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xelasrecords · 7 months

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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

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pochipop · 2 years

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＃ MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — REACTING TO YOU GETTING HURT WHILE COOKING.

#. synopsis! — kitchenware can be dangerous .

#. characters! — jumin , saeran (ray) , yoosung .

#. warnings! — nongraphic depictions of small injuries .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

𖦹. ━ JUMIN !!

It's not that big of a deal, but the way Jumin quickly jumps to action could have fooled you into thinking you were in mortal danger if you didn't know better. The second he heard you hiss under your breath, knife falling onto the cutting board with a little clanking sound, he was at your side.

"Are you alright?" He questions, a worried edge permeating every syllable.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you assure him quickly, "—it's just a cut. I was being careless."

"It's bleeding," he notes, pulling you away from the counter and over to the sink.

He turns the faucet, pauses as he waits for the water to turn lukewarm, and examines your slit finger in the process. It's just as you'd said: a small cut resulting from a moment's carelessness. But, this is one of the ways Jumin shows love. Little things can turn into monumental things when they impact you, and he wants nothing more than to be your knight in shining armor. Even if you don't need one, he likes to think that maybe one day, he'll have the opportunity to save you the way you saved him. So, when it comes to tiny things like this, you don't complain when Jumin takes a strong initiative.

He tests the water himself first, making sure it's not hot enough to scald you before gently pulling your hand forward. The few droplets of blood rush off your finger as the water cascades over, cleaning the wound out.

"It's really not a big deal," you say softly, knowing that he's worried and has worked himself up, —even over something as miniscule as this.

And he knows you're right. Your cut is barely worse than the papercuts he gets on a semi-regular basis whilst handling paperwork at the office, and he's known to deal with those by working one handed while he sucks the cut until the blood stops. But when it comes to you, he fears even the smallest of things could harm you in unimaginable ways, and Jumin's biggest fear is letting you get hurt and being unable to do anything about it. You're the strongest person he knows, but he'd go to the ends of the Earth just to keep you from ever dealing with pain again.

"We have a first aid kit in the bathroom," he mumbles as he turns the water off, acknowledging your comment with a pleading glance, —one that silently begs for your cooperation.

You comply.

He offers you his hand to squeeze when he applies some disinfectant spray. You apply a little pressure when he does, but it's more for Jumin than it is for you, and you suspect that he knows as much but chooses to say nothing of it.

The bandage he applies has little cat paw prints on it, and you stifle a giggle as he wraps it carefully around your finger. It's just so cute that you can't help yourself.

"Is that comfortable enough?" He inquires, dark eyes meeting yours, breaking his intense concentration.

You bend your finger a bit and offer him a delicate smile.

"It's fine," you assure him, "—thank you."

Jumin sighs a little, relief lapping at the shores of his heart.

"Go sit for a while and I'll finish dinner. Then we can eat together," he requests.

As long as you get something to eat, you don't really care who cooks it, so you nod your head. Jumin smiles gently and brushes his lips past yours, soft and sweet.

𖦹. ━ SAERAN !!

When Saeran hears you curse, he looks your way; expression as blank as usual, but eyes swimming with worry.

"Hey," he says from behind you in order to get your attention, "what happened?"

"Nothing," you lie, pushing the grater away from you, "everything's fine."

He stands, knowing you well enough to understand that you were lying to avoid the embarrassment of admitting you'd gone and hurt yourself.

"Everything's not fine," he says, bluntly so, reaching around you to take your wrist into his grip.

For someone who can be so incredibly intimidating, Saeran is almost startlingly gentle. At least, he is when it comes to you. His lithe fingers wrap around your wrist, the warmth of his palm pressed flat to your skin. You could almost forget the pain of the small nick on your finger with his touch soothing you down like this.

"Let me see," he demands, —not aggressively, but as if asking for permission.

You comply, and he eyes the little cut along the tip of your finger.

"You cut yourself with the grater?" He asks, to which your eyes avert away from his face.

"It was an accident," you say, perhaps a bit defensively.

Saeran sighs.

"How many times have I told you to be careful when you use that thing?" He asks, but doesn't expect a genuine answer.

He doesn't get one.

"You need to pay better attention," Saeran continues, pulling your finger close to his lips. "I don't like it when you go and get yourself hurt."

With nothing more to say, he opens his mouth and presses the tip of your finger to his tongue. Your eyes widen, but you don't make any attempt to pull away from him. His tongue slides gently over the tiny wound, lapping at the blood. It's a rather crude method of solving the issue, but you can't bring yourself to mind. If it were anyone else, you'd likely think it was gross and pull your hand away at the speed of light, —but it's not anyone else. It's Saeran, and if anything, this is oddly attractive to you.

"There," he mumbles, tongue raking along his bottom lip swiftly, "better?"

It wasn't much of an issue in the first place, but you nod in reply, a little embarrassed by his antics.

"Yeah. Thanks," you answer in a voice just above a whisper.

He doesn't mind the taste of your blood, but even he knows it would be weird to say something like that, so he keeps the thought to himself.

"Go sit down and try not to get yourself cut again," he says, "I'll finish dinner."

His words might be a little harsh, but the soft touch that lingers on your wrist for a few moments longer is anything but.

𖦹. ━ YOOSUNG !!

Yoosung's heart seizes in his chest when he hears you yelp from the kitchen in his small apartment. He doesn't even bother to pause his game before rushing your way. His chest caves a bit when he sees you holding your hand, eyes and nose scrunched up in pain.

"Y/n! What happened?" He asks, reaching out to clutch comfortingly at your shoulder, albeit a bit awkwardly.

"It's okay," you insist, still reeling a bit from the shock, "I burnt my hand a little, that's all."

In truth, it surprised you more than it actually hurt you. Still, you can't deny that the side of your hand is stinging, and though you haven't looked, you have a feeling that your skin might well be a bit discolored now.

Yoosung scrambles.

"Here, —put your hand under some cool water for a minute or two," he says, turning the faucet knobs for you.

He's sure to test the temperature of the water for you before allowing you to place your hand under the light stream. You flinch a little at the initial contact, still sensitive in the freshly burned area. Yoosung turns the burner of the stovetop off, hunger all but forgotten in the wake of your admittedly minor injury. Right now, he couldn't care less about his own needs. Even if everything is fine, —he can't help but be worried.

"How bad does it hurt?" He inquires.

"Not bad," you reply, hoping to reassure him. "It only stings a little now, and it should go away soon. Nothing to worry about."

Too late. When it comes to you, the smallest things can work Yoosung up. He can't help himself. If there's anyone in this life he hates to see in pain, no matter the severity of it, it's you.

"We should have some antibiotic cream somewhere," he notes, "just wait here for a minute, I'll be right back."

He fulfills that promise, returning quickly with a small, white tube of ointment and a fluffy bath towel.

"Let me know if anything hurts," he says, taking your hand softly into his grip.

Yoosung gently dabs the lingering water droplets away from the burnt area with the towel before taking a generous amount of the antibiotic cream onto one of his long, lithe fingers. He spreads it evenly with feather-like touches, keeping the agitation to a bare minimum. You can't help but smile at how incredibly gentle he is.

"Okay," he smiles over at you softly, "that should do it. Does it feel any better?"

"My hand feels fine," you answer, leaning over to press a kiss to the apple of his cheek. "Thank you."

He blushes, eyes lighting up in the wake of your lips.

"I'll make dinner," Yoosung tells you, "—I hope you don't mind ramen. . ."

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garbageforyou · 9 months

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~Mrs. Han~

A little fanfic about (fem) MC and Jumin going dress shopping.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 2143

MC brushes her fingers against the fabric of the dress laid out on Jumin’s bed. The itchiness is already calling out to her. It was an…interesting design, to say the least. Particularly not her style, no, definitely not her style. Yet her beloved is staring at her, leaning against the doorframe, waiting to hear her praise at the sight of his surprise gift. He was making it so hard for her to politely decline, but if not an honest woman she was, then what would Jumin be proud of?

“I thought you could wear it to the party.” He began. “It’s tailored to fit your frame perfectly, accentuate your bodice, and these are the latest colors in style, and they would highlight-”

“Ju-ju.” She interrupted. He was always so uniform when he spoke, judging things on how they should be perceived, and not how they actually are. Yes, maybe this shape would fit her frame, but it wouldn’t make her confident, nonetheless, feel anything resembling pretty. She began walking towards him, placing her hands on his chest. She looked up at him, pursing her lips, her eyes cast away from his gaze.

