaps you would be happier and less inclined to throw self-preservation to the wind."

You clench your jaw and dig your nails into your thighs. Your life is getting smaller and smaller each day. There will always be another condition from him as your condition gets worse. Jumin will not stop. As long as the fight against Mint Eye goes on, you will always be under his extreme surveillance.

Jumin means well, you know it. You wouldn't have survived this long if he and Seven didn't force you to.

You carve your nails in with all your strength, clawing until they break your skin, but there's no blood. It's always harder when you mean to do it.

You don't want to be fixed all the time. Sometimes you want to shatter into pieces. Sometimes you feel safer when you're small.

"I can't breathe, Jumin," you say, desperation seeping into your voice.

He flicks his eyes down and wraps his hand around your wrists in an instant. "Stop doing that. Stop hurting yourself."

"This?" You laugh. "It's nothing more than you and Seven have been doing to me. I've always been willing to help you two with your plans, however immoral they are. I'd do them myself even without you. But I never gave you permission to track me like a prisoner."

His gaze turns hard. "You wouldn't let me if I asked."

"I'm the unhappiest I've ever been and you don't even care." You try to pull your hands away, but he won't budge. "You don't want me to be happy."

 "I deeply apologise. I never mean to cause you pain." His face contorts with guilt. "Please hold on a little longer. It will be over soon. V will provide us with an explanation, and things will return to how they were."

"You're naïve if you think it's that easy. This is not your drama with a fairytale happy ending."

"If I don't harbour hope in everyone's stead, what chance do we have in surviving?" Jumin says, and lets out a ragged breath. "We will get through this catastrophe. You can depend on me if you can't find the strength to go on. Just—stay with me. Do not leave."

You think you should cry. You can feel an emotion bubbling, blistering but never quite reaching its boiling point. It's frustrating. Breaking down under pressure is one of the most human things to do, yet the most you can muster is observational agitation.

Love changes things. He loves you and you're paying the price for it. 

You look at him with deadened eyes. "You have never made leaving possible, Jumin."

"Good," Jumin says, his voice terse. He doesn't let go of your wrists.

You sink into your seat, deep into the corner where the lights do not reach. There is a kind of loneliness that has grown into a corporeal shadow inside the cavity of you.

You yearn to make its existence known to someone.

You have no one to tell.

-

Footnotes:

I couldn't flesh these out due to fic length, but I want to get them out there anyway: 1) Reader isn't in therapy because Jumin and Seven aren't well-versed in mental health and Jumin thinks he's enough to fix her for now. She just doesn't care. 2) Jaehee is excluded from the secret subgroup because reader takes over her role in task execution and more.

I... didn't mean to write a dark Jumin or include canon plot elements. I feel like my fics lately are a "how dark can I make this" challenge. The initial idea was just Jumin being there for a lonely reader and it'd be wholesome and comforting, but it got worse through each draft. It had been satisfying to write.

I'd hoped my first fic with the big cast would be one where everyone's personalities are prominent, but apparently, I had to write it from a depressed reader's POV so everything is warped and muted instead. Maybe next time.

There's a paragraph that I reworked from my now inactive IG writing account c: I guess it's not plagiarism if you're copying yourself?

I like it when my MCs are a lil manipulative xoxo

The header concept is Jumin's obsessive surveillance, shown through the clear box tracking his eyes while the rest is blurred, and the toxic intimacy of how Jumin is the one who yearns more but they're separated by a thin yet impenetrable barrier. I was so happy that this clip fits my vision, with an Asian man at that! It's hard to find good free stock footage of Asians. And tap the GIF for better quality.

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

#someday i will write a romantic kissing scene but today is not that day #jumin x reader #tw depression #tw self harm #jumin han angst #jumin han smut #mystic messenger fanfiction #jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme #jumin han fic #xela writes

[juni-writesx]

once, i tried writing juminv's first time.

i never finished it. but i'll post what i have written so far here

for fun.

absolutely 🔞. minors do not interact.

this isn't beta'd or anything because i don't have anyone to go through my bad writing for me,... and i would rather not proofread shit or i'll be here for hours soooo 🤷‍♂️ oh well.

—————————

“Jihyun. . .” the heir purrs; desire evident in the smooth, deep tone of his voice. Grey eyes slightly darkened by arousal as he takes in the sight of his boyfriend pinned down to the mattress underneath him, and the way the photographer’s cheeks are flushed a deep pink, the rhythm of the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips… along with the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Christ. You’re beautiful.” He continues. One of his calloused hands skim across Jihyun’s clothed chest; the soft fabric gentle and soothing, much like the man who was wearing it.

The fact that his boyfriend still remains dressed -  and how disappointing it is - remains hidden from Jumin’s face, for he knows that, in due time, he’ll have the chance to undress his love all meticulous and slow-like.

At the moment, Jumin prefers to become acquainted with Jihyun in this intimate way.

Though they had been friends for over twenty years, never once had the heir ever thought that a scenario such as this would ever become a reality, despite the various times he’d imagined it. A dream he had buried deep within him - tangling his thoughts, his heart, for as long as he could remember. . .

