#mysme fic

[luc606]

Seven doesn’t understand you. Or, rather, he understands you too well. He knows what it’s like to be stubborn and want the best from people only to be disappointed. He knows what it’s like to wait for something that never comes.

- i just wanted to write about cutting saeyoung's hair don't mind me pairing: Saeyoung/MC (gender neutral 2nd person) canon 707 route timeline read on ao3

Seven doesn’t remember his last haircut. He’s sure he got fed up with his hair falling into his eyes and drove to a random cheap salon. He’s sure he paid in cash, that he tipped plenty, that he barely spoke to the hairdresser. He thinks he might have thought about sending a selfie to the RFA chatroom, but he’s sure that he decided against it. He knows that there were times before, when he was deep in hiding and in work from the agency, where he cut his own hair. He’s learned not to trust himself with it, though.

His last haircut must have been at least a few months ago—before the hacker, the apartment, and the fight with V. Before you.

Seven’s hair has grown unruly, falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision. Deep in his work tracing the hacker, he pushes his bangs back with his headphones like a makeshift headband. He’s sure that he looks ridiculous and hopes that you don’t wake up to see him like this. It doesn’t occur to him that he shouldn’t care what you think of how he looks.

You’re curled up on the couch, asleep. Seven recalls, with some indignation, the declaration you made before staying on the couch. How you accused him of not getting enough rest, how you refused to go to bed until he took a break.

The fight ended in a stalemate and then in soft breaths from the couch beside him. You had fallen asleep, phone in hand, watching him work.

Seven doesn’t understand you. Or, rather, he understands you too well. He knows what it’s like to be stubborn and want the best from people only to be disappointed. He knows what it’s like to wait for something that never comes. The frustration lies in the fact that your stubbornness rivals his own.

He sighs, rubs his eyes, and removes his headphones. This keeps happening—his thoughts building and building until he finds himself unable to continue working.

Fine. He owes it to you to take a break.

Seven ruffles his hair back into place. He washed it earlier and it air-dried, revealing the little cupid curls that he thinks make him look boyish and cute. The way his red hair coils around the nape of his neck reminds him of how adorable his brother was when they were both little. It also reminds him of the passage of time and of the mother who gave him the curls in the first place. The overall effect is bittersweet, like anything else within reach of Saeyoung Choi.

There’s a slight change in the pattern of your breaths, then Seven sees you shift, dropping your phone to your lap and rubbing sleep from your eyes. Seriously. It’s like you’ve got sixth sense just for him. He hadn’t even made a noise.

“Go back to sleep,” he says, barely a whisper. He doesn’t sell it, though. He wishes you would go all the way to the bed on the other side of the room and curl up out of his sight. Then, at least, maybe he would be able to concentrate.

You make a sound that’s somewhere in-between a groan and a huff. You’re not fully awake yet, but you’re awake enough to be disagreeable.

“Seriously…” Seven rolls his eyes. It’s almost funny, the lengths you’re going to just to spite him. He wishes he had it in him to laugh and call you silly. Caring for him to the point of exhaustion seems completely absurd.

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” You pick up your phone again, frowning at the screen. It’s nearly four in the morning. You’ve been asleep on the couch for two hours. “You’re taking a break, though.”

In a way, you’ve got what you wanted. Seven is resting his eyes and stretching his neck. You’re probably thinking that it’s better than nothing and counting a tiny win for yourself.

Seven sighs again, fluffing his curls out of his face with a shaking hand. He can’t imagine he’d be able to sleep even if he had the time. 

“Is your hair bothering you?” Your voice is softer than usual, more timid. Seven recognizes an unfamiliar trepidation and cringes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive himself for shouting at you earlier. “You mentioned in the chatroom before…” You trail off, worrying your hands in your lap. “About needing to cut your hair.”

“It’s fine,” Seven says. “Don’t worry about it.” He feels a bit like a robot, programmed to self-isolate. He’s got a limited number of useful phrases; go away, leave me alone, don’t worry about me, I’m fine, let it go…

“I could trim it if you want. It really wouldn’t take long.” You straighten on the couch, squaring your shoulders at him. “It would be easier to work without hair in your eyes.”

As much as Seven wants to turn you down again, he sees the utility of it. His hair really is a nuisance, and the sensory overload of it is impeding his work.

“Fine,” he says, before he can change his mind. “Sure.”

You’re off the couch in an instant, flying to turn the lights in the living room back on. He can tell by the way you hide your face that you’re trying not to look too surprised that he’s accepted your offer. You don’t say anything as you pull a chair into the bathroom and a pair of haircutting scissors out of the sink cabinet. Seven follows, mesmerized by how quickly and effectively you spring into action. It’s like you’re a kitten, leaping from the shadows onto an unsuspecting ball of yarn.

Briefly, Seven wonders whether the haircutting scissors are yours or Rika’s. He’s already decided that it doesn’t matter when you say, “These are mine,” as if you’ve read his mind.

“Do you cut your own hair?” he asks.

You nod. “I trim my own bangs.”

Seven chuckles, a little of his old self coming back to him in his nervousness. “So, I’m in good hands, then?”

When you smile, Seven realizes that he’s missed seeing you at ease. It’s not as though it’s been very long since he’s seen your smile, but, still, he realizes that he’s been longing for it. Even when you’re right in front of him, he can feel the distance he’s put between the two of you. It’s an oppressive feeling of loneliness, like being lost in space with limited oxygen supply.

“Of course,” you say, playfully snipping the air, “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t know what I was doing.”

Seven follows your instruction to sit. After some hesitation, he shrugs off his jacket.

“Do you want to…” You trail off, biting your lip, looking worried. Seven is more attuned to your facial expressions now, perhaps overcompensating for how he’s hurt your feelings. He can’t stand thinking that you might be scared of him, even if that’s exactly what he needs you to be. Desire to keep the walls between you in tact is in constant combat with his desire to put you back at ease in his presence.

“Are you okay?” He sounds a bit like you, timid and sugary-sweet. His voice seems to echo with the memory of yours from the past few days. Half of the conversations he’s had with you have begun with your voice asking this same question in the same tone.

He watches you in the bathroom mirror as you nod your head, then shift on the balls of your feet. “Hair gets in your shirt collar.”

“So?”

You duck momentarily out of the frame of the mirror. Your voice behind him is half-hearted, like you’ve run out of steam. “Never mind.”

That’s when he realizes what you mean, and his mind becomes an overheating CPU again, whirring out of his control. He imagines taking off his shirt so that tiny hairs don’t stick to him when they fall. His muscles are a surprise to anyone that knows his habits, so he imagines seeing that surprise on your face. Warmth creeps across his neck at the thought.

“It’s okay. I have other shirts.” He already feels exposed enough without his hoodie, but it’s equal parts freedom and vulnerability. He sits a little taller, as if the weight of the jacket pressed his shoulders down when he wore it. His arms, though, feel stiff and too long without familiar pockets to rest in. He hasn’t made eye-contact with himself in the mirror once, but he knows he looks a little clearer.

“Sure.”

It is in this moment when both of you realize the situation you’re in. You haven’t ever touched him before deliberately. There was one time when your elbow bumped his while you were eating with chopsticks beside him, followed by a hurried apology and a shuffle away. You seem a afraid of your hands being in his hair.

Seven clears his throat and tilts his chin up so that his head is perfectly straight. “I’ll try to keep still.”

“Alright, yeah.“ You take a section of hair at the back of his neck, pinching little cupid curls between two fingers. “Be still.”

The first snip takes away almost nothing at all. Seven can tell that you’re easing into it. Really, he wouldn’t care if you did a bad job. He can only worry about so much at a time, he reckons that a bad trim wouldn’t even be a blip on his radar. The second snip is a little more sure.

Seven has never had an easy time staying still. He’s always bouncing his legs or rocking in his chair or typing imaginary lines of code with his idle fingers. For you, though, and for the sake of his cherry-red curls, he puffs out his chest and counts slow breaths. He keeps his promise, only moving when you direct him to tilt his head one way or another.

You do your best to minimize falling hair as you cut, throwing pieces into the bathroom trashcan instead of letting them fall. Still, Seven can feel little tickles under his collar. He tries to ignore them, along with his rising internal temperature. As well as your hands combing his bangs to one side and then the other, your warm breath against his neck when you lean in to trim beneath his ears. You study him like a sculptor smoothing details into clay, leaning close as you measure pieces of hair against each other, aiming for perfection.

“Do you usually go to a hair salon to get your hair trimmed?”

Seven is startled when you break the silence, but he’s careful not to show it. He takes a breath. “Yeah, it gets away from me, though.”

A lot of things get away from him. For his entire adult life, Seven has been tossed around by the agency and V, treading water all the time. Before, when he still believed Saeran was safe, it hadn’t been so bad to let himself be used. Knowing that it’s all been for nothing, though, Seven finds a new feeling of guilt and loss at having led such a terrible life with nothing to show for it.

“Are you alright?” you ask, for the millionth time in a day. The words seem to fall from your mouth without thought.

Seven frowns, wondering how he could even begin to answer.

“Don’t answer that,” you say. It’s obvious that he’s not alright. “Sorry.”

It’s a mercy when you’re finished. You ruffle his curls one last time and step back. Seven sucks in a breath and slumps against the chair. His shoulders muscles ache from the tension he’s been holding.

“What do you think?” You take a step back and cross your arms.

Seven has to stand to fully see his face in the mirror. Really studying himself like this is something he tends to avoid, but it becomes easier in the moment than looking back at you.

“It looks good,” he says, and he isn’t lying. You’ve only done a utilitarian trim, keeping his normal hairstyle completely in tact, but it looks about as good as a professional haircut. A bit more of his face has been revealed by his bangs being trimmed back, again making him feel simultaneously more vulnerable and more at ease.

You put the scissors back into the bathroom cabinet. It’s clear by the way that you scoot around him to the door that you’re avoiding his eye contact as much as he’s avoiding yours.

“You probably want to shower,” you say, “the little hair pieces…”

“Right, yeah.”

Seven realizes far too late that you’ve tricked him into almost an hour away from his computer. He doesn’t mind, though, because he nearly shudders at the thought of hot water hitting his swimming head and sore back.  

You nod, then leave him alone, closing the door as you go.

Out of necessity, Seven uses your shampoo. He scrubs his shoulders with your soap and the steam carrying your scent envelops him like a blanket. The corners of his eyes prick with tears at the foreign tenderness you’ve shown him. Not just in cutting his hair in the middle of the night, but in making sure he’s eaten and slept, in trying to reason with him and being understanding when he’s pushed you away.

Seven never cried as a child. It was important for him to be strong for Saeran, and he didn’t like letting his mom know how he felt, no matter how terrible she was to him. There was power, then, in hiding away. Everything he was able to keep for himself was a luxury.

Until a few days ago, the same principal applied. All of the secrets about his past were like the expensive cars in his garage, tucked away in the dark, completely under his control. Everything was compartmentalized into boxes labeled with his three identities.

He imagines the name tags on them. Luciel, the martyred angel, 707, the secret agent, and Saeyoung… Saeyoung doesn’t need an epitaph. The syllable he shares with a lost brother is enough.

When he finishes showering, he wraps himself in a towel and drops the clothes he was wearing into the hamper. He notices that the hamper is empty, meaning that you secretly did his laundry for him even when he told you not to worry about it. He heaves a half-frustrated-half-adoring sigh.

“Do you feel better?” you ask him when he returns to the living room, wearing a clean pair of black sweatpants and a new red t-shirt. He puts his jacket back on and returns to his place in the corner. You have curled back up on the couch next to his workstation with your phone, tapping away at a text to someone in the RFA app. Seven wonders if you’re telling one of the members about the haircut you’ve given him.

Seven drops down to the floor. His hair is still damp, pieces of it sticking to his ears and his face, but it’s no longer in his eyes or tickling his neck. He feels like a new man. “Yeah.” He unlocks his laptop and picks up right where he’s left off tracing the hacker. “Thanks.”

“You’re going to work more?”

“I have to.”

“Right.”

He watches as you get up and retrieve a spare blanket and one of the pillows from the bed. You set them on the couch and, for a moment, Seven thinks you might demand that he sleep there.

Instead, you settle back into your spot and pull the blanket over you. “If you get tired, take a nap on the bed.”

Seven sees no point in arguing, your tone is so matter-of-fact. He only nods. “Fine. Go to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Seven.” You reach out a hand and ruffle his hair. The gesture is so nonchalant that, by the time he’s registered it, your hand is already tucked back into the blanket.

Seven sits there for a moment, listening to your gentle breaths beside him and the soft whir of his laptop’s fan cooling the CPU. He’s in another stalemate with you, exactly where he started.

“Goodnight.”