“What is it?” He asked, gently bringing her face to look at him.

“It’s not that…” she paused, “I love the gesture, I do. It is so nice, however,” she remembered what Jumin responded best to, and beating around the bush wasn’t anywhere close to that. She finally said, “it’s just not me.”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Alright.” He exhaled, “Explain to me what exactly isn’t ‘you’ about it?”

“The color is just so bright.” She says through a forced smile, squinting her eyes, trying to find anything nice to say but as she walks back over to the dress. She sighs, “the high collar is very old school, not to mention this ruffle of fabric at the waist is unflattering. Don’t get me started on these spur of the moment buttons, tarnished looking. And-” she stops, her eyes catch his.

He smirks, his hands in his pockets as he walks over to her, “Is that all?”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t wear that to the party.” She sits on the bed, her face in her hands, muttering “Oh god, I sound so snobby and ungrateful.”

Jumin sits next to her on the bed, his hand on her thigh as he leans to grab her attention, “You know what you want and you're honest about it, there is nothing shameful about that. It's what I admire most about you.”

“Being honest is hard when you’re a people pleaser.” She looks up at him, smiling as she moves her hair out of her face. “How do you do it so easily?”

He sighs, relaxing back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, she follows suit. “The only person I aim to please is you.” He turns to her and seeing her face meet him in that moment makes him realize something.

He stares back up at the ceiling, running a hand through his hair as he ponders, listening to the creak of the mattress as MC twists and turns on the bed, holding herself up on her elbow, her other hand grabbing onto his hand draped over his abdomen.

“I need to learn more about your likes,” he says. “Perhaps a shopping trip would help atone for my mistake?”

“Oh, Jumin, it wasn’t your mistake. I’m just-” she is stopped by him grabbing her face, he squeezes her gently and she breathes deeply.

“Let me take you out. Can I at least do that?” He asks, his gray eyes locking onto her.

