#mysme 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

[kangjaehee]

you know, more confidently.

In their Christmas Eve lunch, Chaeyoung debates if she should kiss Jaehee under the msitletoe.

for @jaeheeweek22  day 1 - mistletoe.

title: you know, mroe confidently

pairing: jaehee/main character (CMC: Min Chaeyoung)

rating: general

word count: 2965

tags: christmas fluff, a little bit of internalized homophobia, the mcjaehee matching jewerly agenda

CHRISTMAS EVE WAS IN FULL SWING, and Chaeyoung had to admit, she was feeling more festive this season than she’d had in a while. 

Perhaps the ongoing Holiday promos at the café had something to do with it. She had spent her entire week huddled in the kitchen with Lily, baking order after order of cakes and cookies. At this point, she was dreaming of gingerbread and elf hats and Santa and reindeers. The movie sessions with Jaehee, she thought, were another addition. 

Perhaps Jaehee was the biggest change from last year’s Christmas to this one, she thought. Back then, it would’ve been hard for her to imagine she’d be spending her holiday season sleeping over at Jaehee’s house more than once a week, cuddling and watching their favorite Christmas movies, baking their favorite things in the morning, stealing kisses between it all. 

They had started dating recently– it’d be a month soon– and every single romantic Christmas song had acquired a new meaning. She dedicated every single one she heard to Jaehee, as well as every Christmas movie, every little moment. This was their season, their month: they had confessed to each other on a cold night the first of December, and all of their kisses tasted of peppermint and cocoa. 

Work had wrapped up for the day– only a half day before their Christmas break for people to wrap up orders– and now they were headed for lunch at one of their favorite restaurants. This would be one of their first ever actual dates, not counting the many nights they’d already spent at each other’s houses. It made Chaeyoung giddy. With enthusiasm, she closed everything on the café, even taking Jaehee’s hand as she closed the door like she was picking her up from her house, an instance that made them both giggle. 

They drove, gossiping about the chatroom and the people of the café and whatever would happen tonight when Jaehee went to dinner with Chaeyoung’s family, an instance they were both nervous for but looked forward to. Jaehee’s fingers found Chaeyoung’s in stoplights, and they laced their fingers together, and Chaeyoung would look up and smile until Jaehee dis that shy little laugh that always gave Chaeyoung butterflies. 

This was really quite the feeling. They felt like a real couple now that they were doing couple stuff, going to lunch dates after work for quality time like the grown women in their mid-twenties that they were. Chaeyoung found it hard to describe, but she quite liked it. 

The place was not too crowded– an elegant Italian restaurant in a culinary district of Seoul, and a decently popular date night spot, though Chaeyoung figured, to their luck, that most couples would choose to go out at night. This was good, they’d get their food faster. 

“I think we should try the pizzas this time around…” Jaehee mused as they approached the place. “I have heard great things about them.”

“I wanted to do that, as well,” Chaeyoung said. “How about a margarita?”

The frown Jaehee gave her was sudden and comical. “I believe it’s a little… early for such a drink, Chaeyoung.”

Chaeyoung snorted. “I mean the pizza. It is way too early to have margaritas… I was thinking something like wine would be better for now…”

Jaehee scoffed, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “I still believe it is a bit too early for any drinks at all… I’d rather not be drunk at midday.”

“Well, it’s not my fault you get drunk with half a bottle…” Chaeyoung cocked an eyebrow. 

Jaehee’s eyebrows were on her hairline. “Alright, rude.” When Chaeyoung laughed, more irritated, she said, “Okay, first of all, I am not that lightweight. Don’t exaggerate.”

“Baby,” Chaeyoung looked down at her, softening her approach. “Are you going to forget Wednesday’s events?”

“Oh, please, Chaeyoung, that was Pinot Blanc…” she scoffed, an indignant frown on her face. “I was bound to get at least tipsy.”

“You were much more than tipsy, let me tell you…”

“Alright…” she said. “I suppose I could use some wine… it’s Christmas, after all. But I will go light.”

Chaeyoung nodded. “Sounds good to me.” She wondered, silently, if tonight would be any similar to Wednesday… She figured not. Jaehee would’ve learned her lesson after that quite… revealing and eventful evening in the chatroom. She would not want to repeat it again, though Chaeyoung would be amused. 

They had finally arrived at the entrance, having parked a few blocks away. “There’s a mistletoe…” Jaehee said. 

Chaeyoung looked at the door. There was one indeed, hanging right above it. “Would you look at that, there is one…” she said, thinking of how many kisses had been shared under it this season. The waiters would surely be amused by them, just as she was with every kiss at the door of their café. 

Jaehee didn’t move, so Chaeyoung decided to, going ahead and opening the door for her girlfriend, who regarded her with a somewhat dumbfounded look. 

“Go ahead, my darling,” she said with a playful tone, and Jaehee gave her a little smile and stepped inside, without meeting her eyes. 

It was only when Chaeyoung had closed the door and they were walking to their table that Chaetoung realized her grave, grave mistake. 

Oh. Her face was suddenly as red as her hair. 

She did not talk at all once they sat down, to embarrassed with herself to even get a good look at Jaehee. Sometimes, Chaeyoung could be very stupid. She knew this. She was keenly aware of this character flaw, evidenced by the many times Jaehee had, though also without knowing it, flirted with her, and that she had not caught. “Women have to be much more careful when approaching other women…” She had attributed that quote to anything but a romantic intent– misplaced misogyny, the emotional carefulness women were known for that men usually lacked, literally whatever except attraction, until she thought about it months ago, when she was starting to realize her feelings for Jaehee. 

Well, at least now she was slightly faster at picking up the clues. A couple seconds later in comparison to a couple months was quite the development, wasn’t it…?

“We’ll be having the medium margarita with a chardonnay, please,” Jaehee said once the waitress had come to take their order. Chaeyoung ordered water for herself, and the waitress was off. 

“I didn’t know what to get your mother for Christmas…” Jaehee said after a while, and Chaeyoung understood that they were dropping the matter of earlier. “I got her a perfume… I hope she enjoys floral scents.”

“I don’t think they allow that at the hospital, but her perfumes are usually… light and sweet.” Chaeyoung said. It was funny, actually, how well Jaehee seemed to get along with her mother. She had met her when the café opened, and ever since Chuseok, they seemed to have hit it off quite well. Sometimes Jaehee and her would casually talk on the phone about matters that had nothing to do with her. 

Chaeyoung was, all in all, happy to see it, although she did find it confusing, as anyone probably would. She treated Jaehee like a friend and sometimes like her own daughter… which was probably why Jaehee leaned onto her. Chaeyoung knew of her turbulent history with older female figures after her own mother’s death and, with that in mind, was happy to see her have this. And perhaps it might make the revelation of her relationship– and of her own self– easier, when the time came to do it. 

The wine arrived, the waitress pouring it on their glasses. Although they were very much in a casual setting, neither of them bothering to dress up for the occasion, Jaehee still looked very elegant with the browns and golds of the restaurant behind them, her cream turtleneck, the red wine, her slightly pinkened cheeks. 

Chaeyoung had an idea, and raised her glass. “A toast,” she said. Jaehee, with a cute, eye-smile grin, did the same. “To us.” 

“To this… blissful and beautiful new beginning,” she said, “And to many more Christmases together.”

They clinked their glasses and Chaeyoung found herself reveling in this moment, the normalcy of it, the cliché of being a couple lunching together on Christmas, toasting their relationship over a glass of Chardonnay. She wanted to have many more of these moments: couple trips, dinner dates, strolls along the bay, shopping for an apartment and furniture for it. 

It brought her this calm, peaceful happiness to think about it. She was never the sort for clichés, never desired a romance that looked like everyone else’s. Never was the black tie date night, white dress bride sort. With Minhyuk, they had wanted to do love their own way, craft their own version of romance and see what that looked like. But with Jaehee, she was eager to do love the way everyone else had done it, because it would still be irrevocably theirs. 

Shuffling on Jaehee’s purse took her out of her thoughts. Carefully, she pulled out a small box. “I wanted to give you your present…” she said, honey eyes regarding her earnestly, and holding out the small blue box. 

“Oh my goodness…” Chaeyoung was grinning widely when she took the box. She recognized the store, and knew it was not a cheap one. “This is…” 

“Open it,” she said, playfully in a way where Chaeyoung couldn’t help but indulge her. 