#707 #mm 707 #707 x reader #mysme 707 #mystic messenger 707 #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung #saeyoung choi #mysme saeyoung #saeyoung x mc #mystic messenger saeyoung #mm #mysme #mystic messenger #mysme fic #saeyoung/mc #saeyoung/reader #707/reader #707/mc #mysme seven #707606

[reifromrfa]

Short fic: Mafia AU | Jumin

I saw this artwork by @ranartinart and got inspired to write something short for my love, Jumin Han ;w; Thank you for your lovely art! :)

Reposted with permission from @ranartinart <3 Check it out here!

Wrote this fic while listening to this playlist ♪( ´θ｀)ノ

Trigger Warning: Violence

Story under the cut! This was purely self-indulgent haha! I feel as though I'm a little rusty with mysme so apologies in advance if it feels ooc ^^;; Enjoy~

★・・・・・・★

His precise steps against the marbled floor echo through the hallway. He isn't in a hurry; in fact, he takes his time, allowing the rage to bubble up inside him. He keeps his expression composed though, his head held high, his cold, steely eyes staring straight ahead, at the door on the end of the hallway.

Men and women bow to him as he passes, all of them avoiding his gaze. Finally, he reaches the door and his men open the door for him. Assistant Kang sees the man kneeling in the middle of the room, a few bruises already visible on his face and arms. She feels no pity for him, especially after he'd attempted to kidnap MC. Though MC was unharmed, Jaehee knows that this man will probably die here tonight. Honestly, he had a far better chance of surviving had he attempted to kill her boss, the mafia king of South Korea. But attacking his wife? His queen?

Jaehee looks at him with disdain as Jumin hands her his coat.

"Good riddance," she thinks to herself, turning on her heel. She makes a small gesture and the guards in the room follow her out, leaving Jumin alone with the man.

Jumin carefully folds his sleeves up, watching the man with cold, calculating eyes. The man glares at him, his hands bound behind his back.

"You motherfucker. You can't keep me here! They're gonna come lookin' for me! And when they do, they're gonna take you down, you bastard! You'll see. You're gonna be fucking sorry!" the man spits out, staring hatefully at Jumin.

Jumin arches a brow, continuing to fold his sleeves on his other arm. His voice is calm, low, as though he's having a casual conversation and not being threatened by this piece of scum. "Oh? I'd like to see them try."

The man becomes angrier, as though Jumin’s calm facade is somehow an insult to him. “Don’t you fucking know who I am, huh? I am—”

“You are irrelevant to me,” Jumin interrupts, crossing his arms as he looks down on the man. His expression darkens as he studies the lowlife who dared to touch his MC. Who dared to even breathe the same air as her. “I do not need to know your name, I do not need to know who you are, what you’re worth. All I need to know is this:

You meant to harm my wife.”

Jumin watches as a small smile appears on the man’s face. His jaw clenches as he holds himself back. Not yet, he tells himself. Not yet.

“Your wife? MC? Yeah, she’s a real beauty. I remember those scared cries she made when I grabbed her. I bet she sounds real good in bed, huh? I bet—”

The man never gets to finish his sentence. Instead, he has a split second to widen his eyes before Jumin’s fist collides with his jaw. The man hears a crack but it’s quickly forgotten as pain shoots up his cheek, his jaw. His head whips harshly to one side and he tastes blood in his mouth.

Jumin grits his teeth and grabs the man by his hair, forcing him to face Jumin again.

“How dare you talk about my wife that way. How dare you even utter her name with that filthy mouth of yours. You have no right to even walk in the places her feet have touched. You have no right to breathe the air she breathes. You have no right at all to LIVE in the world she exists in.”

The man attempts to scowl but it turns into an ugly grimace, his jaw throbbing. “When I get outta here, I’m gonna fuck her and make you watch, you sonovabitch!” He’s about to spit at Jumin Han’s face when Jumin releases his hair and hits him with an uppercut, effectively slamming his teeth together. Jumin steps back and watches as the man chokes on his own spit, violent coughs making his shoulders heave. Blood starts to trickle down the side of his lips, down his chin; to Jumin, that vermin’s blood is like coal that fuels the deep loathing he feels towards said vermin. He wants more, more of the man’s blood to spill until he is on the brink of death.

“What makes you think you’re getting out of here? Do you think that highly of your comrades? Do you think they would come for you…at the risk of becoming my enemy?” Jumin lets out a mirthless chuckle.

“You’re sorely mistaken.

No one is coming to save you.”

“Think of it like this…” Jumin yanks on the man’s hair again, pulling him to his feet. He leans closer. In a low, soft voice, he speaks to the man —like Death’s whisper to a dying soul.

“You’re dead to them. In fact…you’re dead to everyone. There’s not a person who would want to be affiliated with you now. There’s not a single soul who will even speak your name anymore. Because if they do, I will not only obliterate every trace of their existence from the world, I will also ensure that their life becomes a living hell. They will spend every waking moment in a dark cell, suffering, praying they were dead, and every time they close their eyes they will be plagued with nightmares of the pitiful, painful, pathetic life ahead of them.”

The man struggles to remain upright, his hands still bound behind his back as blood starts to soak the front of his shirt. A muscle in Jumin’s jaw twitches as he stares at the hideous expression on the man’s face.

“You asked me if I knew who you are? Yes, I know who you are. I also know where you parents are, your sister and her family, even the bastard son you’re hiding from your employer.” At his words, Jumin sees the man’s face pale. “Here, we place a high value on family. That’s why I sought to learn about your family.”

“If you fucking touch them, I fucking swear I’ll—”

“You’ll…what? Kill me?” Jumin’s eyes flash and his lips curl in a small, taunting smirk. “That’s what you should have done. You should have killed me instead of going after my wife.”

Jumin approaches the man and now, he sees the man take a small step back.

“You’re only fucking cocky ‘coz you’re beating up a defenseless man! You think this is a fair fight?!”

“Fair?” Jumin’s eyebrow arches. “Fair?” He tilts his head ever so slightly, looking at the man in disbelief.

“Why would I stoop to your level and make this fair?”

He takes another step towards the man and the man’s eyes widen as he takes a step back.

“I was born with every advantage…why wouldn’t I use them? To, as you put it, ‘make this fair’? Why? You certainly thought it was fair to take advantage of a woman who’s smaller than you…and now you call me ‘cocky’ for beating you while your hands are bound?”

Jumin closes the gap between them and delivers a swift punch to the man’s solar plexus. The man chokes and gasps for air, wheezing as Jumin throws another punch…and then another.

The man feels his knees buckle as his body topples forward. But before he can even fall, Jumin grabs his shoulders and pushes the man down at the same time raising his knee and driving it further on the same spot.

“Get this through your thick head,” Jumin says vehemently, now letting his anger take over. Gone is his composure, all he can see now is this man stalking his wife, touching her, laughing at her horrified expression, thinking about the terrible things he’d do to MC…all because she’s Jumin’s queen.

“Life will never be fair.” Jumin keeps his grip on the man, not giving him a chance to straighten. He slams his knee against the man’s abdomen and now he can hear the man wheezing hard, his gasps turning raspy, desperate.

“You and I will never be on the same level.”

“P-lea—”

Jumin scowls at the man. He dares try to interrupt Jumin? Jumin takes a slight step back before slamming the man’s face down on his knee.

“Shut up. You don’t even deserve to be talking. I’ll have your tongue cut out…eventually.”

Jumin releases the man and he falls to the ground like a pathetic rag doll. The man is still wheezing, taking in short, quick breaths. Jumin watches him struggle to breathe, a rush of satisfaction filling him as he sees the man’s bloody face, his nose broken, his lip busted, his eyes swollen and drooping.

But still, this will never be enough. There’s never a good enough punishment for someone who has ill intentions towards Jumin Han’s family. Especially his Queen.

Jumin uses the front of his shoe to push the man onto his back. The man’s wide eyes dart to Jumin as he starts to choke on his own blood. But Jumin merely places a foot on his chest and leans forward, putting all his weight on the foot that’s right over the man’s lungs.

“Now…I’ve established that I know you. But…

Do you know who I am?”

Jumin’s steely gaze never leaves the man’s face, his icy expression showing no hints of mercy. In fact, he leans forward more, pressing his foot deeper.

”I am Jumin Han. I am the most powerful man in Asia.

From now on, your life is in MY hands. If you breathe it is because I’m letting you breathe. But don’t worry, I assure you, breathing will be a luxury for you. Like I said before, I was born with every advantage at my fingertips.

I intend to use my power to make your life into something far worse than the hell you’ve imagined.

About your family…I won’t hurt them. Yet. It all depends on whether you cooperate or not. You may think this is a sick, cruel game…I want to assure you yet again that yes, this is my sick, twisted game for simpletons with a death wish.”

The man’s face is turning purple as he desperately opens his mouth to try to get air into his lungs. Jumin just stares at him for a few seconds, watching the red lines creeping into the man’s eyes. Jumin eases his foot over the man’s lungs and he waits until the man intakes a couple of short breaths before pushing against his chest again.

“You’ve made a grave mistake, turning me into your enemy…but now I’ll be more than that. I’ll be the demon that haunts your every move. I’ll be your personal Grim Reaper, collecting blood and instilling fear in you.

Every day.

For the rest of your meaningless existence.”

Jumin lifts his foot from the man’s chest and he gazes down at his work. The man has tears flowing down the sides of his face, bruises and cuts all over his body —at least, the parts that Jumin can see. Jumin is sure the man has a cracked rib or two as well.

To him, this punishment is still nothing compared to the trauma this pathetic idiot instilled in MC. But he’ll have to stop for now; he doesn’t want the man to die that same night. No…Jumin wants him to live a long, miserable life.

Without another word, Jumin heads for the door, where Assistant Kang is already waiting with a towel in her hands. Jumin takes it, wiping away the man’s blood from his hands.

“I want him looked at but make sure he’s bound tightly. Only patch up the wounds that are fatal. Then transfer him to our warehouse, put him in a coffin and make him think he’s going to be buried alive; I trust you’ll oversee this, Assistant Kang?”

“Of course, sir. I’ll send you a recording afterwards.”

“Good. He can stay there for the evening, but make sure to check the CCTVs in the coffin every now and then. I want him to live for a long time. In the morning, move him to a cell and only give him water. No food, no lights, no toilets, no requests. I’ll call you with further instructions tomorrow. Do I make myself clear?”

The guards around Jaehee reply in a rush, the menacing aura Jumin is exuding, scaring even them. Jaehee waves the guards towards the man and they get to work.

“Oh, and Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee turns to her boss, watching him holding the blood-stained towel. She never thought she’d be working for the most powerful man in the continent, but she’s also grateful that she is. There’s no mercy in Jaehee’s heart towards the man who could have taken someone precious from them, and she’s glad her boss can inflict the most damning punishment onto that man.

“Yes, Mr. Han?”

“Make sure that man or anyone affiliated with him will never get anywhere close to my wife. If they do, kill them. I want all our men to know that.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Good. I’ll leave this to you, then. Have a pleasant evening, Assistant Kang.”

Jaehee watches him go, as though he didn’t just nearly beat a man to death. But at the end of the day, they’re all just pawns on Jumin’s chessboard.

She pities any fool who dares to take on the king and his queen.

★・・・・・・★

I hope you liked it! Thank you for reading <3 Don't forget to follow @ranartinart too <3

Check out my other Mysme writings here!

Mango Shake/Ko-fi is always very much appreciated (ᵔᴥᵔ)

#mystic messenger #mysme #mm #jumin han #mysmes #jumin x mc #jumin #mysme jumin #jumin mafia #mafia au #short story #mysme fic #mm oneshot #mm jumin #ranartinart art #ranartina #please check out her works! #they're so inspiring <3 #fanfic #mm fanfic #mm fanfiction #dark fic #mafia jumin #violence

[juminies]

talk to him

post secret ending. jumin doesn't mourn (except he does).

angst, referenced character death, implied alcoholism, secret ending spoilers

AN: I originally had this idea a couple of months ago with the intention of it being a letter from Jumin, accompanied by art in a sort of comic style. I have come to realise it's somewhat unrealistic that I'll ever actually finish that hahaha. I still didn't want the idea to go unseen forever, though, so on a whim I fleshed it out for it to make sense as a fic :-)

☁︎

“You’re not normal,” Zen mumbles, clearly irritated that he isn’t getting through. Jumin has been listening but has little to say – the alcohol has his brain too clouded and he’s too focused on the fact that Zen’s glare feels as though it could kill him if he’s not careful. Jumin hates it; hates that he’s being interrogated in his own home; hates the way he feels trapped; hates the familiarity of being seen as abnormal.

He tries to suppress the brewing unsettling feeling that some sort of Medusa is standing in front of him. The RFA does not need to lose another member in a matter of months, and while Jumin thinks himself more logical than to believe that Zen could possibly petrify him, there’s something in the back of his mind that whispers the chance of danger.

“I still don’t understand why you’re here,” Jumin says, if not just to break up his own thoughts. Zen continues to hover near the doorway of the penthouse. He hasn’t moved since he arrived eight minutes and twenty-four seconds ago, and has essentially repeated himself five times, though it still isn’t making sense.

