#jumin han comfort

[xelasrecords]

As Daylight Comes

Han Jumin x MC

Jumin and MC have been married for a while, and their friendship with Jihyun is stronger than ever, so what better way to spend their morning together than to have breakfast with a side of teasing and musing on life?

Challenging myself to write a fluffy domestic scene because I realised I rarely write one. I also wanted to write Jihyun with his good ending personality because I barely see it in fics, so here he is at his healthiest mentally.

Words: 3.8k

Masterlist Read on AO3

The two men's hushed laughter eased her awake, the morning sun a soft gleam behind her closed eyelids. The first voice was clear and deep, one that she heard every day and night spoken like an oath to her soul. The second was gentler, a pleasant lilting voice that she and her husband often heard in their regular calls. She smiled to herself and threw the covers aside; she had already known who she would see before reaching the doorway. They were the sounds that she knew well and loved.

At the dining table, Jumin, her Jumin, was sitting with his back facing her, the sleeves of his navy sweater rolled up. He was leaning forwards, engrossed in telling what she was sure to be a fascinating idea he had recently thought of and possibly should not ever be acted upon. Jihyun was sitting on the other side, his head ducked in an attempt to smother his laughter, mint hair catching the glimmer of sunlight that passed through the floor-length windows as he moved.

Her heart felt whole at the sight of their dearest friend. Finally, they were together. They did not have to painstakingly arrange calls that were always cut too short by their own lives anymore.

Watching them, she didn't think it was possible for them to be any less content than they were now and almost didn't want to intrude. Jumin's sincere laugh, the unrestrained kind only she could pull out, was floating across their spacious home. But she knew them, and knew that they would rather her join them and make their happiness complete. Time did not wear out their love for her, or her love for them. It strengthened their bond, pulling them in tighter than ever.

She could never grow tired of it. It was a feeling she had become accustomed to, yet still marvelled at the wonder, the near impossibility of it.

She padded across the room, the light granite floor cold beneath her feet, and slid her arm around Jumin's shoulders. "Wonderful morning everyone. I wasn't aware we had company." She pressed her lips against his mussed black hair, catching a faint whiff of fresh wild cedar. Jihyun, having seen her approach, visibly brightened and gave her a wide smile, one she graciously returned.

With one hand around her waist, Jumin pulled her onto his lap and kissed her shoulder, sliding up the thin strap of her loose top that had drooped down. "The company had stopped by unannounced."

Jihyun looked sheepish. "I'm sorry we woke you up. I thought we had been quiet enough."

"I'm honestly furious that you didn't wake me up earlier," she said good-naturedly. "Were you just going to leave if I didn't?"

"Jumin told me how you had to stay up all night for work. I didn't want to disturb you."

She waved it away and picked up a turkey sandwich in front of her, eating it with enthusiasm. "Disturb me all you want. I welcome it."

"Are you sure you don't need more rest?" Jumin murmured into her ear, both arms circling her waist. "I could force him to stay until you wake up later. Glue him to the chair with a powerful adhesive or a magic spell. I may not be the pioneer of creativity, but I have brought several creative projects to fruition. I could think of something."

"With determination comes great result?" she suggested.

"Exactly. There is no reason I can't attempt sorcery if nothing else works."

She turned around and winked. "I could help you with the enchantment."

He sighed into the crook of her neck. "This is why I married you, my exceptional wife. You are ever supportive and full of love."

Jihyun smiled despairingly into his slice of sandwich. "Why are you two the way you are?"

She and Jumin shrugged in one coordinated movement.

As she scanned the table for more food, she realised there were a variety of sandwiches and fruits spread across the marble top. Silently, she sent Jihyun her gratitude for bringing an abundance of anything other than pancakes. However much she loved Jumin, she was quite sick of slathering strawberry jam or maple syrup or even more strawberries on the pancakes he made.

The fruit assortment interestingly lacked strawberries too.

"This sandwich is good, Jihyun. Did you make this?" She examined her second helping of a toasted cheese sandwich in her hand. The cheese was still oozing when she bit into it.

He grinned. "Ah, it is?"

She performed a dramatic moan. "Orgasmically so."

She held back her laugh at the mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. Truthfully, she might have sent a text to Jihyun to save her from a lifetime of pancake breakfast. And he might have responded to her plea with utmost seriousness and come to her rescue the very next day.

It was a possibility that they might have conspired on something that would have mildly offended Jumin, yes.

Some secrets were best kept as secrets.

But Jumin, blissfully oblivious, was studying her with extreme amusement. "I have to remind you that we skipped our morning sex. If you are heavily aroused, you only need to ask." His voice had dropped low, his breathing fanning her neck. "I will give you everything that you desire. It is what I wish for myself as well."

She leaned against his chest and whispered, "Make it an afternoon quickie. Let's do it later."

"So you're giving me the order to wait." His hands ran up the inside of her bare thighs until they reached the lining of her shorts, his clothed knees nudging her legs open. She suppressed a shiver; familiar was his touch to her, a pleasurable rush still spread across her skin whenever he did it. "What do I get in return? A fair bargain has to benefit both parties."

She squirmed against his thighs on purpose, knowing the friction would crack his composure. "You get a lesson in patience," she drawled, voice low and raspy, "and I get to watch you exercise your iron will. I will be satisfied. Didn't you want me to feel good?"

Jumin looked scandalised. "In nowhere would that be constituted as a fair deal, and patience is a virtue I have long been practising. I wish to propose an alternative."

"Shall I take my leave?" Jihyun interrupted. "I don't have to see to know what you two are doing down there."

"Nothing!" Hastily, she put away Jumin's hands and grabbed Jihyun's over the table before he could stand, ignoring Jumin's huffing. "Please stay. We are two very chaste adults."

Jihyun's smile was wry. "That's not what I heard about your sex life."

"You told him?" She whirled on Jumin. "I thought you'd have more respect for my intimate life. This is a breach of my privacy. I'd never got a betrayal of this magnitude, and from my own husband!"

"Interesting," Jumin said. "Would you like to know how he reacted when I recounted our latest session? He was not surprised. Not one bit. In fact, he was too ready to supply a reaction. I have to wonder if he had prepared himself beforehand."

She narrowed her eyes at Jihyun. "You traitor."

"I was just trying to be supportive, but I suppose Jumin has always been too good at reading my intentions." Jihyun shook his head regretfully.

"That's right," Jumin said, a smug tone in his voice. He was always proud when he could prove their decades of friendship through their mutual understanding.

With a scoff, she shifted to the chair beside him and scooped a handful of blueberries and an egg sandwich into his plate before doing the same for Jihyun. When she looked down, she saw that Jihyun had filled hers as well. For a while, the dining room was silent as they dug into their meal, save for the cutleries clinking against plates and fabrics rustling when they helped each other with more food and drinks.

She could live like this every day, she thought. It wouldn't be so bad to have Jihyun here more often. Jumin was one of the kindest people she had ever known, but he had edges that remained sharp and could only soften in the presence of his best friend. Jumin with Jihyun was fully at peace, and Jihyun was no different. He spoke his mind without holding back and did not hesitate to share his art with him. Between them was a sense of safety she never found between anyone else.

Anyone else except her own friendship with him.

Jihyun meant just as much to her, and she to him. They would sacrifice their sleep if one was ringing up the other in dire trouble, despite being on opposite sides of the globe. And sometimes Jumin would leave them to talk into the night while he slept, knowing they had things they were more comfortable sharing alone, though he would chide her for the black rings under her eyes in the morning and fuss over her.

Jumin was never jealous. Rather, he was delighted that his wife got along well with his best friend and had no qualms announcing it whenever he could, not caring if anyone thought it strange. To him, the joy of seeing the two people he loved the most being close surpassed other petty emotions. She could read it on his face. It would have broken his heart if they found each other's company distasteful.

She wondered if it was the same for Jumin, if he could see that she cherished Jihyun and had missed him too. She might have entered their lives later, but time did not dictate closeness. If someone were to be taken out of the equation, the other two would be left flailing, stranded with half of their string cut.

She felt the three of them were always better when they existed in the same space.

"Did you know why he came here?" Jumin cut through her thoughts and gestured at Jihyun. "He claimed to have forgotten his camera. Under normal circumstances, I would have accepted it as a reasonable excuse, except he has done this three times."

"You said it like it's a bad thing. Do you not want me to drop by?" Jihyun asked mildly.

Jumin raised his brows. "You're an artist. You could have come up with a more creative excuse."

She straightened up and looked right into Jihyun's lively eyes. They were the eyes that had freed themselves from the sorrow that plagued his younger, more foolish years. "Ignore this cynical guy. He doesn't know that joy is found in little things. I, for one, commend you for your intricate planning. That is some strategising and determination you have shown. Anyone who doesn't appreciate your effort shouldn't be eating your food." She glared at Jumin.

"Thank you for recognising my effort, but that isn't all." Jihyun paused. "I also missed you. I enjoyed my trip, but the places I visited made me yearn to come back because you weren't there. Of course, I speak including you, Jumin."

"I see I have been demoted to an afterthought," remarked Jumin.

"That is what you get for acting all mighty." She rose to fetch a glass of orange juice from across the table, Jumin holding back the front of her loose white top as she leaned, but Jihyun was faster. He had noticed what she had been eyeing before and placed the glass in front of her. She smiled gratefully at him; she doubted there was anyone more eager to help than Jihyun. It was a quality she and Jumin liked to discuss admiringly among themselves.

Jumin settled back into his seat and picked a grape from the centre platter. "I don't appreciate the poor translation of my intention."

"At least you know you can rhyme," she said and turned to Jihyun. "You have to know how much he pined for you. He stared out the window like a Victorian lady waiting for her husband to be relieved from his duty. I thought he was one second away from being locked in the attic." She shook her head solemnly. "So close to being driven to madness from yearning."

Jumin let out a flat gasp. "Why, I never."

"Nevertheless," she pounced on, "I am not without conscience and virtue to lock anyone away, especially when that person is someone of my own heart, so I had no choice but to persist. Have some pity on me, I beg you!" She clutched at her chest.

Jihyun burst into laughter, which produced a small smile from Jumin. "All right, I'll admit I missed you," Jumin gave in. "I could use seeing you more often."

A brief look of wonder flashed in Jihyun's eyes, searching Jumin's and was quickly reassured when they recognised the familiar fondness in his unwavering gaze. The steel in Jumin's grey eyes dared Jihyun to refute it, but he wouldn't, not this grown version of him.

Some people struggled with getting used to being loved unabashedly. She recalled when Jihyun was a younger boy and how he would rather stake himself than accept the love he was given, but that was long ago. Time and their persistence in loving him had encouraged him to be brave, and Jihyun himself had learned to allow people to love him. The vulnerability of baring your soul to love someone could be unbearable, but believing you were worthy of love could be just as unthinkable.

She was glad he had Jumin to rely on when they were children, and Jumin had him to be his true self with. What had been a constant, stumbling search for faith in each other had grown into intrinsic trust.

"How long can we do this still?" she wondered aloud. "Sometimes I feel like we haven't changed—we have eaten together like this more times than I could count—but we're not who we were anymore, are we?"

"Four hundred and five times," Jumin stated. "Barring other types of gatherings and casual hang-outs. A lot of things have happened since the first one." He lifted her hand against his lips and kissed the back of it reverently. She remembered the time before they fell for each other and how after they had, their connection had become more intimate than she had thought possible.

"You keep track, I should've guessed." Jihyun's voice held infinite softness. "It was an eternity ago. Goodness, we were such wide-eyed kids then."

"Perhaps the time we have left doesn't matter as much as the time we have shared together—the time we are sharing now," Jumin said. "But sometimes as I'm living in the present, I can already see how we will be entombed in history, though it's a memory that I will look back on fondly."

"Please don't say 'entombed'," she said. "Memories don't die just because they have passed. We keep them alive, just like this. We'll continue to talk about nonsense and eat good food and be there for one another. Otherwise, we wouldn't have anything to hold on to when life gets hard."

"Or maybe we won't do this forever. We can't tell what the future holds," Jihyun mused. "Change is the natural order of the universe, but in this life full of changes, I can always count on you two to be here for me, to make me happy." He smiled at them, the corner of his eyes crinkling. Jumin nodded contentedly, and she laid her head on his shoulder, sharing his peace.

"I certainly would be appalled if I stayed the same all these years." She shuddered. "I like that we change together, that our new shapes still fit each other somehow. I've grown out of enough friendships to know that this isn't always the case."

"I'm afraid I cannot comment much on friendships." Jumin frowned. "My friendship with Jihyun is the only true one that I have, but it wouldn't be complete if you never came into my life—our lives. I will always be thankful for that. You brought us all closer."

With an arm propped on the table, she watched Jumin's thoughtful expression and eased the crease between his forehead. He had spoken aloud of what she was thinking about earlier, the completeness of the bond between the three of them. It was funny, how sometimes it was as if his mind and hers were intertwined. The time they spent together has left an indisputable mark, seemingly without her notice.

Time was often like that. One day you clambered through life with cuts on your knees and found yourself standing on steadier ground, wiser but irreparably changed in the next. It did not beat on a steady rhythm; it sprinted and languished at the exact moments you wished it not to.

"Everything he said was true," Jihyun reached over the table to squeeze her hand. It was soft in her touch. "You're a blessing on earth. I was right to come here right away."

"Meeting us is always the right decision," said Jumin adamantly.

"Except if he's asking you to translate an ancient necromancy spellbook that's ninety-nine per cent fake, then maybe it isn't a good idea to be here," she added.

"Ninety-nine per cent?" Jumin sounded offended. "It's disrespectful to equate a book that holds mystical wonders unimaginable to mankind to a lousy disinfectant."

Jihyun ignored him and looked at her warily.

"He made me light up pungent-smelling candles around the house with him. I still don't want to know what kind of candles they were." She grimaced at the memory. "We had to move out for a few weeks until the smell disappeared."

Jihyun wrinkled his nose at Jumin. "What dead creature were you trying to raise?"

"A mouse that my bodyguard accused Elizabeth the Third has killed. Petty murders are below a lady as dignified as she," he declared with conviction. "I should know."

A look of surprise passed over Jihyun's face. "And you care enough about the mouse to call it back from death?" he asked slowly.

"I needed to put it under interrogation to extract the exact cause of its death," Jumin said. "It was imperative that I clear Elizabeth the Third's name."

"Naturally," she cut in cheerfully. "When one dies, one can simply be revived and questioned about one's lethal injury. No worries whatsoever that recalling the event might be traumatic to them."

"Did it, um"—Jihyun struggled to find the right word—"come alive?"

Jumin sighed in defeat. "I would have to try again another time."

"You would not." Her tone was severe. "You will either lose the truth of Elizabeth the Third's innocence or me. Your choice."

Jumin looked tortured, but she did not budge. Jihyun's eyes danced between them with amusement.

Eventually, Jumin splayed his hands out in resignation. "I shall comply with your wishes."

She patted his arm. "It's for the best. You don't want to accidentally exorcise the whole world with your corpse-raising activities. I can only support your hobbies up to a point, love."

At that, Jihyun chortled into his drink and Jumin shot him a betrayed look, though he still offered his handkerchief to him. "Not that I don't believe in you," Jihyun said when he calmed down, "but your experiments tend to be disastrous. Maybe you should consider those around you. We're the ones who have to deal with your mess."

Jumin crossed his arms. "You two have no loyalty towards me, especially you, dear lovely wife." He tilted his head at her. "You're supposed to be the love of my life. My sworn life partner for eternity."

She rolled her eyes. "Please, I did agree to glue Jihyun earlier. Was that not enough?"

"This is about me now?" asked Jihyun.

She produced a coy smile. "You're always in our hearts."

Jumin, seeing the opportunity to shift the blame, quickly said, "That's true."

"You two have sadistic hearts," Jihyun pointed out.

"Don't even try to deny that sadism isn't what you're into," she said and grinned when his cheeks heated up. "I know about your fantasies too."

Unfortunately, Jumin took this moment to inspect the table and made an astute observation, cutting off Jihyun's stammering. "It has occurred to me that we have too many sandwiches and no pancake in sight."

Her and Jihyun's attention snapped on each other, eyes widening in horror.

"Did you know how easy it is to make a strawberry pancake, Jihyun? We could eat it every day," Jumin went on.

"We could, yes," Jihyun said tactfully, "but it doesn't mean we should. Anything too much could make you sick, my friend."

"And I'm full," she chimed in. "Maybe next time?"

"She did eat a lot earlier," Jihyun said.

"Did you?" Jumin stared at her with suspicion.

She leaned back and rubbed her stomach. "A whole lot. If you force me to eat, I'd have no choice but to vomit everything onto your lap. That would disrespect Jihyun's hard work on packing all this food, and I'd be sick and have to eat again—which would be a major annoyance with a burned throat—and you'd have to change into stripeless pants."

Jumin looked puzzled. "But I have other striped pants."

"Not if I used all of them to clean up the vomit."

He sighed but relented. "If you say so."

When Jumin averted his gaze, she breathed out a silent air of relief and felt Jihyun nudging her foot beneath the table, a playful twinkle in his eyes. His lips were pressed into a flat line, fighting the smile threatening to break his sympathetic ruse. She prodded his foot back and gave him a light shrug.

Not long after, Jihyun would have to leave for yet another thing and she and Jumin would have to count the days until the next time they met. But it was not their concern yet. Right now, the murmurs of their talk and the music of their laughs were enough for her. There was nothing to complain about when they made her happy.

Distance and frequency of meetings did not matter. She could have one minute with them together and still be satisfied, however temporary the satisfaction might be. A mere minute would make her yearn for more until they piled up to make an infinite, but she was not demanding. Whatever little time they could carve out of their routine was enough.

This was good. They were happy and radiant and comfortable that she allowed herself to believe that it could last forever.

And it would. Their love would never wane.

-

Footnotes:

One thing I love about their friendship is how honest they are with their appreciation. They're not ashamed of showing that they care, and their elegant linguistic style (though V's is more casual than Jumin's) makes it easy to write their vulnerable feelings just as they are. They don't toughen up their words or purposely censor them when they get emotional. They're fluent in articulating their feelings, and I think this would be even more natural when they've all been close for a long time.