It felt like a dream. 

He was Jumin Han, after all. He thought himself a mutant for the way he’d occasionally find himself thinking about his best friend in such a way. . .

the night beginning with his boyfriend pinned down by holding his wrists above his head on their queen-sized bed. The heir between the photographer’s legs as he hovered over him. So close to touching in such intimate ways but actually not because he wouldn’t want the encounter to end so soon.

And the noises - oh the noises - that he imagined that would come from Jihyun’s lips would always send Jumin tumbling over the edge.

A tiny, soft whimper comes from Jihyun, and Jumin is pulled from his thoughts.

The heir can’t help but smirk. “Are you enjoying this?”

He watches as his boyfriend nods his head yes, and relishes the way it’s accompanied by a soft, low moan.

How interesting it is to see Jihyun begin to come undone with just a simple touch to clothed skin. Jumin was well-aware that his lover was a sensitive soul, but he hadn’t the slightest clue that he’d be so sensitive to touch, too.

His roaming hand continues its travel along Jihyun’s chest; his thumb accidentally grazing across one of his love’s nipples, and he’s rewarded with an arch of the back into his touch and a moan that’s quite audible.

The reaction sends a shiver down Jumin’s spine - arousal beginning to pool in his lower abdomen from the sound.

“Hm.” He hums before repeating the action, and being rewarded with a hitched breath and another arch of Jihyun’s back off of the bed. “You’re sensitive here.”

“Uh huh. . .” is the photographer’s reply as he licks his lips. His cloudy, mint-colored eyes are closed at the moment, as the heir had requested. Not that it bothers him - oh no. He’d have trouble seeing Jumin regardless, given that his eyes were still deteriorating after Rika’s assault on him.

But Jumin had advised him to close his eyes and just listen to the heir’s voice. And that when one sense is blocked off, all the others become more heightened - a fact that Jihyun knew all too well. Truly.

If things become too much, please tell me, Jihyun. I want you to enjoy this as much as I will.

“Is this all right?” The heir inquires as his thumb brushes against Jihyun’s nipple for a third time.

Yet before the photographer can reply, he can feel Jumin’s index finger and thumb take hold of his nipple through the fabric of his shirt and give it a slight pinch

and the gasp the tumbles from Jihyun's now slackened jaw is one of the prizes of the night.

Jumin hopes there will be many more to come.

A deep chuckle before the heir says, “I take that as a yes.”

Jihyun’s hands fumble for the sheet on the bed, and he balls his hands into fists as he holds on to the fabric tightly. The pleasure coursing through his body as Jumin teases him in such a slow manner makes him whine softly. Yet he doesn’t want Jumin to pick up the pace

nor does it seem like he will any time soon.

I want to take my time with you, Jihyun. I want to learn you as I have since we’ve met. Slowly. With time and patience. So we have a mutual understanding and agreement.

Little did Jihyun know, however, was just how quick he’d be to arouse while under Jumin’s touch. There were still layers of clothes to be discarded 

and yet the tautness of his pants was obvious - to the photographer, anyway.

Jumin had yet to press closer to him in such a way that would make him feel his love’s growing need.

Another - louder - whimper makes Jumin’s lips curve into another smirk, and he releases the pressure of his thumb and forefinger. His hand eventually smoothing down Jihyun's chest.

“. . .Jumin.” 

A gentle cry of his name - it’s like music to the heir’s ears. “What is it, my love?” 

“Need you. Please.”

And the please is accentuated by a slight roll of his hips and another whimper as he’s left without the friction he’s so desperately seeking.

Jumin can’t say he’s all that surprised by Jihyun’s arousal, as it had been a long time coming to get to this point between them -

with their flirtations months after they began living together

and the line of friendship shifted and blurred to something much more than that. . .

If Jumin hadn’t pulled back - hadn’t hesitated and thought that it was just him that was falling deeper, feeling deeper

they would have reached this point many moons ago.

Perhaps to the point where Jihyun wouldn’t have lost his sight. And Jumin wouldn’t have felt as though he was drifting apart from his best friend. . .

. . .the heir pushes those thoughts from his mind. There’s no use thinking about the what-ifs or what-could-have-beens.

What matters the most is that they made it here. Together.

He swallows. “Not yet.” And dips his head down, close to his lover’s neck and breathes him in. Oh, how he loves the floral, yet earthy tone that is solely Jihyun.

Though he does not care much for the tobacco scent that sometimes overpowers the softer smells, he’s gotten used to it after being in such close proximity, and he knows it’s just yet another scent of Jihyun’s that he’s come to find comfort in since they’ve been living together.

Jumin exhales a hot breath against the other's neck and delights in the way his love shivers slightly.

As if he could read the heir’s mind, Jihyun tilts his head ever so slightly to the opposite side, effectively exposing as much skin as he possibly can to Jumin.

And Jumin chuckles. “Impatient, are we?” His nose brushes the flesh along Jihyun’s neck which, in turn, causes the photographer’s breath to hitch once more.