“I told you. I– Saeyoung and Yoosung are worried about you.”

“Then why aren’t Saeyoung or Yoosung here rather than you?”

Zen huffs and clenches his fists. “Stop being so aggravating and just– Everyone is worried!”

“Then tell them not to be. My emotions are none of your concern, and to be frank I’d much rather remain a pillar for you all in situations like this.” He swirls the amber liquid in the glass he’s holding. “I am used to enduring. I have been enduring for months already and I will continue to endure. Now, if we have nothing else to discuss and you aren’t in need of my assistance, feel free to leave.”

Jumin feels Zen’s eyes leave him, finally, and he uses the opportunity to look up. He takes a victory sip of whiskey when he finds that Zen’s hair has not turned into snakes.

There’s a long, haunting silence. Zen wanders a few steps across the room to a bookcase and picks up a photograph lying face down on a shelf. It had been placed face down on purpose, but the actor takes the opportunity to stand it back up.

A much younger, happier Jihyun stares at Jumin from within the frame. His once loving gaze now feels even sharper than Zen’s.

“Maybe you should try talking to him,” Zen finally suggests. He spares a glance to the almost empty glass of liquor as he notices Jumin put it down on the side table. “Or writing, or something other than sitting around drinking your feelings away like an idiot.”

“To whom, exactly?” Jumin asks, though he knows, and he can already feel Zen's patience withering away.

“V.”

Jumin subconsciously digs his nails into where they rest on his thigh, hard enough that it’s certain to leave little half-moons in his flesh – even through the thick material of his trousers.

“I said what I needed to at his funeral.”

As if he hadn’t tried calling V’s phone tens of times since he passed, hoping for one more chance. He had only gotten to hear his voice through the answerphone message twice before the battery died along with its owner.

“Listen, trustf–” Zen starts, a little too angry. He takes a deep breath. “We all know you’re not coping as well as you’re pretending to. He was your best friend! You’re allowed to be upset. You should be, even!”

“Again, it’s none of your concern.”

Zen lets out a sigh, or a grumble. Jumin can’t tell.

“Whatever. I’ll get going.”

Jumin hums, displeased, and looks at the clock as the younger man turns to exit. Eleven minutes and eight seconds of Jumin’s time, wasted.

Then Zen pauses, turning back to where the director is seated, one leg crossed over the other, nails still pressed harshly into dark grey wool. Jumin doesn’t look away, even for the still lingering fear of being turned to stone. He continues to count the seconds that build up.

“Just think about it.”

—

Jumin has barely slept in days. Sometimes the wine – whiskey on worse nights – puts him to sleep, but tonight he’s angry. Too angry to sleep, though he won’t admit it to anyone but himself. The others might assume things; place wild bets on whether or not he cares, but they don’t know unless he tells them. And he won’t.

It’s almost 4am when he finally moves from his position on the couch. Surely he may as well try to get some sleep. An hour and a half is better than none.

As he stands and turns toward the direction of the master bedroom however, the picture Zen had repositioned on the shelf hours before catches his eye. And he does not go to bed. He places the frame face down again and makes his way to the old desk in his barely-used home office.

He sits with nothing but the word Jihyun written in front of him for twenty minutes, unable to form words on the page, then tries to give up. He leaves the room, the light flicking off behind him bathing him in darkness once again.

He walks back past the bookcase. Backtracks; stands the photo up again. He loiters in front of it for a few seconds, unable to pull himself away until he suddenly feels compelled to apologise (though for what he's not sure).

He goes back into the office. He doesn’t bother switching the light back on, instead opting for a dingy reading lamp he’s had since he moved in. He’s half surprised to find the bulb still works.

His pen scratches as he begins to write, on the verge of running out of ink.

Jihyun.

When we were young, and you asked me, “Which one of us do you think will marry first?” I was certain it would be you. It just made sense, did it not? You were always warmer than I was. You were more approachable. For better or for worse, you were more willing to give up everything for someone you loved. So when you told me that you were to marry Rika, my congratulations were promptly followed by an “I told you so.” I thought it was entertaining that you weren’t sure what I was referring to, but my memory always was better than yours, wasn’t it? You couldn't even recall once I told you the story; explained what you had asked while you were feeling somewhat existential about our futures one evening shortly before I left the country for college.

Of course, when Rika left us I was heartbroken – for you more so than I. Congratulations had quickly become condolences. Did I ever tell you, though, that I always thought you handled her death extraordinarily, despite the distance it put between us? Because I did. At the time, I did. It was only as she stood silently across from me in the churchyard three months ago that I came to understand why you seemed to take it so well.

When we were young and you asked me, “Which one of us do you think will marry first?” I was certain it would be you. But considering it now, you always were so stubborn. Too self-sacrificing.

I can’t help but feel a little regretful for telling you that I will never forgive you for leaving on your own, though it’s true. Don’t you know you had so much ahead of you? So much you could still have ahead of you? Had you just talked to me; had I just been more persistent. I think you’ve left me with more questions than I started with.

I also have one more answer, however. It seems it will be me.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #mysme fic #I accidentally read my other WIP too much so I had to write something else to escape it 🧍🏻‍♀️ #I'm trying to get better for overworking my writing as it does me no favours #annfic

[kirishwima]

Hi! I’m super duper sorry if your prompts are closed, I tried looking so I could double check but I didn’t find anything, so please disregard this if they’re closed (and I’m sorry again!). But if not can you write something about the rfa + v and saeran falling asleep on top of mc if that’s okay?

We will simply ~not~ talk about how long this has been sitting in my inbox-I haven't written anything in a long while, so I'm sorry if this is a little rusty!

--------

YOOSUNG:

He’d been gaming all night, yet again, his eyes glued to the screen until the morning light seeped in through his bedroom window. He had barely even noticed it though, only pausing when he heard MC’s alarm go off, shaking him out of his daze.

He’d turned to look at them at that, hiding a giggle behind his hands as MC grumbled, their eyes still tightly shut as they fumbled around the bedside table to turn off the alarm, snuggling back into the covers.

Yoosung sighed, shutting his computer off as he gingerly tucked himself into bed besides MC. Except..it wasn’t enough. Seeing MC, still asleep, brows still furrowed from the previous disturbance, he just needed to be closer to them.

He shuffled closer, closer, closer-ever so slowly, careful not to rouse them, until he’d been practically laying atop of them. How they didn’t wake up when he’d put his whole weight on them is a miracle, and yet here he was, his head resting atop their breast, his arms tight around their waist, legs interlocked with MC’s, like a koala tightly wound around a tree.

He promised himself it was only for a minute or two, just to get some cuddles in before he’d have to wake MC up so they wouldn’t be late to class…but he had been up all night, and MC *was* oh so comfortable….

MC woke up bleary-eyed, an odd weight on their chest, blonde tufts of hair tickling their nose-they didn’t need to check to know Yoosung had been cuddled up with them, the cutie. 

They sighed, gently removing one hand from where it’d been stuck beneath Yoosung to grab ahold of their phone, check if they have some more time to snooze before heading to class…..

"YOOSUNG GET UP! GET UP!"

Poor boy woke up being tugged off of MC, who hurriedly threw the closet doors open, grabbing any garment of clothing they could find, shoving it over their pyjamas as they rushed to the bathroom

"YOOSUNG YOU MUST’VE HEARD MY ALARM CLOCK WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME-IM AN HOUR LATE SHIT-" Their voice echoed from where they’d rushed to the bathroom, the sound of the tap water running muffling their voice.

Yoosung sighed, smooshing his cheek onto the pillow.

"But baabe…you looked too cute to wake up."

MC peeked out the bathroom, cheeks flushed, a toothbrush stuck in their mouth as they glared loving daggers at him.

"Yoosung Kim, you cute freaking monster, you’ll be the death of me."

Yoosung huffed a laugh.

"Love you too baby!"

-------

ZEN:

It’d been another long day of work and rehearsals, meeting upon meeting and a couple photoshoots thrown inbetween it all. 

The only thing keeping Zen sane had been…well, MC. Your lover being your manager did have its perks, after all.

He’d just shut the door of his personal trailer room, smiling big and bright at fans and reporters that had been queueing up outside to get a glimpse of him-until he shut the door, letting out a sigh that made his shoulders hunch.

MC was already sitting on the couch, the day’s itinerary in their hands as they read through and planned accordingly, when Zen approached them, huffing loud and audible as he stared down at them. 

"May I help you~?" MC teased, putting their planner to the side as they spread their arms, knowing full well what Zen’s next move will be.

He slumped himself down into their embrace, letting his weight drop onto the couch besides them, plopping his head into their lap with a pout.

"I’m so tired! Please tell me we’re done for the day-please! I just want to go back home with you, drink a nice cold beer and watch some dumb rom-com and cuddle."

MC sighed, running their hands through his hair, relilshing in the way he craned his neck to the touch, like a cat lazing about in the sun.

"I’d love nothing else baby. But…we still have another meeting with that advertising company I’d talked to you about, and you have that late night show to attend in the evening. It’s a live show so you’ll have to be there a couple hours earlier for a quick rehearsal too."

Zen groaned, hiding his face into MC’s abdomen as his arms wrapped around their middle.

MC shook their head. "Although…I could work somethings out and get you.." they checked their watch, their mind doing some quick math, "a 2 hour break, starting now. How does that sound?"

Zen took a peek at them, his pout so dramatic and comical MC wanted nothing more than to lean down and kiss it off of his lips.

"Will you stay here and cuddle with me?"

"Sure, just let me get some phone calls out the way-" MC laughed as they tried to stand up, only to be pulled back by Zen’s incredible force.

"No! No. Just…stay with me. Let me rest here, just for another 5 minutes."

"Zen…"

"Please?" and well, when he looked at them like this, big doe eyes and his thumb rubbing soothing circles into their hip…who was MC to say no?

"5 minutes baby. Then I got to get up and get back to work."

Suffice to say, it hadn’t been 5 minutes. Within seconds Zen was already asleep, MC’s thighs serving as the comfiest pillow he could ask for, his arms still wrapped around them even in his sleep, refusing to budge even an inch.

MC sighed. Guess they could cancel that late night show after all. 

-----

JAEHEE:

It was late into the night by the time Jaehee managed to get home, doing her best to quietly take off her shoes and coat as she stumbled further into her and MC’s shared apartment. 

She’d completely forgotten she’d promised Zen she’d meet him for drinks after work, and as much as she tried to convince MC to join them, MC shook their head, saying they were too tired, that the she and Zen should catch up and that they’d just head home from the cafe and get some rest.

She really didn’t mean to stay out so late, to drink so much-she knows MC would never mind, but still..she wanted to come home to them, cuddle with them on the couch, fall asleep besides them. As much as she’d enjoyed her outing…it didn’t feel the same without MC there with them. 

She hadn’t realised how much she’d drank, until she stumbled into the bedroom, her pyjamas haphazardly thrown on, her vision blurry as she fumbled with the bed covers, dropping herself into bed-not hearing the soft ‘oof’ that sounded as she fell into what she’d assumed was the mattress.

The next morning she woke with a groan, her head spinning, her temples throbbing in the familiar tell tale signs of a hangover.

She patted the bed, assuming she’d feel the warm body of MC besides her…except she didn’t.

Had she overslept? Was MC already up and about? They’d usually wake her though, it’s not like them to wake up without gently waking Jaehee too…

"Morning baby"

That…that’s MC’s voice. Why is it so close to her ears?? There’s shivers up her spine, her cheeks flush as her eyes snap wide open and her hands push down on the mattress to push herself up-

Except there is no mattress. Instead she’s currently pushing herself off of MC, who’a awkwardly trying not to wince as Jaehee jabbed them in the ribs in her rush to get up.

"I-what-did I sleep on you?!"

MC huffs a laugh, stretching their muscles out as they sit up-the first time since last night that they’ve been able to freely move. "That you did."

Jaehee’s about to die of embarrassment, already hiding her face in her hands, an apology halfway through her lips, when MC grabs a hold of their hands, tugging them away from her face.

"You kept mumbling my name and cuddling me-it was so cute I thought I’d transcended to heaven!"

Jaehee shot out of bed, grabbing her glasses as she awkwardly tried to find her composure.

"That…let’s…let’s not speak of this again."

"Does that mean no cuddles tonight?!" MC peered up at Jaehee, wobbling their lip. "I liked you cuddling up to me so boldly! I’d…like if you did that more often. Preferably sober."

And well, who’s Jaehee to refuse such a request?

"…I’ll think about it."

--------

JUMIN:

See, you’d think Jumin wouldn’t be the type to ask for affection so boldly, that he would never be the one to initiate a cuddle session-

And you’d be 100% wrong. This man is touch STARVED, he’s a man who has tasted water for the first time in decades and can’t get enough, will drink a whole ocean dry in his quest to quench his thirst.