“Okay.” She agrees, because how could she no when he was looking up at her like that?

~~~

MC watches as Jumin picks out the most conservative designs, dresses that cover head to toe, no skin exposed, designs that could easily date all the way to the 1800s. She politely declines them, telling Jumin to trust her judgment and she’ll seek his approval when the time comes. Jumin wore the same thing everyday, refusing to change, although every once in a while he might sport a dashing cashmere vest, maybe even venture into some sweatpants just for her. When it came to what she wanted, she sat his cute little tush in a chair while she continued looking, and he was content with just that, so long as he could call this “being a good boyfriend.”

Jumin is sat down outside the fitting rooms, checking emails on his phone, when all of a sudden he hears the shutting of one of the doors.

“MC?” He calls out, straightening up in his seat, putting down his phone. He tilts his head to the side, noticing familiar feet peeking through the bottom opening of a door.

“It’s a surprise!” She calls out. He hears the shuffling of fabric and the unzipping of clothes. The ones she once wore now fell to the floor with a slight thump. The sleek black heels of Ms. Jeanne, the fitting room attendant, alongside her, clacking a constant movement as she moseyed around MC. Jumin’s face caught heat as he averted his eyes to what he could only think was: MC is undressing.

Such a boyish thought, he berated himself. He was a proper gentleman, he would not think improper thoughts at the most innocent act of getting changed. He leaned back in his chair, pulling out his phone again, set on his mind refusing to wander as he studied the most recent report Assistant Kang forwarded.

Suddenly, the click of the hinges, and the squeak of the door. He peered up as MC sheepishly walked out in an elegant, black gown that touched the floor. Gold shimmered alongside the pattern, the dress cinched to fit her frame with clips in the back, a note to be altered in tailoring later. However, the sweetheart curves of the top that hugged her breasts and the chiffon sleeves that draped, altogether was a vision to be seen. Enough to be alluring but not enough to be promiscuous for eyes other than him to behold of such radiance. She was a sight, one that words could not follow, leaving him, mouth agape as he ogled.

Ms. Jeanne clasped her hands together, clearing her throat, “I must step out for a moment, please excuse me. Spin around dear, make sure you really like it and I’ll be back for the measurements” She exited the room, leaving Jumin silently observing MC as she did a half twirl in the elongated mirror.

“Do you like it?” She asked him, turning around to face him. A sudden wave of self consciousness washed over her as she began to doubt her choice, crossing her arms over her chest, his silence was deafening.

Jumin stood from his chair, his hands reached out to unwrap her arms, placing them back by her side. He intermingled with the features of her delicate hands, interlocking with them once he met her eyes.

“You’ve rendered me speechless, yet again. You’re beautiful.” His voice was hush, huskier as it lowered. When he called her beautiful, it never grew old, simply kept her youthful as butterflies waved in the pit of her stomach.

“Yeah?” She breathed, biting her lip, a gleeful expression sauntered her lips.

“Yeah.” He repeated, assured. His lips parting as he leaned closer, his eyes drifting close as did hers.

“Oh my!” A female voice sputtered, immediately altering the moment as Jumin and MC tensed, jolting from one another to regain their composure. “I am so sorry. I did not intend to intrude on your privacy.”

“It’s alright, Ms. Jeanne.” Jumin chuckled, this had become a new occurrence for them, redhanded everywhere they went. One that left him giddy like a schoolboy being caught in the same predicament.

He clears his throat, “I believe this is the dress, unless,” he looks to MC, “I am mistaken?”

“Uh, no, yes, this is…” she smooths out the crinkles in the dress, “This is the dress.”

“Wonderful! Now let’s see…” Ms. Jeanne rushes over, pulling out a measuring tape, scribbling down MC’s measurements on a scrawny notepad. She clicks her pen as a sign of completion. “We’ll get to work right away, Mrs. Han.” The clicking of her heels stay fast paced as she exits.

MC’s eyes widen, “Huh.”

Jumin looks at her, “Huh?”

She smiles widely, a blush creeping on her cheeks, “Mrs. Han.” She repeats, shrugging her shoulders. “You know, me, Mrs. Han.” She bats her hand.

“Does that bother you? I will see to it that it won’t happen again if it does.” Jumin asks, concern frames his face, unbeknown to MC’s antics.

“Can you remove these clips and unzip me?” She asks, ignoring his concern. She turns her back toward him, feeling his hands slowly tug at the fabric. “No one’s ever called me Mrs. Han before.”

“If it bothers you, my love, I will correct-” Jumin starts.

“No, no. I like it.” She says, her head turned over her shoulder to catch a glimpse at him. Silence followed and Jumin’s hands stopped, slowly retracting from her. Her dress felt looser, a chill running along her exposed back. She turned around to face Jumin, the silence eating away at her. She didn’t realize how close he was, it startled her, grabbing onto his shoulders to keep her balance. At a closer look at him, she could tell he was thinking, calculating, analyzing, she knew those threads could get tangled easily. It was her job to untangle them, not create more messes.

“Jumin, I didn’t mean anything serious about it. I was just playing around.” She spoke, but that was a lie. She didn’t necessarily mean ‘drop down on your knees with a ring’ kind of serious, but she did mean she wanted it someday, to have his name, to be the “Mrs's”, to be the wife he would rush home to see, to be his wife. Those cloudy eyes stayed out of focus, lost somewhere else. She brushed her hand on his face, his eyes fluttered to her, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked softly.

“Those tiny towels that say Mr. and Mrs. at the front of the store.” He started and she let out a chuckle.

“Wha-why are you-what made you think of that?” She asked, humorously. “Because of…”

“I like the sound of it. Only when it comes to you, Mrs. Han.” He smiles, his nose brushing against her. “There have been many women who foolishly refer to themselves as that because of my father, but hearing you referred to as Mrs. Han…It fills me with excitement at the thought that one day, with your permission, it should be a normal occurrence.” He says, his hand trailing along the exposed skin on her back, sending tingles down her spine.

MC slowly back away from him, a playful smile on her face, “Well, Mr. Han, when do you see this becoming a ‘normal occurrence’?” She asks, raising an eyebrow, slowly backing against the fitting room door.

“Well, Mrs. Han…” he starts, his eyes narrowing as he slowly moves towards her. He places his hand on the door behind her, leaning into her. “Just say the word, you know I’ll give it to you.”

Her eyes widen at his choice of wording, her face beaming red, unable to handle the sensual position that has taken place with the beautiful Jumin Han leaning over her.

“Um…um…I don’t really know, it’s up to you…” she’s stuttering as she admires him, and yet he’s calm, cool and collected.

“Maybe you need to hear the name a couple more times, just to be sure.” He says, leaning down to kiss her. She eagerly awaits the feeling of his lips on her but he comes across her cheek, softly breathing, “Mrs. Han.” He kisses along her jawline, whispering again, “Mrs. Han.”

“I knew it! You were paying attention to Pride and Prejudice yesterday.” MC says, smugly.

“Am I doing it right?” He asks, softly.

“Oh, Mr. Han, you’re doing everything right.” She replies, earning an earnest smile from her Mr. Han. He leans down, finally kissing her lips, a delightful little chirp from her escapes. She grabs at his tie, tugging on it, opening the door behind her as she pulls him inside with her.

“Mrs. Han, did you need any assistance in there? With the dress, I mean?” Ms. Jeanne’s voice calls from outside the fitting room. MC and Jumin giggling, shushing each other.

“No ma’am… Mr. Han’s got it all under control in here…with the dress, of course! He’s helping me with the dress!” MC shouts, trying to hold in her laughter. “I’ll be out in a minute!”

Jumin places his hands on her waist, pulling her closer, “Where were we again, Mrs. Han?”

#jumin han #mystic messenger #mysme #fanfic #jumin han fluff

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simp-is-here · 10 months

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Jumin Han x Fem Reader: Disco Pang Pang

Amusement Park Story 1

Summary: Jumin is taken on a ride where he meets you

Warning: (if I got the name wrong or did anything false with this fic please tell me), I haven’t done anything Mystic Messenger related in a long time so possibly ooc, my writing is rusty due to my like 4 month hiatus and might not be the best, it’s also short, if you see a * it’s because I spend too much time on character.ai

A/N: hey I’m sorry I haven’t been writing, I couldn’t think of anything and I was going through mental stuff.

This will be apart of a short story series based around the same idea, also it’s really really short and I might rewrite it later

•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•<•>•

He didn’t even wanna come here, the RFA decided to have a ‘free day’ and hang out at the amusement park, Jumin was unwillingly dragged along. Seven had pointed at a ride for everyone to try, it was a large circle with seats on the rim of it with railings so the riders could hold on.

While they waited in line he staggered forward at a sudden force, turning around he saw a woman there with an apologetic look on her face.

“I’m so sorry, are you alright?” She asked him, hoping she didn’t upset the random man

But as fate would have it, before he could respond the people on the ride went off, making way for the new riders. He watched as the woman went up with her friends, Seven and Yoosung were heading on when they saw Jumin still standing there.

“Not chickening out are you?” Zen said, a cocky smile on his face

Jumin just rolled his eyes, getting on the ride as well. They sat down not to far from you and your friends, he couldn’t help but let his eyes occasionally wander to you, sometimes he saw you looking back. Just as everyone felt the ride begin to spin slowly your face dropped as you felt your skirt ride up, putting one hand to pull down your skirt while holding desperately on the other.

Jumin saw your actions and took off his jacket, offering it to you, catching the attention of the operator.

“Hey miss, you with the turtleneck.” The ride operator called out, you looked at him as you move Jumin’s jacket around your waist

“Are you single?”

The question takes many people off guard who begin to laugh, including you. With the nod of your head the ride suddenly jolted up a bit, causing you to fly up as well and hold the bars tightly. This happens more and more to the point where the jacket starts slipping from your lap, you quickly let go to readjust it but find your body flying sideways, landing in the lap of a person.

You and Jumin meet eyes as he holds you so you don’t fall, his hands also holding the jacket for you. The RFA (Seven mainly) beside him were cheering and trying to tease him about having a beautiful girl land on him.

“Jumin Han.” he introduces with a bit of a smile

(Name) you say back, holding onto his arms while the ride operator finds his next victi- people to torment.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Thank you for reading. If you have any requests just send them to me and I’ll try to write them to the best of my ability