“Yes.”

The response is immediate, and can only be described as whiny.

“Mmm.” The heir responds; a moan under his breath. “And here I always thought you had the patience of a saint. You are a photographer, after all. Do you not have to wait for the perfect moment to capture the best shot…?”

Jumin takes another breath in through his nose before brushing his lips against Jihyun’s neck, and his reward is a gasped moan from the man underneath him.

The photographer can feel the heat of his love’s lips spread through him like a wildfire. He’s never been so aroused in his life. “I - I. . .”

cannot think straight. need you now. have been waiting so long for this.

“You what, Jihyun?” The words are spoken between multiple soft, gentle, closed-mouth kisses up and down his neck.

“. . .Please-!”

It’s all he can manage to say at the moment, for he’s so caught up in all that he’s feeling that he can do nothing but beg and plead for something more than touches above clothing. More than just gentle kisses along his neck.

But Jumin isn’t having it.

“Please, what?” And he kisses his way up along the photographer’s neck, until his nose brushes against his ear, and he whispers, “Tell me what you need, Jihyun.”

“-You. I need you.” His words come out as a ragged gasp. Jumin’s voice so low in his ear has him trembling and releasing his grip of the sheets and fumbling to seek out the heir - any part of him at this point. He needs to feel Jumin in more ways than one.

A hum of approval escapes the heir as Jihyun’s fingers manage to thread through his hair and give it a slight tug. Whether the photographer meant the action or not was a question Jumin would ask later. For now, however, all he knows is that he doesn’t mind it, and he wants his lover to do it again.

Yet he won’t verbalize his desire right now. No - this was Jihyun’s time. After all he’d gone through in his twenty-seven years of living, and all the times he had put others first. . . Jumin wanted this moment to be about Jihyun’s pleasure.

Of course, his boyfriend’s pleasure was much his own. Knowing that he was the one making Jihyun feel aroused and make those noises unabashed for him was pleasurable in itself, and aroused him so. And if he were to focus on himself, the heir would realize just how uncomfortable his boxer-briefs and form-fitting dress pants were becoming as his length hardened within them.

Opening his mouth slightly, he lets out a breath of air as his mouth begins to descend along his love’s neck - open-mouthed kisses this time as he makes a trail to the top of Jihyun’s t-shirt, where his collarbone was visible. He presses his mouth around the flesh and bone then proceeds to suck gently.

“Ju - min!” The photographer cries out in pleasure. His hardened length throbs and he knows the tip is leaking precum against his boxers. His fingers curl even more into Jumin’s hair and he tugs a bit harder, earning a low growl that’s stifled due to the heir’s mouth being occupied at the moment. “I can't - I can’t take much more. . .”

Certainly not if Jumin is capable of making noises such as that. Holy hell, Jihyun thinks to himself. Who knew the heir had such an animalistic side of him and could produce such a noise? Who knew it would go straight through him and down to his aching hardness?

Jumin reluctantly releases his hold on the photographer’s skin and collarbone, pulling back with an audible sigh. However, he is pleased to see the pink tint to where he was sucking on -what he would give to make sure that it would deepen in color; a visible mark where he had claimed his love - a proof of his own love and feeling for the turquoise-haired man beneath him.

“Are you close to coming?”

Leave it to Jumin to be as blunt and straightforward as possible, even at a time like this.

“Yes-!” Jihyun gasps out. “Please touch me. Anywhere. Fuck me. I need to feel you, my love.”

He’s begging at this point, which makes Jumin all the more aroused. It is then that he feels the arousal coursing through his veins; the throb of his fully hardened length pressing uncomfortably against his dress pants.

And the thought of fucking his boyfriend - rough, with wrists tied to the bedposts - has Jumin groaning. “I won’t fuck you, Jihyun,” he whispers huskily as he moves his head from the other’s neck. He shifts himself so he’s able to press the lower half of his body against Jihyun’s, causing the photographer to moan loudly at the friction it caused. “I’d much prefer to continue to take my time. I want you to cum for me, over and over. . .”

and a moan escapes his own lips as he feels his love roll his hips against him. “If you’re not careful. . .you’ll cum too soon and make more of a mess than I intend to make.”

With that, he moves once more - this time up and back away from Jihyun, and the turquoise-haired man lets out a loud noise of complaint at the loss. 

“I never pegged you as the impatient type,” he says, moving his hands to the hem of the photographer’s shirt so he can lift it up and over his love’s head. “How long have you wanted this?”

“Too long.” Jihyun blurts out as he sits up and eases out of his shirt. Goosebumps spread across the exposed flesh of his chest, torso, and arms as the temperature difference between the warmth of arousal and the air to the room are quite different. “. . .Much too long,” he whispers as he lies back down on the plush bed.

A rare, tender smile curls Jumin’s lips before he leans down in order to capture his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss that is slow, meaningful, and they both cannot help but to moan within it - each of them swallowing the other's sound.

The heir ends the kiss with soft pecks to his lover’s lips before pulling back and maneuvering himself into a position that would make it easiest for him to strip Jihyun from his pants.