The domestic scene challenge was made easier since I was vibrating with giddiness to express more love for Jumin and V. I'm the happiest when I write about love and them. Grinning maniacally every time I type their story out.

Before anyone comes at me, I don't think Jumin would be jealous. He could be possessive when he's gripped by his darker thoughts, but in this phase of his life, he's stable. He's secure in his marriage, he has a grounded relationship that's nurtured over the years with MC, and he shares a safe emotional space with V. Everyone is at their best here. The three of them have complete trust and respect for each other.

When I first started writing here, I used to think I have to make the MC's personality neutral enough so that most readers could relate, but now it's free real estate. I do whatever I want.

I was nostalgic about my college days' friendship, hence the more sombre tone in the middle. It feels natural in my friendships to joke around and make sexual quips in one moment and reflect on life in the next. I wanted to recreate that safety and sense of belonging I used to feel.

This was supposed to be finished earlier but I suddenly went through a friendship breakup during the editing stage, so I couldn't find it in me to write about the joys of friendship when I just severed one of mine. She was my close friend for almost a decade. I still think about her from time to time.

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[mitskiluvr]

replaying mystic messenger is so crazy because why am i gentle parenting these grown men and teaching them how to handle their feelings

[natsumiheart]

Jumin and Elizabeth! 👑💜

Sketches under the cut!

Hopefully from now on I'll be able to draw Jumin without making him look too much like a child lol

[mrs-han]

A continuation of this piece ♥️

Winter had come.

Standing outside of the C&R building, Jumin thanked himself for choosing to leave work early. Assistant Kang had… some words of protest, but he couldn’t miss this.

The first snow of the season.

Strolling languidly down the nearly empty sidewalk, Jumin lifted his head. Gray skies matching the color of his eyes, he had forgotten just how much he missed being in nature. Since your departure, he had purposely kept himself hidden away in his office, only coming out for meetings and to occasionally go home.

It was too painful for him to open the doors of the penthouse and feel, hear, and smell traces of you left behind. Jumin left Elizabeth the Third in V’s custody, an action that concerned V greatly.

But Jumin insisted that he needed to be alone.

Which was a lie. He needed you.

Stopping to take a breath, Jumin reached into his pocket and fiddled with his phone briefly. Maybe you had texted him in the short journey from his office to the great outdoors.

No such luck.

The image of your smiling face almost seemed to be mocking him now. As if you were taunting him; Look and see. I’m so much happier now that I’m away from you.

Jaw clenching, Jumin closed his eyes. No, he needed to stop his intrusive thoughts from manifesting into something he couldn’t control. There was no reason for him to be bitter or angry. He respected your decision. He respected your space, your journey, your choices. If those choices meant you needed to start an entirely new course, then…

Of course he would support you.

Thick snowflakes fell slowly around Jumin, immediately dissipating as soon as they landed on the warmth of his hand. Lifting his eyes to the sky, he felt a sense of calm and wave of loneliness bunched together.

It was tradition; Jumin would take the day off as soon as snow was announced to fall on the weather channel.

You would make two ginormous mugs of hot chocolate with a dash of Hawaiian coffee mixed in while he would gather pillows and blankets from the living room closet.

When you’d step outside, he would immediately wrap two blankets around you, and you’d argue that you only needed him to stay warm while plopping onto his lap.

And when you’d start to ramble about the shape of clouds and their meanings, he would sneakily wrap the same two blankets around you and listen until you fell asleep against him, a mustache of hot chocolate foam on your upper lip.

Jumin’s exhale created a cloud around him, one that travelled far beyond what his eyes could see. “If I had known that this would happen, I would have held you much tighter. I would have kissed you much longer. I would have done… anything.”

Defeat, loneliness, confusion, and hope — each emotion tied themselves around his neck, compressing his shuddering breaths.

This was why he didn’t want to be left alone in his thoughts — this was why he fought to keep his mind preoccupied. You were his undoing. You were his trigger. And you were the love of his life.

Desperate for a distraction before losing his mind completely, Jumin walked briskly towards the C&R building. He needed to get inside. He needed to get back to work.

Stopping to wipe his eyes and rub his face to regain some semblance of feeling, he looked up briefly. And his arms fell limply to his sides.

He could recognize you anywhere. A thick, puffy jacket hugged your body. A knit cap covered your ears and forehead. The same scarf you had stolen from him was wrapped round your neck.

You stood perfectly still, so still that Jumin thought he was hallucinating. And then, you started walking towards him.

Unsure of what to do and say, all Jumin could do was watch as you moved closer, closer to him. His heart hammered in his chest, his cheeks and ears flushed a soft pink. He had to be dreaming. This wasn’t real. No, perhaps he was mistaken; the way you dressed was all over magazines, and it wasn’t abnormal for someone to dress like you —

“Jumin?”

“I’ll get out of your way.” Fixing the flaps of his coat he quickened his pace and brushed by you. Jumin didn’t mean to be rude; he didn’t know what to do.

You grabbed hold of your husband’s arm; invisible boundaries were being crossed, you knew. Jumin seemed to know, too; while he didn’t yank his arm away from you, he seemed very tense.

“Jumin…” you tried again, voice trembling from the cold. “I… I wanted to…” your breath escaped you. “… How are you…?”

Jumin turned, the look in his eyes making you regret your first words to him.

“I’m… I’m fine.” The breeze picked up, drowning out the powerful man’s otherwise distinctive voice. As if nature itself told him to be completely honest.

“… Please don’t lie to me,” you pleaded softly, instinctively wrapping your other arm around his. “Then… be honest, please. How are you?”

Facing you, Jumin tenderly shook your hold on his arm and briefly smiled. “You went on a journey of self care, and yet, you still forget to wear gloves on a night as cold as this one.”

You stepped much closer to him as he took your hands and rubbed them vigorously. A blush crept upon your already rosy cheeks as he moved your hands to his mouth, exhaling the warmest air you had known.

The sensation made you jittery, shaking in place and letting out a nervous laugh. Jumin’s eyes moved from your fingers to you, not at all helping your current state.

“Let me ask this first.” Jumin didn’t release your hands; instead, his grip tightened. “Has your journey brought you back to me? Or has it…”

His voice caught in his throat. Closing his eyes to regain his thoughts and sense of control, he knew he couldn’t do it. He was far too weak for you, and he would always be.

Taking a step forward, you tried your best to keep from crying. But those crystalline tears slid from your eyes anyway.

“No,” Jumin uttered heedlessly, terrified of your answer. “No, please. Please, don’t leave me.”

“W… What…?”

“Forgive me, I —” the pain on his face showed you more than his words could tell. Still, his stormy eyes connected with yours. “I want you to do what is best for yourself. So please. Please tell me I am one of those forces of good. If not, I’ll… no. No, I don’t want to think of any other alternatives. Not now.”

Shaking your head, your tears felicitously landed on Jumin’s person. He didn’t know what to do, or say, or think —

“I’ve missed you so much.”

He didn’t expect that. No, Jumin believed you had made it all this way to tell him that you needed to part ways with him. That, he wasn’t good for you anymore. Even while he braced himself for it, he still wasn’t ready for it.

“I must have confused you so much,” you spoke, hesitant hands squeezing his. “And I’ll tell you anything you’d like to know, only if you agree to take me back into your arms.”

Jumin’s cheeks changed from a soft pink to dark boysenberry. He had no words. Instead, he pressed his forehead calmly against yours and pulled you much, much closer to himself.

You hiccuped close to his ear - he was so overjoyed by the sound that his hands reached down, cupping your face and holding you for the first time in months.

His thumb swiping the tears flowing from your eyes, Jumin’s heart was ready to jump out of his chest and make its residence with you. “Shh… I’m here, my darling.”

Those simple words strengthened the inner glow you had worked so hard to attain.

[jafndaegur]

어두운 길을 비춰주는 저 은하수처럼 너는 나를 향해 빛나고 있었어 어둠 속에 찾은 단 하나의 빛 너에게 향하는 나의 길

The Astronaut, Jin

Something sappy, something wistful, and something just for me. Happy Valentine's 💝

[astridthevalkyrie]

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

After Jumin marries you, slowly, his threads start to untangle.

a/n: my first and probably last long jumin fic. this has been in the works for months, literally what i've been stalling on superior for (pre keigo 😭) i hope you all enjoy! i love this man <3

warnings: afab reader with she/her pronouns, some depressing thoughts, smut, oral (m and f receiving), penetrative sex, references to kinks that they both have, references/nightmares about abuse including sexual harassment, insecurity, jumin's comedy lol

word count: 13.2k (only a little less than the last superior chapter that is cray cray)

There is a knock on your door.

It makes you jump. Not that you’re nervous—it’s a hotel and several of your friends and family are here to see you get married, so naturally many of them know where your room is. The room itself is, of course, lavish, a paradise compared to most of your previous lodgings. Honestly, you miss the penthouse.

No, that’s not quite right. You just miss being curled up on the couch, tucked into Jumin’s chest with Elizabeth on your lap, wine on his lips and love in his eyes. You miss him, even though you saw him last this morning. You know he’s in the hotel lobby being forced to get wasted by Luciel, because the hacker in question has sent you dozens of videos of your fiancé. In one of them, when Zen reminds him he’s getting married tomorrow, a goofy smile breaks out on his face as he ducks his head.

Maybe the wedding wasn’t necessary. Maybe you two could have just signed the necessary papers without having to go a full day without seeing each other. How are you supposed to sleep tonight? You could call him, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Sighing, you make your way to the door. If it’s one of your friends trying to convince you to let loose or a family member coming to check up on you, you’re not in the mood.

When you open the door, your fiancé is standing there.

“Jumin!”

All questions on the tip of your tongue disappear when he brings you into his arms, burying his face in your neck with a content sigh. There’s no urgency in it, just a quiet, sudden happiness, like he’s fully aware that in just a few hours he won’t have to worry about you being anywhere but in his arms again.

“Thank you.” His voice breaks the silence, muffled on your skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your eyes well up with tears. What an emotional bride you’re turning out to be. And what a wonderful groom you have, to somehow know exactly what you need even when he’s not completely sober.

Slowly, you wrap your arms around him as well, breathing in the scent of his shampoo as you press a kiss to the top of his head.

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

There has never been a lovelier sight than your smile, and Jumin hopes you know that.

If you don’t, he’ll just have to convince you.

“Hi, sweetheart.” You’re sporting a grin for him—just for him—wearing nothing but one of his shirts with Elizabeth the Third scurrying out from between your feet when she sees him. There’s a pink bottle on the counter. Frosting, he thinks. “I hope you don’t mind, but having a chef cook for us for a month straight has ruined my palate for anything else. I had to cook for myself again before I got spoiled. I can call him to make you dinner if you don’t want to eat what I made, though!”

“Of course not.” The urge to embrace you is unbearable. A month after the wedding, and his first day back at work after the honeymoon, he still can’t seem to keep his hands off. “What did you make? I’ll eat anything.”

He leans down to take Elizabeth the Third in his arms, scratching the back of her head softly. “Alright! I made stew and baked some cupcakes, I hope you like it. But you should probably change first. Slip into something more comfortable.”

“Ironic, considering you and I are wearing the same thing.”

“Well…” You lean over the counter, making a show of ogling him. “If you really want to match, you can leave the shirt on and take off your pants.”

It’s impossible to even try and stop the smile growing on his face. “Would you like that?”

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

The nickname makes him flush pleasantly, but instead of taking you up on that extremely tempting offer, he simply walks up and presses a kiss to your forehead. You pout, and with the tact of knowing Elizabeth is still in his arms, you tug on his tie and kiss him properly. Jumin’s brain turns off, if only for a few seconds. As long as you kiss him and he kisses you back, the only thing he knows is you, you, you and nothing else.

Now, instead of changing, he’s holding his cat and kissing you in the kitchen. With just a minor breakaway and murmured apology, he’s no longer holding his cat. His hands slide around your back and pull you in, and your hands meet at the base of his neck. You. Only you. 

“Ju-min,” you admonish breathlessly, the second he pulls away to trail hurried kisses down your neck. “Dinner first.”

“Mm. I’m not hungry.” Or he is, but not for dinner.

Your hands come to rest on his chest, but you don’t pull away, and Jumin is beyond grateful. He doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to sleep or shower or do anything else when he could be showing you just how much he’d missed you at work today. 

Slightly pressed into the counter, you place your hands back and jump onto it, and he eagerly steps in between your legs to kiss you again. Your legs wrap around his waist and your hands tangle in his hair—a habit of yours, he’s noticed, to mess his hair up. He doesn’t mind. Not if it makes you happy. 

Finally, you pull away and before he can dive back in for yet another kiss, you dip your finger into the bowl next to you and offer it up to him. Without even considering it, he takes your finger in between his lips and licks the gravy off.

It’s only after he registers the taste does Jumin realize how intimate the action is. And of course, he knows that you’re married, that you and he have seen each other absolutely bare and open to one another, that he is literally making out with you in his—in your—in your shared kitchen. He knows that despite everyone thinking that the marriage was rushed and impulsive, this will be a long road, and he plans to stick by you for each and every single step. He knows that tasting something off your finger is hardly the most domestic thing you two will do.

But it doesn’t stop the flurry of butterflies he feels in his stomach. It doesn’t stop him from thinking my wife is letting me taste what she made, because she’s perfect. That’s not to mention how wonderful the taste actually is.

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

“Incredible.” He takes your hand and dips your finger in the bowl, stealing another taste right after. “More than incredible. The best stew I’ve ever had.”

“I know you’re flattering me.” Leaning forward, you take his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. Softly, gently, like he’s something fragile that will break if you use any force. “But I’m not complaining. Keep going.”

“Food is always better when a beautiful woman is the one serving it.”

You beam. The butterflies in his stomach do a victory soar.

Jumin Han is in love.

///

Zen has a dream about you. That’s when the problem starts.

He tells it to the group in great detail—it’s not anything romantic or sexual, but Jumin doesn’t see a reason for you to be in his subconscious at all, even if you were just the supposed director for Zen’s dream movie. You’re not any sort of movie director, so the dream is ridiculous at any rate.

It doesn’t stop him from pouncing on you the second you two get back home. You don’t even get to take a seat before he’s pressing you against the door, ensuring it’s locked (the last thing he needs is for one of the security guards to see this and have dreams about you too) and kissing you possessively. 

“Jumin—?” There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it cuts off into a delicious moan when he starts sucking and biting all the same spots he knows he left hickeys on during your honeymoon. 

“Spend the day with me,” he whispers. “Just me, no one else.”

An amused giggle bubbles from your throat. “I was already gonna do that, honeybunny.”

Good. That’s plenty of time for him to mark up your neck (and other places) so that everyone knows you’re his, and other people can stop dreaming of you. Already his mind is filled with wicked thoughts, of how he can make you cry and beg and scream today. From the time you two spent on your honeymoon, he knows you can get quite loud if he puts his mind to it.

The only limit is his imagination.

“Jumin.” Your head tilts back against the door, eyes closed as his tongue soothes a bite mark he just made. “Ah, J-Jumin, are you jealous?”

“No.” He is.

“I know what possessiveness looks like.” You take his hand in yours and press a kiss to each fingertip. “You know that me being in Zen’s dream isn’t something in our or even his control?”

“Of course I know that.” He huffs, impatiently fiddling with the buttons on your shirt. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

He kisses you again, and you hum in understanding, sliding your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. It’s amazing, no matter how many times he thinks everyone would dismiss him for being ridiculous over something like this, you are always there to prove that at least one person wouldn’t. And you taste. So. Damn. Good. 

So why not taste you all over? Jumin hungrily slides his tongue over your teeth, seeking entrance. When your mouth parts for him, he tastes you intimately, swallowing your soft sighs. 

“For the record,” you mumble, out of breath, “I only ever dream about you.”

“As do I, darling.” He pulls you closer still, thinking about how good you’ll taste when he has his mouth on your pussy. “As do I.”

///

This need to prove himself to you extends beyond the sexual—you laugh so much when you’re around Luciel and Yoosung. Actual laughter that is so different from the polite smiles and chuckles that are in response to his own words.

He hates it. He hates it so very much. He wants to make you laugh, full blown and unabashed. As much as he likes making you giggle, he wants to make you laugh so hard that there are tears pouring down your cheeks. And his experience has quite readily set him up for the expectation that if he wants something, he will have it.

And now, what he really, really wants is to see his wife lose her in laughter because of him.

That means it’s time to bring out the big guns.

Right now you’re under the covers, reading glasses on as you flip through a book. The book in question is something from his personal library (when he showed it to you, mentioning a scene from Beauty and the Beast, you had promptly told him that he was not a beast, but that you finally understood how the princess felt in that scene). 

To an extent, Jumin feels bad when he distracts you from work or requests your attention. But he tries to remind himself that if you didn’t want it, you were more than capable of telling him as much. And your reaction to him crawling on top of you with his arms on either side would certainly not be to put the book aside and pull him down to lay on your chest with a kiss to the crown of his head.

For once in his life, Jumin is certain that he is loved.

“I have a joke,” he tells you matter-of-factly, and your brow raises.

“What is it?”

Taking a deep breath, he raises himself up so he can take a good look at your face.

“Hit Seoul, hit Daejon, hit Daegu, hit Busan, hit it!”

There’s a long pause, and your surprised expression slowly morphs into a giggle, then at his grin, a chortle. Jumin laughs first, and then you do too, throwing your head back. It’s single-handedly the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“W-what—“ You’re wheezing now, shoulders shaking. “What does that even mean?”

“I cast a spell on you. Those who laugh are no ordinary souls, for your information.”

“You are so perfect.” The praise catches him off guard, but your body is still shaking from laughter, and in your eyes he sees something like adoration. “How are you so perfect?”

That is definitely not a word he associates with his humor. His status, money, company, business acumen? Yes, perfect, as they were always meant to be. But the little flips in his stomach tell him that none of those things are what you’re referring to. The look in your eyes—he never sees you look at material objects or money that way. He has only ever seen it aimed towards him, and Jumin realizes with a start that there is no need to compete with Zen or Yoosung or Luciel—because really, there is no competition to begin with.

///

Being a workaholic comes with benefits. Everything always gets done. And he enjoys doing business, so there is no negative side effect…other than the lost time that could be spent with his wife. Typing away on the computer he has set up in his study, Jumin sighs, cracking his neck every half hour or so. He’s been at it for hours, but there’s still more left to do.