He has no qualms about PDA, will hold MC close to him at any given circumstance, will guide them through a busy room with his hand resting on the small of their back, will wrap his hands across their waist and tug them close to him when he craves their hugs, be it at home or in the middle of a fancy gala, my dude Does Not Care. He’ll get the affection he seeks, when he seeks it, always.

So it’s no surprise for MC when Jumin comes home from work exhausted, slumping himself over MC where they’d been lounging on the couch, Elizabeth the 3d by their feet as they scrolled through their phone.

Jumin just sighed, smiling softly at the sight of them laid down on the couch, and simply…flopped down beside them.

He tried not to squish them with his weight-but he needs to be as physically close as possible, slots himself inbetween MC’s legs, hides his face in the crook of their neck, sighs in content as they wrap their arms across his back and gently rake their nails up and down his forearms.

"Long day?" they ask, kissing his temple.

He simply lets out a long sigh, nodding into their skin. In some ways, he’s more like a cat than Elizabeth is, MC thinks, biting down a giggle.

"I missed you" he breaths, tracing his lips onto the cusp of their collarbone.

"I missed you too. I’m glad you’re home."

And that’s it when it comes to their conversation. They could ask each other about their day, but they’re both content in the silence, enjoying the warmth of skin touching skin, MC finding peace in the way Jumin’s breaths deepen and even out, their touch lulling him to sleep. Knowing they have this effect on him-that he’s this comfortable with them, this vulnerable-it’s an odd sense of power and fear, the need to protect him overwhelming, to keep him tight and safe in their arms.

MC doesn’t care that their arms are getting sore within an hour of Jumin laying on top of them-hell, their whole body could wither away. So long as this man is resting so peacefully atop of them, they will not move an INCH.

You know how it’s illegal to move when a cat falls asleep on your lap? Yeah. The same applies to Jumin Han.

-------

SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:

Here is yet another touch starved loverboy, except…he’s actually a little reluctant to seek out affection, at least in the begining of his and MC’s relationship (and when I say begining…I do mean the first 6 months minimum lol)

He loves it when MC hugs him! He’ll hug them back twice as tight. If they kiss him, he’ll laugh and pepper their face with smooches, if they cuddle him he will NOT let go not even if his hands shake.

He craves MC constantly, the moment he’s not touching them he’s already missing them.

So once he gets more used to physical affection…once he feels just as comfortable hugging MC first, cuddling them first…it’s game over.

MC is laying on the couch? He’ll simply waltz on over and throw himself atop of them. MC’s taking a nap? He’ll simply flop into the bed, wrapping himself across them like a vine leaf over rice in the oven. MC’s doing something mundane like brushing their teeth in the morning? Seven’s there, his arms wrapped around them, his head on their shoulder as he yawns loud and grumpy.

Waking up to him atop of them, his head on their chest, his legs intertwined with them is nothing unusual. It’s everyday routine by now. He’ll either drag MC close, letting them rest on him, or vice versa. So long as he gets his daily Cuddle Recommended Intake, he doesn’t mind. 

-------

V/JIHYUN:

GIVE V CUDDLES. GIVE V CUDDLES!!!!!!!!!!

My boy loves physical affection SO much, it’s his love language! When he loves someone he NEEDS to feel close to them, needs to have his skin touching theirs. 

He’s a little hesitant at first-doesn’t want to intrude MC’s boundaries, doesn’t want them to feel uncomfortable-but once they say they’re okay with it he is ON them 24/7.

He loves kissing them, loves hugging them from behind as they make coffee, loves to breathe in their scent as he lets his forehead touch theirs. 

One night, when MC had already got into bed, reading a book they rested across their lap, he walked into the bedroom, a shy smile emerging on his lips at the sight of them-of his beloved, resting comfortably, safe, knowing he’ll get to hold them close to him. 

He quickly shuffled into bed beside them, a dreamy gaze in his eyes as he looked at them, so engrossed in their book…a little too engrossed in it. Did they not notice him getting into bed beside them? Did they not want to cuddle with him? 

He extended his arm, letting it rest on their belly. MC smiled but said nothing, simply moved a little so they could keep reading their book.

V pouted at that. He shuffled closer, resting his head on their lap, atop the book, a petulant huff escaping his lips. MC laughed, tugging the book from under his head, leaning down to run a hand through his hair.

"You big goof. What is it?"

"Nothing" he huffed. "Just…wanted to be close to you, is all" he said, nudging himself even closer for emphasis.

"Close? You’re practically on me" MC laughed. 

"Still not close enough" V sighed. "Just..need to feel you here beside me. Knowing you’re here with me…it keeps me grounded." He turned to look at them, his eyes so soft, so full of-of love. "I love you."

And what can you say to that? When he says it so sweetly, so quietly, a private confession just for them… 

"I love you too."

He remains like that, his head on their belly as MC shuffles, rests their hands on his shoulders so they can keep reading their book with V stuck this close to them, smiling down at him as he falls asleep in their arms.

"You are so insufferably adorable" they huff as they put their book down, gathering V up in their arms.

Did they have the most comfortable night’s sleep? No, they did not. Was it worth it? 100%, yes.

------

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

Sae…is a little hesitant when it comes to physical affection.

He loves it when MC hugs him! But when it comes to him initiating it..he’s a little scared still, needs some reassurance from MC that it’s okay, that they love him and like it when he hugs them, when he kissed them. He never wants to put MC in a position where they’re uncomfortable, never wants to do something they’re not 100% okay with.

So when he comes home one night after a long day of working at C&R, his fingers sore from how much he had to type away at his computer all day…he’s exhausted. All he wants is to come home to MC, knowing he’ll feel revitalised just by seeing them.

He doesn’t expect to find them in the balcony, laying down on the outdoor couch-a small thing, barely fit for two people, yet something they both wanted to have in their shared apartment, a place to relax, surrounded by all the plants and flowers Saeran has been taking care of, the sight of them almost drowning out the hustle and bustle of the city below-a private oasis just for the two of them.

They’re curled up on the couch, a cup of iced tea on the small table besides them, their eyes closed at they seem to be nodding off. Their eyes snap open at the sight of Saeran, a small fond smile creeping up on their lips.

"You’re home!" they greet him, leaning their head up as he bends down to kiss them. "Long day?"

He hums. "Yes. Very. Seeing you is melting all the fatigue away though."

"You big sap" MC laughs. They open up their arms, inviting him in, still laid down on the couch. "Come here. Rest up for a bit with me."

He’s a little awkward at first, bending down expecting MC will move to make space for him to sit-they don’t. Instead they tug him atop of them, their knees bent funny, Saeran’s legs protruding from the edge of the couch, his elbow finding MC’s stomach before he adjusts accordingly, fitting himself into every crevice until he’s laying on them, his face hidden on their breastbone.

"Just…stay like this for a bit. With me. Like having you this close to me" MC admits, running their fingers up and down his back as he sighs, takes in their scent, feels their breath on his head. 

"I like it too. Being close to you-I never want to part. Never again."

MC kisses the crown of his head, lets their face rest there for a moment. "We won’t. We’ll be by each other, always. I promise you." they hug him tight, tighter, as if trying to fuse their bodies into one. "Now get some rest. Just for a bit."

Of course…’just for a bit’ turns into nightfall, the sun setting and the moon greeting them as the two hurriedly get up and off of the couch, the cold night seeping into their bones. Still, it’s okay. When they go back inside, when they lay in bed interlocked in a tight embrace-all the cold melts away. Only warmth remains.

#mysme #mystic messenger #mysme prompt #mystic messenger prompts #prompts #fics #fanfics #mysme fic #luciel #707 #mysme v #mysme jaehee #mysme jumin #mysme saeran #mysme ray #mysme zen #mysme saeyoung #mysme yoosung #i cant remember what i used to tag i should update xkit aaaaa #asks #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger headcanons

[unwiltingblossom]

Queen’s Favor (Mysme Jumin/MC AU 12/?)

Summary: Being a maid would be much easier if the cat would just let her do her job. AU - Instead of joining the RFA via random text, MC is hired on as one of the maids assigned to Jumin Han’s penthouse. Nothing else about the setting has changed, the messenger and the RFA still exist, only the MC’s position has been altered. The entire situation changed if her employer was present, however, because the face of Mr. Han awoke Elizabeth's inner demonic nature.

There's just no other answer.

See, normally she doesn't need to worry about little things like where her vacuum cords are, because Elizabeth tends to spook and flee from the room as soon as it turns on and doesn't return until it's off. She can generally do all of her work with loud machines without any concern about where the cat is, and fortunately her employer has been very understanding so long as she doesn't intentionally or excessively spook the cat, and she doesn't chase it around or corner it with the machine. Which she would never do. Because she likes getting paid.

The entire situation changed if her employer was present, however, because the face of Mr. Han awoke Elizabeth's inner demonic nature.

She fell many times.

Every time she thought she could drop her guard, Elizabeth dropped her instead.

It was a small miracle that she didn't sprain or break anything - and in the latter case it was doubly so that she didn't break anything in the penthouse either.

Her employer mostly kept to himself as usual, but as stoic as he was, he startled and looked up from Elizabeth - the villainous queen - every time she crashed to the ground. Though he looked initially alarmed, by the ...oh, fourth time that she slammed into a wall or tripped over her own feet dodging a furry white bullet, she was pretty sure his expression morphed to exasperated.

She collapsed - not violently this time - on the ground in the spare bedroom when it was finally time for her break. Normally she'd spend her break on the soft rug in the living room, but she didn't even want to see Mr. Han at that moment - she might die of embarrassment if he made a comment about her day. Like a finishing move that destroyed her ruined mess of dignity and apparent competence.

And even if she'd successfully never tripped directly over Elizabeth the whole time and the cat seemed not to be shedding excessively, she couldn't help but worry about being fired or reprimanded over those inane original rules she'd been taught long ago now.

That beautiful man is going to absolutely gloat about my cat betrayal...

Maybe it was best not to tell that actor about it at all. It felt a little like slandering Elizabeth to do so. And as today had demonstrated, the cat was actually a secret demon, so she'd probably exact revenge for it.

Soft padded footsteps met her ears moments before the queen of shed hair hopped onto her chest and stared down at her. Blinking, waiting for a response.

She thought about pushing the cat off, but ultimately didn't. That just seemed spiteful.

A sigh of defeat escaped her lips instead. "You win."

Elizabeth meowed smugly and sprawled over her as if she owned the woman, tail twitching with utter unconcern.

She scowled. "I bet you've planned this from the beginning, haven't you? Why you little demon."

Another meow, and she had no choice but to scratch her behind the ears, despite the claws of impending unemployment. Still, it didn't feel like a judgment, just a battle, somehow. Elizabeth purred in her throat, closing her eyes and settling in. Apparently she was about to have the best nap of her life after all that running around.

She huffed and let her head lull back, peering up at the ceiling.

She's gonna get fired because the cat fell asleep on her chest during her break. She can feel it.

Right on cue, she found herself staring at the upside down visage of Jumin Han, who must have come looking for Elizabeth. He stood in the doorway, looking down at her. Well. Probably at the cat. But also her.

Probably in the metaphorical sense as well as the literal.

Honestly?

She didn't even have anything to say.

Not an apology, not a laugh or even a crack about it.

She was just completely humiliated and...defeated.

The only thing she could think to do was look up at him and mutely whisper, "One minute left on my break."

She wondered if she looked as pitiful as that sounded.

His gaze lingered, expression utterly inscrutable. Honestly, though she'd never say it to his face, he was a master of holding unnervingly stoic and unreadable expressions. It was a true skill, to not express any emotions and still be expressive. He turned and went back into the hallway.

...Honestly if he was going to come in and gawk at her like that, he could have at least freed her from her cat prison.

Maybe she should just be happy he had the supreme self control necessary not to shatter the remnants of her dignity with a well placed quip. Or just a raised eyebrow.

She judged herself enough. Trying to explain to her employer that 'no, I don't normally fall every five minutes, I'm not disaster prone, it's just my proximity to you, I swear it's an ancient Mayan curse placed on you' while he looked at her like that...

She'd call that handsome man up and curse him out for stopping the truck from taking her out, if it came to that. She'd do it.

Extracting herself from beneath the cat felt very much like she was in a spy movie or an...art theft movie...why were art thieves so similar to spies? Why did art museums have comparable security to nuclear silos and government bases?

If her employer could hear her thought process, he'd probably assume she had another concussion. She wouldn't blame him for it.

Regardless. It was a delicate, careful operation to extract herself from underneath Elizabeth without spooking the cat, but she wouldn't lose to the Demon of Seoul so easily as to wait for her termination while trapped beneath a sleeping, purring cat the singular day she had to do her job with her boss' supervision.

Unfortunately, as much as she'd like to, she couldn't just hide in the bedroom all day. She had the rest of the penthouse to clean.

Maybe, just maybe, if Elizabeth deigned to sleep the rest of the morning, she could at least pretend to look competent in front of her boss for half of her shift.