With as much care as Jaehee pulled the box out, she opened it to reveal a rather dainty rose gold necklace, with a pink stone etched in a frame that looked kind of like a sun. Chaeyoung couldn’t help but gasp lightly, drawing her fingers through the stone. “Jaehee, this is gorgeous…”

She couldn’t say it fit her jewelry style, as she preferred thicker chains and bracelets, but she could not deny its beauty. Aesthetics be damned, she wanted to wear it forever, simply because Jaehee had gotten it for her.

“It’s a rose quartz,” Jaehee explained. Her cheeks were a similar shade of pink. “Associated with tenderness, comfort, and joy. I figured it was the appropriate stone to represent who you are to me.”

Chaeyoung had a giddy, lovestruck grin on her face, and if they weren’t in the middle of a restaurant, she would pull Jaehee in to kiss her right now. This woman and her attention to detail always touched a very special part of her: the way she made sure everything had a place, a meaning, an intention. She left no stone unturned, and it marveled Chaetoung, making her heart smile every time. 

“And.. lift it up,” Jaehee said, so Chaeyoung lifted the little foam piece. There was another necklace identical to it. “It’s a set of two…” Jaehee said. “I don’t know if I should have consulted you about this, but I wanted to–” She huffed, the way she always did when she was flustered. “I wanted us to have something… that– bonded us, if you will, and I’ve always liked the idea of matching pieces.”

Chaeoung’s smile wasn’t going away anytime soon, and now she was closer and closer every second to damning the restaurant and just going over to Jaehee and kissing her. “No, I love it,” she said. “That way, I’ll always carry you with me… it’s adorable.”

Jaehee was now smiling like a fool as well, turning away just slightly, as if she didn’t want Chaeyoung to see. This woman was too cute in every single way a person could be cute. She was going to make Chaeyoung melt one day. 

“Will you help me put it on?” she asked, having taken out the necklace. “I’ll help you with yours.” It only felt right. 

Jaehee nodded and got up, and Chaeyoung did as well. She turned, pulled up her hair, and Jaehee very carefully placed the necklace around her neck and clasped it. “There you go,” was her cue for her to turn around, as well as Jaehee’s hands ghosting over her hair. Only then did she realize how heavily her heart was drumming.

She parted Jaehee’s hair softly away from the nape of her neck, although her layered haircut made the task a bit more challenging. But, with all the tenderness the stone symbolized, she managed to do it after one failed attempt that resulted in giggles, and when Jaehee turned around, the necklace fitting her like a glove, the pink stone shining bright and that same brightness reflected in her eyes, Chaeyoung felt her breath stop. 

She wanted to kiss her– do something, her lips were aching for a part of her body. Her lips, her hands, her forehead that was so easily accessible. But Chaeyoung stayed frozen in place. She didn’t know how Jaehee felt about public displays of affection, she got nervous even when Chaeyoung stole cheek kisses from her at the bakery. But there was this burning fire of expectancy, and oh, she wanted to… 

She eyed the mistletoe, where a couple had just shared a quick, chaste kiss. Perhaps she would kiss her there once they left. Perhaps then she’d be brave enough. 

“Let’s sit back down,” Jaehee said, and with that, the moment was gone. Chaeyoung meekly went back to her seat and took a sip of her wine. 

The pizza came not long after that, and it was delicious. Thin and with pools of mozzarella that made a delightful combination with the green leaves characteristic of this flavor. She would admit, though, that it would’ve been better with a rosé or sparkling white, the Chardonnay a bit too… punchy for the meal.

For dessert, they had tiramisu, one of Jaehee’s favorites, with espresso. The one this place made in particular was creamy and sweet, which made Jaehee, between pink cheeks and laughter, wipe cream from Chaeyoung’s tinted lips. Yes… Chaeyoung was going to kiss her later. 

The wine was left half-drunk, the bill was split, and they both left the place, breath tasting like coffee and cream and grapes, spirits high for the rest of the holiday– the fact it was their first as a couple just added to the giddy mood– and new matching pendants on their necks. 

Chaeyoung found herself freezing when she got to the door, movements suddenly jittery and heart suddenly racing. She remembered everything that had happened in the past hour and a half: the indirect, her obliviousness, Jaehee’s disappointment, the necklace, her hands, her eyes, her breath as she was close to her. She craved her, the brutal softness of her ministrations, and the mistletoe was right there and so was Jaehee, she could literally just pull her by the lapel of her coat and kiss her, but…

Still, something stopped her in place. The great monster that was insecurity, that sometimes precaution could be. As much as she wanted to wrap Jaehee in her arms and take her as hers in this very place, at this very moment… it would be selfish. She didn’t know if Jaehee wanted this, if she was or was not going to be made uncomfortable by her moves, by a display of them where anyone could see. 

For now, until they were sure, until they were comfortable… it would be better if these moments remained only between them, in the corners of their spaces where few people could see. This thing with Jaehee was something precious and sacred, something that could not, by any measure of the imagination, be ruined, and if she had to swallow her desires at times, she would. 

So, with heavy regret that was exposed in her steps, she began to move away from the door, leaving this moment and its many doubts behind, there would be another one, it just wasn’t meant to happen now, it was fine. 

But then, “Wait…” she heard Jaehee say, brightly. 

Chaeyoung turned to see her, still under the door, a wide, closed-lip smile on her face. 

“What…” she said, frozen, expectant. 

“...Come here for a second.” Jaehee’s words were an open-armed invitation, exuding a sort of calm confidence that pulled Chaeyoung in like a magnet. 

Slowly and very nervously, with her heart drumming in her chest, she approached the door, never breaking Jaehee’s gaze. She had always loved her eyes. Big and honey-colored, they sparkled from within with wonder and glee, like there were sparks dancing behind them. 

She was now standing face-to-face with Jaehee, close enough to feel her coffee-and-cream breath, aware of the plant right above them. 

And then, very carefully but without a smidget of hesitance, she brought her hand to cup her cheek, got on her tiptoes, and kissed her on the lips. It was perfect, sweet, as tender as the stone that had come to now symbolize their love prescribed. 

And Chaeyoung was beaming.

Rushing with an adrenaline that to her was not very well-known, euphoric, powerful, she could swallow the world entire. She cupped Jaehee’s face with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist, pulling her closer, and kissed her back. Really kissed her, making sure to taste the tangy sweetness of her mouth that by now she knew so well. And she did not care at all about the holiday or the restaurant or who was looking. Whoever looked would look. 

“Merry Christmas,” she said after she pulled away, a few seconds later, still holding Jaehee close to her. 

With her thumb, Jaehee caressed Chaeyoung’s cheek, and she closed her eyes, leaning into her touch completely, pressing her forehead to hers. She wondered, for the millionth time perhaps, how she had gotten so lucky to trip upon this woman. 

Jaehee whispered against her lips, voice made of marshmallow fluff: “Merry Christmas, my dear.”

#jaeheeweek22 #jhw01 #mystic messenger #mysme #mysmes #mm #jaehee kang #kang jaehee #jaehee mysme #jaehee mystic messenger #mm jaehee #jaehee x mc #mc x jaehee #mcjaehee #jaehee/mc #mystic messenger fanfiction #mm fanfiction #mm fanfic #mysme fanfiction #my stuff #my writing #idk who else will post on this little challenge but be aware that I Will

[currentlyprocrastinating]

did another thing (*･▽･*)

it's pretty much just an introspectic version of the more narrative/detailed chapter(s) I wrote for Squirrel & Saeran's story :3

It revolves around their first meeting and lightly touches on some of Squirrel's issues, but this is mostly light-hearted ^^

Warnings: harsh swearing (but like once)

Pairing: Squirrel x Ray

Word Count: 2298

==============================

Safety was always a priority to Squirrel. Her mother taught her all sorts of safety, and her job made it second nature. Anytime a stranger stopped to speak with her, whether it was someone who got a little lost or an employee at a café, she would scan them and deem them not a threat or be wary or leave ASAP just as their first words to her were leaving their lips. In daily life, it wasn't exactly the tool it was on the job, but she had found it proved useful regardless. She had never encountered an entity or hostile force targetting her, but there had been... strange people, and her internalized radar helped her dodge their bullets.

She had learned to trust her gut when it came to people. Too many past occasions had proven that. So, she was cautious. She was a planner, too, although she liked the shake-up of spontaneity when it didn't interfere with important things. But for big projects or traveling? She took her time and made sure to be overprepared, such as extra clothes in her suitcase or a backup catsitter.

Which was why her decision to follow the words of a complete stranger — a man, at that — shocked all of her friends. Especially when she sheepishly added that she had agreed to assist in a confidential, semi-long-term project. ...And, well... she let him send her a pick-up car in order to travel to a secondary location — one she wasn't allowed to know the details on, even when standing inside the building.