A soft knock makes him look up. You peek your head in, blinking sleepily and all wrapped up in a blanket. “Sorry to disturb,” in a whisper that barely reaches his ears, “can I sleep here, honey?”

Jumin beckons you in, looking around dubiously. “I’m sorry, I don’t think there’s any surface here you’d be comfortable on. I don’t want you to have an ache by tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, that’s okay.” Your eyes keep blinking closed, as though you’re barely staying awake. All your words are hushed, but you still manage to clamber over to his side of the desk, blanket in tow, and fall onto his lap, burying your face in his chest. 

With a start, he catches you, holding you close. “What is it, sweetheart? You can’t sleep?”

You shake your head, getting even more comfortable. “The bed’s too cold.”

Something indescribable squeezes his chest. Above everything, the pleasure that you would rather seek warmth from him rather than get another blanket is all-consuming. Without another word, he stands with you in his arms and walks to the bed. The second he steps into the bedroom, your grip on him becomes a little tighter.

He huffs back a small laugh. “I’m not going anywhere. I’d just rather you sleep here.”

Pulling out a second blanket from the closet for good measure, he lays down on the bed with you, throwing both blankets over your bodies before wrapping you up in his arms. You sigh happily, legs mixing with his and face pressing in his chest once more.

“Sorry for distracting you.” Now your voice is barely audible. “Mm…you’re just…so much warmer…”

“Can I ask you a favor?” You hum softly in response. “Please never apologize for demanding my attention. I am yours, that includes my body, my soul, and my time. Should you ever need me to sleep and I am in the office, please call me and I’ll come home immediately. I’ll take the jet home if I have to. That doesn’t just stop at my time either. If there is anything, anything, you would like, then all you have to do is ask me. I’ll buy you anything. The world is at your disposal.”

There’s a pause and Jumin thinks you’ve fallen asleep, but then you break the silence, quietly asking, “Is it okay if I ask you for something, then?”

“Anything.”

Cute but glossy eyes peer up at him, and you blink rapidly. “A kiss?”

Jumin places his hands on your cheeks, catching the stray tear that falls. Then he leans in, and everything is right with the world.

///

Ice Prince.

Jumin has no idea where the title actually came from. He doesn’t see what’s wrong with someone having control of their emotions. Is he expected to cry or rage at every little thing? That’s a genuine question. Maybe he doesn’t show much emotion at all, and he should. He’s open to advice.

It shouldn’t even be on his mind. He’s watching a soap opera, and the most beautiful woman in the world is in his arms. He enjoys watching your reactions more than watching the show itself, whether you’re holding back an aww or wincing. Every so often, you look up and meet his eyes, giving him a sweet smile each and every time before placing your head back on his chest. 

Still, he can’t get the article he read earlier out of his head. Has the Ice Prince really settled down? What kind of life does the new Mrs. Han lead? One can only imagine that she does not get many warm moments with Jumin Han. A speedy divorce would not be surprising.

Just the thought makes him tug you in closer, the idea of you leaving never failing to terrify him. He’s gotten better, he doesn’t freak out over you exiting the penthouse or hanging out with friends or working. He’d told himself harshly that he would not drive you away with his overt possessiveness.

But maybe he’s going to drive you away if he can’t learn to show you his emotions and instead continues to be…well, an ice prince, as much as he hates the term.

“Jumin.” You’re pressing a kiss to his throat, breaking him out of his thoughts. “Are you tired, honey? We can go to bed.”

When he looks down, you’re gazing concernedly up at him. He doesn’t feel like a villain when you look upon him like this. And holding you close is not the only privilege he has here. Taking your face in his hands, he kisses you, and you melt in almost immediately. Jumin knows that you’re starting to get sleepy because you don’t make any move to straddle him further.

The man who knows you best—that is what the articles should be about. Doting husband. Family man. Your partner. How could anyone think he was cold or heartless to you?

“Juju,” you mumble softly, not bothering to break the kiss, “we should get to bed.”

Yes, you’re right. However…

“May I ask you a question?” His curiosity and slight anxiousness requires him to make sure. If he’s ever done anything to make you think he’s some kind of robot, he needs to get rid of such behavior immediately.

Your lips quirk like he’s said something funny. “You may.”

“Have I ever seemed…cold to you?” Almost as if to remind you before you answer, he holds your hand, squeezing gently, while the other hand remains on your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin softly. “Since we’ve been together, I mean. Have I ever acted anything like an…” Jumin cringes just saying it out loud. “Ice prince?”

The question seems to take you aback, and you blink a few times. Your eyes—warm, beautiful eyes—first stare at him with a certain confusion, then quickly become infused with a sudden anger.

“Did someone say that about you? Who was it?”

“No one,” he responds, then hastily amends, “there have always been articles calling me that. I just happened to see one today, so it was on my mind.”

Now, you really do straddle him, threading your fingers through his hair. The anger has dulled into a stubborn crossness. With a deep scowl, you kiss his forehead and say, “That is ridiculous. You have been nothing but warm to me, Jumin Han.”

The same warmth you’re talking about spreads across his cheeks, painting them pink, but you’re not done.

“Since when do you care about those articles anyway? They’ve always been inane. Remember when everyone was convinced that you would marry Sarah?” Here you huff, and he hates to admit that he loves seeing you jealous, even if over someone he never even considered getting to know. “And you had to set them straight for them to print anything accurate. Maybe I should give a press statement of my own. Ice Prince my ass.”

“Such language,” Jumin says lowly, already hiding his face in your neck. You’re still peeved, muttering things under your breath as you stroke his hair, angry kisses pressed to his skin in the middle of your rant.

Eventually, you tire yourself out, falling asleep right there on his chest, a common occurrence. He doesn’t mind it one bit, it’s actually really easy to carry you to bed. For some reason, Jumin feels much, much lighter.

///

His wife is a party planner. An event planner, technically, since you’ll take some requests for meetings as well, but it’s mostly parties. He knows that due to your marriage, there’s been an increase in the amount of clients wanting you to plan their events. Even before, you’d said your schedule had always been sporadic, revolving around whatever the current most pressing event was.

Frankly, he shouldn’t be surprised, with how masterfully you pulled off the RFA party. 

He’s more than proud of you, of course. He’s now attended quite a few of the events you put together, and it always leaves him impressed. You’ve confided in him about how you’d like to either switch to a company that exclusively does weddings or start your own, and despite your protests, he’s fully prepared to finance such an endeavor when the time comes.

The only issue about your job, and his job as well, is that your schedules can be sporadic. There are days where you can work without even leaving the penthouse, and then there are days where you are running around and don’t return until 2 AM. Jumin can hardly get upset when he’s taunted the clock with his record times at coming home as well.

Can’t get upset at you, that is. Being upset at the situation is perfectly reasonable. He wants to spend time with his wife, dammit. You’re his favorite person in the world, all the things he wants to do involve being with you.

So when he’s the one who’s arriving at 2 in the morning, he deflates to see that you’re fast asleep, a couple documents and your phone in the bed next to you. How many times has he told you he would set up a separate room for you to work in? Each time, you shake your head and say all you need is your phone and laptop, and you can work anywhere. That doesn’t take into account your health, though. The place you relax should not be associated with work, or it leads to a less relaxing sleep cycle. He once read a study about that.

It might be hypocritical, but Jumin misses you. He wants to talk to you so badly it pains him, and not just longing phone calls that always leave him wanting more.

Loosening his tie, he waits for a second before falling hard onto the bed.

Your eyes flutter open immediately, and in your daze you take in your still-dressed husband. With a sleepy smile, you push away all the papers next to you to snuggle into his arms. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you.” One arm secured around your back, he pulls you as close to him as you can. He sees you breathe in his lingering cologne, and it makes him downright giddy that his scent seems to bring you comfort. “Shouldn’t a loving wife be waiting up for her husband?”

You yawn, throwing one leg around him. “Not when the husband returns at an ungodly time and the wife has an early morning site inspection. Did you have dinner?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Mmh. Yeah. I refrigerated some in a container if you wanna take it to work tomorrow.” 

This is one of his favorite domestic things you do—and he doesn’t even think you realize how much he appreciates it. If it’s between having something from a five star restaurant or having your cooking, the latter will win each and every time. Sometimes he wants to brag  to the whole world, although the most he’ll do is slip how tasty his lunch was today to Assistant Kang (who will almost always respond with a dry, “Glad to hear that, Mr. Han.”).

“I will.” Jumin kisses your lips, smiling when he feels you respond with little effort. “I’ve missed you.”

Your arms snake around his waist as you tuck your head under his chin. Jumin sighs when he feels you kiss his collarbone. “I’ve missed you too.” All he needs is your breath on his skin, or your hands on his face, or your voice filling his ears. It relaxes him instantly. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“I’ll be in the office all day.” Already he groans, burying his face in your hair in the hopes that it will preemptively soothe the headache sure to form tomorrow. At first he didn’t understand why you insisted on using the same hair conditioner you always did instead of a much more expensive one he could buy for you, but the smell of your hair is so exquisite that now he wholly prefers it (although there is a special kind of tingling in his chest reserved for the moments you smell like him). 

“Same. After my inspection, I’m going to be meeting four new clients, and I’m going to guess they all want priority.” You roll your eyes, carding your fingers through his hair. “Tomorrow is also Mr. Wang’s wedding, so I’ll be back late.”

At his wordless whine, you giggle, kissing his cheek. Then after a few seconds of thoughtful silence, a soft hum sounds from your throat.

“I have an idea.”

///

The click of Jaehee’s heels alerts him to her entrance, and Jumin straightens in his chair, accepting the papers that she hands him. 

“Thank you. Have you eaten, Assistant Kang?”

Jaehee blinks at him once, then twice, like he’s grown an extra head. Then she slowly nods, the surprised expression melting back into her perfectly professional one once more. “Yes, sir. And you?”

“Not yet. I brought a container my wife packed for me.”

“Honey, I don’t think she really cares to know that.”

“I see. She is a pretty good cook if I recall correctly.”

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists. 

“Excuse me?”

“You’re so sweet, it’s annoying. I want to kiss you all the time.”

“Mr. Han, are you alright? You look a bit out of it—should I call for a doctor?”

“Do it.” He smiles at the papers in his hands. “I won’t stop you.”

“Call…call the doctor?”

“Will you kiss me back, in front of all your employees?”

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

“Right away, sir,” Jaehee responds in a sort of strangled voice, and it’s not until he hears the click of her heels again that he remembers she was there. In almost a flash, she leaves his office. 

“What did she say?”

Jumin touches the tiny earpiece that’s been on all day, adjusting it only slightly. “I honestly have no idea.”

///

Jumin hates leaving. But he does, well, what is the phrase? Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave? Something along those lines, is what you’ve said to him. He’s not sure it applies here, since he is actually leaving to go abroad for a few days, and already he’s looking forward to his reunion with you, but he didn’t expect that both of you would be so needy for each other the night before the flight.

It starts with a few kisses, a pout on your lips that he thinks he can kiss away if he just tries hard enough. Telling you in hushed whispers that he’ll miss you an unfathomable amount. Your understanding on a pragmatic level, and your clinginess the second you both laid down. Both are appreciated more than he can say.

“What if I want to watch a movie with you?”

Kiss. “Just wait a week for me, my love.”

“What if the bed is too cold and I need you to warm me up?”

Kiss. “One week, I promise. No more than a week.”

“What if aliens invade the penthouse and I have no one to protect me?”

Kiss. “Tell them that your husband is going to kill them…in a week.”

For a few minutes, it goes on like this, with you proposing other scenarios and Jumin doing his best to both reassure you and make you laugh. He lays kiss upon kiss to your lips, and perhaps subconsciously, they become more ravenous, demanding. Seeking more. Seeking your conviction on just how much you will miss him.  

“Jumin,” you breathe into his mouth. Jumin, Jumin. He loves how you say his name.

You’re seeking something as well, the warmth that you are so certain will disappear along with him. On one hand, he hates that his princess has to sleep without him at all, especially when she clearly doesn’t want to. And on the other hand, knowing that you’ll be here, missing him so desperately, makes his heart flutter. You’ll miss him. You’ll miss him.

Within moments, you’re on top of him, seated on his lap and unbuttoning the buttons on his shirt. He’s responding in kind, leaving love bites on your neck as he slides your night robe off your shoulders. 

“What if I get lonely?” you ask, more demure than you actually are. “What if I need you, and my fingers aren’t enough?”

His hands press into your hips, hard enough to bruise. You mewl at the slight pain, and he manages to hiss, “I never want your fingers to be enough. If you wait for me, princess, I’ll make you cum more times than you can handle when I get back.” Even if just the idea of you sending him a video or even calling him as you touch yourself was incredibly appealing. Maybe next time. This week, he would have you think of nothing but his own fingers, his tongue, his cock.

And what better way to do that than to remind you how they feel?

“I’ll be gone seven days exactly.” Spoken more to your breasts than you, but he does gaze up at you reverently as he kneads them in his hands. “Maybe tonight I can make you cum once for every day I won’t be here. Would you like that?”

He jerks his thigh up against your core before you can answer, so you nod frantically, mouth falling open. “Uh huh!”

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

The trip right before Valentine’s is the worst. It’s all Jumin can do to finish work before running like a madman through several different stores, picking up this and that. He insists on a different bag for each purchase, despite the clerks gently pointing out that he can put a lipstick tube in the same bag as a pair of heels and nothing will happen, but he doesn’t want to. He would like to see you open every item with a new spark of delight in your eyes.

Usually, he would return late at night, always opting to finish the day’s work and catch a flight right after instead of waiting for morning, because this way he would arrive home, gather you up in his arms as you slept soundly, and then bask in your surprise and delight when you woke the next morning. 

And this time would have been no different if one of the departments had not messed up, forcing him to wake up on Valentine’s Day still out of the country. After five days’ worth of work forced into two hours, a shopping spree and a quick call with you, he nearly takes the wheel from the pilot himself before Jaehee begs him to just sit and try to enjoy the ride home. The rest of the trip, they are engaged in a glaring contest every time she looks up from the video she is watching on her laptop. 

As soon as the door opens, he hears a surprised cry of his name, and then you’re barreling into him—all the bags in Jumin’s hands fall to the floor in favor of catching you and hefting you up in the air for a spin. 

“I thought—“ Kiss. “That you—“ Kiss. “Weren’t coming back today!“ Deeper kiss.

“I couldn’t miss my first Valentine’s with you, my love.” The deepest kiss of all.

The two of you only stop because his bodyguards are coming into the room after him, with more bags. Your eyes widen as you take in all of them, and your sharp mind has already pieced together what’s going on. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course.” Jumin knows that the way you’re latching onto him with such a tight grip is a more priceless gift than anything in these bags. “Why don’t you open everything? I wish to see your reaction.”

And so you do. The makeup, the shoes, the clothes, the jewelry, the books, the decor, all of fine quality and all things well thought out with your interests in mind. With every single item, no matter how big or small, you gasp, or squeal, or simply smile ever so widely. And without fail, you kiss him right on the lips each time.

Jumin is dizzy only halfway into the opening process—he must start buying you gifts far more often if this is the reward he gets.

However, you see beyond just his outward appearance, and you place the next bag he hands you aside without so much as a glimpse at it before clambering onto his lap. Hands on his cheeks, your thumbs smooth over where he’s sure eyebags are forming. “My poor Juju,” you whisper, “you look really tired, honey.”

Honey, honey, honey. How joyful he feels when you call him honey. “As always, you see right through me. I can’t hide from you, can I?”

“I never want you to hide from me.” A sweet kiss pressed to his cheek makes his stomach jump, like he’s a teenage boy with a crush. “Let’s lay down, shall we? We can finish opening everything afterwards.”

Jumin concedes, rising hand in hand with you until you’re both on the bed, curled up in each other. “What a terrible Valentine’s this turned out to be. I’m sorry, my love.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, kissing him slow, soft and smooth. “What are you talking about? You’re here where I can hold you, we’re both off work, and you’ve gifted me more than anyone else ever has or will in my life.”

“Good,” he says, satisfied that he’s set a standard that no one else can ever match for you. “But is that…enough?”

“Enough?” Your tone is incredulous. “Jumin, just you being here is more than enough. I love you so, so much, and I—“ You cut yourself off, slightly backing up as though you’re trying not to overwhelm him (a ridiculous notion, he would love nothing more than for you to overwhelm his every sense). “I cannot believe how lucky I am to have married you.”

This time he kisses you, the idea of sleep slipping further and further away because really, why should he close his eyes when he can only see you when they’re open? Why should he rob himself of the privilege to gaze upon your lovely face and listen to your quiet, soothing voice? Why should he do anything else, eat or drink or work or play, when he could simply kiss you for the rest of his life?

“I love you,” he breathes, pulling you closer because you simply can never be close enough. “Happy Valentine’s, my precious wife.”

///

Of course, the first time your schedule allows you to accompany him on a business trip he’s ecstatic. Finally a week without the headache of returning to an empty hotel room, and instead what will feel like more of a vacation, especially once he completes the necessary work and the two of you can spend the rest of the days lazing by the beach.

Because of the honeymoon, Jumin had become well acquainted with your fear of flying, and had arranged your seats in his private jet to be close together. As the jet takes off, he holds your hand in his as you squeeze, eyes shut tightly for the takeoff. Reassuringly, he kisses your hand, rubbing the back of it while his other hand strokes Elizabeth the Third’s head through the carrier she’s in. 

“Poor Elizabeth,” you manage to whimper, still looking quite pale even after the takeoff is done, “I hope she doesn’t get airsick.”

“She doesn’t,” Jumin reassures. Elizabeth is used to such flights, unlike you. He’d much rather you focus on your own health right now.

The stewardess for the flight comes through with the cart of food and drinks. “Anything for you, Mr. Han?”

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

“Oh, um…” You smile sheepishly up at her. “Would you happen to have apple juice?”

The woman blinks once, then, as though she’s fighting back a laugh, says, “Apple juice, ma’am?”

“Is that a problem?” Jumin cuts in sharply before you can answer, glaring daggers.