And if she couldn't even with Elizabeth asleep, then maybe Jumin really was the source of the curse.

The man himself sat on the couch with his laptop open when she finally exited her cave of slightly-less shame. She did her best to pretend he didn't exist, with the reasoning that if she didn't look at him she couldn't see disappointment - or worse, amusement - in his eyes when he looked at her. And from a practical sense, she was a little behind on her schedule on account of all the falling and wincing of the day, so she needed to focus now that her break was done.

Still, she couldn't help but glance at him as she made her way over to her duster, which leaned against the counter closest to the entrance. He didn't even glance up from his computer, so she refocused on her task and picked it up.

Which immediately resulted in her stubbing her foot on a table nearby and dropping her duster on the ground.

Okay. That one was on her. This clearly wasn't as bad as she thought.

However, her boss did actually look up from his computer at her this time, and his brow knit almost imperceptibly.

Perhaps she was overselling her own competence. Honestly. That's where she's ended up. This is where the day has driven her. Questioning whether her months of successful cleaning had been some kind of long hallucination and she'd done nothing but trip over everything since starting the job.

She knew nerves could impact performance, but this was ridiculous.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned down and grabbed her fallen duster. Deep breaths. Even if her employer were cursed, or the cat secretly a demon, or her nerves determined to make her look a fool, none of that was an excuse to lose her best job in years. She was capable of focusing, and with the cat sleeping, things could go smoothly. She'd clean faster than usual, and finish her tasks with plenty of time to spare, perhaps even leave a little early.

Yes.

And she'd do that cleaning...not in the living room. Mhm. Conveniently in a room where her boss wasn't, until she could control her nervous energy and stop imagining his smooth voice saying some innocent yet cutting quip or another.

She opened the door to her employer's bedroom - making sure to listen carefully for any sounds that Elizabeth might have woken up and followed her - and pushed through, heading straight for the bed to attack its collection of cat hair and fluff. From inside a drawer beneath the surface, she pulled out the small vacuum cleaner she kept in there for emergencies. Emergency cat hair.

Bless that man for being so fastidious, with his preference for bare floors. It made maintaining the bedroom much easier.

She plugged in the vacuum, switched it on, and began attacking the bed with a vengeance. This was only slightly influenced by her need to destress, compared to her need to catch up. Yes. It had absolutely nothing to do with her competitive spirit or determination to prove her fears and frustrations incorrect.

...Except that it did.

She finished vacuuming the bed just as she heard the door open, and immediately spun to face the inevitable horror show.

Oh no-

Elizabeth trotted right past her, not even a glance up, to go settle onto the unmade bed and curl up on top of it.

She sighed in frustration, as she watched all of her efforts at eliminating shed cat hair immediately unravel. "Elizabeth...!"

The only response she got was a taunting stretch from the fluffy white ball.

"Did you really need a nap on the bed that badly? You couldn't wait until I went home?"

Meow.

She wasn't sure how exactly a cat could sound so smug, but Elizabeth did.

"You absolute menace." She made sure to hiss that one quietly. Just in case the cat-dad was within earshot. He had a penchant for moving silently and appearing wherever Elizabeth was, so biting remarks were a real danger.

With a sigh, she once again turned off her vacuum and swapped it for her duster.

She and the cat are friends. She likes Elizabeth. Elizabeth is a spoiled brat, but usually not demonic. She must remind herself of this.

She'd have to abandon the unmade bed for now, rather than disturb The White Queen over there, and focus on cleaning the master bathroom instead. Of all the areas of the penthouse, it was the second cleanest, and the one with the least cat hair. For whatever reason she didn't care to speculate at, it seemed Elizabeth rarely entered this room except to give maids grief. Perhaps she considered the tile floor unpleasant. Just in case, she wouldn't mention this thought to her employer. She had a feeling she'd show up to a carpeted bathroom some day if she did. Bless his cat-loving heart.

She sprayed down the shower and collected a tiny assortment of random toiletries that had strayed away from their original spot, and then turned to the faucet to rinse and dry her hands. She still had a couple of rooms to clean and the bed to double back and conquer as soon as Elizabeth abandoned it. Once she finished that, she'd put up her equipment and head out for the night.

As she dried her hands, she glanced up and saw her own reflection in the mirror. Frowning, she brushed her bangs back with her wet fingers, and scrutinized herself. She wouldn't admit it, but she couldn't really help herself.

Her nose scrunched up just slightly. Did she really have the nerves of an amateur? It wasn't as if this was her first day on the job, or that she'd never worked with Jumin present before. Sure, she'd never done the whole day with her employer overseeing her, but he'd arrived near the end of her day multiple times in the past. She hadn't transformed into a walking disaster on those days.

Admittedly, every day in the past he'd arrived after vacuum-time. So that was different. But if that was the case...she just...needed to find her zen. Keep calm. Do her job. Be a professional.

Just like she always was.

She closed her eyes and nodded to herself. She'd gotten herself all worked up over nothing. No longer would she berate herself for a simple stumble. The evidence suggested it really was a coincidence. At least, that's what she would tell herself until the evidence suggested otherwise.

...And, well, it wasn't exactly a hard sell. Today was an aberration and she wouldn't let it continue any longer. With the sink thoroughly sanitized and her expression as determined as she could get it, she turned off the light and exited the bathroom.

She passed the cat in the bedroom, and emerged into the hallway, immediately meeting the sight of a wandering Jumin Han.

Whoa.

He was like a roaming beast who could appear at any moment she turned around.

"Ah-" She stopped, unsure of how to respond to his sudden appearance, or what exactly she should say.

After a brief moment, she gave him a nod. "Good afternoon, Mr. Han."

"You look to be in a better mood."

"Ah, I-yes." She blinked. It wasn't the most positive comment, but it wasn't a jab at her performance either. She just...thought she'd find him making a veiled insult or maybe-

He smiled, a rare, genuine, soft expression that took over his entire face and seemed to light up the room. Not that she stared. It was just a close encounter with his sudden, swift, and completely confusing shift from reserved to expressive and-

So that was how he looked when he expressed himself.

Her mouth moved, opening and closing, as her thoughts flashed between several different remarks that all amounted to nothing. He didn't elaborate, though, and just gave her that gentle expression for a second more, and then turned to head back into the living room.

Leaving her speechless and still slightly traumatized by his expressiveness.

Well. Okay. Now she's just being dramatic again. 'Traumatized' isn't the right word. 'Surprised' might be a more accurate one. It wasn't bad, or anything. Just. Distracting. She'd never experienced his expressiveness so openly or so close before. Now she had an expression to match to that laugh of his she'd heard in the past.

The cat didn't distract her for the rest of the day, despite frequent encounters. She even braved the main living area again, and cleaned around her boss' presence on the couch - that smile still fresh in her mind - but it was smooth sailing the rest of the day.

In the end, she even completed her tasks earlier than usual, a sense of accomplishment thrumming through her. She'd risen to the challenge of something new and had come out on top. And as usual, when he was present at the end of her work day, her employer politely handed her a drink.

"You have improved tremendously over the course of this afternoon." The faint thread of approval in his tone encouraged her to brush off any remaining embarrassment from the start of the day and just appreciate the compliment.

"Thank you." She cleared her throat. "I-I've never slipped or fallen while cleaning when you weren't home."

Okay. So that blurted out even despite her plans to not to let it.

His brow arched. "Is that so."

Oh wow. look how fascinating her drink is. Is this lemonade? Wow...

"I imagine then today was a fluke. Or," his lips quirked. "It seems I failed to keep out of the way for even one day."

She sputtered. She couldn't exactly argue with him. It had been his presence that had turned the beginning of the day into a walking disaster.

Somehow, he seemed to pick up on that, and his gaze was surprisingly sympathetic. "Either way, it appears I may be the direct cause of your setback. Therefore," he paused for effect. "The next time I have a full day off and am in the house, I will request for you to have a day off as well. I wouldn't want you to find yourself thrown off-track by my presence once again."

"I-" She coughed, quickly shaking her head, "That isn't-"

He nodded firmly. "It is no trouble at all. You have served me admirably and deserve a day to relax. It would be cruel of me to knowingly disrupt your routine."

"Er...I can't just not come in on your day off..."

The way his brow twitched just slightly, she got the distinct impression he was humoring her. "You're extremely determined to work even when offered days off. While admirable, it is also unnecessary. If it's a matter of payment, I can assure you will be paid your normal rate even on the days I am home and you are off."

"I'd feel horrible!"

He tilted his head, patiently. He was an inscrutable man, most of the time, but she liked to think that shine in his eyes was a kind of approval.

She coughed lightly, before he could press the matter. "I...it is possible that I may have been off my groove today," yes, very professional wording, that, "but if I was, it was only because of unfamiliarity. I-I'm used to cleaning alone, but I'm capable of doing it this way too! So there's no need to change anything. I'll do better next time."

Whenever next time is.

His stare lingered, but slowly softened to that same gentle, faint smile from earlier. "Alright. Since you insist, I won't change anything for now. Perhaps next time I will make it a point to sit out of view until you finish your tasks for the day."

He was offering a compromise. It was still quite embarrassing, but she found it hard to protest when he had that expression again. "Yes. That sounds like a good idea."

Finally, he nodded, and the moment was over. With one last bit of polite goodbye, she stepped out of the penthouse and left, satisfied that she had conquered her demons.

Next time she'd definitely not make herself a dual clown-maid. After today, there's no way the penthouse had any other tricks up its sleeves to shock and frazzle her.

And now she knew what he looked like when he smiled.

It wasn't like she'd think about it all night, or anything.

Really.

#mysme #mystic messenger #mysme fic #jumin han #jumin x mc #mystic messenger fic #queen's favor #ooc

[cystali]

When Seven, Zen, and Jaehee stumble into alien conflict, they are varying degrees of surprised, but in the end, they all choose to join with Jumin, Yoosung, and a man they call Driver Kim - aliens of a race who have lost their world. Months into their team formation, tension has built up: some members of the team keep too many secrets, others are overwhelmed by change and loss, and all of them don't fit together as they need to. Enter Hana, a former engineer imprisoned to be used for research by a race called the Galra. Her escape leads her straight into the arms of this malfunctioning team, and, despite a rocky start, they need her help. a lot of it. Somewhere along the way, she finds a family in these very same people. (and maybe, she falls in love.)

#:) #cystali writes #mysme fic #fic rec #mystic messenger #saeyoung choi #mystic messenger 707 #jumin han #zen mystic messenger #jaehee kang #yoosung kim #If you read this..... i would be happy. #here is my big mysme fic #fanfic

[cloudcountry]

Hey Кролик!!!! I saw you changed your bio, so I think I can still request? Maybe? Idk, tell me if I can't.

I read and reread the rules, so here is what I thought of: absolutely obliterating 707 with snowballs, the poor unsuspecting fool gets hit with way too many snowballs (that's what he gets for being mean to me >:] ) and falls to the ground getting buried for his sins >:))))

Then, he gets a little kiss as an apology because he's my little pookie bear <3

(Make sure to take your time! And eat and drink! I love you! Muah ❤️)

SUMMARY: you take saeyoung completely off guard with a snowball to the back of the head!

WARNINGS: spoilers for seven's route, contemplation of death. ITS FLUFF I PROMISE.

COMMENTS: ignore the fact that i picked the most summer cg ever for him ok HE LOOKED HAPPY. the seven kissers hiveminded you guys are so weird /aff (also abel!!! i love you too!!!!! RAHHHH)

TAGLIST: @haruhar-u since this was also your request <3

It almost seems like the rolling of the snowball in your hands is an absentminded movement, but it's very much intentional. Your eyes are training on the back of your boyfriend’s head—his bright red hair is a beacon in the bright white world around you. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop (or, alternatively, Saeyoung’s giggles as he sculpts the little snow Elizabeth the Third next to the snow-you and snow-him.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed at how quickly he whipped up snowpeople of everyone. Impressed, but not surprised. You think you even see Vanderwood a little ways back, isolated from everyone else, and you feel a stab of pity for the poor guy.

Working with Saeyoung can’t be easy, but he’s always been nice to you. Even up until the two of you ran away, you know deep down Vanderwood cared for Seven.

You shake yourself out of your thoughts, not wanting to get too caught up in the nitty-gritty of the situation when Saeyoung had it handled. You trusted him to protect the two of you, You know he can. You’re incredibly lucky for each and every day you get to spend at his side, even though you’re nearly always aware that each day could be your last.

But you chose this life when you chose him, and you would have it no other way.

And so, you show your love by winding up and throwing your perfectly crafted snowball as hard as you can at Saeyoung.

It hits him square in the back of the head, wetting his vibrant hair and sliding down until it hits the inside of his hood.

“Yikes!” he yelps, flailing his arms around his back as he springs away from snow-Elizabeth, “Enemy attack! God Seven is down!”

