#juminweek2019

[yoosungisbabie]

between night and morning - day three

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: T

prompt: green daylily - romantic love, "forgetting painful events from the past," "the flower that helps forget"

warnings: nightmares, slight spoilers for Jumin's route

word count: 1.4k

ao3 link

Jumin wakes from a nightmare and goes searching for comfort.

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Jumin…Jumin…

JUMIN!

Jumin snapped awake, jostling his chair and inhaling raggedly. He looked around, seeing that he was still in his living room and most importantly, still alone.

Jumin leaned forward and put his head in his hands, unable to shake himself from the nightmare he’d been awoken from quite yet. It was one in the same vein as they all were; memories he’d tried to forget even though he knew he couldn’t. Memories from his and his father’s past.

Jumin wiped the sweat from his brow and worked on slowing his breathing, keeping his eyes open and focused on the carpet beneath his chair. When he’d calmed down just slightly, he sat back up, glancing over at the paperwork he’d been working on before he unfortunately dozed off.

His eyes ached at the tiny print on the paper, and just as soon as he picked it up, Jumin put it back down and sighed slowly. He felt useless for so many reasons, and having that ridiculous nightmare made him feel less and less in control. He needed to be in control, in that moment more than ever.

An image of her flashed in his mind. His heart palpitated strangely, like it had been doing for the past few days, but it wasn’t dizzying anxiety like he’d felt just moments previous. If anything, thinking of the woman in his bed nearly made him forget why he was so on edge in the first place.

Jumin took a deep breath before he stood from his chair. After not moving for quite some time, the tension in his body was uncomfortable. He started towards his bedroom, remembering all he’d said to her last night as he felt his body untie some of its knots.

As he approached the door, he heard her light breathing and couldn’t help but smile. Peeking in, he admired the way she looked so peaceful, so carefree. He was sincerely thankful that she was able to get rest, despite all of the events that had transpired over the past week. He felt a flash of envy before it melted into gratitude for her presence.

How could he bear to let her go in the morning?

Jumin had taken a step into the room before he’d thought about it, unable to think of a reason that made sense for him not to move closer.

He stopped just next to the bed, able to hear her breathing much more clearly and realizing his own breaths had calmed back to normal.

Staring down at her, the only label for the emotion that was burning in his chest was love. He was in love with her. The feeling itself was not what frightened him, but the thought was horrifying. How could he love someone, let alone someone he’d met only days ago?

In multiple instances, his father had been beguiled by women he mistakenly put his trust in. He watched him ponder over it and inevitably give in, no matter how much Jumin urged him to see reason. Eventually, Jumin stopped trying.

But as soon as he no longer outwardly cared, that’s when those women began to focus on him too. The thought nearly brought him back into his nightmare, blinding rage flashing across his vision.

MC shifted in the bed in front of him, pulling him from his thoughts. It felt almost wrong to be upset in her presence. How could he lose himself in thought when she was right in front of him?

Jumin sat down slowly, working to clear his mind as he watched her sleeping peacefully. His eyes scanned over her face, taking a long look at her lips. Her kiss was like magic, some kind of force he’d only read about in books. Thinking of her smile made his chest feel fuzzy, and when he moved to look down at himself out of slight worry, Jumin realized he’d laid down next to her.

He paused, feeling his heart rate quicken. He had never lost control like he did when he was with her. It perplexed him, but he was equally as confused as to why he didn’t want that fact to change.

She was so close to him in that moment, so beautiful and so serene. His hand moved out towards her, lingering above her face before he brushed the back of his index finger along her cheek. Her deep breaths shallowed, prompting Jumin to wonder about how heavily she slept.

Taking his hand back, he waited as she returned to a deeper sleep, his eyelids growing heavier as he lay beside her. After a moment, he reached out again, pulling the blanket back over her shoulder. This time, he couldn’t pull away, and he rested his hand on her upper arm. She was warm, contrasting with his cool hand. He felt the hairs stand up on his arm, his fingers tightening around her minutely. She reacted with a short, low hum from the back of her throat, but she didn’t move an inch.

Despite the feeling that was burning in his throat, Jumin decided to let her rest, praying that he would have time to explore his curiosities on another calmer night.

A thought flashed in his mind for him to remove himself from the bed, from her arm, but the thought was quickly buried by fatigue. Jumin worked to keep his eyes open, to look at her for just a second longer, but his exhaustion got the better of him.

Hours later, when the sun had begun to rise, Jumin innately roused. Some days he wished that his bodily rhythm would allow for longer sleep, especially this past week.

He willed his eyes open, starting to sigh before his breath caught in his throat in panic. Her face was inches from his, and as the blood began to rush through his body, he realized that she was touching him too. She was still asleep, breathing slowly as Jumin looked down to see both her hands outstretched to him. One of them was draped over his upper arm, her hand reaching down towards his back, and the other had a small handful of his shirt. It had come slightly untucked in the night, leaving just enough fabric to be gripped by her hand just above his heart.