Flavors of "Are you insane?!" blew up her phone when she recounted the story the next morning.

Truth be told, she shocked herself, too. But she wasn't too hasty, she told herself. She had returned to her apartment, made new arrangements for a catsitter for two weeks (knowing she could extend that time if necessary), extended her time off work by another week, and packed her large suitcase, good enough for a couple weeks.

A couple weeks, he had said, maybe a month.

And she had slipped into that backseat and put on that blindfold knowing that, if things went south, she could make it out on her own. She was good at that kind of thing, after all.

But she was giving this all a chance. She was trusting her gut with this guy (and his cute voice), and it hadn't failed her before.

The car ride was long and kind of boring. The driver didn't talk, and she didn't try to make conversation. She passed the time with podcasts and (keeping one earbud out — just to be safe).

When they arrived, and her door opened, his voice rang out, clearer than over the phone, filled with a confidence that whispered, I know what I want, and a high level of politeness for someone who spoke informally from the start. He gave his name: Ray, a beautiful name. And he asked to take her hand so she wouldn't hurt herself stepping out of the car.

Feeling a little fuzzy in her chest, she blindly reached her hand out.

Smooth leather-like fabric (oddly-shaped gloves, she concluded) and warm skin. But not a natural warmth, no — a nervous warmth, potentially clammy, yet dry like he had just wiped his palms on his pants.

A small smile graced her lips. If Ray really was nervous, he was doing an excellent job at hiding it.

He held her hand like it was reverent, like it was glass — and still, his grip was firm as he helped her out of the car. He didn't let go when she stood on solid ground, and she struggled, for a moment, to focus on his words. Her heart was beating a little bit faster than she was used to, the back of her neck felt hot and prickly, and her throat was kind of tight.

Squirrel didn't really know what to make of this bodily response, but it was... nice, in a strange way.

Then, he was leading her inside, two others trailing them with her luggage. (She felt bad for bringing so much — a suitcase, a duffel bag, and the small bag she carried everywhere — but she couldn't help being overprepared.)

He asked her to keep the blindfold on due to confidentiality, and she complied without complaint. Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes of their walk. She tried to pick a conversation starter, if only to take her mind off of how perfect his hand felt in hers, but she came up empty each time.

He was the one to break the silence, finally, expressing his gratitude for her cooperation. Just out of curiosity, she asked what he would've done if she refused this offer.

He was silent for a beat or two, and she swore she heard his breath stutter, and maybe that twitch of his finger wasn't exactly coincidental.

But it was fleeting: little ticks that only a mind programmed like hers would think to notice. Besides, Ray's reply was reasonable, Squirrel thought:

"Well... I don't really want to think about it. We could have delayed the release date. Or it could've been a disaster... Nobody knows."

When they reached her room, the other two people dropped off her luggage and departed without a word. The door shut, clicking into place.

It was just her and Ray, now. And her heart hadn't calmed down since the start. She swore it skipped a beat when she heard his subtle, shaky exhale.

His hand slipped from hers, and she found herself missing it (feeling the tingling of the phantom sensation, as if his fingers were still pressed into her skin).

"I'll remove your mask," she heard him say. He slipped behind her, almost dead silent, and his deft fingers were quick to untie the knot. The blindfold left her view, giving her a few moments to take in the room before her. Quite an impressive and spacious room, although rather... pink. But no matter. She wouldn't bite the hand feeding her.

And then Ray stepped into view, the sweetest smile on his radiant face, sweet like ice cream, and his voice, oh, it was just as smooth: "Hi! First time seeing each other face-to-face, isn't it?"

She lost her words. She was gaping — lips parted, eyes wide, and boy, did her face feel hot. And her neck and ears... and her chest and... Her skin buzzed with this warmth, her hands shook with it.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen someone so... ethereal. Even though he looked a little scrawny and the dark bags under his eyes told her he needed better sleep... Evidently nothing, she thought, could undermine his beauty. His white hair was a bit fluffy — perhaps a bleach job gone awry — yet there was a clear attempt to tame it. Baby pink streaks broke through the white here and there and tipped the ends. His fair face was soft yet defined... a young, baby-ish look to it, despite his slightly hollowed cheeks. He looked her age, for sure, maybe a year or two older.

And his eyes. The way the sunlight gleamed in them, they sparkled like two pure, mint blue gemstones.

He was a head taller than her, too.

He shifted his feet, pushed out a small chuckle, and she snapped to reality, warm with panicked embarrassment.

"Uh— y-you're just, ah, stunning—!"

He looked surprised, geniunely, his cheeks turning pink.

"I- I would, uh, hah, uh, um... H-how do I pursue you first?" Squirrel grinned — nervous, timid, feeling like a complete fool, with her bright red face and her cheesy drop of a line.

Why did I say that? Are we trying to flirt now?? Since when??

His surprise melted away, and he laughed — a gentle, breezy laugh. Her heart did backflips. She found her hand pressing to her chest as if that would settle it.

"Me?" He offered the world another taste of his pure, warm laughter — something the world didn't deserve. He was too good for this world — her mind settled on the thought in a heartbeat. "But I'm not a character in the game!" A chuckle caught on his final word.

She let out a timid giggle, trying not to bash herself too hard for her dumb one-liner. Her eyes darted to Ray's face (it was hard not to be drawn back to his glowing features and addicting smile).

...Addicting? Uh oh.

And she caught the way he was looking at her. She struggled to put her finger on everything happening behind those intense eyes. A hint of triumph, she swore; vague contentment. A twinge of darkness around the edges, washed out by... pure adoration.

Her face grew hot again.

No, no, she was surely reading him wrong.

And yet their eyes clung to each other, and she watched as something new entered his. It was... a feeling within her, more than anything. Like his mind was placing a cage around her, like his thoughts were locked solely onto her. Like he might just reach out, if they kept staring like this, and... touch her face...

It was gone in an instant. She felt whiplashed by his sudden bright smile, his cheery tone (a gentle brand of cheery), the innocent pink on his cheeks: "Anyway, you like my looks, Squirrel? That makes me feel good!"

She felt like she was catching her breath from running a mile straight. Somehow, she didn't lose his words to the whirlwind in her mind. Somehow, she managed decent replies. Somehow, at the very end, when she had mostly recovered (with her racing heart as the exception), she let herself slip up again — this time, without all the nervous stuttering.

He asked if she had any more questions about the game, and it simply... fell off her tongue.

"No, but... really, how do I pursue you, Ray-ssi?"

Another stupid, bashful grin crossed her warming face.

And his gentle, angelic laugh filled the air once more.

"Me? Ah... Though I'm not a character inside the game... I've always dreamed of someone who's a good listener to what I say. My voice is quite small... Most people don't seem to listen very well."

I'll listen to every word you say...

Shhh!!! Stop!

He dropped the topic just like that, finalizing with a few more words about the game, and then he was gone, drifting away like a cool breeze.

Leaving her alone in the middle of an empty room — alone to reflect on her stupidity.

"What the fuck, me?" she hissed, pushing a hand through her hair. Her heart was still beating erratically.

What is this?? What's happening? Why was I such an idiot back there? I never say stuff like that!!

I guess today's a day for firsts.

Gaahhh...

Crush~, whispered a tiny voice in the back of her mind.

Yes, she could easily hear Haeun and the rest of her friends teasing her for that very thing. But there was no way she had a crush on him. She just met him! No amount of good looks or high charisma had affected her like this before, so why would they now? She wasn't easily swayed by strangers like this...!

Is... is he a rifter? Maybe his power is, is charm or something!

But I'd know! That's a high-level power; I can sense those!

You have a crush, girl.

"No, I don't!" she blurted, tugging at her hair. Her heart wouldn't stop; her face was still hot. "He, he— I-I- I ju-just..." She groaned, half-heartedly swung a kick at her suitcase, and paced away. "There's no way... There's no way! He's just, um... um..."

Really cute? Super handsome? Has a lovely voice?

...She gave her head a furious shake. "No, no, that's... There's something wrong with me. That must be it! Why is my heart still beating?!"

Because you need it to live, idiot.

"Like this, I mean! It...!"

She stopped pacing, shut her eyes, and took a deep breath. One, two, three, four... Release... She repeated the cycle a few times, then opened her eyes.

"Okay..." she mumbled. "We're okay."

...Do you remember the way his eyes sparkled? How soft his face looked? Don't you wanna just run your hands through his hair? Poke his cheeks?