You laugh, already scooping up more snow and pelting him with your (much more sloppy) snowballs. Saeyoung makes a big show of gasping for air and pleading for mercy, occasionally playing dead and waiting for you to come over and poke him before smacking you with snow as well.

It doesn’t take long till the two of you are out of breath, your fingers ice cold but intertwined through your gloves.

“Want to head inside?” you murmur, kissing his snowflake-sprinkled brow, “We can have some of your very special hot chocolate.”

Saeyoung’s eyes light up and he gives you that big goofy grin you fell in love with.

“One thing first.” he whispers, the quiet of his voice exaggerated and theatrical.

And for a moment, you expect a snowball to the face, but he kisses you instead. It’s soft and sweet and tastes like an unholy combination of energy drink powder (which...now that you think about it, likely explains how quickly he crafted everyone out of snow.)

“Now we can go inside.” he laughs softly against your lips, scooping you up in his arms and carrying you inside, where you can be warm and comfortable with the one person you love most.

#auburn's winter event <3 #auburn's fics <3 #auburn talks mystic messenger <3 #i think this is atcually my first time writing for mysmes!! huh!! #saeyoung choi #mysme saeyoung #mystic messenger saeyoung #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung choi x reader #seven x reader #707 x reader #707 #mysme 707 #mysme

[whats-it-mean]

Period cramps? Never fear, the great 707 is here ☆

i just got my period and i am n o t having it and yknow what i want. i want someone to give me blankets and hot chocolate and tea and hsdksjdl. Also the mysmes brainrot is real so why not combine the two !! its a bit short today but im tired so whatcha gonna do

C/W - Reader is suggested to be AFAB (it's a period comfort fic, what did you expect) but no pronouns or specific gender

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

Although he ultimately struggled to express it sometimes, Seeing you all bundled up on the couch, face scrunched up in discomfort, he could feel his own mood souring. You had your nose buried in whatever manga you’d wrapped yourself up in this time, but your focus was all over the place with how much your abdomen hurt. There was no way to think straight through the pain, no matter how much you tried to ignore it, and it bothered him almost as much as it bothered you. It had been a bit since he had slipped out through the entryway with a promise to return soon, with the grin on his face that only meant he was up to something, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to pay too much mind to it.

After about a half hour of you sitting on the couch, stomach aching and barely even reading your book anymore, the jingle from the doorway ensuring your boyfriends return had you directing your gaze to the hallway that led to the door, where said red-haired boy poked his head around the corner, watching you for a reaction.

“Seven…?” You asked, confusion evident on your face as you stared at him, manga now forgotten as it lay abandoned at your side.

He smiled at you, eyes closed while he beamed. “I got you a couple things~” He said, reaching out a hand to showcase the full shopping bag that dangled from his arm.

“Eh--? Why did you--”

He strode over to you, sitting down on the floor next to the couch you sat on as he shushed you, before turning to open the bag. He seemed rather proud of himself as he pulled it open, reaching in and handing you a freshly bought, fluffy blanket in your favorite color, offering it to you with the cutest grin on his face.

“I got you a better blanket, some extra supplies, some hot chocolate…” As he spoke, he laid each item out in a pile, eyeing you from time to time to make sure you were watching him and his little performance. “I got you a heating pad too, Jaehee mentioned once that those are useful. Do you want me to make you the hot chocolate now, or wait a bit?”

You stared at him, completely still as you watched him stare right back, puppy dog eyes on full display. “W- What is… Why……?”

He grinned at you as if it was obvious. Leave it to Seven to make you feel stupid even on your period. “You looked uncomfy, so I wanted to help~ Is that okay?”

Well, how are you meant to say no to that?

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  End

#period fic #period cramps #⤥ Mairu Writes ! #mysmes #mysmes x reader #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger #mystic messenger 707 #707 #luciel choi #saeyoung choi #707 x reader #saeyoung x reader #luciel choi x reader #seven x reader #saeyoung choi x reader #mm x reader

[sleepingdeath-light]

red and the wolf ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (kinktober entry)

word count ; 974

content ; sexually explicit content, dirty talk, slight praise kink, penetrative sex

fandom ; mystic messenger

pairing ; hyun ryu / zen x gender neutral reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

When your boyfriend had called himself 'a wolf' in the bedroom you'd just brushed it off as a joke about him having a high libido (which your perpetually aching thighs and few dozen pairs of ruined underwear could attest to). But now, with him looming over you in with those sparkling, perfectly white teeth, and glimmering red eyes, and that deep voice that sounded like something between a growl and a whisper, you couldn't help but think he was being far more literal than you'd initially given him credit for.

Not that you were complaining, of course, it was nice to be manhandled every once in a while — even if all of the filth falling from those beautiful lips of his was starting to drive you mad.

Zen urged you to be loud, to make as much noise as you want and more — leaning down to brush his lips against the shell of your ear and whispering in that heavy evening voice of his to ask if you can be 'louder' for him. Practically begging you to keep making all of those 'pretty noises' you know he loves. And every whimper and moan and gasp earned you a cuss, or a grunt, or a perfectly angled thrust of his cock straight into that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. A reward for your obedience punctuated by wet, messy kisses to your lips that were more tongue and teeth than anything else (oh how swollen your lips would be tomorrow, marred with the indents of his teeth and your own, bitten so deeply that you could already taste your own coppery blood on your tongue despite how young the night still was).

He downright worshipped your body between thrusts: groping at every ridge, and swell, and dip, and scar — complimenting each part of you with an earnestness that you knew better than to dispute. Calling you 'hot', 'sexy', and 'all mine' as he sucked, bit, and marked his way along your throat and jaw. Tenderly lapping at your pulse point and chuckling when he felt it jump after a particularly playful slap to your backside. He playfully calls you his 'little pet'; the 'red' to his 'wolf' — and he mouths wet promises against your throat of not stopping until the mattress is hanging off of the bed and you're both too tired to go on (and with his stamina, well… you'll surely have a long night ahead of you).

He then effortlessly lifted your trembling thigh with one hand to wrap it around his waist, feeling the muscles of his abdomen pressing into your skin as he pressed his muscular chest down against yours. And in that same husky voice, Zen praised you for taking him 'so well' tonight, words that barely reach you as you’re far too close to climax to notice much beyond how good it feels to have him touching you and the waves of pleasant heat washing over your body as you start to mount your peak.

Clearly he’s not too far behind as you can just about see him gritting his teeth through your hazy vision as he tried his best to last out for you. Pace quickening and deepening as he eagerly chased your high and chased your lips with his own with the same amount of ferocity you’d come to expect from him, calling you 'perfect', and 'made for me', and telling you how you feel 'so fucking good, babe,'. Each broken phrase an island of coherence amongst the endless stream of growls, and moans, and grunts that slip from his lips as he pounds his hips into yours and fills your hole with his dick in that way you love (and how could you not?).

Long strands of white hair fall over his shoulders and out of his up-do, tickling your nose and sticking to the sweat covering your body and face as you started to rapidly approach your climax. But by now you're too distracted by the way it felt to be stretched out on that pretty cock of his, and the distant sensation of him slipping one of those large, soft hands into yours and holding it tightly — grounding you in the same way that he was kept grounded by the sharp stinging pain of your fingernails digging into the toned, pale expanse of his shoulders and back — to care about anything like that. Even the fuzzy sound of his voice praising you, and cussing, and grunting and moaning against your lips (and jaw and cheeks and throat, always moving and marking and loving you) was too distant to your muddy mind for you to truly notice or understand beyond your short responses in the shape of moans and whimpers.

Then something snaps and the world around you comes crashing down, washed away with what remained of your coherent thoughts by the torrent of burning pleasure that wracked through your body. Kept in that blissful, whited-out place by his soft lips, and endless flirting, and expert thrusting as you lost yourself in the pounding of your heart, and the aching of your lungs, and the intense sensations that left your whole body limp and trembling, and your entrance pulsing and fluttering around your Zen. No longer able to do anything but moan, and gasp, and whimper until your throat was too hoarse to do even that.

And Zen (your Zen, your wolf) followed soon after with a loud cry (howl, even) of your name as he filled you completely with his seed. Pressing his sweat slicked forehead against yours as you both try and catch your breath. Completely messy and blissed out and in love; red and their wolf, basking in the musky afterglow before going straight back into the fray the moment you had both come back down to earth.

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #minors dni #minors dont touch #minors fuck off #smut #smut fic #mysme smut #mysme x reader #zen smut #zen x reader #mystic messenger smut #mystic messenger x reader

[astridthevalkyrie]

Do you have any favorite Jumin x MC fics? I keep re-reading yours bc it’s so damn good

omg thank you!! that fic was in my wips for months i'm so happy people like all my self indulgent jumin fantasies lol

here are some i like on ao3 (and pre mha brainrot i read so many fucking jumin fics on ao3 it's insane):

cherry wine - really soft, really sweet, and realistic. i love rika but i cannot imagine being the new girl that everyone treats like her replacement.

I Can Give You Heaven - takes place on jumin's birthday and god oh my god i can't speak this fic is so good. perfect mixture of fluff and smut and ridiculously soft jumin.

Welcome Home, Master - yeah you know what this is based on the title LMFAO but anyways if you're one of the people into the jumin petplay thing this fic is for you. delicious 👏🏽 fuckin 👏🏽 smut

Sweeter Than The Finest - another really good smut fic featuring office sex. this author also has a couple other fantastic jumin fics, including yet another birthday sex one that i've read an unhealthy amount (i like the idea of spoiling him for his birthday??? sue me???)

Jumin's Call - jumin listens in on you and zen and it's the hottest thing ever and simulataneously the angstiest thing ever.

Purple Hearts and Tear Drops - LOVE this fic. ugh. i have a particular weakness for jumin x mc in v's route with all the angst potential and this fic delivers and goes above and beyond delivering

Unattainable - kinda retelling of jumin's route but with the twist that jumin is already married to sarah. very very good pining and buildup and it makes me tingly. also gives some much needed nuance to sarah and villainizes her a little less.

After End and Temporal Love - so this is probably my favorite mysme fanfic it's the best i've seen that utilizes the reset theory. equal parts seven/mc and jumin/mc (although the second part is just jumin/mc drabbles that take place in the universe) and just. good. good dialogue, good humor, good character stuff. jumin in this is just. sighhhhh. husband material <3 as always <3

#jumin han #jumin x mc #jumin x reader #mysme #fic recs

[kirbyskisses]

kirby’s kinktober (twenty-eight)

camera//saeran choi

sometimes 707 thinks you forget that he can see and hear everything in your house at all times with his constant security measures.

silly little scenes of you sneaking a bag of his honey buddha chips right after chastising him for eating too many. you singing a guilty pleasure song while walking to the bathroom.

this is not one of those times. this time he is absolutely sure you know he’s watching. because your soft eyes are directly on the camera. and your fingers directly in your pussy.

you give a choked moan of his name. his real name. he almost chokes as well, breath caught in his throat.

“saeyoung.~”

you shivered as his golden eyes inspect the screen. you’re kneeling on the bed for him and god your skin looks so soft - there’s a deep urge in him to walk down the hall to you.

but another part of him doesn’t want to ruin the show you seem so desperate to, and calculated in, giving him.

besides, never been one to match though sexual confidence or somebody like zen or even jumin, he’s about 89% sure he would be a blushing, shaking mess, with his face as red as his hair by the time he’d even open your door.

he wouldn’t want you to laugh at him so he grips his knees and looks closer, not prying his eyes away from the monitor.

you pull your panties aside, and he can’t quite tell if it’s just camera grain but - no, that is most definitely a wet spot over your clit.

he feels dizzy, like his head is going to explode.

positioning the head of a vibrator against your clit you bite you lower lip, eyes never leaving the lens through which he stares down at you.

the little toy shakes on low speed, and slowly teases the tip over your clit causing soft moans slip from you mouth.

“saeyoung. oppa, it feels” you gasp again, “so good”.

so wet already. so turned on, that you slip the tip of the toy down to your entrance almost immediately, moaning deeper as it pressed inward.

just the tip.

his hand almost reaches into his pants before he makes as conscious decision to make a fist. he knows any second now you’re going to beg for him and he has to save it all for you, no matter how uncomfortably sticky and hard he gets.

you wanted him to enjoy the tease, pushing the vibrator with gentle and shallow strokes in and out to start with. just those little, teasing thrusts, the slow rumbling vibrations adding to the sensation as you briefly slip the tip back up over your clit.

clear strands of precum still connect it to your opening, and it shines with his favorite shade of red.

"oppa…” you whisper.

“sae, you feel so good. please, seven. i can't hold back any more...i need to cum for you - please come here and let me cum for you!”

that purr goes straight to his cock. and your next whine forces him out of his seat and to the door, his embarrassed flush be damned.