Jumin looked over her features, knowing that his heart should be racing with anger, resentment, or guilt. But when he searched, there was nothing but peace and eagerness to learn more about her. To hold her like she was holding him, and to love and cherish her for the amazing soul she’d offered to him in kindness. He would forever be indebted to her for the solace she’d provided him in his lowest moments.

Jumin watched her until drowsiness began to take over him once more. He was tempted to stay, to let her hold him as long as she wanted, but he knew he needed to keep himself grounded. It was important for him to let her go today or else there would be no possibility of them being together in the future. He had to regrettably detach from her, just for today, just enough to let her leave, so that he could be bound to her forever.

Jumin longed to reach forward and press a kiss to her cheek, her forehead, her nose, but he didn’t want to wake her so early. He slowly began to move backward out of her embrace, holding his breath as she twitched and took her arm back. But her hand still gripped his shirt, and even as he continued to move, that fact didn’t change.

Jumin reached down, his fingertips brushing over her wrist as a test before he gently placed his hand over hers. Hooking his pinkie finger under hers, he pulled her hand from his shirt achingly slow, nearly hearing his heart rate pick up as she latched on to his finger instead. Jumin placed their joint hands on the bed in front of him, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb until he could pull his finger free. The loss of warmth from her touch made his chest ache in a way he had become too familiar with these past few days, but he steeled himself.

Standing from the bed, he imagined himself waking up with her every day, kissing her good morning, and leaving her to sleep more. Jumin felt a small smile come to his lips, shaking his head and lightly scolding himself for daydreaming.

Taking one last look at her, he left the room, closing the door behind himself and realizing he finally felt rested.

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thank you for reading! thank for you for all the support on my first two days! I have had long nights and work, so I know I'm late, and then on top of that, I got a concussion this morning...

but! I'm still going strong, and I'll do my best to catch up! (even though I shouldn't be looking at screens ladglsjbgljgb)

mel x

[xelasrecords]

Tea! Would You Like Some?

Han Jumin x Reader

Jumin Week 2023 - Day 3: Quality Time @juminweek2019

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

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

Words: 3.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Not tea," you repeated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sometimes even literally," you agreed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Your house sounds like a treat."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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[juminweek2019]

Jumin Week 2024 News: Late submissions and new rules!

Juju Week is over 🤷

As mentioned in an ask, we'll be receiving submissions for Jumin Week till the end of October (the deadline can be extended if requested but not indefinitely) , the only new rule is to @juminweek2019

Seeing the low participation for this year, this is the last year we are having Jumin Week (because I don't see Mysme 2 happening in the future right??) so this is your last chance to participate 😱

I even thought of receiving submissions for the prompts of past years and adding it to the masterlist under the category "Jumin Month" (in case someone has an abandoned wip) but idk, let me know if you like the idea 🤷

[juminies]

null hypothesis

jumin week day 6, physical touch

@juminweek2019

jumin x reader, 1250 words

♡

Jumin would have not have so much as considered before meeting you that he could even potentially be touch deprived. The idea of craving touch simply didn’t make sense, anyway — too much of the touch he had experienced before was uncomfortable and unwanted. A grip like a vice around his wrist to drag him to a basement. Women trying to make advances on him since he was too young to even grasp it properly. Drunk business partners’ arms haphazardly thrown over his shoulders at corporate parties, as if they’re friends.

It practically goes without saying that when a man of almost thirty has never even been hugged properly he tends to miss the mark on physical touch altogether. And it didn’t bother Jumin, not being touched. He didn’t want to touch others just as much as he’d rather they didn’t touch him; he felt no need to instigate it outside of situations where good manners called for it. Frankly, he couldn’t even begin to enlighten someone on how to initiate human contact in a way that doesn’t feel awkward or misplaced, nor did he care to find out.

But like with every other aspect of his meticulously planned daily life, you completely threw a spanner in the works. Before he knew it you were holding his heart in your clutches — simultaneously so ruthless and so gentle. Like a glass so full that the surface tension is at risk of breaking, one tiny movement held the ability to send him spiralling (in the best way, he’d tell you).

Even still, in the very beginning he didn’t touch you much outside of what he had predetermined to be expected for a relationship. Him wanting to kiss you had been a given from the day you met in person; a craving to taste you, to leave you breathless. Yet, lingering hands and cradling arms were not something that came naturally to him. Efficiency and independence had always stood at the forefront of his life, and his logical side subconsciously assumed the stance that touching for the sake of touching merely added time and introduced complicating variables.

You had opted to stay mostly on equal footing when it came to physical contact. He was walking on unknown territory and it was only expected that it’d take time for him to find his way; if he wasn’t touchy you wouldn’t push the boundary of touch. Still, sometimes you’d fall into resting your head against his shoulder or holding onto him just to hold onto him.

Your contact was never unwelcome, he found.

In fact, with passing time it almost became too infrequent. And with the lack of your warmth (just to be warm) came an urge—a longing—that took Jumin some time to be able to place. To be touched. To relive the memories of you, or your hands, or your lips, pressed against him.