He looks unhealthy. Wouldn't it be nice to be the one to help him get healthier?

"Stop, stop, stop," tumbled out as she shook her head. "Don't go there; you barely know the guy!"

The way he looked at me... It was strange but... Wasn't it so nice? And warm? And comfy? Like being wrapped in a blanket, like finding your place. Like being found.

You were found. We were found. Didn't he say that? He'd been waiting for me...

She snapped out of it with another shake of her head. "No, no, that look was... familiar."

Very. Don't you think?

Look in the mirror sometimes, and then you'll find it.

She grew quiet.

There was no way... Was there?

Her heart was beating the same way. Her mental capture of him floated around the back of her mind.

And she remembered those eyes. That triumph. That darkness. That adoration. That last one — like he was locking her down.

It... did feel kind of warm...

We could... lock...

She shooed away the thought before it could fully form, then shook away the rest with an airy laugh. "Nah, I'm just overthinking all this," she told herself, told the air, told the world. "It's just... He's really attractive, that's all. I was caught off guard, that's all!"

She scoffed lightheartedly, flipping her phone in her clammy hand.

"A crush. Please. Me? An immediate crush? Me? That's not gonna happen." She shook her head in mild amusement at her little freak-out, shoved away all those concerns, and focused on her phone to start the game.

The game that he chose her to test.

She would give it her all.

#:) #mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #ray #mysme ray #squirrel x saeran #squirrel bakken #cmc #saeran choi x cmc #cmc x saeran choi #my cmc #my writing #my fanfiction #my fanfic #417 does a thing for once #mystic messenger fanfiction #mysme fanfiction #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanfic #august 2022 #mysme-rifters au #original character #saeran choi fanfiction #saerrel

[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

[thestargirlfromoon]

Ge Saeran

Headcanons

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

● Saeran did not have a normal childhood, he never had toys during his childhood, so when you give him something like a new plush toy, he is very happy and names them all with flower-related names.

● When you has a birthday, he sends those pictures of flowers with cheesy happy birthday phrases (don't make fun of him, he'll be sad lmao).

● Saeran became a vegetarian, this all started when on his birthday he went fishing with Seven, he felt very sad to hear that the worms were going to be sacrificed.Seven noticed and gave up fishing but from that day on Saeran decided to stop eating fish and then stopped all kinds of meat for good.

● He loves to feel connected with nature, he prefers to go to parks rather than to busy places like shopping malls.

● Saeran is very sensitive when it comes to physical affection, just a kiss on the forehead is enough to make him blush and feel needy (he will hug you and not want to let you go).

● He's cheesy but in a cute way, he'll be constantly spouting lines about how much he'll love you forever.

● Although he has a lot of talent in the area of technology like hacking, he is not the kind of person who uses his cell phone very often.Saeran usually uses them only for exchanging messages or calls.He spent a lot of time in front of screens in Magenta so now he just wants to spend his free time with other things like reading, looking at the sky and look at flowers with you.

● He is not used to physical touch but when it comes to you he loves to touch you, he is constantly holding your hand and will not let go of you at all, even the RFA has noticed and play with you two because of this.

● Saeran still has a very hard time dealing with compliments (although he loves it when you compliment him), so if you just tell him how adorable and beautiful he is, he will just get embarrassed and change the subject saying that you are.

● If he has a favorite cartoon that he watches with you, it's probably "We bare bears."

● One of Saeran's favorite colors is pink (this is the reason why he doesn't mind bleaching to even out the color of the ends of his hair).

● He had never been to the beach before he left Magenta.when you, he and the whole RFA went for the first time he was very delighted to see the blue sky reflecting on the water(he didn't want to leave so soon so you all went back to the hotel only at night lol).

● GE Saeran likes less "agitated" music, I see him listening a lot to the music of cigarettes after s3x and Lana del rey.

● His favorite movie genre is adventure.

#ge saeran #mystic messenger #saeran #saeran choi #saeran x mc #mysme saeran #mysme #saeran x reader #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger x reader #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons #saeran headcanons #headcanon #mysme headcanon #saeran mm #mystic messenger saeran #saeran route #otome game #mystic messenger x mc #mysme ray #mysme x reader #mysme fanfic #another story #saeran after ending #headcanons #cheritz

[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

[asterjennifer]

“Can you draw a cloud next to the spaceship for me, Saeyoung?” Saeran asked mumbled tender as his older brother measured him.

Saeyoung found the tone of voice fitting for the face he's able to look at in peace for once. No tears to be found in these round eyes, neither fear nor sadness. It's not often his little twin stared up in awe.

He hummed then, nodding his head at the small request. “Sure! I can do that.”

The other squeezed his wrist in excitement. They've been able to spend most of the day together since their mother had to leave for an reason unknown. She didn't elaborate on anything, simply told them to stay put if they wanted to see the next day coming.

But like Saeyoung has always been in the soul, he took the opportunity for his brother and himself to get up and do all kinds of things they've only been talking about before. Like eating ice cream outside. Or going for a short, hidden walk around the house. Especially for Saeran was it nice.

His legs hurt at first due to the aching in his bones, that's when you're not used to walking his big brother explained. Taking his fear of stepping forward when holding onto his arm tightly for support. Soon afterwards they managed a round around the house.

The pride in Saeran's eyes in that moment after reaching the door again had been undeniable and ever so gentle. Saeyoung read another book to him as well considering they didn't find the right timing for it since it's an adventure book.

Saeyoung had promised to read it right; implying they needed the freedom to play with the action it contained. Luckily today's the perfect situation to finally open these pages together and read through them. Saeran often giggled and made big eyes whenever Saeyoung empathized sounds or actions with his hands. Like the gunshots.

“Bam! Bam!” His fingers formed a pistol, shooting into the air with an eye pinched close to aim. “They shot like that, grazing the enemy so very skillfully.”

Saeran titled his head at the display in front of him. “Do you like guns? They are scary, don't you think?” He asked obvious.

“Hm… well, they are bad. That's true.” Saeoyung had concluded, sitting back down next to his twin at the ground.

He looked at Saeran for a short while, who waited for an answer. The innocence written all over his features despite the hardships of the days they spend in that hellhole. The pain and suffering never changed his soft heart, Saeyoung thought. Feeling his own heart melt in love albeit regret.

Saeran flinched out of reflex as Saeyoung reached out to stroke over his hair. “It's just to make it exciting, nobody gets hurt I promise.”

The day flew by outside the window and by the time they sat outside for some sky gazing. Sunrays shining down at the rather uncolored earth around them, yet giving it the perfect color to have it appear all warm. They sat beside each other and enjoyed the sun to the fullest, not really talking that much anymore.

They didn't need to; both figured individually. It's the feeling that counted, just like the fact of calmness they're capable of claiming for themselves. The house's often hectical in the most negative ways, not that they could face it very much. They're forced to regardless. Letting these days become so much more brighter in comparison.

An idea popped into Saeyoung's head, then. Anticipating the willingness of his little brother to write their heights at the wall. Sometimes, when their mother wasn't in the condition to catch them doing their own thing, they would do the small actions that brought them immense joy.

Like measuring their heights and see how they've grown over the last time they marked down the results. It's a reminder they both treasured – telling each other they survive and get to become bigger and bigger until the day they finally could escape the house they're trapped in. Living together for the rest of all days.

A dream shared within their hearts since the moment they could think, it's something that connected them. This kind of strength outshone the hatred of their parents; they lived on because they got a goal to reach once the heights were enough.

“You look taller to me now…” Saeran's words caught Saeyoung's attention right away. Looking down at him, he saw the same expression from before.

However, it still felt slightly different. “Do I?” He asked as he raised an eyebrow. The twin continued rubbing his wrist.

Then he shifted his stare to the window. “You always have been taller, but I sometimes forget that you're a lot taller than me.”

The one wearing the black tank tops frowned by these words, unsure what to make of them. He took the pen off the paper as he closed it. “But you have grown a lot, too. Look!”

He pointed the end of the pen to the new line. Saeran took a step away in order to gaze at it before blushing lightly. His lips parted and yet no sound came out of him. For a moment silence dominated the air between the two.

Thus Saeyoung placed his hand to his shoulder. “I think you have a good height, you're not too tall and not too short.”

Both could tell Saeran didn't quite believe the statement. On the contrary, he shook his head almost unnoticeable. “I don't know…”

The sad hint inside that doubt left Saeyoung to swallow a bitter taste. What could he say to make it better? To assure Saeran it's not about how tall or physical strong someone was? That his warm hands and heart were the true definition of strength?