#mysme #mystic messenger x mc #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger #mysme x reader #707 #luciel choi #707 x reader #luciel x reader #luciel x mc #707 x mc #full fic #smut #kirby’s kinktober #mysme saeyoung #saeyoung x reader #saeyoung x mc

[luc606]

surprise! new fic! it’s rated M so I’ve decided not to cross-post, but you can read it on Ao3 here:

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysmes #vanderwood #vanderwood x mc #vanderwood/mc #vanderwood x reader #vanderwood/reader #mm vanderwood #vanderwood mm #vanderwood mystic messenger #mysme vanderwood #mysme fanfic #mysme fic #mystic messenger headcanons #luc606 #fic #v route #jihyun route

[xelasrecords]

Tea! Would You Like Some?

Han Jumin x Reader

Jumin Week 2023 - Day 3: Quality Time @juminweek2019

High-quality time shared between two people highly stupid about their feelings. And for each other.

My x reader comeback after so long! Had a meet cute recently so y'all get a lighthearted crushing stage fic for once :)

Words: 3.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

How soon you could come had no correlation to Jumin's expectation of seeing you materialise in his living room. At least, that was what he told himself. His traitorous fingers told a different thing. They had typed out a message asking where you were, if there was any problem with your ride, if you had input the correct address in your map, and if he needed to send out a search party if you didn't reply in the next five minutes, but that, he felt, would be too drastic.

Jumin erased the last part and sent the text. He sighed, fingers drumming on the arm of his white sofa. Contrary to Zen's belief, he was not one to blow things out of proportion. He always did just enough and everything else was simply a precaution.

Perhaps a five-minute grace was not precaution enough. Four minutes. He could wait for four.

The second his doorbell rang, Jumin leapt to his feet. He never considered the distance from the living room to the entrance too far, but now he doubted the interior design of his penthouse. Large spaces allowed him to breathe—until you took it away just by not reneging on your promise to visit. You were someone he had only met a handful of times, always with the other members and never at his own place.

Today was special. Today he decided to ignore his fear of being left behind by his loved ones and let you in.

You could be someone he loved. You could be the one who stayed.

Jumin composed himself and opened the door, and there you were, standing with your hands deep in your pockets, waiting for him.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you. Despite being mussed by the wind, your hair fell beautifully around your face like a divine frame that accentuated your features. Your eyes were bright, your smile was wide, and you were wrapped in a coat that must be your favourite. He never saw you without it. He wished he knew more about your fashion sense so he could gift you clothes that you would like. He also wished he was close enough to see himself in your eyes' reflection, but that time would come later. Everything had its order, and patience was a virtue that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"I have been waiting for you," said Jumin, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. "Did anything happen on your way here? You didn't reply to my text."

"I was rushing." Your smile turned apologetic. "Didn't check my phone, sorry."

Jumin stepped aside to let you in. The fact that your hand could have grazed his had you walked nearer to him did not escape his attention. "No matter. It's all right now that you're here."

Leading you to the white plush sofa where he had waited with perfect calmness, he felt tense and oddly exposed, like he was anticipating a foreboding that might come to pass. He did not feel like Han Jumin. This was an iteration of him that he had not been acquainted with.

"Did I make you wait too long?" you asked.

"No," Jumin said. "You didn't have to hurry. You were not yet late." He hoped the sofa would be good enough for you. He had asked his housekeeper to clean off every speck of dust he could detect, twice over.

You sat down and stared at him with a look that he couldn't discern. "I wanted to be early."

Jumin took a seat beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance despite his heart's protest. "You possess an excellent sense of time management. We will get along well." Compliments flowed out of him easily when it came to you. If you let him, he would graciously point out your strengths one by one.

But was that disappointment on your face?—though it disappeared before he could probe further. "Yes, I love time and managing stuff." You sighed. "That's why I'm the assigned party coordinator."

Now that you were at the spot where he had cast secret spells to summon you, Jumin wasn't sure what to say. He was desperate to know if you shared his jitters. You were motionless, spine straight and hands clasped on your lap, studiously watching the black television screen. There was nothing save for the blurred reflection of both of you sitting in a similar position. He had been imagining all sorts of exciting conversations with you, but your presence had flung them out of his head. This had never happened before. An MRI scan was in order after you went home.

It was possible that you were growing bored, though your affable expression had not indicated so. But it might not mean anything, for you always seemed pleasant. You were very, very pleasant to look at. It was also possible that he was the only one with an insatiable curiosity towards you. For all he knew, you could be with a partner and merely accepted his invitation to hang out with him as a newly anointed member of the RFA. And you were a member. This was a friendly meet-up, nothing more.

"Tea," said Jumin suddenly. His voice echoed in the silence.

Startled, your head snapped to him. "What?"

"Everyone in my family learns to brew tea," Jumin explained. "The tea leaves in my pantry are directly imported from China, obtained from the only six three-hundred-year-old Wuyi trees in existence. The legend of this tea can be traced back to the age of emperors and dynasties, and it has become extraordinarily rare over time. It has the best quality in the world."

"How did you get it if it's so rare?" You were trying to hold a smile back, but it was not a mocking sneer. There was a certain fondness in it that made him want to let all his guard down and pull you into his arms.

"Auctions," Jumin simply said. "You ought to try it. It will keep you warm." Only then he noticed that you still had your coat on and was promptly filled with horror. "My apologies. I seem to have lost my manners." He outstretched his arm. "Leave your coat with me. It can't have been comfortable sitting in that."

"Shame." You handed it over. "I was planning to take a nap in this."

"Is that how people normally sleep? Or is it a tradition unique to you?" Jumin folded your coat into a perfect half over his forearm. "I'd appreciate it if you could teach me your ways."

"I was joking, Jumin. Should I teach you how to make one?" you said, in a tone so kind that he was taken aback. People tended to laugh at his face or look away politely when he failed to understand a joke.

"There is no need. I already have a handbook for it." Jumin was unable to keep smugness out of his voice. "It includes a list of one hundred jokes that you can make to both family and work colleagues alike. I have made good use of it when I need to break the ice."

"But does it include learning how to take one?"

"Unfortunately, I have yet to encounter a book for it."

You squeezed his shoulder, and the warmth of your touch penetrated all layers of his clothing that he had carefully planned. Navy blue suit, black tie, complete with a beige waistcoat and white striped shirt. Everything was new. "Don't worry," you said. "It just means the joke isn't funny to you. A good joke will make you laugh naturally."

"I see." Jumin fixed his tie. "I promise to laugh at your next joke."

"I said naturally. Honestly, Jumin. Please don't plan for it. You're going to give me performance anxiety."

"Then I look forward to your performance." He smirked, and you groaned. Something about you brought out the childlike side in him that he didn't know was still alive. "If you would wait here for a moment. I shall brew you a cup of tea. It won't be long."

Without waiting for your response, Jumin stood up, hung your coat on the silver coat rack by the hallway, and headed to the kitchen. Something was wrong with him. A smile kept threatening to break out of his face and there was a palpable beating in his throat when it should stay underneath his ribcage and he felt giddy about something. He was sure that this was abnormal. Was he finally living up to Zen's senseless claim that he was a strange creature? Jumin stowed these additional symptoms away for his next doctor's appointment. Forget MRI, he needed a full-body checkup.

Jumin heard a soft padding behind him as he turned on the kettle. Your footsteps were quiet, almost drowned by the gurgling of the boiling water and it reminded him of the elegance of Elizabeth the Third. He'd introduce you to her when she decided to make an appearance. The thought of the two of you getting along put a smile on his face.

"I thought you would've offered me wine before tea. Are you really Jumin?" you teased, peering from behind him. He was scooping oolong tea leaves into the strainer in a precise measurement when his muscles turned rigid. Your chin was nearly perched on his shoulder. He regretted that you didn't.

But Jumin dearly wished he knew either. He paused and looked over at you. Now he could see himself in your mischievous eyes. Now he saw how happy he was. The opportunity came sooner than he was prepared for. His breath hitched. "Would you like some wine instead?" he asked, keeping his gaze steady. "I have a wide variety you can choose from in the cellar."

"Tea is fine," you said. "I'll take anything you give me, really."

"Beware," Jumin said dryly. "You have not known me long. There could be poison in your drink."

It took a second for his joke to register, but when it did, you started to laugh. Jumin was stunned, then relaxed when he realised you were not under any pretences of politeness. He felt as if he got a high score for a competition he had unknowingly participated. He never used to put high importance on winning. As someone who consistently broke his own records, achievements were just another thing that his office and father would hold a customary celebration for.

But you were different. Your laughter was a prize he wanted to win all the time. He liked seeing you in joy, and liked that he was the source of it. It was a high that he never wanted to come down from.

"Did you copy that joke from your handbook?" you asked.

"I came up with it on the spot," said Jumin proudly, and your grin widened.

Your eyes flitted to the only china cup laid out on the marble countertop. "Aren't you making another for yourself?"

Jumin shook his head. "I'm not in the mood for tea."

You lifted a brow. "I am so surprised."

Jumin's forehead furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why would you be?"

You flailed your arms about. "Is tea not your passion?" you said. "You were fired up when you talked about it. That's all you've talked about. If I didn't know you better, I'd think it's your favourite drink in the world."

"I merely wanted to keep you warm, and a cup of tea was the fastest way to do it." Actually, Jumin thought being embraced by him would be faster, but he doubted you would accept his advanced advances. "You're the one who has been on my mind, not tea."

"Not tea," you repeated.

"It's nothing compared to you," Jumin affirmed.

"Oh." You pressed your palm against your cheek. "That's nice. You're nice." You gave a perfunctory sweep at his polished monochromatic penthouse, sparse but efficiently filled with the essential household items. "Your place is also nice."

But you were looking at everywhere but him, and that didn't feel as nice. "You might be the first person calling me nice besides V," Jumin said, deciding to focus on the positive. "And V is exempted as he is my closest friend. I'm not sure how to feel about this, to be honest. I'll have to think about it later."

"Take your time," you said, finally looking at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Quietly, Jumin poured hot water into the teacup and stirred sugar into the steaming amber liquid, allowing the clinking of the teaspoon to fill the space he couldn't. For all his desire to have his interest in you reciprocated, he could not picture the reality if you did. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to invite you into his mind, yet was frightened by the thought of you being repelled after knowing him.

"Careful, it's hot," Jumin warned as you lifted the teacup to your lips. "Tell me, how do you find it? Is it to your taste?"

You took your time sipping the tea. He suspected you did it to keep him on his toes, and had to admit that it was part of your intrigue. Jumin could never guess your next move. Anything he predicted you would prove him wrong in the most delightful way possible.

You looked up from the rim of the cup. "What if I say it isn't?"

A connoisseur in understanding your jest now, Jumin replied, "I shall melt into a puddle and lie on the floor until you give me an honest review."

"I will mop your puddle and wring it out the window."

He looked at you thoughtfully. "I'd say I'm offended, but I heard that committing murder is an expressway to one's heart."

"Sometimes even literally," you agreed.

Jumin's eyes widened. "The double meaning escaped me. You are a genius."

You set your cup down on its saucer with a delicate clink. "But is murder the only way to your heart?"

Jumin forgot the mechanism of speaking. Due to his years of experience with women whom he never spared a glance for, he could detect the act of flirting when he saw one. And you were flirting. With him. He was eighty-nine per cent sure of it. You deemed him worthy to be flirted with. Jumin almost slid down to his knees.

"No." He managed to get a full sentence out. "No," he tried again, "but you don't even have to try. Whatever you're doing, you are doing it well." Two better sentences. Magnificent.

"That's too bad," you said. Jumin noticed that your hand was still wrapped around your cup, steam unfurling on the top of it. You must still be cold. "I've been waiting to hack through your chest with an axe."

Jumin walked towards the heater controller and turned it on. "Is homicide the only thing in your mind?"

"It's more of an ad break from the thoughts of you."

At that, Jumin turned around. You had been thinking about him. He knew how impossible it was to stop thinking about you, and your admission was making him lightheaded. Did you ever dream of him and then scramble for your phone the first thing in the morning just to hear his voice? Did you ever yearn to talk about him to your friends the way he did, except his only friend was doing his habitual disappearance and the loneliness was more profound now that you were his constant excitement but he had no one to tell it to? Did you have anyone you hold dear to your heart? Were you open to considering him as one someday? It was not yet appropriate to be so upfront with his questions, he knew.

But one question should be fine. "How long have you been thinking of me?" Jumin asked.

You leaned against the counter and crossed your legs. "I talk to you every day. So, every day." He wondered if your composure was a facade, the way his was.

Jumin nodded. "We share the same habit. I can't quite recall what I used to think about before you entered our lives."

"Your darling white cat, the cat projects that generate a steady loss for your company, and some new cat-friendly inventions? Jaehee's nightmares, basically."

Jumin chuckled. "You know me well. I must say I'm surprised." It wasn't so bad to be known. He could get used to the feeling. "Assistant Kang doesn't appreciate the fine things in life. It's a pity that Elizabeth the Third is hiding somewhere right now. If you see her, you'll understand why I do all those things for her."

"You love her," you said kindly. "I understand that enough."