So it started with subtleties. A test. He’d purposely brush your fingers together when you passed him something. Reach for something you were reaching for just for the chance to feel your skin against his when it wasn’t necessary. Nonchalantly slide his palm into yours when you sat close to him or he, himself, sat too close to you.

One day, his left hand in yours and a cup of still-too-hot tea in the other, Jumin tells you, “I have a proposal.”

“Another? So soon? I already said yes,” you tease.

He chuckles. “Indeed. This is not a second request for your hand in marriage, though I guarantee that I would be overjoyed to marry you ten times over. Rather, I was curious if you’d be so kind as to assist me in something.”

“Anything,” you tell him. “Though it’s nothing nefarious, I hope?”

His brows furrow slightly and he looks to where your hands are locked together. “You do not take me for a criminal, do you? In that case, it’s rather irresponsible that you should stay so contentedly in my company, let alone accept my request regardless.”

A smile breaks your feigned seriousness. “I know you’re a good man, Jumin.” The concern fades away from his eyes as he looks back to you and fondly shakes his head. “But hypothetically, I never said I wouldn’t help you commit crimes,” you add.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says through an amused exhale.

“Good. Then tell me, what’s my assistance needed for?”

“An experiment.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Then allow me to explain,” Jumin says. “I have deduced over the last several weeks of us spending time together that I find my desire to touch you, to be touched by you, increasing substantially.”

“In what sense?”

He raises an eyebrow and a smile threatens the corners of his lips. “I am simply speaking in general terms. Though I would not be opposed to more sex, too.”

He doesn’t miss the twinkle in your eyes (and he does smile, then).

“Ergo,” he continues with a giddiness uncharacteristically present on his tongue, “I hypothesise that an increase in physical contact between us, in any and all forms, would lead to an increase in my quality of life. Only if that would be something you may also enjoy, of course.”

“You know, I never had you down as much of the type to put the fate of something as precious as your quality of life in someone else’s hands.” You lean in and kiss him in the way that always leaves him half-dizzy and wanting more; chaste but playful; almost saccharine. “But I’ll take good care of it.”

Truth be told, Jumin is not the type to give away his vulnerability easily. Not at all. But if he feels the need to explain himself further (and he does), it never comes. His need for you is not something he can effectively vocalise. Just because — that’s at the crux of it. Just because.

So subtleties shift to blatancies. When you drag yourself out of his bed in the mornings that you stay at the penthouse to greet him brewing tea or coffee for you both in the kitchen, you wrap your arms around his waist and sink into his back with no hesitancy or resistance. He lets you take the first cup and holds onto it longer than he needs to just to feel the way the heat passes between his hands and the ceramic and between your hands and his. He tucks your hair away from your face as you take the first sip, and revels in the way you gently rest your head against him with your eyes closed while trying to properly wake yourself up. The way you make a point of straightening his tie and smoothing out his jacket before he leaves for work, how you linger with your hands pressed to his chest, is something he savours. It means he kisses you with just a little more fervour than had previously been typical in the morning, and he won’t complain when you keep his mouth to yours for just a few moments too long. When he has the honour of coming home to you after an exhausting day he will happily lay on you as you run your fingers into his hair and listen to him talk. He will let himself be pampered and held and kissed silly. And he will reject that pesky null hypothesis: There is no significant relationship between physical contact and my quality of life.

Because it’s you.

[jafndaegur]

Another Wonderful Year

Jumin Week | Day 1: Free Day | @juminweek2019

Jumin walks into the penthouse with a tired sigh, stepping out of his shoes and dropping his briefcase down by the door. A weary hand rakes through his hair and he takes a moment to lean against the doorway. It is dark, and only the dim light from a lamp in the living room filters in through the hall.

"MC, Elizabeth?"

"Ah, Jumin! Espérate allí, amorcito—un momento! Stay there for just one more minute, okay?"

His chuckle is tired but he decides to humor them. Leaning back and looking up at the ceiling, he closes his eyes and takes a deep inhale. He notices the small details he didn't catch before. The hint of espresso and the smell of roses. MC must have brought out the vinyl player from their bedroom because the soft looping scratch of the needle on the record whispers faintly.

"Alright, you can come over now!" MC calls with a warm timbre in their voice.

Jumin chuckles to himself and pushes off the wall. He listens as a soft and jazzy song begins to play. When he gets to the living room, his breath hitches a bit. Rose petals are scattered along the floor, and candles line every shelf and coffee table. MC stands at the center, their eyes bright and pleased with themself.

"Darling…" Jumin scans the room and notices the two little mugs of hot espresso.

"Qué tal el trabajo hoy, Jumin?" MC saunters up to him with their hands behind their back. "Was it a good day at work?"

Jumin leans down and presses a soft kiss to MC's lips. Their breath flutters against his skin and a pleased smile spreads against his mouth. He hums softly.

"There wasn't much to report today, but it certainly seems to be more eventful now…what's the occasion?"

"What's the occasion?" MC mimics with a light teasing tone before holding out a bouquet of flowers they'd been hiding. "I know you didn't forget, amorcito. Your father wouldn't let you forget your own birthday, let alone the media."