Saeran sighed, closing his eyes while trying to gather himself. He didn't mean to ruin the nice moment. Never was it his intention to make things worse, somehow his emotions always ended up doing the opposite though. No matter how much he struggled to repress them, they're always on his sleeve. Therefore he rubbed his eyes.

“I'm sorry…” The high voice husked. “I mean… I'm glad I grew. And I feel good to have a taller brother, too. It's just…”

His words cut off in the back of his throat, taking in the difference on the wall. It's true and he meant it when saying he's happy that Saeyoung was the taller one of the two. It felt more like safety that way, giving him a place to hide away behind without being seen by the dark things.

On the other hand it's leaving an itchy feeling to his skin. Being the smaller one, the weaker of two made him the easier target for misery. Their mother came a lot more at him because of that. Of course he didn't desire for Saeyoung to be in trouble instead, that's never the case. It's more about the weakness that's glued to his bones ever since he's been born.

He both admired yet worried about Saeyoung always being the stronger one. How should he protect him in return? Could he ever repay him in some way for standing up for him as well? He's uncertain about it.

Saeyoung put the pen aside, the noise bringing Saeran out of his circling thoughts. “We are twins, aren't we?” He said with the familiar confidence.

Saeran stiffed slightly when his brother rested both hands on his shoulders, giving him eyes between certainty and care. “You are me and I am you. We are the other and that doesn't get defined by our height.”

“Are you sure…?” He couldn't help the question, but Saeyoung didn't seem to be mad at it. He just smiled.

“Of course! We share the same strength in here.” He poked the chest of his brother, right there were his heart was beating underneath. Saeran blinked frequently for a few times and relaxed again.

It felt good, knowing he's not beyond saving. That there's a chance for them both when hearing a verbal confirmation that his depressing thoughts weren't the reality of their future and even their present. Saeran reached out without another word, putting both arms around his older brother.

Saeyoung's air left his lunges at first by the sudden pressure, quickly he returned the hug anyway. They stood there, unsure how much time passed while holding onto each other. Neither of them cared as it's been something that calmed both their souls.

“Before mom comes back,” Saeoyung said after letting go. “Do you want to eat cake? I got some earlier from the woman at the church.”

These amber colored eyes glittered with the mentioning of something sweet to eat, Saeyoung was aware how much Saeran loved food that pleased his sweet tooth. The young boy made two fists with his hands, nodding his head hard. “Really? Yeah! I'd love to eat it with you!”

“Then let's get to it now, I'm sure it's going to be even tastier when we eat it together.”

Happy early birthday, Choi Twins 💕

#mystic messenger #mm #mysme #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #saeran #saeyoung #mystic messenger saeran #mystic messenger saeyoung #choi twins #birthday fic #birthday cg #birthday #saeran & saeyoung #fluff #slight angst #ff #fanfic #fanfiction #writing

[mysticqueer]

‘working theory’ - ch.1/?

takes place during day 8 of Ray’s route- what if MC put together the connection between Seven and Saeran all on her own?

Your thumbs hovered uselessly over the digital keyboard.

Zen and Seven were talking in the chatroom, mood far more somber than usual. If you were silent for too long, they might start to get concerned. Which, well-- you almost wish they were. But for the sake of your safety you needed to give the impression that nothing was wrong.

Which made bringing up the next topic of conversation nonchalantly a real challenge.

MC: Hey Seven... can I ask you a random question?

Your heart pounded as you mustered the courage to ask even that. It wasn’t like you had any solid proof behind your theory, just a gut instinct. The hours you spent staring at Seven’s ridiculous cosplay photos, the icy way that Ray spoke about the redheaded hacker...

You knew, deep down, that this was likely a bad idea. But your curiosity always got the better of you. That’s how you’d ended up in this situation, after all. You felt like you were being watched, a constant presence over your shoulder, watching your every move. Of course, you knew it wasn’t just paranoia. Saeran was surely watching you over the cameras right now, just like always. You fought the tension trying to take over your body.

707: I can’t guarantee that I’ll be able to answer

707: depending on what it’s about.

707: but you’re always free to ask. what’s up?

Seven’s serious tone, as always, hurt your heart just a little bit. He was normally so upbeat and quirky. The events of the last few days were clearly weighing on him.

You tell yourself, unconvincingly, that it will be fine. It’s not as if you’re sending out a flare for help. You aren’t technically doing anything you aren’t supposed to. You take a deep breath and type.

MC: Do you... have a brother?

...

Silence.

Then...

- 707 has left the chatroom. -

Your blood turns cold in your veins. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting. You’d been hoping, perhaps, for some lighthearted, joking reply. Something that would disprove your theory once and for all.

Zen is typing something, but you pay little attention, your thoughts racing. Suddenly-

Incoming Call - 707

You should reject it. You should really reject it. You’re almost certain that Saeran knows about what you said, and you doubt he’ll be happy. Talking further to Seven would only be digging your grave even deeper. At this point would it be better to tell the truth, ask for help, and hope for the best? Or to try and play it off as nothing, dissuade his suspicions?

You hit the ‘answer’ button without thinking.

“MC?” Seven’s tone is light, with barely concealed tension and urgency. He’s trying to hide how your question affected him, you’re almost sure. He’s a secret agent, normally so good at hiding his true feelings. Hearing him like this... emotions so barely concealed, was unnerving.

“Hey...” you answer lamely. Play it off, or ask for help? Do you even have time for either? The blinking red light of the security camera in your room feels like hot breath on your neck.

“MC, sorry about leaving so suddenly, but I... why did you ask me that?” Seven asks in a tight voice. He can’t seem to quite collect his thoughts. You can relate.

“Oh- it’s nothing, I just, uh... saw somebody who I thought looked like you...”

A sharp intake of breath, and then... nothing?

“Seven?”

“...”

You look down at your phone, and find the screen blank. No phone call. No messenger. Just error text. Your heart drops.

BANG

The door to your room suddenly slams open. In steps the boy in the suit with white hair, his eyes furious.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His heart pounding, his breaths shallow, Seven-no, Saeyoung, types rapidly at his computer. He’s most certainly Saeyoung now, not Seven. Thirty seconds. It took thirty seconds and a single line of text to strip away his carefully built armor named 707. Now it’s just Saeyoung, his hands shaking as he tries desperately to restore his connection with MC.

Why would she ask him that?

The question itself had been one thing. It could have been innocuous. But MC, and her situation, were unbelievably suspicious at best. Even though he believed MC herself to have no bad intent, her situation and relationship with the hacker was sketchy enough to make him wary of trusting her.

Why would she ask him that?

He’d called her on impulse, which may have been a bad idea. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t how her voice had sounded, quiet and so hesitant. Scared. She’d sounded almost scared.

He hadn’t expected his connection to cut out so suddenly, lines of reckless and aggressive code pasting itself over his screen in almost an instant.

Saeran... Saeran was somehow involved in this.

In what manner, he didn’t know. But clearly, this hacker, who was unbelievably and scarily efficient, didn’t want him to know.

He... he needed to call V.

V. The man’s name was starting to feel like a bitter taste in his mouth.

But first, he needed to get back into contact with MC. He hoped to God that she was alright, but he also knew better. For the sake of MC, and for the sake of Saeran, he needed to find the truth. He needed to find them before-

Connection Restored

Saeyoung didn’t even have time to breathe as he frantically opened MC’s contact and hit ‘call’. It was definitely going through. He’d broken through the hacker’s code, and the phone rang on the other end. He felt like a statue, completely and utterly still.

There was no answer.