As for Jihyun - his hands fall onto the bed and he inhales a sharp breath at the feeling of Jumin’s own hands oh so close to where he desperately needs to be touched and he whimpers over the fact that he’s not getting the touch that he desires most. “I’m sorry,” he says gently. “We’ll build up to this. . .”

And Jumin finds himself chuckling; his motions stalling for a moment. “It is quite all right, my love. As long as you’re enjoying yourself and enjoying this.” And with that, he begins to work the other out of his pants.

Jumin had always thought Jihyun was a very attractive man. But now. . . with the photographer stripped down to his boxers, the heir had to take the time to appreciate just how beautiful, angelic even, the other was.

From the top of his disheveled hair to the tips of his toes - Jihyun was breathtaking. 

“Beautiful.” He murmurs as he crawls back between the man’s thighs, resting his hands upon each of the other's hips. 

A silence rests over them for a moment before the turquoise-haired man softly inquires, “Even the scars? . . .The tattoo?”

“Yes.” The answer is immediate. “Every inch of you is beautiful to me. . .”

I may not be able to undo the past, but you are my present, Jihyun.

“. . .We can do something about the tattoo, if you’d like. After a visit with Dr. Lee about your eyes.”

Jihyun nods, and says quietly, “All right.”

“Look at me, Jihyun.” It’s a hushed request that is obliged, and grey eyes focus on the cloudy mint-colored hues of his boyfriend’s - remembering that once, long ago, when asked, the heir would proclaim that that same color, though more vibrant at the time, were his favorite color.

And he swallows, knowing full well that Jihyun had trouble seeing him, despite them being so close in proximity. He reaches one hand up so he can cup Jihyun’s cheek, and he smiles gently as he feels his love press into his touch.

“I love you,” Jihyun’s voice is soft, gentle, as he speaks. He turns his head in the heir’s hand so he can place a gently kiss to his lover’s palm. An act that has Jumin’s breath hitching, while the turquoise-haired man hums softly. “So much.”

“And I, you,” the heir replies, regaining his composure quickly. He hadn’t the slightest idea that such a simple action could have such an effect on him, and he's grateful that his boyfriend doesn’t explore it further.

There will be plenty of time for Jihyun to learn all of Jumin another time. For this moment was all about the photographer and his pleasure. . .

The heir moves his hand and places it on Jihyun’s hip once more, thumbs hooking around the top of the other's boxers. “May I?” 

“Please do.”

And he does, almost agonizingly slow. Feeling the warmth of Jihyun’s skin on his own as he frees him from the confines of his boxers, and allows it to join the rest of the photographer’s clothes in a neat pile on the floor beside the bed.

The turquoise-haired man shivers from the contrast of the warmth of his body and the temperature of the room. “This is truly what you want, Jumin?”

He raises an eyebrow at the question, and his head tilts slightly to the side. “Shouldn’t I be the one inquiring? You’re currently stripped completely bare. . .”

The photographer’s cheeks flush red at that. “. . .You should be, too.”

“Soon.” Jumin states firmly. “Right now, this is all about you. Allow me to be greedy - like this.” One of his hands slides across Jihyun’s sides, causing the man to shiver again, and he lets out a soft sigh.

When his other hand grips the photographer’s hip, however, he’s rewarded with a hitched breath. “Good. Let me hear you, Jihyun. I want to know how you feel. Vocalize your pleasure as best you can, or inform me that an adjustment is needed.”

“O - Okay. . .” is his breathy reply to Jumin’s wants, and the heir is pleased - as evident by the upward curve of his lips.

Jumin’s hand that's roaming across Jihyun’s side begins to descend lower: down the side, across his hip bone, and along the flesh of his thigh, and the heir is delighted to hear his boyfriend’s breath come in soft pants as he allows a soft breathy whines tumble from his lips.

“That’s it. . .” Jumin encourages; allowing a low moan to escape from his own slightly parted lips, and his tongue quickly darts out to wet it. “Moan for me.”

And Jihyun does just that.

“I love the sounds you’re making.” Though Jumin would never admit it aloud, they were much better than any his mind had conjured up when he imagined Jihyun coming undone for him. 

And he had never imagined the turquoise-haired man would react so positively to his praises, for out of the corner of his eye, the heir notices his boyfriend’s hardened length twitch at the praise; precum leaking from the tip and coating it a bit. “God, Jihyun,” he praises; voice thick. He wets his lips once again and swallows thickly.

He ghosts his roaming hand over the other’s length, and he’s rewarded by a roll of the hips - a desperate attempt for the touch. . .for the release that Jihyun needs. “J -Ju...min.” 

“What is it, love? Tell me.”

As grateful as the heir is whenever Jihyun voiced his wants, needs, or desires - because he knew the photographer had trouble doing so -

he’d always imagined him unable to form coherent words because he was too worked up. It was one (of many) desires that the heir thought of whenever he needed release. He hopes to have that same effect on Jihyun at some point during this intimate exchange between them.

