＃ 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. . ."