And remember you are a fantabulous human being and that is my opinion to which you can not change my opinion so better just accept that you’re an amazing person who is doing a fantastic job. Keep up the great work. Have a good day or night or whatever you’re reading this at

#mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger #mystic messeger headcanon #mystic messenger jumin #mystic messenger jumin han #mystic messenger jumin x reader #jumin han #jumin han x reader #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader fluff #mystic messenger fluff #jumin han fluff #mystic messenger x mc #it’s 1am!! why am I writing this at fucking 1am!!?

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trailerprk-princess · 2 years

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—jumin with a s/o thats also a ceo | jumin han x gender neutral!reader headcanon

!!!: my work is not to be reused without credit/permission!

requests rules

requested by anon: Hello! Your blog is amazing and I love your work!! If you are taking requests, can I ask for hcs for Jumin's S/O being the CEO of a big multimillionaire company like him? I think this would be a power couple! It can be gender neutral, but if you need a specific gender I would like it to be female. Thank you in advance ❤

authors note: YESSS OMG I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! ive always saw mc viewed as a v submissive person & its great to think that jumin would be totally awesome with a more powered reader yk?

he rlly loves it when u correct him when it comes to stuff about being a ceo. you can literally be like, "no, jumin that's not quite correct." & he'd just fall to his knees

LOVES that you act like a "commoner" & even do things they do. like, drive, cooking, eat fried chicken, eat those fish pockets or anything thats deemed to "unhealthy" to him or something he could just hire someone to do like cooking & driving

honestly, he just thinks that you being a ceo & contrasting so MUCH different than he is as a ceo is like 100% amazing

ALWAYS wanting to learn stuff from u & do the same things u do. he saw the way u treated your assistant & mans like "why do you treat them like that??" & when u explain it to him, he instantly starts treating jaehee more like a human than a robot

that being said though, he has warmed up to some things that he never did. probably would get his drivers liscense. (idk if they do permit tests there but if they do, he would get a 100% on the test)

he'd probably find multiple ways to collaborate with ur company!

jumin thinks that first dates should be at a romantic restaurant that charges a bunch of money for a glass of wine. but when u show him that theres so much more to love than fancy shit, hes j in awe. esp cause youre rich as well

he would probably cool it down a bunch w being a ceo & learn that its okay to show emotion other than sterness

mystic messenger masterlist

masterlist

#dally answers!❤️‍🔥#jumin han #jumin #han #jumin han x reader #jumin han x you #jumin han headcanon #mystic messeng #mysmes #jumin han mystic messenger #jumin han x gender neutral!reader #jumin han fluff #jumin han fanfic #jumin han imagine #jumin han x mc #jumin han x y/n #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger headcanons #jumin han oneshot

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anon-drabble · 1 year

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beneath the branches

some fluff for our boy jumin! this idea attacked me last night as i was trying to sleep and wouldn’t let me rest.

we all know jumin loved visiting the cherry farm. what if it wasn’t just the cherries there he had his eye on?

jumin is a touch out of character to me but i just love awkard-in-love jumin so that’s what i wrote lol.

ao3 | ko-fi | twitter | masterpost

The scene laid out before Jumin was one he knew well. The cherry farm in the early morning was a frequent stop for Jumin. After all, he did business with them and was fond of the land in his own way. It seemed peaceful most days. Just acres of land laid out. Very few buildings and none that pierced the sky. Not like his own penthouse. The city had its charms but on the farm, Jumin just felt lighter, like life itself was less of a burden. His chest rose and fell with each breath and every time he inhaled, it seemed easier than the last. Like he was renewing himself and freeing himself of the many bonds that held him tight. Too tight to move, at times. In short, the cherry farm was the only real combination of business and pleasure that Jumin knew. The cat projects were fun diversions but there was always pressure to be profitable, to make it worthwhile. He knew his privilege of being the CEO’s son and that the only reason he could do any cat projects was because of his position. The cherry farm was easier. It was an established contract, something known to be beneficial. It made things easier.

As he crested the familiar hill that led to the facility that served as the main hub for the farm, he shielded his eyes from the sun. He glanced to the right, where the hills held countless trees. Each tree carefully cultivated and cared for by the farmhands. But he wasn’t truly looking at the trees. His steps slowed as his eyes scanned the spaces between, where the shadows hid a great deal but spears of sunlight would still reach the ground in a few spots. But Jumin was looking for movement. He saw a pair of legs move between the trees but the body was still hidden. But then she emerged and she smiled and waved at Jumin, as she always did.

She was beautiful, if he were one to notice such a thing. Most times, he didn’t see how beautiful any particular woman was. He simply didn’t care. But for her, it was impossible to miss. She never looked like the women Jumin usually saw. She wasn’t buried under layers and layers of makeup. Her clothes were simple, her shoes practical. But she had a natural radiance. The way her smile just felt like a ray of light itself. Her bright brown eyes always echoed the smile on her face. On that day, her muscular arms were bare. She must have been working since much earlier in the morning as it wasn’t that warm.

Jumin didn’t feel himself sigh in relief at seeing her. He didn’t notice the way her smile made him feel warm. He lifted his hand to give her a stiff wave and she retreated back to the trees. He resumed his walk to the large building ahead, pretending he hadn’t purposely slowed down just for a chance to see her. His trips to the cherry farm were for business purposes, not for some woman he barely knew. He wasn’t like his father. He didn’t make such foolish decisions or allow any women to sway him in any way.

The building ahead was partly a large barn, partly a warehouse, with a portion being the actual home of the owners of the farm. That was separated from the busiest parts of the building but it was clear to see the original roots of each part of the building. As Jumin approached, he saw an older man walk out the door and towards Jumin. He had a large, friendly smile.

“Hello, hello! Welcome!” the man exclaimed as he rushed towards Jumin.

“Hello, Mr. Pin,” Jumin said calmly as he reached the man.

“Please, please, I’ve told you! Call me Sang. We’re practically family now!” the man vigorously shook Jumin’s hand. “We have great stock from this harvest for you! But I thought you weren’t to pick up until next month?”

“That’s correct. I came in the hopes of expanding our partnership. We have recently acquired a supply vendor, one that could easily be paired with a gardening venture. I thought we’d speak about selling snippings of your trees or other crops you have,” Jumin explained.

Sang thought for only a moment. “I believe we can probably reach an agreement for that. We will have to adjust our fields if you wish to sell cuttings. They need to be propagated a certain way. We will have to dedicate a portion of the land to this project.”

Jumin nodded. “We can detail everything in the contract. Once I get back, we will draft the documents and we can fully outline this venture.”

“We can discuss this then. Come, come, see our harvest! Take some home with you! I guarantee our cherries will make your girl fall in love on the spot!”

“You know I do not have anyone. However, I will gladly take fresh cherries home. They are the most delicious when I come here directly.”

Sang clapped his hands. “Perfect! Yes!” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Jiya! Are you around?” he yelled into the trees.

Jumin tried not to react to the shouting in his ears. But when she emerged from the trees again, Jumin couldn’t help but stare a bit. She smiled at him again and he felt a lump form in his throat.

“Mr. Jumin here would like our best cherries! I told him we’d show our harvests!”

Jiya nodded and pulled out her phone. She pulled up something and consulted it for a moment. “Field 17 yielded the most. But I would suggest we bring Mr. Han to Field 12, I believe he will appreciate those.”

“Jiya has taken over our record-keeping. My mind can’t keep up with it these days. She’s got it all stored in that phone there.”

“That is very practical,” Jumin said approvingly.

“Ha! In my day, we just knew it in our bones. Now we have to rely on those things for everything!” Sang laughed but he was already leading the way through the trees.

Jumin and Jiya followed only a second later. Though Sang was older, he still moved quickly, so full of life. “It’s good to see you again, Mr. Han. Appa didn’t tell me you were coming or we would have prepared a basket that you could bring home with you.”

Though they knew each other, they hadn’t spoken that many times before. Jumin’s dealings had mostly been with Sang, as he was the owner. But now, if Jiya was actually working on the farm, would they possibly have more interactions? “I did not tell him. I happened to have time and he had mentioned a fruitful harvest so I thought I’d come myself.” They continued walking, Sang still ahead and frequently chattering to other workers they passed. “Are you considering staying with the farm, now?” Jumin suddenly asked.

Jiya looked surprised by the question. “Oh, um…” she stammered.

“Your father mentioned that he thought you might prefer to leave and find a different job,” Jumin said hastily.

She smiled and he instantly relaxed. “Ah, I’m sorry. I know he wants me to run the farm once he dies but… Well, I��m still not sure what I’ll do.” Jumin nodded. “I do love it here, though. I wouldn’t want to leave but there’s…” she trailed off again and awkwardly fidgeted with her hands. “I just don’t know yet.”

Jumin thought for a moment. “There are many options for you. The world is not simply one place but many people, places, and experiences.” She looked at him and smiled. She seemed relieved that he understood what she didn’t say. “My world is very different but I find this place to be one of my favorites.”

Jiya laughed and Jumin’s stomach did a flip. He denied it every time it happened. Just a coincidence. It had nothing to do with Jiya. “Someday I want to see a city. I don’t think I’d be happy living in one but just to see it.”

Immediately, Jumin considered inviting her for the contract signing as Sang would have to come to C&R to sign the new contract. But then he thought of seeing Jiya in such an environment and got a little sad. So he said nothing.

The rest of the walk through the trees was mostly silent, with Sang and Jumin occasionally speaking. Eventually, they crested a hill with more trees laid out all around them. Jumin could not tell any difference between the rows, nor where one field ended and another began. But this was not his world. Sang and Jiya knew this but they could not navigate the double-speak and the carefully-worded promises that in truth promised nothing of the business world. Their lives were here. And no matter how many times Jumin might visit, it was always just a visit and he’d soon enough have to return back to his world. He glanced over at Jiya and wished his life might change. But he refused to acknowledge that and kept it locked in his heart. Where his other impossible dreams lived.