“I need to come.” The photographer whined. Hips still slowly rolling, pressing up against Jumin’s hand that was now stilled and hovering over his throbbing, aching length.

At that admission, Jumin presses himself against Jihyun once again; allowing the photographer to feel just how much he needed him, too. He maneuvers himself in such a way where he’s able to slip his hand around Jihyun’s aching length with ease and stroke firmly, and he relishes the sounds that tumble from the other's mouth - whines and sighs and moans and panted breathing; a melodic symphony to Jumin’s ears - all for him, and because of him.

He cannot help but feel proud. Greedy. Yet as much as he wants more, he knows that Jihyun is near his peak.

At least the first, Jumin hopes. He isn't sure how many climaxes Jihyun would be able to reach, but he's more than willing to find out. 

“Come for me.” It's certainly more of a command than a request; a low growl that seems as though it was made wholly for Jihyun’s ears.

And oh, does the photographer do just as he is told. Back arching slightly off the mattress as his climax takes hold - a high-pitched moan of relief escapes him as he comes in spurts across his lower abdomen, and a bit on Jumin’s hand. Lingering whimpers as Jumin continues to stroke him even while his length becomes flaccid.

“Good.” The heir says simply, then ceases his ministrations. A smirk curves his lips as his eyes take in all of the photographer now… the way his chest and face are flushed pink. The hair matted to his forehead from sweat. The heavy breathing and the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. 

And he can't help but to moan - low and deep - at the sight. If things were to end here, Jumin would be more than satisfied. The smirk on his lips shift to a soft, tender smile that he reserves just for his boyfriend. “Are you alright, my love?”

Jihyun licks his lips as he nods sleepily. “. . .Yes.” And he takes a moment to swallow. “Yes, I’m fine.” 

The heir knows that the other is being honest and sincere, and not just saying he is in order to make Jumin more comfortable with their coupling. “I love you.”

The photographer relaxes against the bed. “I love you, too. . .”

And the photographer feels the heir release his length, which falls to rest against his lower abdomen - while his mint eyes watch as Jumin pulls back and kneels between his legs before bringing the hand that was wrapped around his once hardened length up to his lips

and begin lick the essence that was left behind.

Jihyun gasps just as Jumin moans. He wasn't prepared for such a sight, nor would he have ever imagined such a thing would occur or how erotic it would be to see it.

Jumin, on the other hand, had imagined doing such a thing before. Tasting Jihyun was just one of many fantasies he’s had over time, though he never could imagine just how the photographer tasted. . .

better than the finest of red wines.

The turquoise-haired man swallowed thickly; arousal beginning to flow through his veins once more. Is this normal? he finds himself wondering, though he keeps it to himself for the time being. He watches, still, as Jumin pulls his hand away from his lips and tongue - a sure sign that he's cleaned his hands and fingers of the photographer’s essence. 

Silently, Jumin brings that hand, along with his other one, to the first button of his work jacket and oh so slowly begins to undo them - one

by 

one. 

And he hears Jihyun’s breath hitch, which causes his fingers to immediately stop. “We don't have to do this --” the heir says.

“--No.” His boyfriend's response is immediate, and the room falls silent. “I want this. Seeing you taste me on your fingers and then watching you undress so slow. . .” 

He cannot seem to find the words to finish his sentence, for he lets out a whimper instead. His length twitching against his abdomen as it begins to harden once more. A moment passes before he says, “Please let me help you.”

His hands reach up and come to rest over Jumin’s - slender fingers finding the button that the heir was just about to undo. A comfortable silence falls over the room as Jihyun undoes the button, allowing the jacket to fall open.

Jumin wastes no time at all; shrugging out of the jacket and allowing it to fall onto the bed behind him. All the while Jihyun’s hands slide up Jumin's chest in order to seek out the first button of Jumin's dress shirt.

“Your impatience is showing again, Jihyun.” There’s amusement in the heir’s tone. “You've completely skipped over my tie.”

Not that he minds, really. It's something he’s able to get undone easily enough. He loosens it and slips it off with ease, and allows it to join his jacket.

“Sorry,” the turquoise-haired man replies softly as he continues to undo the buttons of Jumin’s dress shirt; his fingers slightly trembling as he anticipates what's to come. 

"Relax…" the heir says, soothingly. "I'm just teasing…" and his fingers come to rest on Jihyun's to steady them and help in undoing the buttons, then discards it to the floor after he's pushed out of it and he's quickly folded it up. Next comes the tank top he wears underneath it, and he shivers as Jihyun's fingertips roam across his chest and abdomen.

"I want to feel you…." the photographer whispers. "All of you."

Jumin swallows a groan that threatens to escape through his now parted lips, and his breath catches in his throat. His eyes become half-lidded, and though Jihyun may not be able to properly see the other's come hither, I want to be inside of you look … the heir surely hopes he can, at the very least, sense it in the air between them. "As do I, to you." He can only reply through panted breaths.