“No, no! O-of course I can give you apple juice, ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend—“

“No offense taken.” Even nauseous and teased, you smile kindly, eyes lighting up when you have your drink. If he remembers correctly, he used to drink apple juice when he would get airsick as a child as well.

When the stewardess leaves, you lean over and press an apple-tasting kiss to his lips, and he catches a few drops of the juice in his mouth. It tastes yummy, or maybe it’s just the taste of you that he likes. 

Probably the latter. Either way, he’s eager to get this vacation started.

///

“I feel so good that you’re here. Thank you so much for coming. I…never want to let you go.”

…

“I’ve trapped you here, haven’t I?” he asks one night, after he thinks you’ve fallen asleep.

You’re wide awake, though, and he feels your lips on his throat as you whisper, “I’ve never once felt trapped with you, Jumin.”

///

You’re a lightweight, and it’s the most adorable thing Jumin has ever seen. Including cat photos. Including Elizabeth the Third. And you don’t realize just how cute you are, which only makes you cuter.

“Juju,” you whine, when he starts to guide you to bed.

“You have to sleep, my dear.” Almost smugly, he places a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Sleep and allow me to take care of you in the morning.”

The protest you seemed to be ready to fire back morphs into a happy giggle as you throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. “I do like when you take care of me.”

“Likewise.”

For some reason, that sends you into more giggles as you press against him. “You talk so smart like. I love when you use big words.”

Biting back a smile, Jumin raises a brow. “Is likewise a big word?”

“Anything is a big word when you say it.” You kiss him softly, sliding your hands in his hair. You love messing up his hair, almost as much as he loves letting you do it. “You’re so smart. So clever. Your brain is like…” To exaggerate your point, you lean your head away, with his hands on your back to keep steady. “Soooo huge.”

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

“Jumin!” Laughing, you hit his shoulder, only for him to tug you in close, making you squeak. The only downside to how well you two know each other now is that he doesn’t get to see your beautifully embarrassed face, but he still gets some wins when he catches you off guard.

“I’m only kidding, my love.” Watching your lips part for him as he leans in, Jumin kisses you this time, gently sucking your lower lip between his teeth. Let no one say he wasn’t out and open with his oral fixation when it came to you. “I’m honored to know you find me intelligent.”

You beam, nearly blinding him with how brilliant your smile is. “Intelligent, and funny. So, so funny. I love your jokes.” Now you turn your cheek, placing sloppy kisses along his jaw. “And handsome. I have the most handsome husband in the world.”

Jumin, only now realizing the difference between being happy and being giddy and knowing he’s both, can only close his eyes, tilting his head back. “Ironic for you to say, considering no one with your beauty has ever existed before nor will exist again.”

The way your cheeks flush make him realize that he, too, must be quite tipsy. Surely his stomach does not flip so violently just to see how your eyes glow at his praise.

“I love you.” You swallow, and he watches the movement of your throat closely. “Do you know how much?”

He exhales, not having realized he inhaled before. “M-more than is reasonable, I presume.”

“A lot more than is reasonable,” you whisper before kissing him again. This one is different, he can tell. Something more desperate. More wanting. More likely to make him lose his mind.

How does he know? It’s because you’re not just kissing him, you’re also borderline riding the knee he’s slotting between your legs. With a whine, you tug on his collar, as though you want him closer. Need him closer. 

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

“Sit on the couch.” The tone with which you beg makes his already hardening cock twitch. “Please, Jumin.”

He obeys—how could he not obey?—and just the sight of you dropping to your knees to unbuckle his pants has him throwing his head back with a lustful groan. How did he get here? How did he get so lucky? 

You kiss the head of his cock, and Jumin is gone.

When you start bobbing your head, eagerly sucking with your eyes closed in concentration, it takes every inch of willpower he has ever had to not cum immediately, so that this can last. With every slow caress of your tongue, he can feel himself getting lost in his own base senses, every coherent thought fading away and leaving only an animalistic need.

“Princess,” he moans, fingers in your hair. His words escape him in a slurred, barely coherent manner. “I, ahh, won’t last—shit—”

Coming inside your warm, wet mouth is not in the top five moments he remembers when he thinks of his favorite times with you, because he likes to think he’s classier than that, but regardless, he’s never going to forget this.

///

Growing up, the one trait that he was always told to avoid and to find disdainful in others was laziness. There is nothing worse than a person who is not efficient. People who waste time just doing simple tasks are not worth his time, he was told.

But surely, surely, that does not apply to you. (Or maybe it’s a silly lesson in the first place, another one to add the list he has started to garner since he married you.)

It does not apply when you have to get up early for work and you sadly try cuddling with him in the five minutes you have left to remain in bed. Most days Jumin leaves before you, pressing a kiss to the lips of the princess in bed before heading out. Your parted lips in sleep do such a number on him that he has to make sure not to linger too long.

Days where your job demands you wake with him are no less enjoyable, and perhaps even more so as he gets to witness your clinginess. Jumin tugs you to the bathroom, where you close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as both of you brush your teeth. When you finally make it to the kitchen, he seats you on the chair by the counter and amuses himself by watching your sleepy eyes follow him while he makes a quick breakfast.

“Maybe I could eat ‘n your lap?” you ask cutely, poking at your scrambled eggs with a fork. 

“My dear,” Jumin answers, intertwining your fingers to kiss the back of your hand, “I would love nothing more, but you will fall asleep again.”

Not even an argument as you nod with a lazy smile, head falling forward on the counter. “I want to fall asleep again. How do you do this every day?”

“It’s what I’ve always done.” He’s finished with his eggs, so he stands, sweeping your hair aside to lean down and press a kiss to your nape. You squeal, squirming away as he catches you and tugs you to him, watching you immediately give up this play fight and snuggle into his chest to catch a bout of standing shut-eye. “Now come, Driver Kim is waiting to drop us both off.”

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

And he feels inordinately pleased with how fast you move after that.

///

The days that he knows you will be at the penthouse when he returns, there’s always an extra breath in his steps, as if the air itself knows he must return home immediately.

Tonight, for example. He has a whole night planned. The two of you would cook the next thing to try on that list of recipes you printed and excitedly taped up in the kitchen, then after dinner he plans to play some soft music and waltz you around the rather spacious living room, and then both of you could go for a swim in the pool, and the night would end with you dozing off in his arms.

A perfect night. The kind he dreams about, the kind that he never can quite believe are real.

When he opens the door, he doesn’t hear any call of his name nor is he tackled in a hug, which only makes his shoulders deflate slightly. Elizabeth the Third softly mrrows at him from where she’s sitting on the couch. Placing a kiss atop her head, he pokes in to check a few rooms, searching for his wife. 

You’re nowhere to be found. The only place left to check is the bedroom. His sweetheart usually doesn’t fall asleep so early, though.

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

With a couple of candles lit up around the room, you sit on the bed, nothing on except the set of lingerie he ordered a few weeks ago at your request, black as the night sky (“because it reminds me of you”). A few pillows support you as you lean back, eyes trained on him. There’s a glass of wine in your hands, and another on the table next to you clearly reserved for him. 

You take a small sip, and some drops purposefully miss your lips and slowly drip down your neck, down over the swell of your breasts.

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

None of his plans end up coming to fruition that night, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

///

(You’ve pointed out how the most random things turn him on—when you wear his clothes, but specifically his striped shirts, when you let him buy something ludicrously expensive for you, when you do simple things to take care of him, when you wait for him at home after work, cat ears—cat ears, cat ears, cat ears!—and the rare moments where he gets to see you pissed off.

But he’d only responded how the things you were into were equally as random—seeing him disheveled after a hard day’s work or a visit to the gym, the way he answered business calls simply by saying Jumin Han speaking, what do you need, and every time you’re naked on his lap while he’s fully clothed. 

Shall I remind you how desperate you get, my dear? he growls into your ear. Your cheeks flush, and Jumin reaches for the ribbon in the drawer, even more impatient than you are.)

///

There are other times where Jumin will arrive home and if you aren’t leaping into his arms, kissing him full on the lips as he spins you around or pins you to the wall depending on the mood, you’re sitting on the couch, typing away on your laptop either for your job or for the RFA.

In those moments, he finds himself easily sliding his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, absolutely reveling in the subconscious way you rub his nape and kiss his hair.

Sometimes you both will exchange stories of your day, expanding on something a phone call simply couldn’t cover or something that perhaps you had wanted to say in person to fully soak in the reaction (you seem to particularly enjoy how he insults the difficult clients you tell him about). Other times, there is a serene silence, only broken by Elizabeth the Third’s purring and the clack of your keyboard keys. 

You smell so good, all the time. He wonders if he should be capitalizing on the perfume you use so that no one else can buy it. That way this scent would solely be yours, just like he is. Something about that idea blooms a warmth in his chest.

The best part of the night comes when you finish, closing the laptop and setting it aside before wrapping your arms around him. “I love you,” you say, only for his ears, just like how your lips are only for his skin, just like how your scent is only for his nose, just like how Jumin is only here to be yours entirely. 

///

In the past, when he’s fallen ill, he’s either ignored it or simply just taken the necessary amount of time to recover. The last time he was pampered like this was as a child by his nannies. And even their doting paled in comparison to yours (but then, didn’t everything, when it came to you).

Because this. This, is heavenly.

Every single ounce of your affection is solely for him. Your soup that you feed him, your fingers stroking his hair, your voice sweetly singing him to sleep. Your lips on his forehead, whispering, “How are you feeling, Juju?” 

Granted, because he’s sick, he can’t fully appreciate it without the feeling that his body is turning against him. But it’s worth it, it’s easily worth it.

So, the day that he wakes up with a low temperature, feeling absolutely fine, he still manages to cough pitifully and throw out the word to Jaehee that he simply has to take another day off.

You have a knowing smile on your face, but when he slips his arms around your waist, with his face buried in your neck, you still hold him just as warmly, and Jumin is so, so, so in love with you. Nothing could possibly stand to be better than this. One hand absentmindedly strokes his hair while you type on your phone with the other hand, communicating with someone from work. 

Your phone starts to ring; he only shifts minimally to get closer as you answer it. “Hey, what’s up?”

He can hear the person who called—it’s one of your friends. “Hey! Check your messages, I won that ukulele I told you I would win last time.”

The sound of your laugh is so melodious, he’d do anything to get drunk on it. “Win another one for me, I’ll hang it up in my closet.”

“Yeah, right.” Your friend snorts. “I wish you were able to come. It’s been so long since we’ve been here.”

“I know, but Jumin really doesn’t feel well. I couldn’t just leave him at home alone.” As though your friend can see, you plant a kiss on his forehead. “We’ll go another time, definitely.”

“I’ll hold you to it. Alright, I have to go. Give the husband all my love, I hope he feels better.”

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

With that, you hang up, resuming the scrolling through your phone and the stroking of his hair. Jumin is still, for good reason. 

You had meant to go out with your friends today. And due to his not-actually-sick state, you had canceled on them.

Hadn’t he told you to put him second to your own self? But he can’t pin this on you, not when he was the one faking. A terrible feeling begins to rise in his chest, causing him to move away from you and stare at you with a guilty expression.

“Is your neck finally tired of…” You trail off when you look at him, furrowing your brows. “What happened?”

“You were meant to go out today.”

A small frown forms on your face. “Um…we made plans, yeah. But you were sick—“

“I wasn’t,” he confesses, ironically sick to his stomach. “I just wanted to take another day off and spend some time with you.”

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

The frown on your face is replaced by a tiny smile, as you tug gently to bring him back into your arms. “You’re not exactly subtle.”

“Yes I am.” He pouts, still upset but more calm now that you don’t seem disappointed. 

“Honey, the one time I kissed your finger after you got a papercut, you somehow got a papercut on every finger the following week.”

Jumin blushes, but you’re not wrong—he just craves your attention. You simply make everything better.

“More importantly,” and now you pull him into your chest, settling back into the same comfortable position with a kiss on his forehead, “I’m faking just as much as you, because I love it when you do things like this. Why would I complain? I get to spend time with you.”

This is what it feels like, Jumin is certain, to be loved. To be cared for and adored so deeply that it leaves an ache in one’s chest. “The next time,” he murmurs, as your hand finds purchase in his hair once more, “The next time you would like to go out to an amusement park with your friends, please let me know. I can buy it out for the day.” A thoughtful pause. “Or forever.”

Another soft kiss, he’s tempted to keep going, to make more and more outrageous promises just to earn each and every press of your lips to his skin. “My friends will appreciate that. I think the park is already owned by C&R, actually.” You chuckle. “Some fast passes though? I wouldn’t say no.”

Fast passes? He’ll ask you what in the world those are just as soon as he finishes kissing you (something a fake sick person can, thankfully, afford to do).

///

A soft knock on the door. 

“Mother?” He makes sure to keep his voice to a polite volume. “I’ve played with all my toys. May I please come out now?”

Silence. 

Jumin clears his throat, trying his best not to look behind him, just three steps down. It’s dark down there, and he knows it is not logical to be afraid of the dark, but even the logic does little to quell the growing fear inside him. 

“Mother? It…it has been a few hours now.” Fourteen hours, he counted on the tiny clock that ticks a little too loudly in the basement. “May I please be let out? I’m starting to get hungry.”

That’s a lie, but he doesn’t think she’ll know. The truth is he began to get hungry hours ago, and is now close to starving. As if on cue, his stomach growls. 

Jumin knocks again, the dread he feels growing with every second. “Please, Mother, I’ll be good. I’ll play with my toys. I’ll be normal. Please let me out.”

None of it makes any sense to him. In all the books he reads, none of the mothers lock their sons up in the basement. But then maybe none of the sons are as strange and abnormal as he is. They didn’t need to be locked up like he did. 

Still, even if he deserves this, the loneliness is starting to scare him.

“Please.” Childish tears start to prick at his eyes. “Mother? I don’t want to be here anymore. I’m sorry. I’ll do better, I promise.”

The only response he gets is the silence, beckoning him to come back to the darkness where he belongs. With a trembling lip, he turns to face it once more.

The doorknob jiggles.

He whips his head back, not daring to believe it. Is this punishment finally over? 

The first thing he’s going to do after he eats is call Jihyun, ask him if he’d like to go to the park nearby. Anything to go outside, in the light, with other people. 

Except, to his horror, when the door finally opens, it’s not his mother standing at the top, but his stepmother.

“No,” Jumin whispers, stumbling back. He misses one step and trips, hands on the cement floor as he stares, terrified, at the woman. “Please, no. Where’s Mother?”

The woman at the top laughs, a sound that seems to make others happy but only serves to suffocate him further. He’ll choose to stay in the darkness for a hundred more hours before going upstairs to see her. “What’s this? Another woman in your life, Jumin? What a lady killer!”

He shakes his head desperately, as though to tell her that there’s no one, there’s no need for her to get possessive.

It doesn’t work. 

“I’m your mother, Jumi.” He hates that nickname. “Shouldn’t you spend more time with me? You know I love our time together. I know you love it too.”

No, no, no, no, no. He’s on his feet in an instant, scrambling back away from her as fast as possible. His back hits the shelf, no longer a child but an adult, and yet still equally as pathetic.

“Your father doesn’t even pay attention to me anymore. You’re all I have, Jumi.” Her eyes turn cold. “But it looks like you’ve found someone else, haven’t you? You’ve replaced me so easily.”

Now her gaze is focused somewhere else. Jumin follows it, peers through the darkness, only to see…

You.

Relief floods his chest all at once. You are his solace, to hold close and worship. You are the only person to ever understand him, to love him without hurting him. You have accepted him no matter how much he’s shown you that he doesn’t deserve any of your care. As long as you are by his side, he can face anything.

“Jumin.” Even his name sounds so much nicer coming from you. Everything and everyone else seems to melt away.

He takes one step towards you.

You speak again, but it doesn’t sound the same this time.

“Jumin.” Now that he can see your face properly, you look…angry. “Don’t come any closer.”

Immediately, he stops, and that sharp fear grips his throat, squeezing.

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

The words spit out of you like a spear, hitting him right in the center. 

It can’t be you talking. You don’t say things like that. You always tell him you love him, that you understand him, that you adore him.

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

Tears begin to spill from his eyes. You stand before him, his heart in your hands, and you look at him with such disgust that he hopes the darkness in here opens up and swallows him.

“I’m leaving,” you say firmly, “don’t follow me.”

“Please,” he gasps, shakily reaching a hand out. “Please don’t leave me here, my love.”

But you don’t listen. You step up the stairs, grip the door, and with one last look of vitriol, you slam it shut, damning him to the darkness forever.

Jumin wakes with a gasp that’s really a sob, head jerking up and slamming against yours.

“Ah!” You grip your forehead, wincing in pain from your position above him. “Ow ow ow, that hurt!”

Like he’s in auto mode, Jumin sits up, touching your cheek with a terrified expression. “I’m so sorry, my love, let me call the doctor. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I’m fine.” You wince again, rubbing your forehead. “It’ll probably bruise later, but I can deal with it.”

He hurt you. He hurt you.

But you don’t have any of the hate that your dream counterpart did in her eyes. Instead, yours are filled with concern, and you cup his cheeks with such gentleness that he closes his eyes, immediately melting in your hands.

“Were you having a nightmare?” You kiss his forehead. “You were tossing and turning and mumbling in your sleep.”

As much as he wants to bask in your worry for centuries, it doesn’t stop the guilt that threatens to spill. “I apologize for waking you, my love. And for hitting you. I—I was having a nightmare, yes, but I’m alright now.”

“Jumin.”

“If you’d like, I can make some tea for you to help you go back to sleep—“

“Jumin.” Your lips are on his forehead again. “You’re crying, sweetheart.”

So he is. It’s strange he didn’t realize, but there are indeed tears wetting his cheeks. He opens his eyes to meet your gaze, looking at him so sincerely and with such care that this time he actually feels the tears pour down.

“Oh,” you breathe, brows meeting in concern. Your thumbs wipe his tears away diligently, and your lips begin to kiss every spot you wipe. Jumin trembles under your touch, hating himself for being so pathetic in front of you and simultaneously considering crying forever so that you stay here forever too. “What is it, honey? Please tell me how I can help.”

He wants to. But all he can manage to do is grip the back of your shirt in his hands, bury his face in your shoulder, and sob.