#ngl i may or may not actually write more for this #just an idea i had in my head and wanted to jot down #oh how i wanted to cause some chaos in the chat during rays route #mystic messenger #mysme #saeyoung choi #saeran choi #mm 707 #mm unknown #mm ray #fanfiction #fanfic #ff

[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

[dilucsrevenge]

headcanons for jaehee as a dom and as a sub? 👁️

every time i think about jaehee my brain just goes #women.

nsfw content under the cut. minors do not interact.

jaehee as a dom

not much of an aggressive or assertive dom, more of a service top so she is more than willing to do what she needs to for your pleasure

however, she does like it very much when you dress up for her. she cannot deny how pretty you look in lingerie bought specifically for her

at first she needed a little guidance with things you like a dislike, with work taking up most of her time she was quite inexperienced until she met you.

now she has an obnoxiously high sex drive, but she can’t help it when her partner is this stunning!

she’s always asking if you like what she’s doing to you, and may get the slightest bit bossy to hear you verbally tell her how much you are enjoying this.

jaehee learned very quickly that her favorite place to be is between your legs, looking up at you to watch you squirm as she goes down on you. even if she is the dominant one, she’ll never pass up an opportunity to please you

she loves it when you are loud, it puts the biggest smile on her face every time she hears you moaning and whimpering her name.

she’s very good with her fingers. which is not a surprise to anyone considering the speed she has to move them at to reply to emails and messages while at work

she’s madly in love with you so aftercare is a huge must with her. thankfully she is quite literally the master of it and has you soothed and falling asleep in a matter of minutes,

jaehee as a sub

jaehee as a sub is almost exactly what you would expect from her. shy, quiet, overly sweet, never asks for too much out of you.

you almost have to encourage her over and over again to get any noises out of her.

luckily, she’s very sensitive so it’s not too hard to eventually get her away from being quiet,

she does beg for you to not leave marks on her where they can be visibly seen, which isn’t a problem since the inside of her thighs and chest are her most sensitive spots.

you learned quickly that she enjoys being the submissive one with you. relieving all the stress that builds up on her makes the experience even more enjoyable.

she usually likes things a little soft when she’s submissive, but won’t deny you being a little rough with her every once in a while if she’s really in the mood,

that being said, her favorite things are having your fingers in her mouth and being pinned down to the bed with your hands holding her wrists down.

she found out quickly that she likes temperature play. the two of you had just enjoyed a cold dessert and you happened to go down on her and the rest is history after that.

she likes to dress up for you. a lot. the way you stare her down and worship her body and compliment her over and over again puts her on cloud nine instantly.

#video games #mystic messanger #mysme jaehee #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger jaehee #jaehee x reader #jaeheexreader #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme writing #mysme fanfic #mysme headcanons #mysme smut #mystic messenger smut #jaehee kang #gn!reader #but also #fem!reader #jaehee x fem!reader #my writing #answered #.txt

[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

[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

[kangjaehee]

RFA + sex headcanons

because i am in a Mood. minors do not interact

content under the cut

YOOSUNG.

SUBBY.

like... very. He likes it when u take control.

He likes it when you’re mean to him, when you demand, when you give him no choice but to do as you say if he wants to be a good boy for you.

Humiliation is his shit kinda... he says he doesn’t like it when you highlight how sensitive he is but you, who sees how he trembles at every word you say, you know different.

And on that regard... he’s sensitive. Like, the slightest touch and the right words can crumble him into a whimpering mess within seconds. You’re actually quite shocked. But you absolutely love it.

And he’s loud, too. Doesn’t at all hold back his cries, which sound oh so beautiful to you.

Very into pet play. Likes when you take care of him, likes the element of humiliation that comes with being treated like an animal.

Make him do the gross embarrassing things. Make him eat from a bowl and bark. It gets him off.

Surprisingly, he’s not that much into physical pain or impact, just the control element of it all. He likes it as part of something else, but not in and of itself.

Actually he gets off more in the concept of punishment than the act itself... it urges him on. You think it’s cute. It makes him harder to hear your little dismissive laugh after he whines.

He finishes quite fast but my god does he have stamina. He can go for rounds and rounds that leave you asking for a break.

it turns out all those lolol all nighters he pulled did actually mean something....

Also: the idea of you taking care of him while he’s in the middle of a game??? and not letting him cum until he wins????? GOD it makes him melt.

Very kissy during aftercare. Also very talkative.

You actually have no idea how a person can have this much energy after cumming so many times but hey this is Kim Yoosung we’re talking about.

He doesn’t sext but he does call you to tell you how needy he is. Over the line, you hear him stroke himself to your voice. It makes you lose your mind.

ZEN.

this man has 1 goal and 1 goal only: making you feel good

service top pleasure dom whatever you wanna call it. He just wants you to feel loved and sexy and give you the orgasm of your life.

He likes feeling you. Groping your thigh, manhandling you, kissing you red and raw.

(of course, all while he praises you and tells you how unbelievably gorgeous you are...)

And you absolutely love it. It makes you feel wanted, powerful.

Active sex drive. Y’all do it every other day or so. Not always for long. But it’s an integral part of your relationship. 

He’d do it anywhere. In the kitchen, living room, bathroom, car... He doesn’t need to be comfortable, he just needs his hands and your body to touch.

But don’t misinterpret him, he loves planned affairs too. Especially when you go out of your way to set the mood with lighting and scents and stuff.

LOVES it when you dress up for him. Put on some cute lingerie and sit there, watching as he turns beet red and his breath deepens.

And send him pics. be the biggest tease you can be. Anything relating to you drives him crazy. In his eyes, you’re the sexiest being on the planet, no matter what anyone has told you.

Although keep in mind that he Will warn u about the power u have over him and The Beast potentially coming out at an unwanted moment...

You always tell him to be patient and wait, as if that’s not exactly what you’re after. The Beast always comes out when he gets home though, with him absolutely devouring you in kisses.

Stamina for days... like come on let’s be real he’s a musical theatre performer. He’s Never done.

Not very kinky but has a thing for breeding? creampieing? He wants to claim you, to have something of his inside you.

...And you don’t hate the idea but Babe don’t you think we’re... too young for kids?

Oh my God sorry I didn’t mean it like that... But, hey, don’t you think I’d make a good dad ;)?

You roll your eyes and laugh.

Also he’s not so opposed to the idea of bondage... to have unrestricted access to your body like that (or you to his...)

Surpisingly likes toys. If they make the experience better for you... (and he wants to try them too, though he’s not gonna admit it).

He’s not very keen on being on the receiving end. Doesn’t exactly like not being the one in charge, but he relents every once in a while.

He particularly loves blowjobs. He thinks you look so stupidly sexy while doing them, and the way he flusters and bites his lip... it’s so cute

(One day you’re gonna get him on his knees for you, one day.)

JAEHEE.

Although the tension between you two and the desire you harbored for each other was undeniable, it took you quite a while to get intimate.

When you crossed that threshold, though... Well, let’s just say there was no return.

Lots of kissing. Before, during, and after. She kisses you intensely, with purpose, like she wants to eat you whole. It’s a bit overwhelming. Makes you wonder for how long she’s been saving this.

Quick, does not hesitate. Teases very little, goes straight to it, and has you shaking and remembering nothing but her name in a matter of miniutes.

Stupidly skilled with her hands. They’re good for so many more things other than kneading dough...

Absolutely loves to hear your moans and other sounds. It urges her on. Please be as loud as you possibly can.

The sight of her large honey eyes looking up at you while she’s eating you out has to be one of your favorites.

But while she absolutely adores being the one to take care of you, she actually pefers it the other way around...

And you do too. Because, my god this woman is the cutest being in the universe when she’s flustered. And it’s extremely easy to fluster her.

All it takes is a smile, a kiss, a remark on how wet she is for you... and boom. You’ve reduced her to a mess of whimpers. She’s sensitive and easy to crack.

And it’s funny because all the while you’ll see her trying desperately to hold onto the propriety that she’s so known for. But soon enough it’s gone and she’s cursing and pleading.

You love to tease her because of this. She groans like she hates it but actually doesn’t, actually wants you to do it, draw this out as long as you can. It makes her climax much more satisfying.

She loves when u play with her boobs. Bite them, mark them, grab them, pinch them, maybe slap them if the occasion requires it...

Two words: Praise. Kink.

...Yeah she very obviously has it.

Tell her how well she’s doing no matter what it is that she’s doing. How good she is at taking your fingers down her pretty wet cunt. How well she’s sucking on your clit. It makes her feel like she’s in heaven.

And of course, tell her how she’s a good girl, how she’s your good girl. And watch her fucking dissolve.

(...yeah she’s quite a sub).

She’s into some other stuff... classics like bondage and the occasional spank, more adventurous stuff like wax play.

She likes sexual experimentation. She’d try most things once, just to have the experience, as long as they’re safe, sane, and consensual.

She has quite a bit of stamina and can last long, although she doesn’t exactly like cumming many times in a row or overstimulation in general. Instead, she prefers being edged until she can barely hold it in.

She also cries. It shocked you the first time, but... she cries when cumming.

And after you’re done, she’s always extremely tender and soft, wanting to cling to you for long. You always reassure her, tell her how good she did. Often you like to shower after, or eat something together. Cuddles after sex are mandatory but always remember to get up and do your necessities.

You guys don’t do it often, and don’t like to do it quick. The Jaehee motto is “If you’re going to do anything, do it how it’s supposed to be done” and that applies to sex. But that just makes the encounters you do have all the more special.