Jumin takes the flowers in his arms, eyes widening as he peruses the white waxy petals and the soft red blooms of different peonies and magnolias.

"Flowers? For me?"

"For you. What could I get a man who receives everything on the daily?" MC stands on their tiptoes and kisses him again, giggling when a surprised little gasp escapes him.

"What did you get him?" Jumin murmurs back.

"Well, flowers that are as beautiful as he." MC gently takes the flowers from his hold and places them on the coffee table. Placing their arms around his neck, they bring him to a slow sway in time with the tempo of the music. "An ambient evening as a calm as he, and warm embrace as loving as he."

Jumin laughs, it is a heady and thunderous thing in his chest.

"Happy birthday, amorcito," MC coos as their hand finds his.

He leads MC in a dance to the golden light of the candles. "Thank you, darling. Here's to another wonderful year with you."

[elvendara]

MYSME FICTOBER DAY 10/JUMIN WEEK DAY 6

@mysme-fictober & @juminweek2019

Michael's Edition

10 October 2023—GRAVESTONE Jumin Week—Physical Touch

“That’s morbid.” Jumin said as he watched his wife step away from the headstone she’d just set on their front yard. It read ‘Jumin Han, beloved husband and father’ with a death date of the current year, beneath that it read ‘Lillie Han, beloved wife and mother’, with the same death date. “At least we died together apparently.”

“We did, in a car accident, quite tragic really.” Lillie quipped.

“And, how many children did we leave behind?”

“Five.”

“Five? Goodness, we’ve been busy.” He laughed. Lillie hugged him close, placing her hand between his shoulder blades. She could feel him shiver beneath her touch. The man was jelly in her hands.

“We have!”

“Who’s going to take care of them now?” he asked, the feel of her against his body sending a thrill through him as always.

“Hmm, maybe Yoosung?” she said.

“Yoosung? He can’t even take care of himself. He’d let them run all over him. I think not.” He laughed.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Yoosung would love them unconditionally, besides, he has Saeran to help.”

Jumin arched an eyebrow. “Well, I suppose our friends would step up wouldn’t they?”

“Yes, now, want to help me with Elizabeth 3rd’s gravestone too?”

“What?” he said, “She’s gone too?”

“Yes, she was in the car with us, we were taking her to the vet because she was sick. Thankfully driver Kim wasn’t driving, now that would be tragic.” She laughed.

“Ha ha, come back here. I think I need some intimacy after all of this tragedy.” He pulled her towards him cupping her face gently and kissed her. “I just need to feel you close my love.”

“I love you.” She said, gazing into his eyes. “Why don’t we go inside and maybe we can get started on those five kids.” She teased.

Jumin smirked as he scooped her up in his arms and headed into the house. “Let’s!”

[brighteststar707]

Jumin Week 2023

Written for Jumin Week 2023, hosted by @juminweek2019 and based on this prompt list.

✦ Day 2 - Receiving Gifts

✦ Day 3 - Quality Time

✦ Day 4 - Acts of Service

✦ Day 5 - Words of Affirmation

[camilastuf]

Day 2 - Touched -  EDIT : my sleep deprived self forgot to add the context   context : ‘‘ Jumin tries to wake you up after last night’s  heated love session , but you decide to mess with him by not waking up and trying your best to pretend to be alseep ‘‘ translation : WARNING : I don’t know korean, I just used the exact translation in the game: 00:42 - ‘’Dear’’ 00:46 - ‘’princess’’ 00:54 - ‘’yes/ That’s right’’ 1:01 - ‘’ I’m up’’ 1:02 - ’’hm’’? 1:04 - ‘’That Face?’’ 1:09 - ‘’Are you playing with me?’’ 1:13 - ‘’oh, are you pretending to be asleep?’’ 1:22- ‘’I like seeing you make that face’’ 1:27 - ‘’But I enjoy looking at your wide eyes more so I will wake you up with a kiss’’ 1:49 - ‘‘How about it’‘ 2:03 - ‘’ Do you understand my struggle now?’’ 2:11 - ‘’ Your face is red. Are you having a fever?’’ 2:18 - ‘’Well.. I tend to have a lower body temperature’’ 2:27 - ‘’So you’d be the perfect temperature in my arms’’ 2:33 - ‘’ ..Why don’t you come closer? just a little bit.’’ 2:38 - ‘’ Hm?…I don’t want that…don’t turn your back on me’’ 2:44 - ‘’ Yes, keep your chin up like that’’ 2:49 - ‘’I want to see you’’ 3:00 - ‘’Too late to regret it now .. you’re the one who started it..Come to me’’

I might be too late for the party but I said I would be participating in @juminweek2019 and damn it I will, time zones can sometimes be a god send  it’s not the best of quality it’s been almost a year and i still don’t know what i’m doing   but in all honesty I enjoyed making this little clip. I’d like to thank my amazing friends over at discord especially the amazing 💝💖 @fandomplethora 💓💓 and the insanely talented artist that reached to me and give some much needed material 💓 Franjipanitree [Anj] 💗  i still can’t believe i got to talk to both of you   💗💝 thank you all for helping me and answering all of my pointless random questions, love you all. 