Not even for a second do you let him go. He doesn’t know how long he stays in your arms, seconds, minutes or hours. He cries, and cries, and cries, until his eyes feel swollen. and all the while your hand strokes his hair, your lips kiss his cheek, and your voice comes out in soothing whispers.

It’s okay. 

I’m right here, I’m here for you. 

You have me forever. 

We’re going to get through this.

I promise I’ll stay with you as long as you want.

Even though he hasn’t told you what his nightmare was about, you still somehow know exactly what to say. 

Even when he finally tires himself out, Jumin can’t stand the thought of not being held by you. He’s never felt this safe, this protected, in his entire life. He continues to grip your shirt tightly, breathing in and out, chest heaving. Any second now, he thinks. Any second now, you’re going to pull away and see how awful he is when he clings to you again, like a child.

You do no such thing. Instead, you lean back against the headboard, gently guiding his head to rest on your chest. It’s not the most comfortable position, but he shifts so that he’s sitting curled into you and pulls you forward gently to place a pillow behind your back. This way, he can hear your heartbeat.

And it’s that steady rhythm that makes his eyes start to droop.

But if he falls asleep again, he risks having another nightmare.

“Sleep,” you murmur, kissing his temple. Jumin’s eyes close on instinct. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The promise knocks him right out.

///

When he wakes, you’ve kept your promise, and you’re in the same unfortunate position, head lulled to the side as you snooze. 

An indescribable feeling settles upon him. It’s not just one feeling, in fact, but multiple. Guilt, because he forced you to sleep like this throughout the night. Gratitude, because he’s pretty sure he’s in the arms of an angel sent from above. And most importantly, he feels white hot love, because he has clearly married the only person in this world worth a damn.

And as much as he wants to stay like this, he knows that will surely not bode well for the chiropractor appointment he plans to schedule for you. So Jumin slips out of your embrace gently, taking good care to lay your head down on the pillow. With you picturesque in front of him, he places a kiss on your forehead, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Ju,” you mumble in your sleep. Your hand seems to reach for something, stopping when he intertwines his fingers with yours.

An angel, indeed.

Jumin gets up fully, taking the time to brush his teeth and freshen up before going into the kitchen to whip something up for breakfast. He wasn’t expected at the office until after lunch, so he had time to really make something nice. Chocolate chip pancakes, instead of his usual strawberry.

As he makes the batter, he thinks. Last night was…an anomaly. There should be no reason for him to dream of people that no longer matter anymore. His present is the most important, and his present is, thanks to you, leagues and leagues ahead of his past anyway. He wants to forget it all, forget his mother and stepmother and even Sarah Choi, who, while she hadn’t made an appearance last night, had been in his nightmares more than once, in a bleak alternate reality where he actually married her.

But he knows who he really married. It’s the person whose arms are sneaking around his waist right now. You.

“Morning.” Your voice is exceedingly pleasant, especially when it’s cooed in his ear. “You’re going in late, right?”

“Yes.” He places a kiss on the back of your hand, pressing his lips to each knuckle. “And you, my princess?”

“All from home today, my prince.”

Inwardly, he feels a quick twinge of irritation. “I wish I could spend the whole day with you. I should call out.”

“I’m never going to dissuade you of that.” You kiss him right on the nape of his neck; Jumin shudders. “But it’s up to you.”

“I’ll end up burning these pancakes if you keep distracting me.”

“Maybe that’s what I want.” Your laugh is so pretty, he thinks, and he didn’t think he could describe laughter as pretty before you. “Um, before I get too off topic…don’t you think we should talk, Jumin?”

He knew you weren’t going to simply forget the fact that he had cried himself back to sleep last night. Luckily, before you’d woken, he’d already prepared for such a scenario.

“I apologize for disrupting your sleep. I had a disturbing dream, but it will not happen again.”

For a second, he thinks it’s enough to stop you from asking any further questions, up until he feels your arms slide out from under him. The next thing he knows, you’re turning off the stove before he can start on the next batch of pancakes. 

Then, you’re gently turning him so he’s facing you, looking at you right in the eye. Jumin has seen that look before. It’s way too determined for even his stubborn nature, and it always comes out when you’re about to do whatever you want (a rare delight, given your selfless nature, but one he enjoys every time).

Your hands loop around his neck, and you kiss his cheek. Jumin closes his eyes as you speak softly. “Won’t you tell me what’s bothering you, love?”

It’s amazing that you think anything could bother him when you’re this close, calling him that. 

“Just a nightmare,” he says softly, but you clearly don’t buy it.

“I have nightmares too, it’s very rare that one of them affects me that much after I wake up.”

“A bad nightmare.”

The other version of you flashes in his head again. You’re fucked up, Jumin. But she’s not you, and even though he thinks for a terrible second that you’re going to shove him away, you pull him in for a hug instead, warm and welcoming and cozy. The scent of your nameless-brand shampoo fills his senses—it makes him desperately want to go back to bed.

“Please,” you breathe on his neck. “That’s what you were saying last night. Please, Mother. Please, no. Please, don’t leave me.” 

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

“Please talk to me, Jumin,” you plead. “Please.”

Somehow, he has to keep from crying this time. How pathetic can one man be? But he also has to acquiesce to your request, because you’re you, and he cannot deny you no matter how hard he tries. If you want him bare, you shall have him bare. If you want him destroyed, he will destroy himself in an instant. 

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

Not wanting the kitchen, where you and him cook together and laugh together (and a couple other things too), to become associated with these tainted memories, he guides you to the couch, hands holding yours. You promptly get into your favorite position, on his lap with your knees on each side. With a sigh, he rests his head on your shoulder, the fabric of your shirt seemingly smoothing out the creases in his forehead.

Your lips on his skin and your whispered words of encouragement give him a courage he wasn’t aware he possessed. Jumin talks.

“You have not met my mother yet. There is…good reason for that. A week before our wedding, she sent me the profile of a woman she wanted me to marry. I refused, of course. But that is the first time she has reached out to me in years.” He clears his throat. “She and I did not have a pleasant relationship. I think some part of me was very disappointing to her, because instead of giving her the true challenge of parenthood I molded to exactly what she wanted me to be. She recognized that I was…abnormal.”

In the span of a few seconds, your eyes have hardened more than he’s ever seen them harden before. This isn’t determined. This isn’t even pissed. This is raw anger.

“Abnormal?” There’s a bite to your words. “Is that her way of saying she was blessed with an intelligent, kind child?”

“You are kind,” Jumin whispers, cupping your chin to press a short kiss to your lips. “As a child, I was perhaps more robotic than I am now. I took to the world of business rather quickly.”

“You were brilliant, Jumin. Were and still are.”

If he kisses you after your every reassurance, the two of you will never leave this couch (not that he necessarily minds that idea). The more disturbing risk is that he will break down in front of you, if he starts elaborating, not to mention when he begins to talk about his stepmother as well.

But that’s a risk that Jumin can now accept. He understands now, that he hasn’t known love before you, and that there will be a great many times he will feel afraid, but he also knows that there is no one in the world he trusts more. 

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

The face you make when you orgasm—eyes shut, mouth open in a silent scream, head thrown back—is the most beautiful thing he’s seen in his life. He considers spending eternity with his head between your legs, recklessly licking you to completion again and again.

The sounds you make—God. They have him rolling his hips against the sheets, so close to finishing just from your taste. It’s an obsession now, one that’s been growing ever since you two were married. A stressful day or a bad meeting or even projects being set back for whatever reason, Jumin can get all that frustration out as long as you allow him to spread your legs and devour you. As long as you squeal on his tongue, make a mess of his face, cum on his lips once or twice or more. He only stops when you beg him to. 

He could taste you forever.

But he reconsiders this commitment after he experiences the feeling of you coming on his cock once more.

A choked cry escapes him when he feels your walls clench around him. For a second, he can’t move, too lost in the way your eyes roll back and your nails dig into his skin. It’s the most pleasurable pain he’s ever had the fortune of experiencing.

“Ju-min,” you whine, legs clasping around his waist as he continues to thrust lazily, seeking his own release, “more, please.”

It really is always nice to know that he’s not the only one affected, enthralled and addicted to this madness.

///

Returning home to silence is still better than returning home to the sound of soft crying.

Jumin is on high alert in an instant, not bothering to take his suit or even his shoes off. You’re curled up on the couch, wiping your cheeks aggressively when you catch sight of him.

“J-Jumin, I didn’t hear you come in. Um…” You swallow, dried tears still obvious on your face. “I haven’t made anything, let me call the chef.”

He crosses the rug over to you almost blindly. There’s nothing else in his head, only you—your tears—you’re crying—you’re crying and he wasn’t here. His hands cup your face, wiping another fresh tear that rolls down your cheek as you look up at him, shaking.

“Who did it?” There’s a white-hot anger pulsing inside of him. He never sees you cry. “Tell me who I need to kill.”

A soft gasp escapes you, and you shake your head frantically as he sinks to his knees, taking your hands in his own and pressing reverent kisses to your knuckles. “N-no one did anything—I promise I’m fine, h-honey, please get up—“

Your laptop is set to the side, but the only thing on it is an email draft, giving him no clues at all. The last thing he desires is for you to have to recount that which distresses you, but he wants, needs, to ensure that you never get upset again.

“My love,” he swears, pressing his palms to yours, “please, tell me what happened. Was it something I did? One of the employees in the building?”

You whisper frantically, “No,” but even as you do another fresh wave of tears drip down your face.

Jumin wants to scream, wants to hurt someone, whoever is responsible, but he’s helpless, and so he lets intuition guide him, rising up until he’s next to you on the couch, and he’s pulling you in.

With a firm grip on his suit, you bury your face in his chest, shoulders shaking. In this moment, he recalls the predicament from that night, when the roles were reversed. How you’d simply let him cry, and held him all the while. Is he capable of…can he possibly bring you the same peace you bring him? Could you allow him to comfort you in the same way?

No matter what, he’s going to try. Anything for you.

Placing a kiss to your hair, he tightens his arms around you and murmurs sweet nothings, making sure you hear all of them. Everything from you’re the strongest person i know to i’m here for you, my love, i’ll be with you till the end of time.

“It’s just so much,” you finally hiccup, sniffing, “I’m busy all the time, they dump every project on me, I never get a chance to just take some time for myself and breathe! I’m always on some call, writing some email, visiting some area, I just want it all to stop. And you’re busier than me, and you do it so effortlessly, I can’t imagine how pathetic I must look compared to you.”

“You’re worth a hundred of me.” His voice is fierce, and he meets your eyes with his entire honest conviction. “Nothing about you is pathetic. You…you’re hardworking, you’re talented, you’re brave, and you’re the kindest person I know. I do not deserve you. I’ve never deserved you.”

“Please don’t say that,” you whimper, face still wet. He squeezes you tighter.

“I apologize. This isn’t about me. You need a break, sweetheart. Please, just request a week or at least a day off.”

“Jumin, I can’t—”

“I’ll request off too. Whenever you get a break, I’ll schedule one at the same time, and then I’ll take you wherever you desire, or we can simply spend it in the penthouse, and lay in bed all day. Or I could buy your company,” he half threatens, half jokes.

You let out a weak laugh, sinking into him, but he feels the tension in your shoulders release just slightly. Placing a kiss at the top of your head, he quickly texts for the chef to come by within the next hour, then tosses his phone aside to hold you better, which is when he catches sight of your own phone. On the screen is an image of the chatroom—a screenshot, he realizes, since his own messages are in it and he hasn’t been on the messenger today.

Your gaze follows his, and a slight smile finally forms on your face. “Messages from when we first met. Ah, the day I came to your apartment, I think.”

Oh, no. To put it lightly, those days were not a good time for him (although he’d never say such a thing, because he finds it cruel to say that some of the hardest days of his life included the one where he met the most wonderful woman in the world). Heaven knows what foolish things he’d said, he’s tried to block out most of the times that didn’t include the sight of you in front of him.

“They calm me down,” you admit softly, “the screenshots I have. I’m glad I took them, I have almost a hundred pictures that remind me of all the butterflies I would get when I talked to you. Knowing you’re my husband is the biggest calm of the storm.” Your cheeks are still stained with tears, but in your eyes is a newfound admiration as you and him look at each other, as though you have all the time in the world.

Jumin’s heart seizes.

“I’ll request a week off.” You reach up, a thumb on his cheek. “Thank you, Jumin.”

Surely, he thinks, being needed by you is the best experience of all.

///

“Thank you.” Your voice breaks the silence, muffled on his skin. “For letting me love you, and for loving me.”

Your husband kisses you, impatient as always, and you adore it.

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

[xelasrecords]

I requested this because I'm not very good at writing the reader being comforted I don't know how to let myself be comforted so your writing came through like a warm soft hug. The clumsiness in not knowing what to do, defaulting to money and yet still trying to do what we ask for is so Jumin. I was also excited that you included bits of personal characteristics that I can relate to! Working on the laptop at home and COLOURFUL SHOES, they're me coded. Thank you.

Congrats for reaching 300 follower milestone! Truly happy for you Faye. For the prompt, I'm requesting Jumin + gummies please!

Thank you, Xela! I appreciate you so much <333

Slots still open for the milestone event!

✧Gummies ~ Comforting someone

There are few limits to Jumin’s capabilities. His money, his intellect, his influence are all things that allow him to navigate the world in a way few others can, and it’s something he is well aware of. He enjoys a certain level of control over his life that others do not. When he proposed to you and offered you the world, he meant it.

So, when he comes home after work one day to find you upset by something, he is ready to deliver on that promise.

On the outside, everything looks normal. You greet him with your same smile, ask him the same questions you usually do about his day, but he can tell that you’re just going through the motions, pushing aside your feelings to not worry him. When he goes to the bedroom to change and freshen up before dinner, you don’t follow him as you usually do so you can keep chatting.

Left to his own devices, Jumin starts running through the different approaches he can take to help cheer you up. He might not know what it is that’s plaguing you, but he has several people on call who could be helpful. He has always been complimented on his problem-solving skills. It’s a simple process to him: lay out the problem clearly and tackle it piece by piece. There isn’t anything out of his reach.

It’s that mentality that he keeps in mind as he returns to the living room. If he can, he’d like to take your pain into his hands and make it disappear as quickly as possible. You shouldn’t have to deal with anything unpleasant.

You’re tucked up in a corner of the sofa, still silent. He hates that he can feel the absence of you in the penthouse, even as you’re still here. One of the first differences he noticed when you moved in with him is that you brought so much life into his home. It was partly him getting used to living with another person and partly his own emotions changing the way he perceived things. Since living with you, everything has felt warmer, more alive. Your presence is felt in the music that always seems to be playing, in the quiet tap tap tapping of your keyboard when you're busy or the extra colourful pairs of shoes left haphazardly next to his. On days like this, though, it seems like all that life disappears with you, leaving the penthouse feeling cavernous and empty.

Even though he made no effort to be quiet when entering the living room, you haven’t moved an inch. He comes around the sofa to kneel in front of you, so he can look at your face properly.  

“Darling, you’re uncharacteristically quiet today. Is there something bothering you?”

You sit still for a few seconds, and he wonders if you’ve heard him, but then you slowly nod your head, like you're coming out of a reverie. 

“I thought so. What can I do to fix it? Ask anything of me, my love, let me be useful.”

He pulls out his phone, ready to start making calls, but you reach out for his hand and hold it still in yours.  

“Jumin wait - that’s… not what I need.”

“Oh?” He asks, perplexed. There isn’t anybody else around the building at this time of the night that might be able to help.

You squeeze his hand, and he looks at you again. You look so tired, so different from your usual self, it sends a pang of worry through him.   

“Can you just stay here with me for a little while?”

That’s it. It’s so simple it catches him off guard for a second. But he is not one to deny you anything, so he sits next to you on the sofa hesitantly. He opens his arms to you, and you settle into his embrace.

“This is all I can do for you? Are you sure?”

 He feels you nod against his chest. “I know that this feels futile to you, Jumin, but yes.”

He chuckles. “It’s like you can read my mind sometimes. There is so much I can offer you, and this is all you ask for?”

“You’re all I need.”

He isn’t sure what to reply, becoming acutely aware of a fluttering in his chest. You have this way of surprising him that he is sure he’ll never get used to. Even in these quiet moments, the simplest phrases from you have the ability to catch him off guard.

He tightens his arms around you. If this is what makes you feel better, he’ll make sure to hold you close for as long as you need him to, even if he doesn’t understand it.

For a while, you stay together that way in silence, just enjoying each other’s warmth.

Comforting people has never come easily to Jumin, though not for lack of care or trying. He cares deeply for the people around him, it only seems like they speak different languages sometimes. For all his strengths, this weakness is one he's insecure about. As much as he likes holding you close, feeling your steady breaths against his body, he wonders if it could possibly be enough, if somebody else couldn't do a better job.

Eventually, you break the silence, derailing his train of thought.

“Do you remember the threads?” You ask.

The threads. The name be had given to the tangled mess of repressed emotions that he had suffered under for most of his life. Until he found the courage to open up to you, and you welcomed his vulnerability with open arms.

“I do,” he answers, wondering where your line of questioning is going.

“Do you remember how we got through that?”

He thinks for a moment, before replying, “It was all you. I was lost in the tangled mess and you came and saved me.”

“I didn’t, darling. You were always capable of getting yourself out of that place. All you needed was some empathy and support. You’re the one who untangled the mess in your mind, all I did was hold your hand.”

He goes quiet. You continue.

"I appreciate how much you want to help me, but sometimes I don’t need things to be solved for me, I just need someone to hold my hand and endure it with me,” you continue.

It feels too easy. At the same time, he remembers those early days of emotional turmoil he experienced the first time the two of you met. The things that endeared you to him first were your patience, your refusal to mock him whenever he showed any sign of emotion. Your hand in his, reminding him that you always were - still are - there for him. It meant more than he could put into words.

“In that case, I’m here to endure," he says. It's something he'll do gladly for you, as many times as you need him. "...as long as you promise to also tell me when you have a problem that I can throw my money at.”

This earns him a quiet laugh, the kind that makes him feel all warm inside. He wonders if it’s wishful thinking, or you’re already sounding a bit better.

“Deal."