JUMIN

for someone whose only experience is having explored his best firend’s body once out of “curiosity” he’s surprisingly very good.

(JUMINV REAL i will die on this hill. i am cheritz actually.)

instinct-driven. doesn’t hesitate. takes you in whole.

composure and propriety thrown out the window, he will make you his. he’s gonna make sure that you forget your own name and only remember his, that you forget everything else but the feeling of his hands on your body and how he pounds inside you.

It’s not hard to get him going. Like at all. Just kiss him deep the way he likes it, grind agaist him, and bam.

He likes to tease verbally, you like grinding against my thigh, love? but not a lot. Eventually his desire to just have you wins him over.

It’s possessive, yes, but it’s his way of showing you just how much he wants you and no one else. You think of it as almost a privilege to be loved so deeply by someone.

Loves marking you, biting into you and then seeing the pretty purple bruises that from, that mark you as irrevocably his. Kisses you a lot during and after. A lot of You’re mines coming out of his mouth.

Also, he loves hearing your moans. And you love hearing his.

It’s actually very funny to tease him, because it’s very easy and he tries to make it subtle. Just push out your shoulder, watch as his face gets red and he swallows, struggling to keep his poise.

And then God save you, because he will not hold back...

You guys do it often. It’s a way for him to destress, so it’s almost a daily affair. A little quickie before bed and after waking up never hurt anyone...

Doesn’t like doing it in public, likes it when it’s just the two of you, though he for sure likes teasing you in public... You’ve given him a handjob in the limo in more than one occasion.

He’s averagely kinky. Likes bondage. Likes calling you his kitten. Likes slapping your ass when you’re both really into it. Not much beyond that. 

The dominant position is comfortable to him, he can let his desires run wild and free, and you like how he exerts his power, how he’s so confident. It almost lights you up.

Though he also has a strange, almost hidden desire for the other side of the coin... he likes being the one with the power taken away, too.

It always oddly attracted him, but he never paid attention to those desires, as they made no sense. But then you suddenly decided to be more dominant one time, and oh boy something awoke in him.

It’s not very easy for him to submit and let go. But it’s extremely liberating once he does so. For a man who has to be thinking and making decisions and bearing more responsibility on his shoulders than any person could imagine, being in a position where he doesn’t have to make any of the decisions is almost cathartic.

He likes being your kitten. Likes the sight of you above him, holding him by a leash and smiling, just as much as he loves the sight of you under him.

Likes impact quite a bit, actually. More on him than on you. It’s a little humiliating to imagine the heir of one of Korea’s biggest conglomerates being spanked raw. But that’s inexplicably a turn-on.

Likes latex a lot. The sight of you on it is pure art.

Also into shibari. Likes the intricacy of it, the protocol, the fact that it’s an art form.

Lot’s of stamina, doesn’t cum easily. Will always make sure you’re the one to finish first or with him. Prefers to cuddle after, sometimes for hours, tightly and in silence or with just a few words exchanged. It’s the act of bodies becoming one, of feeling being not said but expressed in the way his skin contacts with yours.

SEVEN.

Okay so wbk this man is a menace. This applies to sex too.

Most of the time, it’s sloppy and imporvised. Undeliberate, hands everywhere, kisses all over the face. He doesn’t think, and you don’t either. It’s almost funny.

A tease, just because he absolutely loves to see you riled up and begging for it. But, do it a bit aggressively. He’s a bit of a brat. He pushes, and wants you to push back and push harder.

He doesn’t need things at all to be fancy, he can have fun with very little. He’s creative.

But you know what his absolute shit is?? Roleplay.

He does it almost naturally. Has fun with it. Likes the performance element, the not being himself, the play. It’s a way for him to take advantage of all the costumes he’s kept form his agency days.

You’ve found him on more than one occasion just weasring a maid dress and pretending to clean... The indirect was caught and enacted upon.

He’s kind of a jack of all trades. He can top, he can bottom, he can take the strap and rail you until walking is an arduous task.

freak in the streets and the sheets. Truly willing to try anything once.

Pain enjoyer. Likes spanking you, and likes you doing it to him too.

Also likes overstimulation. Edge him, then let him cum, and do not let him stop... just let him go off like that.

Lots and lots of stamina. And also just fucking dies after. Does everything and then five minutes after he’s absolutely fucking spent. To you, it’s shocking. To go from being so loud to being so still...

Likes to kiss during foreplay, but not much during or after. Prefers to tease with words or just let the actions speak for themselves.

One thing about Choi Saeyoung: he’s a romantic partner and extremely entertaining lover. You can trust that stuff will never get repetitive on him. Always switching it up... in all ways possible.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mm #mysmes #mysmen fanfic #mm fanfic #mystic messenger fanfiction #rfa #mm x reader #yoosung kim #kim yoosung #mysme yoosung #mm yoosung #yoosung x reader #yoosung x mc #mc x yoosung #mystic messenger smut #zen #hyun ryu #ryu hyun #mm zen #mysme zen #zen x reader #zen x mc #mczen #jaehee kang #kang jaehee #mm jaehee #mysme jaehee #jaehee x reader

[currentlyprocrastinating]

so i just wrote something out of the blue. it went in a direction i did not intend but i think it turned out pretty well anyways! in any case, its something i wrote that actually has an ending for once LOL

it's an OC thing though, sorry to disappoint 😅 I was feeling kinda out of it and had to push that onto someone lol (aka my CMC)

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts (non-violent) // Brief, semi-graphic depictions of starvation (there's like one line that makes me bump it up to "semi-graphic") // Strong doubts and social-emotional fears // 2nd POV negative thoughts // why does this section read like the warnings before an edgy vocaloid song—

Pairing: Squirrel x GE Saeran

Word Count: 1781

==============================

Saeran hadn't told her how long they would be running for until they were already on the run. When he answered with a wince and a, "Maybe two hours. I'm sorry." she just about collapsed inside.

   But she could make it. Squirrel could hold her breath and squeeze her eyes shut and charge forward through the forest, with exhaustion biting at her heels and adrenaline pushing her forward.

   In her mind's eye, this is how it worked.

   In reality, it was nothing but ignoring every sign her body gave her. It was a matter of eventually burying herself and letting Pilot take control. It was flipping the switch in her brain and telling herself to treat this like a mission, like her life depended on it, like if she stopped for even a second, one of the many entities she had encountered would snatch her up and ravage her whole.

   After the first few minutes, she felt like she could run for days. Her stomach was achingly empty, her active powers were draining a little more from her reserve every passing second, and her head was starting to ache, but she hadn't felt energy like this in several months.

   She remembered it clearly.

   On her last leg. Devoid of fuel. Falling apart at the seams. Eyeing everything like it was a decent meal. And that burst of energy that her mind had gathered together from thin air. Seeing hope and running for it, running, running, running, as it screeched behind her, as it stumbled after her, as it tried to trick her mind. But it had pushed her too far. Pilot had a firm grip on her hand and metal walls around their mind. Nothing would stop them. They would keep running, running, running, running... running... running...

She felt bile rising in her throat. She swallowed hard, furrowed her brow, put more effort in, kept up with Saeran. They had been holding hands initially, but that hadn't been useful for efficiency, so their clammy hands had slipped apart at some point.

   They were over half an hour in.

   And now, with the way he was always a little bit ahead of her, a little bit faster — Saeran, who hadn't been eating, drinking, or sleeping properly for God knows how many weeks or months or years — than her, Squirrel, Pilot, who, although starved for the last three days, ran from things and places as part of her job, and was damn good at it. How was he faster than her, even now? Even with the aid of adrenaline?

   Ah, but— She puffed out air and pushed harder. With the way he was ahead of her like that, she couldn't help but imagine him slipping further and further along, until he disappeared into the woods entirely... It was better for him to be a little ahead, she reminded herself, ignoring the intrusive thoughts. She had to follow his path, after all.

   Oh, but— What if he really did leave her behind? Just because he took her along with him... Well, that didn't mean anything, did it? He said Ray and Saeran were one, now, and he said a lot of very lovely things in the garden...

   But he didn't mean any of it, did he? her mind cooed.

   Then why did he bring me along?

   To satiate his own guilt? Ray's guilt? Saeran's guilt? No... not that last one. Because you know Saeran's never loved you, and Ray only ever loved who he thinks you are. Who he created in his mind — and you fed into that, with your "good girl" act displaying within every inch of you, inside and out.

   Stop. This isn't the time to be thinking like that. Squirrel shook her head. Pushed harder. Push harder.