"Are you becoming impatient, my love?" Jihyun inquires as his hands roam to the top of Jumin's dress slacks. What a shame it was that Jumin wore such tight fitting dress pants, along with a belt. He'd love nothing more than to surprise his boyfriend by reaching down past his slacks and boxer-briefs and grab ahold of his length and stroke him slow.

"Perhaps."

"Please do…" and he moans a little as his fingers meet in the middle of the Heir's belt buckle, fumbling with it a little.

Jumin's silent as he assists Jihyun in unbuckling his pants — shedding the belt off in a swift motion and dropping it to the floor with his pile of clothes so the buckle doesn't clang against the ground and make Jihyun startled. And it isn't long until they both shed Jumin of the clothes that Jihyun wished were gone a long while ago.

The photographer's hand reaches for the Heir's hardened length and he takes it into his hand gently; slowly giving him experimental strokes. He can't help but smile hearing the other curse under his breath and feel the pre-come leak from the tip.

"You're ready."

"God, yes," he says through gritted teeth as he gently places his own fingers under Jihyun's chin to brush his lips against the other's. "Are you?"

Jihyun breathes out, "yes….." as he strokes himself; not truly surprised that he's hard once again for his love.

And Jumin kisses him passionately and deeply as he lays Jihyun back down onto the bed, a groan slipping through the kiss as Jihyun's hand moves away from his aching hardness.

#juminv #vumin #jumin x v #mystic messenger jumin #v mystic messenger #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fic #mystic messenger smut #🔞 #fanfiction #juni writes

[agorejessstone]

Just For Tonight: Jumin Han One Shot

With V off the grid, Jumin has been burying himself in work. You can’t be sure if it’s because he’s still unraveling the emotional yarn in his head, or if he’s avoiding the truth altogether. When you first arrived at his place, you’d feared you’d never escape. Jumin was so calm, cool, and collected on the surface, but he was suffering inside, tragically, and in denial. The only way for him to operate was to lock all those feelings away and deal with them in very strange ways.

You’d come to understand him more in recent months. You weren’t all that surprised when he proposed to you are the party, after only knowing you for 10 days. Jumin was the type of man to make quick calculations, react accordingly, and rarely regret his decisions. Others might find him calculating and cold, but you’ve come to know him as passionate and meticulous.

Jumin called you five times during his workday. On his way to the office, after his morning and afternoon meeting, during lunch, and finally on his way home. Like clockwork, he’d call. It wasn’t as if you weren’t busy. Jumin had assumed the role of RFA’s leader in V’s absence, so you were tasked with coordinating party guests.

Jumin respected you, deeply, but he still fought the desire to control you in every way. He’d grown tremendously, but there was a burning deep inside that told him if he didn’t capture you completely, you’d manage to escape. While that was never your intention, you’d grown to understand him, thus you indulge these petty requests. God forbid you to misplace your phone or miss one of his phone calls.

You’d just checked the time, sure that Jumin wouldn’t call you for several more hours, and decided to slip into a warm bath. From the other room, you heard your phone chime but thought nothing particular of it. You’d assume it was a guest reply to an invitation and continue to lavish yourself in the many scented scrubs and oils he’d procured just for you. If there was one thing you were fond of, it was Jumin’s ability to shower you with affection in the form of expensive gifts.

You’d have loved him just for his dedication alone but living in luxury was a welcome addition to your everyday life. You want for not for the first time in your life. As you lather yourself in the delicious scent of peaches and vanilla, your phone seems to rattle incessantly against the table you’d left it upon. You continue to ignore it, all your attention on indulging yourself while the moment presents itself.

As you let yourself sink below the surface, someone starts pounding on the door frantically. You nearly drown to remove yourself from the tub, slipping and sliding across the tile floor.

“For the love of…” Who’s here? You ponder as you carefully stead yourself, wrapping your body in a thigh-length towel.

To time for a robe, you fling the door open. Just beyond, the startled look on your husband’s face greats you. 

“Oh.” He looks you over before averting his eyes.

“Jumin?” You eye his suspiciously, “What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the day. Shouldn’t you be working?”

“You weren’t answering the phone.” He flushes before turning away.

“What is it?” You hastily reach for a dressing robe and drape it over your body.

“We’ve discovered something regarding the attack on the messenger. I was worried for your safety. I wanted to see for myself if you were okay.”

“What do you mean, revelation? Have you found V?”

“We have.” His face shows no emotion, but his eyes are in pain.

You gingerly place a hand on his cheek, willing him to look you in the eyes, “Jumin, what is it?”

His lips remain in a firm, thin line as he moves his eyes to meet yours, “Rika is alive.”

Your breath hitches as your hand falls away, “Rika? Alive?” Panic-stricken, your voice takes on a mind of its own, “Yoosung must be beside himself. What about Seven? Zen…”

“They haven’t heard.” His monotone voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Is…” You chew your lip anxiously, “Is V with Rika, then?”

With a curt nod, he gathers your fingers between his own, “There’s more.”

“What is it?” You wait patiently for him to continue.