[mystic-headcanons]

masterlist

updated: 12/18/23

RFA

the RFA at the eras tour

what their favorite taylor swift album is

jumin, zen, and jihyun with an mc who dies before they can confess

the rfa getting jealous of someone flirting with mc

with an mc who is stressed

with a short mc

what the rfa first noticed about you

holding their child for the first time

rfa getting jealous and clingy

with an insecure mc

rfa + their ideal partner

jaehee, jumin, & the choi twins' preferred cuddling positions

with a trans ftm mc

an oblivious mc

the rfa wants you to take care of urself!!!!

hanahaki disease

insecure/jealous mc

what if rika grew up with yoosung?

seven / saeyoung choi

707 angst

insecure 707

707 comfort

zen / hyun ryu

mc making it to his dimension

with an introverted mc

comforting a chubby mc

jaehee kang

soft jaehee

sleepover turned romantic

jumin han

mc accidentally saying 'i love you'

mc making it to his dimension

oblivious to their feelings

with an mc who doesn't do relationships

first kiss (lightly nsfw?)

autism headcanons

jumin han learning he's autistic through mc

more autistic jumin hcs

more autistic jumin &lt;3

unknown / saeran choi

hurt/comfort with saeran

saeran helping mc with halloween costume

better

yoosung kim

nervous mc and yoosung first kiss

mc feels guilty about him losing an eye

jihyun kim / v

mc proposing to v

v with an autistic mc

[yoosungisbabie]

no one above you - day one

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: T

prompt: Serbian bellflower - everlasting love, gratitude, constancy

warnings: mentions of housefire, slight angst♡

word count: 3.6k

ao3 link

MC trusts Jumin with her life. Right?

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

MC pulled the key out of the lock finally, sighing and making a mental note to talk to her landlord about it. She’d been struggling to unlock it for a little over a week at that point.

Stepping out of her shoes, she pulled her hair from its updo and set her bag down. Another interview down, and she was really hoping that they would hire her.

Once she had changed into something more comfortable, she switched on her laptop to check her emails for the RFA party coming up. Her heart fell as she saw the subject line of her most recent email.

After much convincing, she’d convinced the owner of an up-and-coming ramen chain, Mr. Seo, to attend the party. She’d been so proud of herself, and the whole RFA had praised her when she’d bragged about it in the chatroom.

“There’s nothing more to say, see for yourself…what?” she read aloud to herself, clicking on the attachment from the owner. Inside was an email sent to Mr. Seo earlier that morning, and as she began to read, her mouth fell open in shock.

“My fiancé is too shy to admit it, but your attendance at our fundraiser would be disgraceful. Please consider this a revocation of your invitation.” Her eyes widened as she looked to see who the email was from, finding Jumin Han signed at the bottom.

Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and disbelief, but there was no denying that the email address was the one he used for business purposes. Could someone have hacked his account?

She put her head in her hands, sighing out in exasperation. Why did this keep happening?

Over the last six months, MC felt as if she couldn’t escape the bad luck that was finding her. It began with little things. Her apartment window shattering at 3 in the morning, losing her favorite bracelet, or finding a nail in her tire two weeks in a row.

It soon turned into bigger things that ruined not only her day but her week or even her month. She was fired from her job of three years because someone made up a story that she had threatened them with violence. Multiple party guests all decided to pull out at the same time. The worst was when someone forged a note from Jumin to her landlord saying that he was a crook and shouldn’t manage an apartment complex. Jaehee was still having that investigated.

She had been through three cars in the last six months, having had her catalytic converter stolen, her fuel line slashed, and discovering her brakes had rusted through. If she hadn’t had Jumin to help her make ends meet when she couldn’t, she wouldn’t have known what to do.

Thinking about all these things, she closed her laptop, not even going to bother trying to convince the party guest that there had been a misunderstanding. Just like with the note to her landlord, she didn’t believe for one second that Jumin would do such a thing. But her stomach was tied in a strange knot, one she couldn’t seem to untangle even with reason. She tried to convince herself that he must have been hacked, but she still reached for her phone and dialed his number.

She heard the phone ring not even once fully before it went to voicemail, and she pulled her phone back to stare at it in disbelief. As her unease grew, she checked to see if she’d gotten any texts from him before calling Jaehee next.

MC was holding her breath, happily releasing it after Jaehee answered almost immediately.

“Thank go-”

“I’m sorry, MC, can I call you back? Mr. Han and I are about to meet with the Chairman,” Jaehee spoke quickly, and MC’s smile fell.

“Oh, yes,” she replied, about to add that it was urgent before Jaehee abruptly hung up. Despite the momentary relief, the call brought her no peace of mind. She began a text to Jumin, but after a pause, she stood from her couch and grabbed her purse.

It was a brisk 15-minute walk to Jumin’s apartment, and she couldn’t keep her mind from running. She tried to scan the previous night for anything she’d done wrong while she’d been visiting him. When she found nothing, she thought back further, coming up short again. If Jumin was upset with her, she wouldn’t have known without the email from the guest. But was he upset with her? Was she overthinking it? Her mind was in a dizzying mess by the time she walked into the lobby of his apartment.

The attendant in the elevator gave her a strange look but still managed to smile at her. She was hoping her nerves would calm if she could get up there to his penthouse and just wait for him there. Elizabeth the 3rd would help her settle down too. She considered going straight to his office, but if he was meeting with his father, it was for something important that she didn’t want to interrupt.

Stepping off the elevator at the top floor, she nearly breezed past the guards as she always did.

“Ms. MC,” the taller one called. She turned to look at him – Juwon, if she remembered right – expecting the usual smile and finding a tight-lipped expression instead. Her stomach turned, wishing she’d thought of the possibility of being stopped there.

“Yes?” she wondered, turning to face the two of them.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you through at the moment,” Juwon replied, narrowing his eyes at her.

What?

“I understand,” she said after a moment, swallowing thickly and trying to think on her toes. “I just, I–” She choked on her words, pretending to clear her throat.

“I forgot my medication here last night again, and it’s really important I take it on time,” she said gently, lying through her teeth but finding it felt necessary in that moment. The guards’ expressions flickered, and they glanced at each other in hesitation.

“You can follow me inside if you’d like. I swear I’ll be less than a minute,” she offered, smiling at the both of them. “Just close the door if you see the cat,” she teased, finally bringing a smile to Juwon’s lips.

“Alright, but less than a minute is what we’ll stick with,” he said, nodding at the other guard to remain put as he moved towards her. She smiled, relieved.

“Thank you,” she breathed, knowing that he couldn’t get into the penthouse without a special code from Jumin or his father that changed every 10 minutes. She would be safe there for the time being.

They approached the door, and she pressed her thumb to the touchpad, feeling the relief wash out of her when the panel flashed red. She tried her thumbprint again, taking a shallow breath to try and calm herself. Her access had worked just last night! What had–

“Hey,” she heard behind her, turning to see the head of security, Mr. Jung, stepping off the elevator. Following him were four more guards, ones she’d never met before. She whipped around and tried to get in one more time, gritting her teeth when NOT AUTHORIZED popped up for the third time.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Mr. Jung said as he walked up to her, and she raised an eyebrow at him. His expression was stern, not the warm, friendly one she was used to.

“Why? What’s going on?” she wondered, feeling as if she was running out of options.

“Direct orders from Mr. Han,” he replied coldly, making her heart drop against her lungs and knock the wind out of her. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, her vision spinning for a second before she felt a hand on her wrist. She twisted out of it, glaring up at him and holding back tears.

“I know the way out,” she sneered, pushing past them and stalking over to the stairwell that led back down. She trudged down a few flights in silence before she sat down, letting a few tears fall before pulling out her phone. No notifications from Jaehee, and none from Jumin either. Ignoring the way her hands had begun to shake, she navigated to that floor’s elevator and took it down, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

Just before MC could lift her arm to hail a cab outside, her phone rang in her hand. She lifted it to her face in a panic, praying it was Jumin but frowning when it was just her landlord. She thought about declining the call, but she decided to pick up, having let the only cab in sight fly past her.

“Hello?” she answered, being met with the wail of sirens and a slew of curses.

“Get yo– Here now! Your apartment– fire!” she heard, shaking her head in disbelief.

“What?” she yelled, her eyes wide as she stared at the ground and waited for a reply.

“Get here now!” she heard, pulling the phone away from her ear. Swallowing her growing anxiety, she waved down the next cab and headed for home, hoping that today wouldn’t get any worse.

When she arrived and saw the firetruck, she felt the tears threatening to fall again, running through the lobby towards the stairs. She could smell the smoke already. Her landlord was standing in front of the elevator, and a whole new fire was set ablaze in his eyes when he caught sight of her.

“This better be a joke,” he growled, pointing a finger at her.

“What is going on?” she demanded, glancing at the people in the lobby who were coughing.

“I’d love to know! You can tell me exactly why your apartment went up in flames,” he replied icily, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at her. She felt dizzy, shaking her head.

“You’re kidding,” she said weakly, thinking of all of the damage she’d have to deal with.

“I wish I was!” he exclaimed, cursing at her before a firefighter walked up breathlessly.

“It was the stove,” he explained, looking between the both of them and making alarm bells ring in her head. The landlord shot her a deadly glare before stepping aside to speak more with the man. She took wavering steps towards the couch in the lobby, seeing her neighbor Jiuen and rushing over quickly.

“Jiuen,” she sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. Jiuen turned and looked at her with wide eyes before hugging her from where she sat on the couch.

“MC! Thank God you’re okay,” she whimpered, shaking her head against MC’s stomach. “They didn’t know if you were in there or not when the fire started.” MC patted her head, not feeling like providing much comfort at the moment.

“Are you okay?” she wondered quietly, feeling her neighbor nod and hearing her sniffle in reply.

“I saw people at your door a little while before it all started and figured someone had come to get you, but the firefighters were scaring me because they didn’t know if they’d find a body in there–”

“What?” she interrupted, watching Jieun lift her head and pull away from the hug.

“Yeah, a ton of guys in suits,” she shrugged, wiping her eyes. “Did Jumin call and say he stopped by? I didn’t have time to go out there and say hi,” she wondered. MC balled her hands in fists, pressing her nails deep into her palms to keep her tears in.

“Thanks for worrying, Jieun,” she whispered, turning around and walking back out of the apartment building.

—

MC rolled over achily, reaching over to turn off her alarm and sigh. After getting a hotel room last night, she had crashed, exhausted and numb from all that had happened. She squinted at the light coming in through the blinds, picking up her phone and glancing at all her notifications.

Jumin had called her multiple times, Jaehee had as well, and the text notification bubble didn’t even have a number on it anymore.

She began to scroll through Jaehee’s first, sighing at all the questions and worry as she read backward to the previous night.

“The Chairman never showed up. I apologize for the wait.” She sighed, pulling up Jumin’s text and feeling her heart begin to ache at the worry. She was fuming mad, but seeing him so helpless wasn’t comforting.

A similar text to Jaehee’s caught her eye, making her tired brain finally start to wake up.

“My father missed our meeting. He’s never done that before.”

MC stared at the text, pressing her lips together.

Jumin’s father had never approved of their relationship. From the moment Jumin proposed at the party, he’d never once given her a smile that was real. She could see the hatred behind it, no matter how much he thought he was hiding it.

She pushed the thought away, reminding herself that Jumin was who she was upset with. Right?

The harder she thought about it, the more doubtful she became. Jumin had never done anything malicious to her, and she found it hard to believe that he could.

Sitting up from when she lay, she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She was going to put an end to whatever was going on.

Having been so out of it last night, she hadn’t realized she’d gotten a hotel close to Jumin’s apartment. The morning air was nice and refreshing on her skin as she stepped outside and began walking, her thoughts swirling in confusion and anger.

When she reached the lobby of his building, she noticed the security guards at the entrance. She walked back around the corner, chewing on her bottom lip as she took a deep breath and put her faith in her fiancé.

She waited through half a ring before Jumin answered her call, a deep exhale leaving him.

“My love,” he breathed in relief. She held back a larger smile, feeling the way her muscles relaxed at the sound of his voice.

“I’m here, Jumin,” she replied, looking around the corner at the door.

“My door is always open,” he said after a pause, sounding slightly confused. She leaned against the wall, shaking her head.

“Not for me,” she said quietly, waiting for him to respond but hearing silence.

“Where?” was all he asked, and she glanced upwards towards the top floor, knowing what he was asking.

“The lobby,” she answered, hearing rustling before the line went dead. She pressed her lips together, watching the guards as her heartbeat began to accelerate.

After a long minute and a half, she saw the guards turn to look further into the lobby, their shoulders tensing. She took that as her sign, and she started towards the entrance, nearly tripping over her own feet.

She could hear Jumin’s voice and many footsteps on the fancy tile as the doors slid open, their eyes meeting as she spotted him paces from the elevator.

“Mr. Han,” the head of security warned, following after him as Jumin strode towards her.

“MC,” Jumin called. She almost was able to smile in reply before two guards stepped in front of her, and she was walking so fast that she barrelled into one of them, stumbling to steady herself.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jumin boomed, and she peeked over the shoulders of the guards to see who it was directed at. Mr. Jung came up to Jumin’s side, his eyes meeting her fiancé’s gaze apprehensively.

“Ms. MC has been trespassed from this property,” he told Jumin just loudly enough for her to hear. She wanted to panic, but the way Jumin’s expression shifted didn’t leave her with much to worry about.

“On whose authority?” Jumin asked lowly, and she lost sight of him as the guards in front of her pushed her forward a little.

“Orders from Mr. Han,” Mr. Jung replied, and she furrowed her eyebrows. Mr. Han. Jumin’s father. Of course.

She held her hands up in silent surrender, taking two steps back from the guards to be able to see Jumin, almost wishing she hadn’t. She’d never seen him so angry, but he didn’t look like he was about to explode; his eyes were on fire. She didn’t know gray could burn like that.

“That’s my fiancé,” Jumin murmured, and Mr. Jung’s mouth twitched as if he had something he wanted to say. Jumin raised an eyebrow expectantly, his jaw set and clenched.

“I won’t ask you twice to let her through,” he hissed, and Mr. Jung paused, looking towards MC.

“Mr. Han–”

“MC, come here please,” Jumin called, his voice shifting into a gentle melodic tone. She glanced at the guards in front of her, watching them make a space big enough for her to squeeze through the two of them. She walked over to Jumin, holding his left hand with both of hers and looking up at him. His expression was cold again, his eyes set on the guard in front of him.

“You’re all dismissed. You won’t enjoy yourselves if I see you again,” he spoke calmly, and the head of security took a quick breath in.

“Your father–”

“Now.” Jumin said, cutting him off. Mr. Jung glared at the both of them, growling to himself and turning away as the rest of the guards hesitantly followed after him. She pressed her forehead into Jumin’s shoulder, her deep breaths slowing as she felt Jumin squeeze her hand and raise his right to her head.

“Are you okay?” he wondered, lifting her chin to let his eyes roll over her completely.

“I’m fine,” she whispered, a lump forming in her throat. Jumin’s eyebrows pulled together in worry, and he pressed a short kiss to her forehead before starting towards the elevator.

“Let’s get inside,” he said reassuringly, holding her hand the whole ride up.

When she showed him how her fingerprint was no longer authorized at the door, she watched his eyes grow fiery again.

“I see,” was all he said, glancing at the camera pointed at his door and leading her inside.

Jumin sat her down on the couch and poured her a cup of tea, kissing her cheek and waiting until she relaxed before he started with questions.

Once MC started, it was a while until she stopped, watching Jumin grow more and more tense as her story continued. Now that she knew his father had something to do with what had happened yesterday, she wondered how much more the Chairman could be guilty of.

When she finally finished, she wiped a few stray tears from her face and looked up at him warily.

“I’m sorry I thought you were behind it all,” she said weakly, watching Jumin’s expression soften as his hand moved to cup her cheek.

“This was all a deliberate ploy to create resentment between us,” he replied, stroking the skin beneath her eye with his thumb. “Of course you came to that conclusion.” She shook her head, sighing.

“That doesn’t make it okay. I should have trusted you wholeheartedly,” she replied, pouting. He smiled, blowing an amused breath from his nose.

“What matters is you’re here now,” he whispered, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. She knew he was right, but still felt guilty.

“What now?” she wondered, watching his face harden as he exhaled slowly.

“I’m going to speak to him.” Jumin removed his hands from her, standing and starting towards the door.

“Jumin,” she called, following after him and taking his hand to stop him. “I don’t want to come between you and your father.” Jumin stopped, his firmly-set shoulders drooping slightly. He turned to glance at her, his eyes evaluating her face as he considered what she’d said.

“MC,” he murmured softly, turning around to face her and place his hands on her upper arms. “My father has let me down countless times. I acknowledge that he is my family, but if he continues to disrespect you, I cannot tolerate that,” he continued, his eyebrows drawing downwards as he spoke. She searched his eyes as she listened.

“You are who I am choosing to love. You have never let me down. I love you, and I have no doubt that you love me,” he spoke softly, beginning to smile down at her. She couldn’t help but return the smile, feeling her anxious heart begin to warm.

“And that is why,” he whispered, stepping closer to her and wrapping his arms behind her back. “I must put a stop to this. No matter who it is that tries to come between us, I won’t let them get away with it. I’m sorry it took this long for me to realize,” Jumin sighed, pulling her in for a hug and pressing her tight to his chest. She hugged him back, having felt his love for her in both his words and the way he was holding her. She held back more tears, relieved that nothing had gone wrong between them.

Jumin ran a hand across her back soothingly, making her close her eyes and settle into that moment. She pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, feeling gratitude for the man who she loved so much flowing through her.

He pulled back, his eyes honeyed and straying far from that fire from before as he gazed down at her. She let out an amused sigh, pushing some hair away from his forehead.

“Weren’t we going somewhere?” she wondered quietly, seeing some of the warmth leave his expression.

“You’d like to come with me?” he wondered, his eyes scanning over her face.

“Yes, Jumin,” she replied. “We’re in this together.” He smiled at that, pulling away from her but staying close as he smoothed out his dress shirt and patted his pocket for his phone.