Jumin stared at you. You kept saying the right things and he kept falling, falling, falling.

"You've finished your tea," Jumin noted, but not without regret. He dreaded having to let you go.

You studied the empty cup. "Wow, I think I inhaled it. You were right, it was the best tea I've ever tasted. Thank you."

"I hope you will stay longer. Do you have other arrangements for the evening?" Jumin, who had arranged his whole weekend around your visit, calmly inquired.

"I don't," you said, with just as much calmness.

"My collection doesn't stop at drinks," he said. "I have a brand new record player and an array of classic vinyls. You can peruse them if you'd like. A three-star Michelin chef will be flying in to prepare dinner and you can request anything you want, provided that you do it three hours prior. There's also a gym on the second floor, though exercising is probably not the best activity since you don't bring a change of clothes." He paused. "You don't happen to bring one, do you?"

"Jumin, I—no. But I could wear yours if I so desperately need to shower here."

He thought he saw your eyes suspiciously glittered, but it was gone when you blinked. "I don't have clothes that would fit you perfectly." He frowned. "They're all tailored to my body, you see. I'm afraid you wouldn't find much comfort in them. Now, would you like to sit down? I've made you stand for too long." He guided you to the kitchen island, fingers light around your wrist, and pulled out one of the brass bar stools. "Please excuse my bad manners today. Something must have come over me. I don't tend to be like this."

You settled in your seat only to swivel back to meet his towering figure. Your knees nudged his legs, and Jumin was stunned, unmoving. He thought an attraction was supposed to burn him alive, to light him up from the inside. What he felt now was akin to petrification. It crept up on him from the ground he stood and incapacitated his ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Jumin," you enunciated his name with great care. He had never thought his name was beautiful until it lulled out of your mouth. He wanted to brand it into his memory.

"Yes," he said, because it was the only thing his mouth could form.

"Your house sounds like a treat."

"That's because it is. You can entertain yourself here. Whatever you want, I will do my best to provide it for you."

"Other guys could give me those too. There have been some, you know," you confessed, and Jumin was torn between wanting to know more about your past and quelling down the illogical jealousy it spurred. "Gold-dipped bouquets with diamonds, fancy restaurants where they ordered for me without asking about my preferences, jewellery that I wouldn't pick for myself." Your voice was tinted with slight distaste, but it was gone in the next instance. "Do you think I was swayed by them?"

Now Jumin's gaze turned sharp. This was a test, he realised. Your intention was not to compare him to other men, nor was it to flaunt how desired you were. Jumin knew the latter well without needing you to prove it to him. He felt the torrent of his desire all the time. It threatened to wash him ashore and pull him back into the raging sea, never letting him be at peace until he could be certain you wanted him back. So what would you get out of your question? Whatever your goal was, he knew what he was supposed to do. You favoured honesty, just as he did. That was one of the many things he respected about you.

"I doubt you were," Jumin said. "Your affection isn't the kind that could be bought. I may not know you intimately, but I know you would not budge under insensitive bribery, and your tale reeked of one. What they did was foul and not driven by the best intentions. That's not how you, or anyone, should be treated."

Your expression softened as you reached for his hand. "I know you're not trying to impress me with your wealth. I'm sorry if I made you think so. I meant to show you that I'd be here even without you throwing those things at me. You called me just to meet up and I came right away. If I stay back, it's because I want to spend more time with you." You averted your eyes. "Did you have to make me say all that?"

Emboldened by your hold that you hadn't let go, Jumin tilted your chin and you leaned forward by a fraction. "You enjoy my company," he said, assessing your earnest face. He could hear his racing heartbeat in his ears. "But will you stay?"

"You'd really like an encore to embarrass me," you grumbled. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"You phrased it as a hypothesis. I cannot be sure that staying with me is what you want unless you state it clearly," Jumin pressed. Though he was always surrounded by people, no one had ever bothered to stay. Not for long. Not for the person he was.

His fear and desperation must have shown on his face, for you let out a small breath and gently squeezed his arm, before trailing your sight to the empty cup waiting on the counter. "I think you should refill my tea," you said slowly. "I need more if we'll talk into the night, won't I?"

The warmth from your hold spread throughout his body and a smile broke through Jumin's face, his uncertainty receding. Someone as beautiful and brilliant as you, a gem rarer than his tea—for those tea leaves could be reproduced but you were one of a kind—wanted him as much as he wanted you. It was the first real smile he wore in a while. "We can switch to something stronger after dinner," Jumin suggested.

"Wine," you guessed. Oh, how he loved that you could read his mind. "I knew it. You always default to wine. Farewell, tea. His affair with you has been short but memorable."

Jumin was all too eager to agree. "Farewell."

Jumin hoped it would be a long, long time before his relationship with you could end. If it would ever end.

-

The footnotes that I thought would be an occasional extra but they just won't go away:

This fic is inspired by good dates and bad dates and that early crush feeling when you don't quite know the person yet so everything feels exciting and scary.

Don't worry, Jumin's tea rambles didn't deviate from canon. On day 8 he wishes you to learn tea brewing since all his family does it. I thought it'd be fun to highlight his nervousness by making him do something unexpected, especially since he's the type who would randomly do something out of pocket while still maintaining his gravitas.

The tea's legend is based on Da Hong Pao, a very rare, government-protected Chinese tea that you can only get if the president honours you some and from auctions. I didn't think I'd research that deep for accuracy for a mere fic but what am I if not committed.

The header is made to seem like a cheeky ad in the spirit of Jumin's tea endorsement. Contemporary fun with a touch of antiquity is what I was going for to capture the fic's mood and Jumin's preference. The challenge was to make a dynamic animation without looking flat or too complicated but still fit the time, format and size constraints. People still need to be able to immediately read the text, which means no over-the-top entrances and transitions. Truthfully, I die a little bit inside whenever I have to sacrifice aesthetics for function but it is what it is!

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 week 2023 #jujuw23d3 #xela writes #jumin han x you #jumin x reader #jumin han fluff #mysme jumin #jumin han #mm jumin #mystic messenger #mystic messenger fanfic #jumin han fic

[natasha-in-space]

Alright, it's the start of a new month, and as I am getting back into my writing groove, I might as well post my art for March in the meantime! First things first, a birthday gift for a friend ☆

They are glasses buddies.

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeyoung choi #choi saeyoung #mystic messenger saeyoung #mysme 707 #luciel choi #saeyoung x mc #i think imma post them gradually instead of dumping it all in one day 🤔 #just to have something while i am getting back to my danger ray fic

[mxsticmess]

se saeran is such a comfort character to me esp in fanfics where his daily struggles r shown like!! yes i feel bad and mentally ill and like everything’s falling apart but this guy went through some shit and got through it and i think he’s pretty cool

#idk how to put into words what i mean without projecting or venting a bunch but. #idk in some of my favorite fics he’s witty and sarcastic and caring deep down but just doesn’t know how to show it. but there’s days where #he still breaks down and shuts everything out and hurts himself but he still gets taken care of because he’s not a burden to saeyoung #and yeah idk he’s a good character #this is a lot of words to say nothing sorry #mysme #mystic messenger #saeran choi #saeran #mysme saeran

[tiresomeimagination]

The Demons in the Details (707 x Reader)

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's note: This is an entry for @mysticmessengerenglish's fanfic contest. The theme was weddings and I had an idea to try playing with. Hope you enjoy! ^^

You paused in your inspection of the current venue and glanced back over at Saeyoung to gauge his reaction. He looked deep in thought as he scanned the building. You wished you could hear his thoughts… He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

~~~~~

Wedding preparations are always tiring. They become even more so when expectations or standards are a bit too particular. Saeyoung was by no means a very picky person. In fact, you often had to nag him about keeping his preferences quiet for the sake of others. So it was a bit out of the ordinary to find that Saeyoung was so critical of every venue you visited. There was always something. It was too public of a spot, it was too closed off, it didn’t have enough exits, and the list went on. Nothing was quite right. You got the feeling that if it were solely up to him, he would just have the whole thing in his bunker.

His mind was racing with every possible worst-case scenario. He had to. After all, he had finally gotten everything he ever wanted. He was reunited with his brother. He had found a new family in the RFA members. He had even found the love of his life. He had…everything to lose. With his father and the agency still out there looking for him, he had far too many enemies to take any chances.

Finally, Saeyoung seemed to reach a decision. “Hm…yeah…this place is nice and all, but I just don’t think it’s us, y’know? I mean… we can definitely do better,” he said with a slight chuckle, attempting to keep his voice light and casual.

You couldn’t help but let out a small sigh. “This is the fifth place we’ve seen today. We’re kind of running out of options…” You tried to point out as gently as possible.

Saeyoung let out a small sigh of his own as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. “You’re right, you’re right. How about we just…sleep on it for now? I have some more research to do anyway.”

You knew this ‘research’ probably involved running background checks on all the venue’s staff that would even breathe in the general vicinity of the event.

“...Okay. Yeah… It’s getting late anyway. We might as well go back,” you relented. You wanted to try your best to be accommodating. You knew that he had to do whatever he could do to feel safe.

Spirits were low as the two of you returned to the bunker. There was a certain unspoken tension that neither you nor Saeyoung wished to address. You both made light small talk about the day as you had dinner with him and Saeran as usual, but you could tell Saeyoung was still worried. As much as you wanted to try and talk through things, you didn’t want to push him before he was ready…. And so, even as you retired to the guest room for bed, the topic was avoided entirely for the night.

You awoke a few hours later. After a quick glance at your phone to confirm that it was indeed the middle of the night, you decided to get up and check in on Saeyoung. Experience told you that there was a good chance he got caught up in something and would need to be talked into actually going to bed. However, rather than a chance for playful teasing between you two, what you found when you peeked in was much more concerning.

Saeyoung sat on the edge of his bed, hunched forward with his head in his hands. Without thinking, you entered and quickly crossed the room towards him. 

The sound of your footsteps jolted him out of whatever state he had been in and his head whipped up to lock eyes with you. “…Y/N…?” He asked quietly as if your presence had surprised him.

“Saeyoung! What’s wrong?? Did something happen?” You asked worriedly as you came to a stop by his side.

He took a moment to register your words, still lost in his thoughts. “...Um…yeah…I-I mean no.” He stammered out, pausing to rub tiredly at his face and try to recollect his jumbled thoughts. “Everything’s fine. I just…had a weird dream, hah…” He breathed out quietly.

You frowned deeply and sat down beside him, placing a light touch on his arm. “Do you want to talk about it…?” You asked softly.

He didn’t answer, so you continued. “Whatever it is…you can talk to me. We promised to handle things together, remember? You don’t have to talk about it right now, but I can tell you’ve been worried about something and it’s more than just whether we get married someplace with or without windows, so-”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Saeyoung suddenly interrupted your ramble. 

“...What…?” You replied, caught off guard by his words.

Saeyoung took a deep breath in and let it out before he looked over at you. “Things aren’t going to be easy, you know. Living with me…won’t be easy.” He paused, glancing down at the engagement ring you wore on your hand. A sign of your connection to one another.

“...What? What are you talking about?”

He sighed again and gently took your hand in his. “I still have a lot of enemies. You could get caught in the crossfire of any one of them.”

“Saeyoung…”

“Every time I close my eyes… I see everything that could go wrong. And every time I open them again I think about how I’m not ready. If I fail to account for even one possible threat, you could get hurt…or worse…"

"Saeyoung." You called out a little louder, hoping to get his attention off of his spiraling anxious thoughts and back onto you. When he looked back up at you, you continued. "You don't have to bear everything alone anymore. Everyone in RFA has your back. Saeran and I too. We're all in this together. And if dealing with Mint Eye has taught us anything…it's that we're stronger together." You said with a soft smile, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

You brought your other hand up to gently touch his shoulder. "And to answer your question…yes. This is what I want. You are what I want, and nothing will change that."

The both of you were moments away from tears. Saeyoung quickly pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face into your shoulder and sniffling softly.

"I love you so much, Y/N." He murmured, his voice muffled by your shirt. 

The second half went unspoken but you could hear it loud and clear. He was afraid of losing you. No amount of mere words could quell those fears entirely. They lived so deeply in his heart and you couldn’t chase them all out no matter how much you wanted to. All you could do was try to support him.

You let out a sigh as you hugged him back and let your own tears fall as well. "I love you too.”

Your happily ever after wouldn't be as easy as the fairy tales made them out to be…but you two would be okay so long as you stood together. You weren’t about to let go, and by the looks of his grip right now, neither was he.

#mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger x reader #mm 707 #saeyoung choi #707 x reader #saeyoung x reader #707 x mc #reverse hurt/comfort #mmed #possibly not my best work but eh I was pressed for time and did me best #this went through several different draft iterations hhh #credit to sapphyra for giving me the idea needed to help me reorient my approach and get the fic flowing better #whew it's been a while since I've written for my boi #hope I'm not too rusty #anyways #back into the void I go o7