Now in the proper area, Sang and Jiya led Jumin down the rows of trees, speaking of all manner of things, such as the bark of each tree, the way the leaves had grown in a certain direction All things apparently led to more delicious cherries but Jumin did not know agriculture and many of their explanations would be forgotten on his flight home. At the base of some trees was a basket of cherries recently picked. But Jumin could see many cherries still on the branches. Jiya reached above her head and pulled down a bundle of fresh cherries from the nearest tree. She held them out for both Sang and Jumin. Jumin took the fruit carefully. He certainly didn’t intend for their fingers to touch as much as they did. Jiya didn’t seem to care about the brush of their hands. Of course she wouldn’t. It wasn’t intentional. As they ate their cherries, a man approached and called Sang over to attend to a matter in a nearby shed. He left and Jumin purposely avoided looking at Jiya. It had been morning when he arrived, though it was now the afternoon. The sun was less angled through the trunks of the trees and more overhead. It led to deeper shadows at ground level.

“So?” Jiya asked. “What do you think?”

Jumin had to consider for a moment before he realized she meant the cherry. “It was delicious. Very juicy,” he answered.

She grinned proudly. “I knew it! You always seemed to like the juicier ones the best. I was right to give you these.” She pulled another bundle down and pulled apart an equal share for herself and Jumin. “Not everyone likes the really juicy ones. My dad always said you wouldn’t like them because they’re messier.” As she spoke, Jumin bit into one and felt the cherry juice dribble down his chin. She laughed at the timing as she saw it happen. Jumin was relieved she wouldn’t see a blush in the shadows. In fact, was it darker now than before?

Jumin looked up at the sky between the leaves. “Is that a storm cloud?”

Jiya followed his gaze. “Oh, shoot, it is. Storms here come and go fast. There won’t be time to get inside but the trees should keep us dry.” Right on cue, the rain began. She huddled under the tree to remain dry. Jumin felt the rain hit his back and took a step forward. He was forced closer to the tree by the rain. Closer to Jiya. They stood very close now. She was looking up at him and he met her eyes. “It’ll be over soon,” she said softly. He nodded and noted her averting her eyes from his. She was acting almost shy now. While they weren’t friends, he’d never seen her so skittish around him.

The rain began to fall harder and both Jiya and Jumin took another step closer together. She quickly pushed a cherry into her mouth, desperate to act normal. The juice fell down her chin, just as it had done with Jumin a moment before. He wiped it with his thumb before he realized what he was doing. Jiya finally met his eyes again. “So… You still like it here even like this?” she asked, chuckling uneasily.

“Nothing is more beautiful than this,” he answered honestly.

And then he was kissing her. Neither of them had moved first but they came together at the same moment. He could taste the cherries on her lips. He felt her soft breath come out her nose. Her loose strands of hair tickled his face. He never wanted it to end. Eventually their lips parted but Jumin felt her slip her hand into his own. She smiled up at him a little and his heart thundered. There was no use denying anything now. There wasn’t much use for words between them. He could see that she was just as happy with the kiss. She lifted her head and shut her eyes in invitation and Jumin immediately obliged. Their lips met again, more purposefully this time. He felt her squeeze his hand and he reached around her back with his free hand, pulling her even closer. He felt her lips smile even as they kissed and he knew he was smiling too. Once again they parted and she still smiled at him.

She blushed a little, though it was nearly invisible in the shadows. “I’ve never done anything like this before,” she admitted.

“Kissing?” Jumin asked, confused.

She laughed a little. “No! We barely know each other, that’s all. I normally don’t kiss strangers. I don’t kiss anyone I’m not dating.”

Jumin squeezed her hand a little. “I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. If you wish, this can remain just between us and the cherry tree.”

Her face fell. Her hand released his and he let her go. Had she gotten the wrong idea? He didn’t want to rush her but he very much wanted more time with her. “I understand. It’s for the best,” she said quietly, taking a step away from Jumin. The rain was already slowing, the spell over them entirely broken.

Jumin watched her distance herself and he knew he’d done something wrong but he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know what to say. “I don’t-” he began to say when Sang’s voice cut through the trees.

“These summer showers! They come so quickly!” Sang appeared before them again, seemingly oblivious to the awkward atmosphere. “Mr. Jumin, you are satisfied, yes? We have a delicious basket ready for you, whenever you are ready to leave. No rush, of course.”

“Excuse me, Appa, I should get back to my work,” Jiya interrupted and quickly left the two men.

Sang watched her walk away and slyly looked back at Jumin. He grinned and Jumin braced for the worst. “She only leaves that fast when she wants to hide something. You know, these cherries lead to love! I told you, share my cherries and any girl will be yours! Although I did not realize my daughter was your target, but there are worse men out there!” He laughed loudly, patting a hand on Jumin’s back.

“It is not like that,” Jumin protested but Sang wasn’t listening. Jumin cleared his throat and straightened his tie. He stood like the CEO he was. “You have the wrong idea. There is nothing between your daughter and me. I must get back but I look forward to our further business together.”

That silenced Sang as Jumin was usually far more polite and not so cold. Sang led Jumin back to the road and watched him leave. Jumin had returned to “normal” after announcing that he was leaving but Sang was still suspicious.

It took many months to ready the contract for the next venture with the cherry farm. As soon as it was ready, Jumin made arrangements for Sang to travel to C&R to sign the contract. The day of the signing, Jumin was waiting in the meeting room for Sang to arrive. Jaehee had gone down to the ground floor to welcome him and bring him to the meeting when he arrived. As the door opened, Sang entered first and Jumin had already extended his hand to shake Sang’s when Jiya entered behind him, with Jaehee following. Jumin faltered a moment when he saw Jiya as he had not expected her. Sang, however, was his usual loud self and took Jumin’s hand as he greeted him.

“So good to see you again! We are very excited to begin this new side of things! We have prepared our fields already, isn’t that right, Jiya?”

Jumin’s gaze had not left her since she entered but she briefly met his eyes. “Yes, Appa. The land is ready to begin for next planting season.” The spell on Jumin finally broke and he composed himself from the shock and looked to Sang to address him.

Sang grinned with a slightly mischievous glint in his eye. “Jiya has agreed to step up at the farm and she will be overseeing our finances and business partnerships now,” he said with a knowing smile at Jumin. “So I brought her as she will need to sign as well.”

Inside, Jumin’s mind was racing. He could hardly even hear what was happening around him but he knew he couldn’t dwell on her too much. But suddenly he was back on the farm, underneath the cherry tree, her lips kissing his, her body heat against his. He remembered every detail, though he’d tried to forget. Thankfully a part of Jumin the businessman was still there, and he heard himself speaking though he didn’t remember forming the words himself. “I am glad you decided to stay with the farm,” he said, echoing his words to Jiya on that day.

“My father convinced me. I couldn’t leave after all. It’s too beautiful,” she said and Jumin scanned her face. Had she meant to say the same thing he had that day? But she remained unreadable.

The actual signing lasted for some time as there were many pages and they had to adjust some portions for Jiya’s new position. However, they soon finished. Sang pushed the cap back onto his pen as Jaehee signed, acting as notary for the deal. Once she finished, he stood. “Miss Kang, please help an old man out, Is there a restroom I can use? Can you please show me?”

“Of course, sir. Right this way.” Jaehee led him out of the room, leaving Jumin and Jiya alone.

Jiya gathered her things and her father’s belongings as they were planning to leave now that the signing was done.

But Jumin couldn’t let her go without saying anything. “So how does the city compare? To what you thought?” he asked, immediately regretting the words. He’d wanted to apologize as he was quite certain whatever had gone wrong between them was his fault.

Jiya looked towards the windows in the meeting room. “It’s a lot like what I expected,” she said. She walked over to the window. She was next to Jumin but he knew that hadn’t been her intent. She just wanted a better view of the window. “The people are exactly what I thought they’d be like.”

“Were you treated poorly?” Jumin asked, worry in his voice. Had someone said something rude to her?

She actually smiled and Jumin’s knees threatened to buckle. She looked so differently from how she looked on the farm. She had makeup on this time. Her clothes were clean and pressed, if plain. Her hair, which was usually up and out of her face on the farm, was down now, falling past her shoulders. She was still the most gorgeous woman Jumin had ever seen. “No. I was talking about you,” she said with a laugh.

Jumin frowned, trying to discern what she possibly meant by those words.

“You know, my dad is convinced something happened between us when you last visited. I told him nothing did but he seemed like he knew,” she said.

“I assure you, I did not tell him. He suggested something similar as I was leaving but I told him he was wrong. I thought you would prefer him not to know.”

“You’re right about that,” she said. “What happened between us…”

“I need to apologize for my behavior. I had the wrong idea. I thought perhaps you felt as I did that day and I should not have kissed you so suddenly,” Jumin was suddenly blurting out. He was not the type to ramble but he had to try to explain to her.

Jiya turned to face Jumin. “I wasn’t upset that you kissed me,” she interrupted, confused as to why he was saying that. “I was upset that you brushed it off so quickly. I told you I didn’t usually kiss unless I was dating a guy. I wanted you to ask me out. But you basically said it was just a kiss. You’ve probably kissed a dozen girls on a dozen other farms so it didn’t mean much to you but it meant more to me. But I wanted to clear the air because if we have to work together, I don’t want you to think I’m interested in you like that. I am not a fling and I’m not going to be treated like one.”

Jumin was stunned by her words. That wasn’t at all what he’d interpreted from their conversation that day. That was why she’d been upset? Because she thought Jumin was like his father? He felt sick to his stomach. He shook his head. “You misunderstood. I thought you did not want to move so fast so I wanted to assure you we could take it slowly or not at all, if that was what you wanted. I…” He felt a lump in his throat form at his words. “I knew I liked you and wished to know you better and I wanted you to know that I was not going to rush you at all.” He sighed. “I am sorry I gave you the wrong idea. I wish I had spoken more clearly as there was nothing I wanted more than to know you. And now I can see that our moment has passed due to my blunder.”