“Indeed we are, my love,” he agreed, holding out his hand for a mere second before she took it. Whatever was ahead for them, they would face it hand in hand.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you so much for reading! I hope someone enjoyed this :) I haven't written anything since last year, so I'm rusty! also posting this late lol

stay tuned! I can't promise a full catalogue this year, but I'm going to try my best <3

mel x

[mikoyamisheadcanonblog]

Jumin Han's Relationship Questions (1)

💜Who Wakes up first in the morning:💜 Jumin would wake up before his S/O he is very much a person even on vacation or on break he has his set time he will wake up. Most of the time he will wake up earlier than when he is supposed to leave and watch his S/O sleep taking in their breath counting how much time they breathed within the hour and noticing when S/O  is starting to stir awake. He does love making S/O breakfast first thing in the morning, morning coffee, and pancakes with Elizabeth the 3rd sitting on your lap.

💜Who’s the first to fall asleep at night:💜 His S/O is the first to fall asleep before him. Jumin is usually busy with work and being the director of C&R often comes home late. He does attempt to come home to share dinner with his S/O and chat about their day, after heading to their room where he will pet S/O’s hair and sing softly to them till they fall asleep. He is just feeling his heart swelling with such containment and giving her a gentle kiss on their temple before going to sleep.  

💜What they playfully tease each other over:💜 His S/O can playfully tease him about his lack of skills with housework, or knowing modern slang, or just how regular people work and live. He takes it in good stride as he would also tease his S/O with his dry humor or compare them to Elizabeth the 3rd and such. His sense of humor is weird and such and sometimes he says weird things that would catch S/O off guard but still laugh.

💜What they do when the other’s having a bad day:💜 Throw money at the problem, he is rich, and he will throw whatever money he can at the problem to make it go away. His S/O was looking at this necklace before he went to work, he will buy it. They spoke of Spain; He will take them there. It probably gets overwhelmingly fast, but he will also offer a shoulder to cry on. If his S/O wants just his attention and to be just with him and listen to their worries he will be there. For his bad days, just his S/O being there having someone being there for him and loving him for who is, is enough for him.

💜How they say ‘I’m sorry after arguments:💜 Throw money at the problem, and he will be out all day after an argument, he will be feeling guilty and such. He will come back later that night with all kinds of gifts and stuff he knows his partner would love before apologizing to them and explaining how much they mean to the world to them. He will try to fix whatever bothers his S/O other and such. His S/O can apologize any way they feel comfortable, a song or art piece, or even using Elizabeth the 3rd he will forgive his S/O and such and keep the song or however they apologized.

💜Which one’s more ticklish:💜 His S/O probably but he does have a few ticklish spots, around his neck and under his jawbone he is a bit ticklish but that is a secret only his S/O knows of…..

💜Their favorite rainy day activities:💜 Shopping, his apartment is built for shopping he will take his S/O looking at anything and everything they want before both of them heading home and sitting and enjoying wine and discussing the day with Elizabeth the 3rd on his lap or his S/O. He at times will love the simpler things and life and sitting and drinking wine and watching the rain fall is one of them.

💜How they surprise each other:💜Gifts, Jumin’s love language is gift giving and he will surprise his S/O with an expensive gift he saw and thought of them, or vacation trips just the two of them with of course Elizabeth the 3rd or taking them to private screenings of their favorite movie or show even meeting actors. But the best surprise is when he comes home early and they spend the day cuddling. He gets surprised just seeing his S/O around him loving him for him, of course, if his S/O wants to surprise him bringing another cat into the relationship is always fun.

💜Their most sickening show of public affection:💜 He is completely enamored with his S/O and just in the RFA talking about how much he loves them and how being around them just brightens his day. It often leaves the other members speechless, of course, he isn’t against physical affection and such either. Hugging and kissing his S/O even while people watch and saying the words ‘I love you,’

[sevens-binarycode]

Jumin x Reader Smut

So I was scrolling through YouTube today and found a Jumin Han perverted call (as you do) and I just wanted to write some smut that follows it.

The call basically talks about Sleeping Beauty, but Jumin……. Phew gotta prepare for this.

Jumin Han, said something along the lines of “I want to see how much you can take without opening your eyes.” And y’all… My writerussy quivered.

So, here is some smut playing on that phone call.

Jumin x Reader (fem)

Smut: Oral (fem receiving) looooooottttsssssss of teasing, fingering (fem receiving) 1.2k words

As always, no proof reading so sorry for any mistakes!!

His hand massaged your tits and his mouth worked bruises on your neck. The faint suckle of his tongue mixed with your fast breathing echoed in the room. You tried to think of other things, the ABC’s, the soft cushion of your shared bed, the smell of his shampoo, the heat between your legs. It was impossible, there was no way of not thinking about this situation. You felt almost embarrassed, talking all this nonsense, acting tough, but crumbling into an almost whimpering mess after he barely even touched you. The only thing on your mind was him. His touch, his breath, his sounds, his rules. To break Jumin Han’s rules is to break a signed contract. It comes with serious repercussions.

Noticing your legs pulling together slightly, he hummed into your neck. God. You clenched around nothing, feeling your panties already damp. He inhaled your scent before moving his hands down to your sides, squeezing your plush before raising your shirt slightly, gently pushing his hands under the fabric and his mouth lowered to mouth your breast over your clothing. He rubbed your sides for a little bit with his thumbs before lifting your slightly to undo your bra. You followed his motions, using your legs to slightly push yourself upwards, knees slightly grazing his groin by accident. His breath slightly hitched at the touch, not noticeable to most but you always picked up on his subtle cues. He slid your bra off skillfully, having done this exact motion on your many times before. Your shirt follows suit, leaving only your lower half clothed. At this point, you almost opened your eyes countless times, temporarily forgetting the rule for this play session; Keep your pretty eyes shut.

Jumin didn’t like those who disobeyed, he is very much a ‘rules are meant to be followed’ man. Very occasionally would he indulge in a brats tantrum, feeling it was a waste of time to work even in the bedroom. In order to make sure you would stay his obedient little toy, he set strict rules for every play. Rules that were broken would be paired with a punishment he would see fit. Once, you accidentally let a drop of his cum seep out, the punishment was having your hands and feet bound while he spanked you, counting all the way up to 20, cherry red cheeks on both ends and face streaming with tears. Of course, he would never go out of your comfort zone, a safe word was established at the very beginning of your sexual relationship but you have never felt the need to use it. Was it because you didn’t want to disappoint him?

Your eyelids started to hurt from how firmly you had shut them, feeling your eyelashes on your cheeks because of how tightly they were closed. You felt them move at each twitch and tug of your lids. Jumin had slowly made his way to your waistband, hands hoisting your knees on his shoulders. He flipped your skirt up slightly before blowing on your panties. The cool air of his mouth paired with your now very wet undergarments caused your legs to tense around his shoulders. He grabbed the waistband of your underwear and lifted slightly before allowing it to snap back on your skin, a slight jolt following quickly behind. You wiggled from impatience, he had not given a command to stay still, just to keep your eyes closed. He chuckled slightly before moving a hand to hold up your thigh, thumb running along your slit. He stopped just above your clit making you hold your breath. He resumed his movements, slow and lazy circles over your clits electing a quiet whimper from your mouth. The warmth of his hand on your thigh was comforting, it paired amazingly with the sensation on your clit, now becoming more intense as his motions sped up slightly. He could feel your hole clenching and relaxing, your pussy fluttering at his motions and the thought of his eyes looking at your most vulnerable parts. You could almost feel the laser sensation of his gaze on your cunt. Suddenly, his movements stopped. You stayed still in fear of what would happen if you complained too much. Would he not let you cum at all?

Then, you felt his thumb hook on your panties and move them aside, exposing your soft, slick folds. Trying to control your breathing, you felt his other hand move towards your pussy, soon two fingers slipping in your hole, welcomed in a warm, tight embrace. You let out a moan as he fully inserted his index and middle finger inside you, curling slightly at your gummy spot. Your head shot forward, eyes still squeezed shut as tightly as possible as he pumped his fingers inside you, a slow and steady pace that was almost agonizing. You wanted him to speed up, even just a little, wanting a more constant stimulation on your sweet part. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes were fixated on your face, the scrunch of your eyes and nose, your slightly parted lips, your furrowed brows. He was waiting for you to slip up, though he always cheered you on, wanting you to be his good girl, he knew the things that would make you crumble in an instant. He would sometimes let you win, but was today one of those days?

He slightly sped up his fingers, your head dropping back and letting out another, slightly louder moan followed by heavy breaths. You orgasm slowly approaching as he continued his pace in and out of you. He decided, this time he would let you win while still breaking you. He would purposely not look at your face as you came undone.

His fingers pumped in and out as your pussy started to clamp down on him, your high approaching closer and closer until you felt a warm, wet sensation on your clit. Your eyes shot open as a premature orgasm shot through you. His tongue rubbing your clit up and down, slightly humming at the taste of you on his tongue. His fingers curling perfectly timed with his thrust, his thrusts now perfectly timed with the fluttering of your pussy. You grabbed onto the bed sheets and closed your mouth, a scream muffled by you biting on your lips and you shut your eyes tightly again, riding out your high, bucking into his mouth slightly.

He stopped when you started to pull away from his mouth, pulling himself off you and sitting on his knees staring down at your panties, still slightly pulled to the side, your skirt, still slightly flipped upwards, and your chest, heaving from your orgasm. Your forearm now covered your eyes, head slightly faced to the side, completely worn out. He grabbed a tissue from the night stand and wiped his fingers and face clean. You heard the movement but didn’t even move your arm to look, still coming down from your high. You felt a hand on your head, petting your hair as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You’re my obedient toy aren’t you, Y/N?”

You didn’t want to ruin this moment so you didn’t respond. What was one broken rule going to do anyways?

[xelasrecords]

Wedding Scene

Han Jumin x Reader

Sometimes good things come to an end. Although you don't love them anymore, you can still want the best for them. Can be read as the continuation of Greatest Kindness.

Words: 2.1k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Jumin was getting married and you were not going to be his bride.

There was a time when standing beside him on the altar would be a possibility, but at this time, you were destined to watch him from the side of the aisle, clapping for him, listening to whispers of how beautiful his bride was, and how lovestruck and tearful he looked. At this time, the impossible had happened. He had moved on from you. He had found someone whom he would keel over in happiness for.

You watched him watching her. This was what you wanted. This was what you had chosen.

But your breath caught when you saw Jumin hold the bride's hand, not because of his display of affection, but for the tiny detail that no one seemed to notice. The secret gesture meant just for the two of them, his thumb brushing her skin in a slow circular motion and how she could breathe easier after. It was a gesture he used to do with you.

Did it mean anything to you then? Was it a perfunctory motion that you took for granted or was it something you took comfort in? You couldn't remember—it had been years since you broke up with him.

It had been years, and you were still here.

When they were pronounced as husband and wife, everyone in the ballroom held their breath. When they kissed, the crowd erupted and the cameras flashed. You applauded too, grateful that Jumin found someone who would love him and stand by him forever. You knew you couldn't be that person for him, but there was no satisfaction in being proven right. Your lips wobbled and you pressed them together into a firm line.

Under the glittering glass dome at night, the married couple performed their first dance together. Hands on waist and shoulders and forehead on each other's, they swayed to a romantic tune played by the live orchestra. The bride and the groom were an exquisite pair. They had their attention on no one but each other, speaking with their eyes in a language familiar only to them. The smile, the occasional laughter, the embrace.

Then impossibly, Jumin's eyes flitted to the crowd and spotted you. Had you been younger and more excitable, your heart would have skipped a beat. But there was nothing exciting about this, though it was nothing dreadful either. You smiled and gave your best reassuring nod. He smiled back—not the admiring type reserved for his wife, but a gentle one that spoke of the camaraderie from the olden times.

He mirrored your nod and shifted his attention to his wife. One last spin and the dance was concluded. When Jumin made his way with her to you, fingers linked together, you found that your knees were locked. "Allow me to introduce you to our esteemed coordinator of RFA, my dear," said Jumin.

You shook their hands. "Congratulations to both of you. The dance was marvellous, and look at you!" You turned to the bride. "That gown fits you so well. You're beautiful."

"Thank you, I had to stop Jumin from blasting 'Beautiful in White' when he first saw me." She laughed. "I've heard a lot of good things about your work. This guy here got nothing but praise for you."

"You deserve the serenade." You chuckled. "And I was under regular threats to be kicked out of the organisation if I didn't do well, so I didn't exactly have a choice."

"There was always a choice," Jumin interjected. "You could've abandoned us, but you chose to stay."

Did you, though? Sure, you stayed, but you also left them in shambles. Your breakup strained your relationship with RFA. And by falling out of love, you abandoned Jumin. The guilt followed you around even when you could see how much happier he had become.

This regret had more to do with you being unable to leave things behind rather than wanting him back. Jumin was right. You couldn't abandon people and live with yourself. Wasn't that one of the reasons you ended up here at this wedding? You were chasing your own tail, hoping that one day you could bite it off but never dared to. You were afraid of what would happen if you could actually catch it.

But you kept those thoughts locked inside your head and chirped lightly, "As I said, I was threatened."

Jumin eyed you, then decided to play along. "That just means you have proven that you work well under pressure."

It was a familiar compliment, but it somehow felt wrong to hear, like putting on a worn-out shirt that made you slip into another time where you didn't belong. It wasn't yours to bask in anymore.

His wife touched his arm. "See what I mean? I'll leave you two to catch up. It's time for me to be the celebrity among my friends." She glanced at the group of people waiting for her across the room, phones and cameras ready at their disposal.

Jumin kissed her forehead. "Show me the pictures later, love."

After she left, the two of you were left with a chasm so wide that you had no clue how to cross it. What could fill the untouched silence that had stretched on for years? After your breakup, you only approached Jumin for charity-related issues, and he respected the line you drew. You kept things formal. You kept your distance. He kept his heart from being broken by you again.

Jumin broke the silence first. "You look radiant. I don't recall you ever wearing your hair like that."

You touched your hair and tucked the flying strands behind your ear. "Thank you, it's a new thing I'm trying."

"Innovative. It looks good on you."

"I know, you've said it twice already," you quipped.

Jumin looked at you with a strange wistfulness, so you chuckled to brush it away and were relieved when he did the same. "Right, I did," he gave in. "I appreciate you attending my wedding tonight. I wasn't sure you would come."

"It wouldn't be right if I didn't attend just because of our history. It's been a long time ago, and I still care about everyone in the RFA."

"If that's the case, then I understand. The RFA is important to me too, although I'm not sure where the rest of the members are right now." Jumin craned his neck to spot anyone with striking mint, silver, red, or blond hair, or even the brunette woman that he saw at the office every day but failed to find them.

"They're probably hoarding the buffet or making very good use of the photo booth," you guessed.

"I wouldn't be surprised," he said.

You lapsed into another silence. Had it always been this difficult to talk to Jumin? You never had to rummage through superficial niceties before. You expected him to be uncomfortable, but he was merely watching you, studying you with the same intensity he always possessed.

You cleared your throat. "The decorations are splendid, by the way. You have good taste in design." You waved at the floral arrangement on the pillars nearby and the chandelier above.

"I used to read this fairytale picture book when I was a child. It featured a magnificent wedding venue like this and I wanted to recreate it. Fortunately, my wife is fond of the idea and let me live out my childhood dream." Jumin glanced at her entertaining the guests on the other side of the room, his gaze tender and adoring.

You doubted he knew what kind of expression he was wearing. Did he use to look at you with as much love too? The answer didn't matter now. "You've always had great ideas, Jumin. I'd be more surprised if you couldn't make this happen."

"You're kind to say that," commented Jumin. "I knew it. You haven't changed that much. You've always been a nice person."

Was not changing something to be proud of? You had been the same for years, stuck in the same place while everyone was progressing in their life. Look at Jumin, look at how happy he was. You were desperate to get out of the empty husk that you caged yourself in. You wanted to be free from those sleepless nights. You wanted to breathe again.

"A nice person wouldn't hurt you like I did," you said quietly.

Jumin stepped closer to you, voice firm. "Do you think just because someone is nice, they have to do nice things all the time? That's a rather extreme belief to adopt. When you asked for a breakup, you worded it as gently as possible. You didn't just leave without an explanation. You still cared for my feelings even when you thought you were doing something awful. A bad person wouldn't do that."

You blinked and huffed out a laugh. "I can't believe you used that as the example."

"After we broke up, it was all I was worried about. I knew you, and I was afraid you would beat yourself up over it." Jumin's tone had dropped low enough that nobody but you could hear his words.

"And I was worried you would isolate yourself and close yourself off from everyone. But you're here now, so all is well." The smile you gave him was a genuine one. You were happy for him, no matter how remorseful you were.

"Life has an interesting way to play out," Jumin agreed. He seemed deep in thought before adding, "But you didn't ruin my life. Being with you was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me. You were there during my first fallout with my father. You were there when Elizabeth the Third ran away. You were also there when I struggled to undo the knots strangling me my whole life. In all my pivotal moments, I wasn't alone because you never left me."

You took a deep shuddering breath. "How do you still know the right things to say?" It was as astonishing as it was bittersweet how well he could read you.

"The time we spent together wasn't just nothing to me. However brief it was, you were still the first person who loved me for me. I'm happy that I had the opportunity to know you, and even more grateful that you let me in."

You didn't know gratitude could sound so poignant. "You were also the first person who could accept me as I was. I'm sorry for hurting you."

"Don't apologise. There's nothing you could do about a change of heart, and I'm quite content with how things turn out." Jumin reached for your hand and squeezed it. You could feel the cold band of his wedding ring against your skin. "Stop punishing yourself for doing what you did when you did it for yourself. I could only bear to let you go because your happiness mattered to me."

You stared at his hand covering yours, wondering how you could have fallen out of love with someone like him, and how even his affirmations couldn't bring your heart to flutter again. "Your wife is lucky to have you. You're such a good person, Jumin. I wish everyone could see that."

Jumin smiled and said nothing, looking at you with the same gentleness that used to bring you comfort. Your memories of him might have faded, but you remembered how peaceful it was while it lasted. How your principal emotion with Jumin was always joy before it seeped away from your grasp. How much impact you had on each other during that short time, and how both of you had carried it to your present.

There was nothing you wanted more for him than being loved and accepted by the person he loved, especially if that someone couldn't be you. This was the man who always had a spare pair of slippers ready because he knew your feet would hurt after hours of wearing heels. This was the man who would express gratitude for you in a hundred different ways when you didn't think you had done anything to deserve them. He had loved you so, so much. His happiness mattered a lot to you too.