“It appears the hacker that brought you to us, was none other than Seven’s own brother. One that V was made responsible for. Rika insisted that they share the responsibility. I know not of the details, but apparently, neither of them was very good at their jobs.” With an uncharacteristic sigh, he pulls you against his chest.

His heart beats rapidly, and his body is stiff, “What does this mean for us?”

“We can expect another attack,” he gently kisses the top of your head.

“What does that mean for me?” You tilt your head up searching his eyes for the truth.

“I will never let them have you.” His hold tightens until you are unable to breathe.

“Jumin,” You mutter against his chest.

“Never.” Lost in his thoughts, he grips your tighter still.

“I can’t,” try as you might, your words don’t get through and the room begins to turn fuzzy.

“I will never let them harm you.” Finally, he loosens his hold, “My apologies. You aren’t hurt, are you? Get dressed, and then we can talk.”

“Jumin, are you okay?” You tremble slightly as his warmth leaves you.

“I’m fine.” He lies as he turns his back on you.

You grab the back of his suit jacket just as his hand reaches the doorknob, “Please talk to me. I can get dressed in a moment.”

Worried about him, you urge him back into the bathroom, “Very well, but you still have soap in your hair.”

You chuckle lightly, “I should probably rinse this out.”

“You don’t mind if I’m here?” His eyebrow arches.

“Of course not.” You let your robe fall away and slip back into the tub.

“Then, may I assist?”

You flush ear to toes, “Sure, but on one condition.”

“I should know the details of this contract before stamping my signature.” He smirks.

“I’d like for you to join me. You could use a warm bath.” You smile nervously.

“That’s a contract I’d sign any day, no matter the cost.”

You watch as he sheds his clothes, folding them perfectly to ensure they don’t wrinkle. When he’s down to his underwear your stomach flips over himself. Perfectly toned, perfectly groomed, this man is the very picture of perfection. You can’t take your eyes off him as he slips into the tub.

You’d never in your wildest dreams have imaged this man before you, surrounded by bubbles, smelling of peaches. Yet, here he is, the most blissful smile you’ve seen on him yet, Elizabeth the 3rd’s antics in consideration as well.               

You run your hands over the silky bubbles, popping a few strays between your fingertips. He watches you, intrigued by the simple motion. You can’t help but wonder how much of that yarn you’ve managed to untangle, just by allowing him to observe you. Would he soon forget all about his long-time friend’s betrayal, or would he choose to overlook it when his father gathered the courage to begin dating again?

As your fingers absentmindedly dart over the surface, your thoughts increase, as well as your doubts. You’d done well, staying by his side for a few days, letting him work through his emotions on his own, but now that you’re married, now that you see him consistently, has he truly forgotten about it, or is he simply satiated with your constant presence? Would whatever was happening with Rika and V change things? Would he revert back to the captor you once knew?

As if reading your mind, his hand finds yours, creeping from beneath the surface, startling you from your increasingly gloomy thoughts.

“I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours. Will your lips find pause, or cooperate with my curiosity?” He brings your fingers to his lips, kissing the tips one by one, before pulling you into his lap.

You feel him tense beneath you as he realizes there is nothing between the two of you unless you were to consider the thin veil of water and suds. Perhaps he's nervous or he's simply remembering what brought him back to the penthouse in such a rush. You were in danger, according to him, but was there really anything to be concerned about now? Even if V was with Rika, and Seven's brother was involved, would they seriously attempt to attack you once more?

“I’m not sure I even know what I was thinking about, Jumin.” You stammer as you settle into his lap, encouraging him to relax.

“I should have asked before pulling you over to me. That was exceedingly rude, even for me” A self-deprecating chuckle escapes his lips as he gathers you against his chest.

“We’re married now, Jumin. While I ask that you consult me before making any important decisions, you are free to embrace me and comfort me as the situation may call for it.”

“Were you not considering how much I have changed over such a short period of time? Or were you thinking about Rika and V? You seemed overly concerned about the other members as well. What is it that troubles you so?”

You wrinkle your nose, but answer him anyway, “How is it that you can read my every thought as if it were written clearly on my face?”

“At times, it is, written clearly I mean.” A small smirk graces his features before he clears his throat anxiously, “I do not know the answer to those questions just yet, my love. I would like to believe this change is permanent, however, I do not wish to lie to you. I would hope that V and Rika, will not attack, but we must prepare for the worst. Your concern for the other members is valid, as I am currently struggling with the same ordeal I imagine V did all of those years. How much to tell, and when.”

“Jumin…” You glance at him warily.

“Please listen, just for a moment. We can discuss the issues with the RFA after we discuss your concerns about us.” He tilts your chin upward, inviting you to scrutinize him freely as he speaks, “I wish to feel secure in our relationship, just as desperately as you wish for me to be secure. I trust you, but sometimes I do not trust myself. I am afraid, that even now, as changed as I’ve become, once I fail to locate and stop whatever Rika and V have planned, once another burden befalls the RFA, I will return to the obsessive, overprotective being I once was. The longer I am by your side, the easier that becomes, but I cannot be sure if that is because most of my focus is elsewhere. For now, I’d like to place my faith in our love and bet that this change in me is everlasting. I promise to continue to work on myself. Should that mean obtaining another hobby to ease my mind, I shall do so. If I am forced to stay away from you during more tumultuous periods, I will grant that wish. Whatever it takes to keep you as my wife, please believe I will fulfill it.”