Jiya took a step towards Jumin and looked up at him. “Who said our chance was gone?” When he met her eyes, she smiled a little. “We’re going to be working together more often now. We’ll naturally get to know each other that way, right?”

Jumin shook his head. “I didn’t mean in that way…” he said, feeling helpless.

“I know,” she said softly. She reached forward and took Jumin’s hand, just as she had done that day. “I’ll tell you again. I don’t kiss unless I’m dating someone,” She was looking up at him, her eyes silently urging him to take the hint this time.

“Would you…like to have dinner with me?” Jumin asked, not quite sure what was happening except that it seemed to be what she wanted him to say. And it was what he wanted to do, to be with her.

She smiled up at him. “It’s about time you asked,” she gently teased.

#mystic messenger #jumin han #jumin/mc #jumin x mc #jumin/oc #jumin x oc #fluff fic #jumin han fluff #mysme #mysme fanfic #jumin han fanfic #a writing egg #i totally forgot that the actual cherry farm character in the game had a daughter #i love being accidentally close to canon lol

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a-small-elf · 2 years

Text

Summer's eve _ Jumin x MC

Summary:

MC/ x Jumin one shot. Based during Jumin's route.

You mull over your feelings for Jumin on a relaxing Summer's eve in his penthouse, and you have never felt happier.

Jumin also comes to realise his feelings and what they mean.

Notes:

Fluff incoming :) I chose not to include Jahee wanting to see MC during the meal because, I can't remember how it goes. Sorry! Kinda non canon. They haven't said they love each other yet and wanted to explore that.

Forgive me sorry, it's been a while since I have read Jumin's route (Saeran has become my obsession lol)

My first mystic messenger fic, I hope you like it! TAKEN FROM MY AO3 account: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30146862

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The sun was setting on such a beautiful Summer's eve. Clouds were rising over its surface, making it appear as if soft bed sheets were tucking it into bed.

Sleep...Eurgh

You desperately rub your eyelids, fighting the urge to fall further into the slumber your body was currently craving. The luxurious couch your body was currently lounging over was so comfy, this amongst all of the rich food and full bodied wine sitting in your stomach made it near enough impossible to get up.

The meal with Jumin was perfect, and everything you could have dreamed of. Salmon with creamy hollandaise sauce was your favourite. The crunchy fresh salad accompanied with a dry white wine complimented it well...and desert. Desert was amazing. Chocolate torte with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, followed by Jumin's favourite red wine. Everything nearly put you in ecstasy and your head felt light.

Your face flushes as you recall Jumin's eyes watching you, softening at your gaze. The corner of his lips turning up into a cheeky smirk.

'You seem to be enjoying yourself, MC' he asks attentively. He reaches for your hand across the table, brushing his fingers over your knucles.

You stare into Jumin's eyes, getting lost in their beauty. Who knew in less than 10 days you would not only fall in love, but meet your soulmate. Heat rose to your cheeks as you felt intense butterflies circle in your stomach. This, was perfect. You felt so happy.

You felt a certain confidence you hadn't felt before having the wine, it was clearly starting to take affect.

'Yes, very much so Jumin. Everything is so delicious.' You giggle. 'How about you? Are you enjoying yourself?'

Jumin chuckles. 'Yes, my dear.' You feel his hand squeezing yours. 'But my view is much more delicious than any other food.'

Your heart skips a bit. Sure, since being here you and Jumin have shared your first kiss and have done more than the odd bit of flirting...yet something felt different. Good different. Jumin's eyes darken with lust, scanning you up and down with what seems like days of restrained longing coming to the surface.

Noticing you watching him, he gulps, and pulls your hand away. His eyes soften and he assures you with the most handsome smile you have ever come to know.

You both sit in comfortable silence as you finish your meals. Your head and vision feels more stable from the food you just shared.

'Come, let's retire for the night'.

Jumin is standing in front of you with his hands outstretched towards you, his eyes sparkling.

Taking his hand, you stand up - yet you still feel some of the wines effects. You stumble into Jumin's chest as you give out a slight chuckle. He chuckles back and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a loving embrace. Sighing with contempt, you inhale his cologne and your eyes flutter.

'I think my princess may have had a bit too much wine...hmm?' Jumin remarks, and you feel the smooth vibrations of his voice through his chest.

Your eyes snap open and you look up at Jumin, who has an amused expression on his face.

'Oh' your eyes dart around the room as your cheeks redden. The waiter has already cleared the table and left. How long were we hugging for?

Noticing your nervousness, Jumin's hand brushes against your cheek whilst tilting your head towards him. 'I'm going to freshen up for the evening, unless you would like to first?'

'It's okay, you go first' your eyes dart towards the couch as you nod, the light headedness returning 'I need to sit down for a bit'.

Jumin looks at you slightly concerned. But before he can express any worries, you kiss his cheek...a smile returns to his face. 'Very well, I won't be long'.

Your vision swirls slightly as you hear the hum of Jumin's electric toothbrush coming from the bathroom. 'He's so cute'. You giggle. Your face begins to ache with the amount of smiling you have done tonight. But you can't help it. 'This feels like heaven' you sigh, another yawn escaping your lips. 'I could get used to being here' your voice slurs, and your vision dims.

The main room is quiet as Jumin exits the bathroom 'keep it together you fool, you nearly gave in to temptation this evening. Not before marriage...' his mind scolds him as he walks towards the couch where you said you'd be. Panicking slightly at not seeing you, he scans the room before he hears an intake of breath.

Peering over, he looks down and his heart swells at the sight of you sleeping, his breath getting taken away by your beauty. He makes a mental note of how your eyelashes flutter and how your soft pink lips let out small sighs of contempt during your slumber. It was one of the most beautiful noises he had ever heard.

'How did I get this lucky?' Jumin mused as he knelt down beside you, taking strands of your silken hair and running his fingers through them.

Jumin's heart swelled with adoration, a variety of emotions ran through is veins as he imagined picturing a future with you and what that would entail.

Warmth. Happiness. Excitement.

Yet the strongest emotion of all he felt...

was love.

Jumin Han was in love.

For once, he was not scared of his emotions. He embraced them and he felt stronger for it. 'I love you' he whispers, afraid of you hearing him. He wants to tell you these three unpsoken sacred words for the first time, properly.

Jumin gently picks you up in his arms and cradles you. You stir slightly and your eyelids flutter. Jumin reaches down to stroke your head and your breathing falls back into rhythm.

He carries you over to the bedroom. Lowering you gently into the soft silken sheets of his bed, Jumin stares at you once more, his forehead pressing to yours as his heart thumps.

'One day, I will have you in my arms, and we can wake up to every morning...together' he sighs as he stays there for just a moment.

Kissing you on the forehead, he dims the lights and retires to the spare bedroom, leaving you to your slumber.

Your body shifts as you gently whisper 'I love you too Jumin', whilst dreaming of your future with the one and only Mr Han.

#jumin han #mystic messenger #jumin han fluff #jumin han x mc #jumin han x reader #mysmes #jumin han x you

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mystichanjumin · 1 year

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Nights Like These

Pairing: Jumin x Mc (reader)

Tags: Fluff, Slight angst

Summary: Jumin is away on a business trip, and although Mc usually accompanies him on these trips she decides to stay home to get some work done. Now she lay restless in their shared bed on night three of Jumin's week-long trip regretting her decision.

It was nights like these, the ones where she lay alone in the bed she usually shared with her husband, that made her feel like she did all those years ago isolated in Rika’s old apartment. It had been ages since Jumin had gone on a business trip without Mc by his side, but she had promised him that she would be fine and that the week apart would fly by before either of them realized; she cursed herself for the foolish decision. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table and groaned at the sight. It was 3:45 in the morning, meaning only three minutes had passed since she checked last.

With a disgruntled huff, Mc tossed for the up-tenth time that night. As she stared at the ceiling she began to feel the hollowness nestle itself in her chest. If she allowed it Mc knew that the familiar feeling in her chest would consume her, so she took to distracting herself. She reached for her phone, which lay charging on the bedside table, and mindlessly scrolled through her social media. It had worked for a while until she stumbled across a photo of her husband. This was a common occurrence, every company wanted proof of meeting with the successful businessman, and being his wife meant that she often came across these corporate posts.

As Mc zoomed in on the photo of her husband she took notice of how tired he looked. To those who didn’t know Jumin the way she did, they would assume that the young CEO looked as he usually did, but Mc knew him far better. The look in his grey eyes concerned her, they looked so dull and the bags under his eyes indicated that he was not taking care of himself the way he had promised. Without another thought, Mc dialed her husband’s number.

The line rang twice before an equally concerned voice answered, “My love, is everything all right? You should be asleep.”

“Are you taking care of yourself? I told you that you still need to take breaks even when I’m not there to remind you. Are you eating well? You know that you forget to eat when you're on these trips,” Mc concluded her loving reprimand with a sigh.

There was a moment of silence on the other end which was broken by the sound of a bemused chuckle, “I apologize, my love, I will do better to take care of myself. While we’re at it, would you care to explain to me why my wife is awake at such a late hour?”

Mc knew that he would worry about her if she told him that sleeping in their shared bed without him was nearly impossible, but she also knew that he would see straight through her if she tried to lie, “It seems you’ve spoiled me, Mr. Han. I find it very difficult to sleep without you. It’s only been three days and I miss you so much.”

“I can send for you in the morning. It’s a two-hour flight, and although I hate when you travel without me, I would rather that than you compromise your health due to lack of sleep,” a pragmatic solution to most, but Mc knew the true meaning of his words. He hated being without her just as much as she detested being without him.