You patted his shoulder with your free hand. "I'll let you go back to your wife now. She must be waiting for you."

Jumin nodded. "Thank you for coming again. I had a grand time talking with you."

You smiled. "So did I."

Jumin bowed and let go of your hand. You waited until he joined his wife, wrapping an arm around her waist, never looking back at you, before turning away.

It was time for you to leave too.

-

Footnotes:

Rather than regretting a breakup because you realised too late that it was a mistake, I wanted to take a different approach to regret—you know breaking up is the right thing to do, but hurting someone you once loved could also haunt you.

I had a major writer's block writing this and tried to put on different types of breakup songs to get me into the melancholic mood, but surprisingly what worked was playing happy wedding playlists on Spotify. I don't know why my brain works like this.

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[juminies]

hi, any thoughts on jumin and rika and how he saw her? i love your jumin takes so i'm very interested in hearing your opinion on this

Hi! This is one of those things I've been meaning to talk about forever but never really had the motivation to get around to writing about, so you've opened a door for me to finally attempt to get my thoughts down. Sorry if it's a little muddled or convoluted :')

Disclaimer I will be ignoring the existence of the ssum because even though I know there has been Jumin and Rika related shenanigans over there they are not part of mystic messenger canon to me whatsoever 💜

I have always felt as though when it comes to Jumin and Rika’s relationship in particular a lot of people look at them far too simply without considering, in particular, Jumin’s view on love and human connection in its entirety—the fact that prior to his route he has not witnessed healthy love up close his entire life (including the "love" between V and Rika, even if they seemed good together on the surface). He is, as such, very hesitant to get close to it, and doesn't think about it as a realistic scenario for himself despite his admitted loneliness.

Jumin is very averse to making new connections in general; he struggles socially, is used to being viewed as something people can use for their own benefit rather than his own person, and V is the only real friend he has ever made of his own volition. Consequently his adoration and loyalty for Jihyun were bound to extend to anyone he loved too, and it just so happened that the person V loved was Rika, who confronted Jumin in a way that even his lifelong best friend didn't. There was a level of emotional vulnerability with Rika that V—like Jumin—was uncomfortable expressing, and so she brought out a different (new) side of Jumin. It wasn’t entirely one-sided either, as Rika also confided in Jumin in a way that she admitted she couldn't even to Jihyun at least once. Jumin and V have seemingly always had a tendency to undershare and Rika, as the person closest to them, definitely knew that. So she and Jumin developed this weird little friendship where they were both closer to V than they were to each other, but neither of them could quite confide in him the way they could to one another. She was also one of very few people (especially pre-RFA) who never saw him as just his talent, his position, his wealth. He liked that she saw the ugly parts of him too. She made him feel comfortable and free. He could just be Jumin, not C&R's Jumin Han, you know?

But it’s important to remember when thinking about them that Rika was very likely the first time anyone had ever talked like this with Jumin, and really tried to get him to dig deeper into his own emotions in a way that wasn’t belittling. Jumin represses and has always repressed. He had always tucked feelings he found inconvenient away ASAP, hidden even from himself. But Rika saw him as a person, and intentionally or not she tapped into the parts of Jumin that he tried to hide away and gave him an outlet nobody else had ever really allowed him. It became something that he associated with her and her alone.

I wanted to avoid just throwing big VN chunks in here but this one in particular is so important to deducing their relationship, so I am just going to put the standout parts here ->

Now the thing with Rika is that, the way I see it, it can be difficult to determine what is genuine with her and what isn’t. She didn't have anything to gain from specifically Jumin the way others did, but Rika has this fundamental need for people to see her as good and honest, and she needs to be admired even when she doesn't truly believe she deserves it (or otherwise when she doesn’t truly deserve it). The situation with Saeran aside I don't think that she takes to explicitly or purposefully lying much, but outside of her relationship with Jihyun(?) she is a people pleaser to the highest degree because she seeks constant reassurance that she is not completely evil.

This exchange, for example, has always felt incredibly off to me

because there is something in it that subtly pushes Jumin into a corner in what can be easily interpreted as attempt to seek validation. It happens in a serious conversation immediately after Rika asks if he trusts her and he tells her "of course I do." It feels almost like she's testing him; trying to see how far his loyalty to both herself and V stretches. There's a very real possibility that she knew how highly he held her and attempted to use it to reassure herself. To quietly push him to make her feel desirable—lovable—perhaps? This probably isn't the only time similar occurrences popped up. I don’t think she intended to cheat, and she would have known that Jumin would never betray Jihyun like that anyway, but I do know that she felt unfulfilled with V and it’s not a stretch to say she would seek similar reassurance elsewhere. A little bit like she does with MC in V route, really.

Then there's the projection onto Elizabeth, which is in my opinion a coping mechanism not for Rika's absence specifically but rather for Jumin's general loneliness. This, obviously, was not romantic (the fact I have to clarify this is absurd but I have seen some... interesting takes over the years), but Jumin admits himself that he viewed Elizabeth like a confidant. Him turning to Elizabeth was him knowing that he could not continually go to Rika when he needed emotional support because she quite clearly expressed she wanted him to find it elsewhere, however it makes sense that he struggled to disassociate Elizabeth from Rika when Rika was the only person he felt could see him for what he really is. He was not presented with any other legitimate option. I do feel it’s quite interesting when trying to comprehend how much Rika really cared for him that she seemingly didn’t know the extent of Jumin’s emotional reliance on her.

When all is said and done though, I think that claiming Jumin was in love with Rika is both untrue and far too simple. To be honest I genuinely don't even believe Jumin himself knows how he truly felt about Rika, really. He's the king of burying his emotions and he is loyal beyond belief, so I do think that if there had been romantic feelings for her mixed up in him somewhere (which there very probably were, though a bit warped due to his aforementioned lack of perspective on healthy love) he wouldn't have let himself unpack them enough to realise that's what they were. What he did definitely do, though, was put her on a pedestal as the only woman he felt like he could legitimately trust with anything. At the point where they were the closest every woman before her had either abused him or had an ulterior motive, but Rika was unique. She wasn’t trying to get close to him for sex or connections or monetary gain. She brought out a curiosity in him that nothing and nobody else but V had been able to before. Jumin had so little real, genuine, heartfelt human connection. Of course he was going to get attached to her, but I don't think that he’s lying when he says he didn't even think about it because she was his best friend’s girlfriend. Around the time that he opens up about Rika I cannot see him intentionally lying to MC whatsoever. She was his friend. He trusted her. I actually think the way he feels about Jihyun is incredibly similar to how he felt about Rika.

As a final note, Jumin knowing the truth about V's eyes, along with the assertion that MC is "warm and soft... unlike Rika" are very intriguing. They're the main two things that suggest to me that while he admired her on the surface he quite clearly had some much deeper, more complex feelings about Rika (particularly closer to her "death"), but still chose to put his faith in Jihyun’s judgement rather than doubting Rika while she was around. I think it's very possible that after witnessing the selfless kind of care that MC provides he started to really pick up and reassess the colder side of Rika's behaviour, so to speak. Not even strictly things that happened in bad faith (she did genuinely hold RFA members highly after all), but she has a very twisted view of what is good for both herself and others, and it’s one that Jumin does not mesh with.

[kuruk]

sorry to feminists and sll I'm sorry but I genuinely would kind of love an adtually sort of crazy possessive girlfriend but the problem is everyone who says they're obsessive and deeply romantic like that usually isn't even because like I see your girl posting about having sex with an ugly actor and the graphic details of her anime boy harem for everyone to see and you still haven't killed yourself. just becayse you have a petplay kink doesn't mean yuo can make such claims. you may want to jumin han it up and lock your girlfriend in a cage but thwts just because it's hot you don't even gaf like that really truly just where is the passion. whqr was I saying. well I need somekne who's genuinely a little bit unreasonable not because I want her to feel bad but because I naturally keep that sort of thing in mind anyway and well it shouldn't be for nothing I'm soo considerate and for what literally for whqt... I don't take pride in my partner's jealousy that sort of thing makes me so sad I just would do such a good job at preventing it is all... I don't mean in a way that's like controlling over matters like my friends or something but I want to have to think twice about how I talk about the otome game I'm playing or something sorry help like iwould love unreasonable requests and rules about things that truly aren't a big deal. I adtually love altering small behaviors to make my gf comfortable but no one even gives a care likr that I'm too attracted to the aloof so it's simply not needed but I so want to take care of things like that god whatevevr Whatever.

[mrs-han]

Hi Mama Han! 💜 Please know my Happy Birthday wishes are meant to be sent the day of your birthday and not before 🙏 (in my country is considered bad luck to greet someone for their birthday days before 😅)

I thought of asking for something sweet like MC making Jumin sleep on her lap on the days at his penthouse when he obviously didn't sleep, but THEN I remembered this video:

https://youtu.be/d_sa4Ur04QU

And the masterpiece that was "The Trilogy of the Marias" with Thalia and I thought: Jumin's route, but as a Mexican telenovela with the funniest tropes we love from the medium (the rich boy, the poor girl, the evil stepmom, AMNESIA, lost relatives, Soraya! Pick your choice! )

Basically I hope you can write something you can have fun writing 😊 and Happy Birthday (in a few days)

Omo, hello Darling!! *huggu*

(Don’t worry, I totally understand — my family will only say it the day of, too! I got caught saying ‘Happy Birthday’ to my father the day before his birthday, and I got LOOKS.)

AND OKAY UM, MEXICAN TELENOVELAS?! Omo. Omo, I just got an idea based off of a show modeled after a telenovela 😂 if you know, you know! (My mom loves that novela, by the by 😂)

Okie!! Here goes!! And ¡¡¡Muchas gracias por tu petición!!! Siento haber tardado tanto ><

Jumin had never attended a unisex baby shower before. His father’s more lucrative partner insisted on a gender-neutral theme, something Jumin heavily admired. The colors were very pleasing to the eye.

But as the party progressed, Jumin couldn’t stop noticing the combined glow and irritability of the mother-to-be. She kept complaining of the room being too hot, or too cold. She had even thrown a gifted pair of slippers at her husband’s head at one point.

“Ah, sweet love.” Standing next to his best friend, V casually leaned against Jumin’s sturdy figure. “Take it in, Jumin. One day, that will be us. At the mercy of our dear —”

“What the hell is this?” The mother-to-be demanded, lifting up a pair of slim-fitting jeans. “Who would buy me this now?! Do I look like I can fit into jeans?!”

V awkwardly lifted his glass to his lips. Jumin bit back a laugh.

“Hey Jumin, she’d like jeans, wouldn’t she? She can wear them after she gives birth, right?”

“Honey, try to calm down —”

“How can I stay calm when some idiot thinks I can fit into a size two after this?!”

Slipping out of the room like an eel between rocks, V set his wine glass down and exhaled shakily.

“I’m not an expert, but —”

“Shut up, Jumin.”

Laughing softly, Jumin’s eyes fell to his blurry reflection echoed in the wine’s dark red color.

“Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?” V asked.

“About?”

“Settling down. Having kids.”

Jumin was ready to object, but his best friend was right. His mind did wander to the possibilities of siring heirs one day, but that meant meeting a woman and…

Ehm.

Still. Jumin’s age combined with the lack of an heir to the Han family name got to him.

A little bit.

“I have no interest in dating anyone at the moment, much less marrying them. Children are, unfortunately, a very distant goal.”

Finishing his wine, V smacked his lips, much to Jumin’s chagrin. “Sure, if you stay in your bubble.”

“Sure, I should be just like you,” Jumin scoffed. “Rambling to the park attendant about the speeds of rollercoasters and eventually throwing up in the nearest trash can once the ride is over.”

“… You said you’d never bring that up again.”

“It’s safe to say that you and I aren’t siring any heirs anytime soon. Women repulse me, and you, well —”

“Yes, yes, I’ll probably puke all over the next woman I talk to. Right?”

“… No, but why not.” Jumin grinned.

V’s eyes grew as a thought came to mind. “Ready for a crazy idea?”

Jumin took another sip of his wine. “Why not, the night is still young.”

“Let’s donate sperm tomorrow.”

Spitting everything up, Jumin’s eyes bore into V. “Are you — what? Why?”

“Well, like you said. We aren’t having kids anytime soon, and with how much busier our lives are going to get, it’s not a bad idea.”

“V, do you really —”

“We’ll be giving the gift of life to a couple. Or a well-off single mom!”

“… I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll think about it.”

“Come on, Jumin. We both know you’re going to say yes.”

“Doesn’t it bother you? There will be a young man or woman that will one day look like you, or me. We aren’t in the private eye, Jihyun.”

“Who cares about all that. Why are you so worried?”

Jumin felt the uncomfortable churn of jealousy over V’s more carefree nature. “I… well, there’s no harm in checking it out —”

“I already made an appointment for us.”

“You wha — delete it.”

A shame V refused to listen. The following day, Jumin found himself sitting in the waiting room of a sperm donor facility.

“No, that’s literally impossible.”

“Ma’am… I’m sorry, but…” laughing nervously, the doctor looked at you, then at the paperwork in her hand. “The results prove otherwise. When was your last period?”

“Uh, a I’m a little late, but —”

“How late?”

“Two, three weeks? Look, I shouldn’t be pregnant. I can’t be pregnant, I’ve never had sex! I’m here for the results of a Pap smear, not to —!!”

You cut yourself off. You had to, or the swirling sensation you felt would eventually tip you over.

The doctor’s eyes gradually widened. “… You… were the Pap smear appointment at 0900 hours on Tuesday?”

“Yes!!”

“… Oh!” Her laughter almost calmed your nerves.

Almost.

“I confused my appointments, you see… I had an artificial insemination appointment with another client… forty-five minutes after you… I must have gotten you two mixed up…!”

“Are you kidding me?!” You yelled. “How could you confuse the two?!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I didn’t — I had a lot on my mind that day! You see, I had —”

“Oh my God, I don’t want to hear it!!” Throwing your hands up, you couldn’t stop focusing on the anxious churning in your stomach. Hell, maybe it was the seed suddenly aware that it shouldn’t be there.

“There are options for you to take —”

“You know what, you’re done. I want a new doctor.”

“Ma’am, it’s the end of the year… and if you want to schedule an appointment with a new provider, you need to wait until after New Years…”

“After New Years.”

“And our staff at the front desk is going to inform you that the wait will be about two months out…”

You had never been more furious in your life. Sliding off of the examination chair, you (tried to) take as many deep, controlling breaths as possible. You were too afraid to ask about your options, and while abortion was the most reasonable, this doctor would probably end up giving you cyanide to injest.

“If I may,” the doctor voiced timidly, raising her finger.

You shook your head, agitating the budding headache against your temples. “I really don’t want to hear any suggestions, thanks.”

“No, you see… the sperm donor asked that I inform him of when his sperm was ever used —”

“His sperm should have never been used.”

“Nevertheless… would you like to know…? Who…”

The timidity of your doctor’s voice frustrated you further. “It doesn’t matter. I doubt I’ll keep it.”

“Which is reasonable, given the circumstances! But, I’m wondering if you, too, would like to know… given you may not keep —”

“Fine. Who is it.”

She stared at you, fumbling with her fingers. “Are you familiar with Han Jumin of C&R International…?”

You stopped breathing. Your fingers tingled, your throat went dry, and your jaw clenched so tightly that you felt your teeth grinding rigidly against each other.

Han Jumin. The heir to the massive business conglomerate, C&R. Of course you knew him. Well, not personally. You were currently reading one of his books, The Successful Path of a Certain Man, for your Business Intelligence & Analytics final.

He was a business magnate, a flawless negotiator and the role model for business majors everywhere.

And you were inseminated with his seed.

“I have to go.”

“Um, wait — ma-am!”

Ignoring your doctor completely, you grabbed your coat and rushed out of the facility. It was too much for you to absorb, and you had so many questions.

Like, what was the Han Jumin doing at a sperm bank?

How would you go about suing your doctor?

Why did you schedule your first freaking Pap smear towards the end of the year?!

You wanted to go home, curl under a huge pile of blankets, and disappear from the world.

But something else captured your attention. A ping from your phone.

Unknown: … Hello…? Can you see this?

[diavolosbaby]

Can I ask for something with Jumin Han? Taking Jumin to therapy after his good ending and just how it ends up lmao. I feel like it can be a mixture of both a crack headcanon as well as possibly serious, up to you how you wanna write it! Thanks!

Sure :)

(Sorry this took so long, and sorry if it sucks it's my first fic after my hiatus from writing)

Taking Jumin to Therapy After His Good Ending

Characters: Jumin

Genre: Crack, slight angst but mostly crack and sillyness

Format: headcanons

Pronouns if used: they/them

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

- will be hesitant and will even straight up say no, but of course you convince him

- "hmmm no therapy? Guess that means no " physical " therapy either..."

- he changed his tune rather quickly

- he requested you be there with him, even talking to the therapist

- was very slow opening up and would often look at you to answer for him with his cat like wide eyes, even when you didn't know what the hell the answer was

"So...your mother...did she ever comfort you when you were sad? Did you ever show you were sad?" *he turns to you, expectantly* ???

- very very awkward, reaches your your hand or is always touching you. Is awkward, feels awkward. Doesn't like it, feels out of place.

- Always felt like therapy was for people who had problems, he never thought he had problems til you pointed them out to him

"Jumin, dont you think this overprotective nature comes from somewhere? Maybe you're insecure hon?" *confused wide eyed cat stare and hear tilt*

- just be patient with him, he'll get there

- the more sessions he has the more he'll open up and get it

- will eventually even stop needing you in there with him. When he tells you he wants to go alone, he's very proud. Be proud with him.

"No MC, I think I'll go myself this time. *smug smirk as he looks at you waiting for some sign of pride from you* (please be proud of him its a big accomplishment for him)

- when he does something sort of topic he'll rail it back and start monologuing about how his therapist talked to him about this. Will explain to you where it comes from and that he's working on it, apologizes

-toxic behavior reduces a lot less, mommy and daddy issues reduce a lot less, insecurities reduce a lot less

- ultimately, you won!

- remember, his toxic teauts are reduces but they are most definitely still there! Its him, after all

Again sorry this is so late!!!