💕💖

[edgelord-saeran]

Day Two: Touch

Positive touch wasn't something Jumin was used to. He wouldn't call his father a cold man, but he certainly wasn't the type of father who would often give physical affection to his son. His mother... his mother was never around. Even when she was there, she wasn't truly there. But he still soaked up the little bit of affection gave him.

Then came the wandering touches of those who wanted something from him. Money, fame, accusations that could be pulled out years in the future. These touches made him never want to be touched again.

He was labeled cold at that point by the media, but unfortunately the label didn't create a deterrent. Instead, they seemed to take it as a challenge. Who could bag the man made of ice?

He hated them.

For a while, Elizabeth's soft touch was the only thing he could stomach.

But then that changed. Jumin met her and found that her touch didn't send the shudders of revulsion down his spine. Despite being told to stay in the apartment, he'd come across her walking down the sidewalk as he left work for the night.

"What are you doing?" Jumin asked. She jumped at the sudden question, but then looked at him sheepishly.

"I... got hungry." She offered with a weak smile. Jumin nodded, pushing open the car door.

"Get in, I'll take you to dinner."

He ended up taking her back to the penthouse, pulling extra ingredients out of the fridge to create dinner for her as well. He had been stirring a pot when he suddenly felt a hand gently touch his back as she leaned forward to look at what he was doing.

"Oh! Sorry. I'm a little touchy." She said with an awkward laugh once she noticed him staring at her in confusion.

"No. It's... it's fine." Jumin managed to mumble, stating back at the pot.

"Are you sure?" She asked, concern flooding her voice. It was clear to her that the simple touch had actually bothered him.

"It's okay. I didn't mind it." Jumin said, confident in his answer. It had been okay.

And now they were together and it was more than okay. Now she was like a source of energy for him. One long hug from her could wipe away a weeks worth of exhaustion.

He came home from the office to find her sitting on the couch going through the RFA emails. Without a word, he flopped over on the couch, suit and all. She laughed as his head found it's way into her lap and she set her phone down so she could run her fingers through his hair.

"Long day?" She asked gently.

"Unbelievably." Jumin mumbled before nuzzling his face into her stomach. She giggled at the sensation it caused and skritched her fingers along his scalp.

"You're just like a cat." She mused. Jumin smiled slightly, and he was positive that she could feel it as she laughed. He already felt like he could take on the world again. Not that he ever wanted to move from this spot. Unable to stop himself he spoke.

"Meow~"

[mrs-han]