   Watch as he disappears from sight. As he leaves you behind. As he runs away to do it all on his own. He doesn't need you! Who the hell do you think you are? Those brothers will reunite and find their happiness on their own. You aren't needed. Go back to your life. Or is it even yours? You can't even bother to characterize your work as your own.

   It is my own. Just because I call myself Pilot, and just because I decide to categorize anything job-related under her file so I can freaking process my life better — It doesn't mean it's not my work! Argh! Focus, focus, focus, focus.

   My lungs hurt.

   Are my legs still moving?

   Don't throw up.

   Does my breath smell like the decay inside me yet?

   No, no, we're not that far along.

   Pilot...! Please, I need recalibration.

   Saeran doesn't need you. He doesn't love you. He doesn't—

   Her foot caught on something, shooting a sting of pain up her leg. An ungraceful yelp ripped from her throat, and after a bit of stumbling, her hands and knees met the ground, sliding across grass and dirt and leaves, scraping along tiny rocks and a stray twig.

   She couldn't bring herself to move. It was a wonder her limbs were holding her up like this.

   She became aware of his voice — realized he had been calling her name — only after his footsteps were in her view, then his knees.

   "Squirrel, can you hear me?"

   Her throat was tight. Her chest ached. His words echoed around her head, but so did every other thought. She couldn't calm anything down. It was all too much. And if she didn't calm down, he would know her secret, realize she wasn't human, and he'd hate her— no, he'd be afraid of her, because everyone was afraid of people like her, because she was nothing but a monster, just like he said, because— because— oh, God, she wanted nothing more than to be with Saeran. Despite how much she told herself that she could do it, that all she wanted was for him to be happy, she... she couldn't.

   ...She supposed she had no room to speak on Ray's obsession or ideation. Perhaps she wasn't prone to the latter, but she...

   Squirrel squeezed her eyes shut. Saeran was saying something, but she couldn't process it. Her face felt flushed and her breaths felt tight. Her head spun, ached; her throat was dry.

   Stop, stop, stop, focus, focus, focus. Need to run. Need to run.

   Her limbs gave out suddenly, and she prepared for the winding impact of her chest hitting the ground, of her jaw smacking into the hard dirt, of—

   Arms stopped her. They held her awkwardly, hooking under and around her shoulders, but it was effective.

   Then she was being pulled up and forward, and her face met the partial polyester atop his shoulder. His arms were around her entirely, now, holding her to him; one hand rubbed circles, and his voice half-bled through her selective ears: soft, relaxing sounds.

   She felt like a dead weight, leaning on him like this, unable to move her limbs. But she also felt undeniably warm and, as the seconds ticked by... safe.

    She slowly shut her eyes, pushing down the urge to let Pilot take care of things, and let herself relish in this moment for a little longer...

"Squirrel," came his soft voice, probably a couple minutes later. She forced her eyes opened, hummed against him, and shifted so she could wrap her arms around his neck properly.

   I can move now.

   "Are you feeling better?"

   Was she? ...Yeah. But she wished they hadn't stopped. Wish this hadn't happened — for a million reasons. But... it had her sleeplessness creep up on her, and now she felt the exhaustion at the mere thought of running for another hour and a half.

   "Hey," he called, soft yet firm, his hand reaching up to comb through her hair once.

   "Mh... uh..." She drew in a breath and slowly pulled away. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, she rubbed at her eyes. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Thanks..."

   "Of course." His fingers brushed her cheek, then pushed her hair from her face. "I'll carry you for a while — like I said I would, remember?"

   She blinked a few times, then shook her head. "No, you're not... I'm not making you do that..."

   "You're right, you're not making me do anything."

   She would've gawked at his cheeky response, had she the energy to do so.

   "I want to do this for you. So please, angel, let me."

   She blushed a little at the pet name.

   Remember all he said in the garden? He meant it.

   ...Right?

   She couldn't look him in the eyes. She drew her bottom lip under her teeth for a moment. "...Everything you said in the garden... You meant it all, right?"

   "Yes." No hesitation. And his palm on her cheek. She met his soft, yet almost sorrowful gaze. "Every word, Squirrel. I mean every word."

   She swallowed lightly and offered a shaky smile. "Thank you. Um... sorry for this. I got caught up in my thoughts... Wasn't looking where I was going."

   She could see it in his eyes — he knew there was much more to it. He wasn't blind or stupid. Anyone could see there was more to it.

   But he didn't push. There wasn't time to, she supposed. In any case, she was grateful.

   (But she hoped, one day, she could tell him.)

   "It's alright, Squirrel," he told her with a gentle expression. "But we should get moving again. Can you stand?"

   "Yeah, no problems." She pushed herself to her feet, and he rose with her. She was a little shaky, and her ankle felt sore, but she had been in much worse conditions. She sent him a smile, but he didn't look so sure. She huffed. "Watch, see?"

   She took a few, confident steps forward.

   Well, she tried.

   Hot agony pulsed around her ankle, pulling another yell from her and causing her to, once again, fall to the ground.

   Except Saeran caught her this time and pressed close to her, arms around her torso to hold her up. He was a little pink in the face (and she suspected she was, too), likely from the proximity, but he was clearly focused on other things.

   "You have no room to argue with me now; I'm carrying you."

   She sighed a little, visibly embarrassed.

   "I won't have to run at this point. We're mostly out of the woods, so to speak."

   She gave a slight, reassured nod. "Okay... But if it gets too much, don't push yourself to carry me!"

   He agreed, but his eyes lingered on hers, flashing her a quite intentional glint:

   There was no way he was letting her walk even for a minute.

   She gave in with a tired smile.

#mystic messenger #mysme #saeran choi #ge saeran #squirrel bakken #mysme-rifters au #squirrel x saeran #squirrel - ray route #cmc #cmc x saeran choi #saeran choi x cmc #my cmc #my writing #my fanfiction #what r my taaggggss #417 does a thing for once #august 2022 #mystic messenger fanfiction #mysme fanfiction #mysme fanfic #mystic messenger fanfic #my fanfic #saeran choi fanfiction #original characters #saerrel

[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

[thestargirlfromoon]

Saeran as husband

Headcanons

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● Your wedding with Saeran was outdoors in a small forest and he couldn't help but get emotional so he cried a lot, you were worried at first when he fell into tears seeing you in a wedding dress but then you just thought it was cute, without noticing you also found yourself in tears of happiness and it didn't take Yoosung long to get emotional about the marriage and start crying together with you two while Saeyoung laughed kindly and Jaehee offered him a tissue.

● Rfa gave gifts, Yoosung gave matching handmade crochet clothes, Jaehee gave a tea set, Jumin gave a trip and Zen...drinks for the honeymoon.

● You and Saeran spent the honeymoon in a place with lots of nature, every moment was sweet and memorable for both of you.

● Your house was lovely and modest, there was a huge garden where you both planted flowers and food.Saeran taught you the language of each of the flowers in the garden with a smile while you two planted them.

● He somehow has a praise kink, he loves when you compliment him on whatever it is, if for example you compliment him on how adorable he looked wearing a flower crown (he won't want to take it off anymore lol).

● On rainy days he loves to go outside so you two can sit and cuddle watching the rain (he will make sure to warm you up when you go inside).

● Saeran is a total househusband and organized person, he takes household chores very seriously, be it cooking, ironing or cleaning. Saeran always wants to make sure the house is clean, smelling nice (don't be surprised if he decides to put flower scents around the house) and comfortable for you (you always try to help him even though he says it's not necessary).

● Did I mention he has praise kink?

● He likes to cook, he loves to make recipes with the fruits of the gardens that you and him have planted in the garden, Saeran will be the chef in the kitchen and you will be his assistant.

● There are times when Saeran will purposely ask you to taste the dessert that are preparing on a spoon just so he can get your face dirty and see your reaction, thus creating a little war of who gets dirtier with food in the kitchen.

● He loves to match clothes with you. Many of your outfits are matching, this includes matching pajamas and halloween costumes (On halloween you dressed up as a butterfly hunter and he dressed up as a butterfly, you two have also dressed up as the wolf and the little red riding hood).

● He usually sleeps holding your hand, and if you have trouble sleeping, he will learn several lullabies just to sing to you.

● He still struggles to regulate his sleep, so when you both can't sleep at all you two just decide to do a movie theater home in the middle of the night.

● Saeran had the habit of not eating much, so you always made sure to prepare something for him and thanks to that, in time he made an effort to eat better (only to hear your compliments and see you smile proudly when see that he didn't skip any meals).

● You two have a pet rabbit that is probably was named some flower (obviously Saeran's idea).

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