“That’s very kind of you to say. Jumin, is this… more than just a passing fancy? Is this something you wish to partake in, fantasy-wise?” Your lip’s part, the words flowing freely without question. Only after they’ve been released do you wonder… Is this his fantasy, or am I hoping he might find a tiny bit of that control elsewhere?

“If you are asking whether I considered the option of more… controlling play in the bedroom, I have, but I am afraid that once that beast is unleashed, I may never be able to cage it again. Instead, you may be the one caged.” He chews his lip as he considers both his response and my words, a gesture you’ve rarely seen from him.

“Are you certain it would not help you exercise the issue so that we might have a more normal relationship?” You’re starting to realize that this might be less about quelling him and more about stirring you up.

“I am, however, if I’m honest, I am curious about one thing…” He averts his eyes anxiously before settling his gaze somewhere far away, “I could never see myself asking for his under normal circumstances, however after taking a long look back at my former self, I had one singular thought. What would it be like, to be with someone like me?”

You tilt your head curiously, “You mean, you’d like for someone else to take control for once?”

“That is one of my greatest curiosities. Would you be willing to…”? He swallows thickly.

“Would you be able to give up control for long enough to enjoy it?” You find your body repositioning itself automatically.

“I would be most willing to try. You will find that I am very disciplined when I put my mind to something.”

You card your fingers through his hair, water sloshing around your thighs as you straddle him carefully. Taking a handful of it in your hand, you pull his head back, lowering your lips slightly above his ear.

“Are you certain you want to relinquish control to someone like me?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he replies, “It can be no other.”

You lower your lips onto his neck and bite down with just enough force to leave a temporary mark. A thrill runs through you. What would it be like to hunt the hunter? Your mind buzzes with ideas as you mark his flesh just below the collarbone, ensuring no one would see it. Carefully you consider the best way to go about it and settle on one thing or another.

Tonight, Jumin will be the one caged by the desire of another. Tonight, you will be the predator and he the prey. Just for tonight…

#jumin han #mysme #mystic messenger #mystic messenger incorrect quotes #otome #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanart #mystic messenger fanfiction

[nowayimdie]

Mystic Hotel Messenger ( Mystic Messenger x Hazbin Hotel) - Origin (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1427656666-mystic-hotel-messenger-mystic-messenger-x-hazbin?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=335kokosan In the fiery depths of Hell, where the cacophony of tortured souls echoes through the abyss, our protagonist, a resilient denizen of damnation, emerges as an unlikely heroine. Amidst the seething population of sinners condemned to eternal torment, our protagonist navigates the grim reality, year after year, braving the harrowing Annual Extermination-an ominous event orchestrated by the heavenly forces to maintain order in the nether realms. In this infernal tapestry of despair, our protagonist's life takes an unexpected turn when she crosses paths with V, enigmatic owner of the Mystic Hotel Messenger-an establishment that transcends the ordinary realms of infernal suffering. V, harboring a vision to redeem the souls ensnared in sin and grant them passage to the elusive haven of Heaven, extends an invitation to our protagonist. However, the protagonist, hardened by the relentless trials of Hell, harbors a profound skepticism toward redemption. A soul resilient to the notion of salvation, she stands firm in her belief that the stained fabric of her existence cannot be cleansed. Despite her skepticism, a flicker of hope surfaces within her as V extends an offer not of absolution but of sanctuary. In the enigmatic refuge of the Mystic Hotel, our protagonist finds an unexpected haven-a respite from the ceaseless torment and the looming threat of the Annual Extermination. As she treads the corridors of Mystic Hotel, each step becomes a journey of self-discovery and reluctant acceptance. The dichotomy between her steadfast skepticism and the allure of sanctuary weaves a compelling narrative, one that unfolds against the backdrop of V's mission to redeem and the protagonist's silent yearning for solace. In this tale of infernal survival and unexpected encounters, our protagonist's journey becomes a nuanced exploration of redemption, sanctuary, and the resilience of the human spirit-even in the darkest corners of Hell."

#707 #crossover #fanfiction #hazbinhotel #jaehee #jihyun #jumin #mc #mystic #mysticmessenger #rika #saeran #yoonsung #zen #books #wattpad #amreading

[rosalind-hawkins]

"Go on," Seto said. "I know you want to."

Mokuba's eyes narrowed, and before Jumin could puzzle out the meaning of his words, Mokuba slapped his brother across the face.

Jumin gasped.

Seto worked his jaw for a moment, his hand going up to caress the red skin. It had been harder than he expected.

"Yeah, I deserved that."

#yugioh #seto kaiba #my fanfiction #snippet #adult!mokuba #adult mokuba #mokuba kaiba #kaiba mokuba #kaiba brothers #jumin han