Beef Wellington

Jumin Week

Day One - Birthday

~~~

What should you give to a man who has everything?

Food, of course.

But Jumin’s lack of interest in sweets daunted you. You were a baker at heart - you loved to dip your fingers in frosting and cookie batter, and Jumin preferred steak and foie gras.

Those were one in the same right?

You tried to follow several celebrity chefs - Gordon Ramsay and Jaime Oliver specifically - but to no avail. Too many dishes were either burnt to a crisp or overcooked - a nice and more roundabout way to say burnt.

You weren’t about to give in so easily, however. This was for your husband, the absolute and undeniable love of your life. You were going to make him the fanciest dinner he had ever set his eyes on, and you were going to be successful.

…

“Beef fillet. Lean meat with little fine sinews of fat running through. It just melts in your mouth like butter. Seasoned.”

You lightly seasoned the fillet with salt and pepper, eyes glued to the overhanging tablet. With Gordon Ramsay as your instructor, what could go wrong?

“Hot pan, olive oil.”

You moved your hand over a cast-iron skillet and delicately poured olive oil… and winced as the oil hopped and skipped from the pan onto you.

“Ow, ow!!” You yanked the skillet from the stove and yelped once it hit the floor, almost smashing your toes.

“Seal. Mustard. Think about it. Fillet beef wellington, English mustard. You aren’t gonna put dijon on there, are you?”

You grabbed a cloth and plopped the skillet back onto the stove. “Slow down, Mister Ramsay! Okay, where… where is my mustard… wait, how long do I cook the beef?!”

“Mushrooms. Seasoned. Blitz.”

“What’s a blitz?!”

Frazzled, you gathered your mushrooms and threw them into the food processor, switching it on shortly after.

“Now, we’ve got to take the water out of the mushrooms.”

You brushed your hair away from your face with a huff. “Wha - I’m not done blitzing Mister Ramsay, I still don’t know what a blitz is!”

“Look how wet they are. You don’t put oil or butter into the pan. You put nothing in there.”

“Oh my god.” With a pop, you shut off the drowning noises from the machine.

“Look how much water’s coming out now.”

A frustrated huff followed by a roll of the eyes. “I can’t Mister Ramsay, I’m not there yet.”

“Darling?”

“Bah!!”

Splat.

It all happened so quickly. You couldn’t make heads or tails of it - one second you were scooping the processed mushrooms from the processor, the next… it was on your husband’s chest.

“... I am so sorry Jumin, are you okay?!”

Jumin gathered the mushroom concoction onto the tip of his finger, licking it and lightly smacking his lips.

“No, oh my gosh, please don’t eat that,” you sighed while dabbing his vest and tie with a wet cloth. “Welcome home…”

“You don’t seem very enthused,” Jumin chuckled lightly, swiping the mushroom on your nose and shifting your chin upward.

“Sorry,” you smiled weakly, swiping the mushroom from your nose. “I wanted… I was hoping to make you Beef Wellington.”

Jumin’s fingers tenderly massaged your arms. “Beef Wellington? Gordon Ramsay’s recipe?”

“Yes,” you pouted. “It’s your birthday and it’s such a special day, so why not go all out you know? It isn’t coming together, though…”

“Come now, darling,” Jumin lightly chastised you, pinching your cheek. “You’re far too hard on yourself. We’ll make it together, hm?”

“No, this is for you to enjoy!”

“I enjoy spending time with my wife,” Jumin crooned, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“... You’re still so smooth. For an old man, that is.”

He laughed heartily, digging his fingers into your stomach and tickling you mercilessly. “Excuse you?”

“Ju-Jumin!! Stop!!” You pried his hands from your stomach, lightly kissing his knuckles.

He turned his palm up and cupped your cheek, stroking your cheekbone. “Shall we, my love?”

“Yeah…” You beamed. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

…

“Assemble. Clean film.”

Both you and Jumin stared blankly at the ingredients. The tablet was greased with fingerprints and olive oil, the Parma ham lay abused from repetitive folds… and there was still remnants of mushroom on Jumin’s vest.

“Yeah, this uh… this isn’t gonna happen,” you shook your head.

“... What does blitz mean darling?”

“I still don’t know!!” You giggled, dabbing your husband’s vest.

“Thank you,” Jumin hummed, his hand gripping your fingers delicately.

“For what, the mess I created?” You teased.

“Precisely that. We can spend more time with each other cleaning everything up. It’s the perfect end to a perfect day.”

“You’re adorable, Jumin.” You tugged his tie down and planted a wet kiss on his cheek. “Happy birthday, honey… I’m about to get sappy and emotional, but you mean the world to me, and I’m so… I’m so happy you’re here.”

He closed his eyes, pulling your hand to his cheek and affectionately kissed your palm. “I was born for you, my love. I was born to love and adore you, and to be loved and adored by you.”

“You were born to fulfill your dreams and your desires, Jumin!” You beamed, blushing madly.

“You are my dream. And you are my desire. I need nothing else.”

“... You’re going to make me melt. How you come up with these things is beyond me.”

Jumin chuckled gently, tucking his fingers under your chin and kissing you devotedly. “I was a poet in a past life.”

“I thought you don’t believe in past lives!”

“I didn’t believe in a lot of things until you came along, lady.”

Dazed yet entranced, you cupped his cheeks and smooshed them lightly, arousing him to hold the small of your back.

“I love you,” he growled against your lips.

“I love you. And happy birthday. You old coot.”

“Make another joke about me being old. I dare you.”

“Who said I was joking?”

His fingers burrowed into your stomach again - you squirmed and squealed, screaming, “You can’t keep using the same attack, Jumin!”

“Come,” Jumin lightly patted your rump. “We need to clean.”

“Huh, look at you! You didn’t push it off to the maid! I guess what they say is true, you can -”

Jumin raised a wary brow at you.

“Teach an old dog new tri -”

He plucked you up, throwing you over his shoulder rather recklessly.

“Gah, Jumin!! I was just kidding, heeh, put me down!!”

“You don’t seem to realize what comes out of that pretty mouth of yours,” he hummed coolly, moving closer to the bed. “I’m charmed, but my feelings are hurt. And you need to take responsibility.”

“I’m sorry ~!!” You pleaded. “Mercy Juju, mercy!!”

“Mercy is denied.”