Before Mc could respond, surely to lightly tease the man, he continued, “I fear that it is you who has spoiled me, Mrs. Han. Your health is of the utmost importance to me, but I must admit that my wanting you here is for far more selfish reasons.”

“Oh?” Mc prompted with a smile, “What would those reasons be?”

“I miss my wife,” it was as if he was letting out a breath he had been holding for too long.

“Two hours isn’t so long,” Mc sat up and pulled the covers closer to herself. “Elizabeth has to come with us too, we can’t just leave her here.”

“Of course,” Jumin agreed.

“A-and I still have work I need to do, so you can’t distract me either.”

“I promise to be on my best behavior,” Mc giggled at Jumin’s mischievous tone.

“I guess I should get some sleep before my flight tomorrow,” Mc began to feel the familiar pull of sleep for the first time that night. “I have to pack and I have to get Elizabeth ready too. Oh, and I should give the new secretary a run down on how things go when we're both away and—“

“I will take care of that. You just focus on getting yourself and Elizabeth here safely. I cannot stand another day without the two of you with me.”

“Who knew Mr. Jumin Han was such a softy,” she teased lightly.

Jumin laughed, and it was Mc’s favorite sound, “Only when it comes to you, my love. Now please get some rest.”

“Okay,” Mc whispered as she blushed. “Good night. I love you.”

“And I love you. Always. Sleep well.”

Mc held her phone to her chest once the call ended. The feeling of loneliness she had felt earlier that night was replaced with the warm comfort of knowing that someone loved her so unconditionally. She laid back in bed and let herself be drifted off to sleep.

#Jumin Han #Jumin han fluff #mystic messenger #mystic messenger jumin

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stormflypirateskin · 1 year

Text

Summary: Jumin tries laying his head on your lap for the first time.

"Like.. this?" Jumin asked with the most blank face but he didn't seem uncomfortable.

He had wanted to try laying on your lap, but since he was so tall, he decided to just lay his head there instead. It was a funny idea but he wanted to see what it was like to be a cat.

"Yeah, you got it." You just smiled and let out a small giggle as Jumin stared up at you, a small blush on his cheeks.

Well, as long as you were smiling and laughing, he was happy to do anything for you. A grin made its way to his face as he felt very warm inside.

You reached out and gently ran your fingers through his hair. It made Jumin surprised but he started to feel very relaxed quickly.

Any form of your touching was always enough for him to rest back and enjoy as the smile on his face widened. You could feel him being more comfortable in this position.

It was like he just straight up became a cat, literally. You, sitting up on the couch staring down at your man while he, was laying his back on the couch with his head on your lap. Like he was your little cat.

"This feels really good. So this is how it feels like to be a cat. Having someone you adore stroke your hair." Jumin had already closed his eyes as he felt his blush slowly widening. How are you this good at making him feel this nice..?

He could just lay there forever. No, he wished he could stay there forever in this moment with you. Such a comforting feeling he shares with you, no matter the situation, Jumin feels like you complete him, you make him feel warm, you make him feel so good.

And just like that, Elizabeth the 3rd jumped next to you on the couch and observed the scene. First time she saw Jumin like this. She was hooked, pretty much. Letting out a small meow, she climbed over your lap.

"Elizabeth the 3r-" Jumin got cut off by his cat walking over his face. Elizabeth's foot accidentally stepping on his eye which made him sit up immediately.

Elizabeth the 3rd stared back at Jumin as she sat on his lap casually, not seeing that she did that to her owner. "You are.. really bold, Elizabeth the 3rd." Jumin chuckled with a smile as the white creature meowed at him.

Seems like she wanted to join in as well. How cute.

You couldn't help but laugh along with Jumin. A lot of moments like these made you two feel warm and be able to have fun in anything you do.

You always feel safe and happy when you are around him and you couldn't be happier. Elizabeth the 3rd was also very adorable and it was so cute to live with her, she was super fluffy as well.

And Jumin, couldn't be happier that you are his and he is yours. Every single day he feels so happy when he wakes up and he sees you by his side. Every single day with you feels so amazing and he always wishes to be near you and hold you close to him.

You were both happy and you two will do and go through anything while being next to each other. Because Jumin loves you so much and will do anything for you.

#jumin han #jumin han x reader #mm jumin #jumin x reader #mysme jumin #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger #fluff #gender neutral #writing

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omgjumin · 2 years

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☆ 10:27 pm ! han jumin

you sat on the couch with your phone in your hand, aimlessly scrolling through social media. most nights since last week, jumin has been coming home later. your husband has been constantly reminding you that it is okay to go to sleep instead of waiting for him. however you don't miss the surprised love struck expression on his face each time you greet him at the door.

however, this time your body seems to be falling into the couch's trap. the trap of tying your body down to the cushions and not letting you go. slowly, you subconsciously lean your body down, letting it lie flat on the couch. if you didn't know any better, by now you would've been a goner. the soft and plush pillow resting beneath your head plus the blanket draped around your waist aided your body to fall asleep. "no, i have to stay up." you said to yourself though your body did not care for your concerns. "maybe just a small nap?" you laid down your phone onto the coffee table in front of you before pulling the blanket up above your shoulders. and just like that, you fell asleep.

jumin, who snuck inside the penthouse quietly, five minutes prior to you falling asleep, was watching you fight yourself to indulge in the sweet comfiness of the couch. deciding not to move an inch in order to not wake you, jumin gazed at you from where he stood in the living room. it is often that jumin adored elizabeth the 3rd while she was sleeping, however when it came to you… it felt all the more calming. to see you, so beautifully sleep in the same spot elizabeth once did, brought some sort of deja vu to the love struck man. jumin, who from a year ago would only scoff if he heard that he would ever find tranquility in another person. jumin, who unknowingly longed for a lover. jumin, who hated the idea of someone abandoning him just like his father's ex companions. jumin, who closed off anyone from getting too close to him. now became the jumin, who found serenity in your presence. "i love you." jumin whispered.

"i love.. you too.." you slurred in your sleep. not even daring to open your eyes to be met with blinding overhead lights, you reached out your hands for jumin. "my love, you should be in our bed sleeping, not the couch." jumin walked closer to you before taking hold of your hand. "i wanted to wait for you but i fell asleep. im sorry." jumin chuckled as he shook his head, as if you were looking at him. "it's okay, let's get you to bed." before letting yourself get picked up from your spot on the couch, you pulled on jumin's arm, making him fall on top of you. happily, you wrapped your arms around the surprised man, trapping him down with you. "darling, we could've cuddled on the bed."

"didn't want to." jumin sighed as he quickly made arrangements to be able to hold you in his arms. though, jumin from a year ago would never have imagined it, he knows now that tranquillity and love can exist in the same room. wherever you are, he is loved.

#jei go without five minutes without thinking about jumin #go!#i cant #im so in love with him #quick everyone act shocked #jumin fluff #han jumin fluff #jumin x reader #jumin x you #jumin x mc #jumin han fluff #jumin han x reader #jumin han x you #mystic messenger fluff #mystic messenger jumin fluff #omgjumin

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serede986 · 1 year

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Boyfriend Jumin HCs~

Gets you a bouquet of roses on every date. When he first saw your excitement on receiving the first bouquet, he got addicted to your happiness, although he refuses to accept it.

Speaking of dates, he arrives exactly 30 minutes before meet-up time. You're not aware of it, so shhh.

He is learning new breakfast recipes from the chef for whenever you stay over. He would wake up early, and prepare to serve you breakfast in bed.

Matching pajamas are ordered for you, him and Elizabeth the third.

Drops Elizabeth in your care, whenever he's out for a business trip and he can't take you with him. He trusts you and no one else.

Neatly folds your clothes and keep it next to his, whenever you visit him for a few days or travel with him.

Will take your advice over every new merger his company makes.

Is obsessed with your voice. He'll listen to you talk for so long, you think he's not invested in your topic of conversation. But believe me, he is. Imagine that love struck look on him.

Loves it when you put his head on your lap and play with his hair or massage his scalp. Count to 100 and he'll be out in a deep sleep.

Kisses your forehead every time one of you leave to part ways.

Will read every favorite romance book of yours, just to learn how to swoon you.

"Elizabeth the third, we need to talk about when your mother comes over. You're precious to me, and so is your mother. But your mother has taken the first place in my heart."

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xelasrecords · 1 year

Text

Thank You for the Food

Han Jumin x Reader

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

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

Words: 3.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

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

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

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

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

Your heart makes way for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If it's lower you'd be normal."

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

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

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

His hands are still on you for longer than necessary.

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

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

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

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This innovation could invent a new illness in people.

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

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

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

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

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

"No," you briskly say.

His smile turns into a frown. "No?"

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

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

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

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

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

Keyword: try.

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