“Waah!!”

[jumin-love]

@juminweek2019

Day 1 | Happy Birthday | Family | RFA

"So many choices, but which beverage shall I select?.  Mi, miya, meow, meoow.  I can understand everything you say, Elizabeth.”

[yoosungisbabie]

if i got you by my side - day two

@juminweek2019

jumin x mc

rating: G

prompt: white roses - loyalty, pure love, commitment, and innocence

warnings: joking about dying, nothing graphic!

word count: 1.9k

ao3 link

While attending Zen's wedding, MC can't help but imagine her own special day.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Jumin’s hand slipped from her waist as she gasped in delight and stepped forward, immediately covering her mouth and glancing around apologetically.

MC hadn’t thought the venue would be so extravagant, considering Zen and his fiancé were living so frugally. Plus, they’d kept all details about the venue a secret. 

“Jumin, look at this!” she whispered excitedly, reaching out and taking his hand. His eyes widened slightly at her, and she easily pulled him closer. She’d peeked into the hall, seeing all the flowers, the lights, and the general decor. She couldn’t help but get a little teary-eyed. 

“I wonder if Zen helped at all,” Jumin commented, and she snickered, eyeing him knowingly. He’d promised to keep his teasing to a minimum, just for today. She didn’t know if Zen had promised the same. 

After looking around for a few more minutes, they were pulled back out to meet family. She felt so happy to be there, and it was all made better once the RFA slowly started showing up. 

Seven and Yoosung came together, the redhead stressing about Yoosung’s borrowed suit and tie. Jaehee showed up only a few minutes later, looking the least-stressed MC had ever seen her. She hugged each of them, unable to stop thinking about how happy she’d be when they came to her and Jumin’s wedding. The thought made her blush because of how ahead of herself she was getting. 

After all of the events at Jumin’s penthouse, they’d begun their relationship steadily and very much in love. She’d dreamed of him proposing for months, but she knew it was far too soon. It didn’t stop her from daydreaming, of course. 

“You look great, MC!” Seven grinned as the RFA all stood together and waited for the event to start. 

“Oh, thank you! Jumin helped pick out my dress,” she smiled shyly, moving slightly so her skirt would sway as she looked down at it.

“Does he get to help pick out your wedding dress when you get married too? Or is that a girl’s only thing?” Yoosung wondered, and her eyes shot to the college student as heat rose to her cheeks. 

“I mean–” She cut herself off with a laugh, avoiding Jumin’s eyes that she knew were on her. “I kind of like the American tradition of the groom not seeing the bride before the ceremony, so no,” she explained, looking back at Yoosung to watch him smile.

“Oh, I’ve heard of that! I think that’s so cute,” he gushed, glancing over at Seven. As he began to talk to his friend, she breathed a quiet sigh of relief, glad that the attention was off of her for a moment so she could reign in her daydreams. 

“MC,” Jaehee spoke lightly, the drink in her hand clinking against a ring she was wearing. “When do you think you and Mr. Han will get engaged?” MC’s stomach dropped, Jumin’s hand tightening around hers as she stiffened in place. 

“Well, I–” 

“It would be very concerning if she were to know the timing of such a decision,” Jumin answered, leaning closer to her and making her turn to look at him. “If she knew, I would need to consider the possibility that she has the ability to read minds,” he said, sending her a small smile. 

“Of course, Mr. Han,” Jaehee replied, clearing her throat softly. “I was just wondering for…business purposes,” she said slowly, sending MC a look as MC held back a laugh. Jumin lingered close to her for a moment longer than she expected, but when she turned to look at him, he was taking a sip of his wine, his expression unreadable. 

Before she could dive further into her fantasies, they were all ushered into the ceremony hall. Jumin released her hand and led her by the small of her back, and she held on tightly to the handle of her purse. She hadn’t expected any questions like that, but it was almost euphoric to be given more fuel for her wild thoughts, especially in such a beautiful venue that she could only hope to replicate whenever she had the opportunity to get married herself. 

They all sat down in the same row, waiting excitedly as the room filled with loved ones and the time grew closer. 

She turned to Jumin, seeing him already looking at her with a warmth that always made her stomach fill with happy butterflies. 

“I’m glad we came,” she whispered, placing a hand on Jumin’s knee. He smiled, nodding and leaning closer to her. 

“I don’t think we would have heard the end of it if we didn’t,” he teased, kissing her cheek and making her press her lips together happily. She chuckled at his reply, glancing away for a moment. 

“I wouldn’t have wanted to miss it,” he said before she could jest along with him. She turned back to look at him, slightly surprised that he’d said so. 

“Really?” she wondered, searching his eyes for any hint of joking. He blinked at her. 

“I mean it,” he whispered, nodding. “It’s a very important event for Zen and the RFA. I would be remiss if I wasn’t here.” She admired him for a short moment, thinking about how far he’d come since she’d first met him. 

“I’m so happy to hear that,” she replied quietly, leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips just as the music swelled to signal the start of the ceremony. 

MC was simply in awe as the night progressed, tearing up when Zen started on his vows. Jumin offered his pocket square to her, making her chuckle. She avoided looking at him for most of the ceremony, afraid she would get lost in thought and completely lose sight of who the night was about. 

At the reception, she finally got to talk with Zen and his lovely wife.

“Congratulations!” she exclaimed, hugging both of them and grinning from ear to ear. She watched as Jumin shook Zen’s hand, both of them seemingly unable to think of something to tease the other with. 

“Thank you both for coming, seriously,” Zen beamed, wrapping his arm around his wife and making her smile. 

“We wouldn’t miss it,” MC replied, glancing up at Jumin and taking his hand. Zen looked between them, eyeing his wife before smirking and taking a breath to speak.