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

So much for pretension.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The salt has.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you serious?"

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

"So now you drink poison."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't play coy, Jumin."

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

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

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

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

Not Jumin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

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

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

Bother you?

Bother you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That wasn't a compliment."

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

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

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

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

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

You laugh. "You'd be scandalised."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Like your ginseng chicken soup?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I simply prepared for all the possible scenarios."

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

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

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

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

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

Footnotes:

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

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

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

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pochipop · 2 years

Text

＃ MYSTIC MESSENGER !! ♡ — YOU'RE A MASTERPIECE: PAINTING ON HIS SKIN (JUMIN X READER).

#. synopsis! — jumin let's you use his skin as a canvas for your artwork .

#. characters! —jumin .

#. warnings! — none .

#. word count! — 1.7k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

Jumin looks at you over the rim of his wine glass, the purple-red liquid inside sloshing a bit as he adjusts his wrist and sets his gaze on your own. His dark irises almost feel intimidating in the moment, but the quirk of his brows gives way to a curious undertone.

"Too weird?" You question, backing off a bit just in case.

If Jumin doesn't fancy becoming a human canvas for your artwork, that's completely and totally okay, and it's his choice to make, of course. Still, you'd really like it if he could say yes. . .

"A bit strange," he acknowledges, "but I see the appeal."

He adjusts his wrist again, bringing the glass to his lips. Jumin takes a slow sip of wine as you process his reply.

"You. . . You do?" Comes your slightly confused response.

Jumin has never particularly struck you as someone who would enjoy more outlandish art forms. Of course, with a photographer as a best friend, he's long been accustomed to some displays of artistic prowess; but you imagine painting on someone's skin and taking pictures of a sunset are two completely different things that evoke entirely different responses.

"Yes," he nods, "you've mentioned before on a few occasions that seeing open space as an artist often fills you with inspiration. I imagine that, although I'm a living person, my skin may not seem so different to canvas or paper. . . Just an open space to take advantage of."

Albeit very literal in his analysis, Jumin roughly hits the nail on the head. His bare skin does inspire you, very much so. It fills you with ideas and inspiration, and to actually have the opportunity to paint on him would be a dream come true. You're almost bristling with excitement before he confirms or denies his participation in the matter.

"Do you have any ideas for the piece?" Jumin asks.

"Ah, well, —roughly," you nod. "The design will depend mostly on what body part you lend me for a while. But, I'd like to do something floral, if that's alright with you."

"I'm a businessman, not a painter," Jumin replies, lips curving up at the sides a bit in amusement. "Designs should be left to the artist."

"Alright," you smile, "something floral then."

He appreciates your confidence the second time around.

"Lovely," Jumin comments, placing his glass of wine down on the counter.

He reaches up to loosen his tie, pulls it halfway off, then pauses to look over at you once more. His handsome features stand out in this position, —a few loose strands of hair falling over his forehead, sophisticated aura cracking just a bit to welcome the warmth of your presence, nimble fingers grasping at the material of his necktie. This scene might as well be art itself. . .

"Will an arm suffice?" Jumin asks.

"Perfectly," you nod.

He strips his upper half, and says nothing about the way your eyes rake over him like you've never seen him this way before. Your fingers, lips, and palms have smoothed over the exact skin you're subtly gawking at a million times; but each time feels like the first.

Jumin folds his clothes neatly and sets them aside before following you to your makeshift art studio, —the one he set up for you in a room he'd previously had no use for. Now, it's utilized often, and he thinks it was well worth the time, effort, and money. He loves coming in here, though he hasn't had the chance recently with work piling up so high. Canvases lean against one of the walls, some blank, some with half finished paintings littering the fronts. If it were anyone else, you'd be awkwardly scrambling to explain that "it's really not like that, —painting is a process!" but Jumin, he already knows as much. You don't feel the need to justify your talents to him of all people.

"I enjoy coming in here," he smiles softly.

It makes him feel closer to you, like he's staring into pieces of your soul. Ones that he just isn't privy to in any other way.

"I'm thankful to have it," you reply, "it's given me a space completely to be creative, and I've never really had that before. I'd always been used to painting in my bedroom growing up, and when I lived alone, there were never any extra rooms to turn into a studio like this."

And perhaps the best part of all is that you never even asked for it. Jumin simply did it of his own volition because he saw your passion and wanted nothing more than to be supportive of it. That's why he hangs your art pieces throughout the other rooms as well.

"It was V's idea, technically," Jumin says. "I simply paid for it to be done."

"Well, whatever the case, I'm grateful," you assure him.

He takes a seat on the sofa in the corner of the room, —the one you crash on sometimes when deadlines get tight and you need a quick power nap before getting back into the swing of things. You're sure to place a towel under his arm, not wanting to stain it.

You gather up the needed materials and set off to work. Jumin tells you that he likes the way the brushes feel against his skin, and somewhere in the back of your mind, you can’t help but hope that that leaves room for this to happen again sometime in the future. Maybe you could even have Jihyun come and photograph the final pieces, —maybe present them at one of your galleries in the future. But, you sober yourself enough to realize that you’re getting far too ahead of yourself. After all, this could turn out like hell.

That doesn’t seem particularly likely, though. Paint takes to Jumin’s skin surprisingly well, and when you joke to him that it seems to you that it was always meant to come to this on account of that fact, he gives you a low chuckle in reply. One that makes your fragile little heart skip a beat: just for him.

“It’d be quite the honor for that to be the true meaning of my existence,” he says.

It’s only a half-joke that he responds with. Even after all this time, Jumin has a particular way of crawling under your skin, sending shivers to your core and lighting you up inside.

He watches you work with curious eyes, much unlike the gaze you often see him wear when he’s sitting at a desk littered with paperwork and various contracts. This look of his is much softer, —sweeter, even. He’s not evaluating anything. . . He’s simply admiring.

“Honestly,” you say, “I was surprised you agreed to this so easily. I was kind of prepared to pull out the puppy dog eyes and lay some affection on pretty thick to sweeten the deal.”

“Well, I suppose there’s no need for the puppy dog eyes,” Jumin answers, an amused smile playing on his lips, “but I certainly wouldn’t mind the affection.”

“Noted,” you comment, giggling just a bit, “—but I’ll save that for later. With my luck, I’d lean in to kiss you and these white dittanies would end up looking like globs of nothingness.”

“Later then, but I’ll hold you to that.”

You know he will.

“Still, I think you captured the dittany flowers perfectly. I saw them in person once at a wedding, —the bride’s bouquet had both those and baby’s breath. At the time, I thought it was a strange decision,” he admits, “but looking at them like this. . . I suppose I understand quite well now.”

“They’re commonly associated with passion and love,” you add. “That’s actually why I chose them for this. . . I thought they suited you.”

“I’m not quite sure what standard you’ve used to measure that, but you’re the artist here, and they look lovely. So, in the end, I suppose you were right.”

“Still,” Jumin speaks up again quickly, “—aren’t these plants aphrodisiacs as well?”

“A-Ah,” you stutter, having been caught off guard by the suddenness (and bluntness) of his statement, “could be, yeah. . .”

He has to admit that you look incredibly cute when you’re flustered, the way you stumble over your words and turn your gaze away, pretending to focus intensely on the task at hand. If you were ever to work at his office, he’s certain he’d never get a single thing done ever again.

“Anyway, this should do it,” you say, adding a few final strokes of green to the stems.

Placing the paintbrush into one of the small containers filled with water, you pull away from Jumin’s arm and allow him the freedom of moving it around. You tried to work relatively quickly so as to not make him sit around in a single position for too long, but art is, above all else, a process. And it’s one that often takes a great deal of both time and effort.

Jumin admires your artwork like he’s staring at something priceless.

The best part of it is that, to him, he really is. He feels beyond honored to have this stunning painting of beautifully full, white-hued flowers flowing along the expanse of his forearm. Though you can see innumerous flaws in it now that you’ve stepped back, it’s almost impossible to dislike it when Jumin looks at it like that. . . Like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, simply because you created it.

“I wish. . . That I could keep it here forever,” Jumin whispers, tone achingly sincere.

“Sorry,” you apologize, “but it’s better to leave the permanent stuff to the tattoo artists. Which I certainly am not.”

Though he yearns to keep your piece there on his flesh forever, the logical side of him knows that you’re correct. Even so, he won’t be washing it off for quite a while. At least not before he’s taken fifty and then some pictures, all of which will inevitably end up blurry, before coming to you and asking for your help with it. Maybe he wants to be self-sufficient, even when it comes to areas he’s unfamiliar with (like proper photography skills and otherwise technologically related issues.) Or, maybe he’s just stalling for time, wanting to prolong the inevitable washing of his forearm for as long as he can.

The world may never know.

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