“So when are you two–”

“ZEN!” She heard Seven call, watching as the redhead bounded over and nearly knocked Zen over with a hug. 

Jumin and MC stepped away, giving them space and moving on to the refreshments and the festivities. She’d never seen the RFA so happy and relaxed, and it made her all the more eager to have her own wedding and give them another night to be carefree and all together. 

After a few hours and a couple of drinks, it was warm in the banquet hall, and Jumin offered to take MC outside for some air. Happily agreeing, she followed him, his hand firmly around hers as they maneuvered through the building and out into a beautifully lit courtyard.

“How are you feeling?” Jumin wondered, leading her over to a bench and letting her sit down before he followed suit. She smiled, shaking her head.

“Not good?” he prompted, leaning closer and assessing her expression. She snickered, shaking her head again and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m over the moon,” she gushed, sighing happily as Jumin’s face softened and he smiled.

“Hearing that makes me feel the same,” he murmured gently. She felt her heart flutter, pausing briefly before leaning over to press a lingering kiss to his lips. When she pulled back, she saw his expression was now one of curiosity. 

“What was that for?” he wondered, his voice barely floating over the music that was loud enough to be heard from where they were. 

“Nothing,” she smiled. “I just love you,” she whispered, still close enough for him to be able to hear her. He searched her eyes, his lips brushing hers as he replied. 

“I love you too,” he whispered back. Her hand squeezed his shoulder slightly, her veins filling with unwavering love for him.

“No matter how long it takes for us to get married, I will be just as happy,” she spoke softly, scooting towards him and hugging him. His hands slipped around her, resting on her back. 

“Really?” he asked, the question resonating throughout his chest and against hers. 

“As long as I have you, yes,” she said, closing her eyes as she felt herself melting into his arms. “It doesn’t matter under what title.” He hummed in response, running his hands up and down her back slowly. 

“Friend,” he said, making her laugh and pull away from him. He was smiling teasingly, not usually the one to make a joke in a tender moment. 

“You know what I mean,” she joked back, shaking her head and deciding to keep it going. “We could get married right before we both die! On our deathbeds and everything,” she said, snickering as his nose wrinkled slightly. 

“How macabre,” he grunted, making her laugh loudly and lean in to hug him again. She chuckled once more in his arms before sighing out and relishing in the moment of silence and bliss. 

“I understand what you mean,” he said after a few wordless moments. “I agree. That is to say, I feel the same way,” he continued, making her pull away and look at him now that he was being serious. A thousand thoughts flooded through her mind – the vows they would exchange, the ring she’d be blessed to wear, the dress she’d toil over, and just all of the lovely moments that she would remember forever. 

Snapping herself out of it, she smiled and looked down at her hands. She could spend the rest of the night out there with him, but that night wasn’t about her. 

“Let’s go back,” she breathed out, not expecting it would be that hard for her to say. “I’m sure one of them is getting into trouble.” Jumin watched her, nodding after a moment and placing his hands on his legs to stand up. She followed suit, smoothing out her skirt and taking a step forward before she saw Jumin falter at her side. 

Turning to look, she felt time slow down as she watched him get down on one knee. Her heart felt like it was about to drop into her stomach, a lump forming in her throat. 

“Jumin, I swear on my–”

“Just a moment while I tie my shoe, my love,” he replied, her heart pounding in her ears almost making her ask what he’d said. Looking down, she saw that his shoe was indeed untied, her breathing slowing gradually. 

“You untied it with your precious feet that are probably aching in those heels,” he smiled, a look in his eyes that seemed mischievous. She wanted to ask if he’d done it on purpose, but thinking of the moment when he would actually propose would send her into a frenzy again. 

“I’m okay,” she said unconvincingly, waiting in silence as he tied his shoe and stood up once more. 

“Would you like to hold my arm as we walk, darling?” he offered, her lips parted in speechlessness. She could only nod, laughing a little and taking his arm to steady herself for many reasons as they started back towards the reception. 

Little did MC know, her engagement ring was burning a hole in the pocket of Jumin’s suit jacket. And neither of them knew how much the other daydreamed of being tied to each other forever.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

thank you all for reading! this one isn't my favorite, but I didn't wanna be behind a day again lol

please consider leaving a few tags of what you thought if you reblog! it means so much to me <3

see y'all tomorrow!

mel x

[xelasrecords]

All That Glitters

Han Jumin x OC

Jumin Week 2024 - Day 3: Green Daylily (Romantic Love, “The Flower That Helps Forget Sorrows”) @juminweek2019

All that glitters is not gold. An arranged marriage brings out the worst in Aecha and Jumin, and witnessing him fall for someone he can’t have may just be her tipping point.

A/N: I’ve tried to break the cliché of a cheater being just bad in Wedge the Knife Under My Skin, now this is my shot at humanising the gold-digger stereotype. Jumin as perceived by a resentful wife trapped in a marriage she doesn’t want may not be the Jumin you know. I humbly ask you to withhold your judgement and see it from her eyes.

TW: self-harm

Words: 5.4k

Masterlist Read on AO3

Aecha thought she could do this. Jumin was hers, but he could not belong to her, could not, could not, could NOT!—

She was sometimes a simpleton but not a deranged young woman. Breathe in, then out. Slipped her hand beneath her metallic dress that parted at her leg and twisted the skin on her thigh.

She was good and entertaining and desirable.

Aecha parted the masses and conversations halted. Her beauty glimmered and cloistered the useless watchers. Not only known as someone’s wife, her position in her company was just as important in this event. Businesses relied on hers to function, so Aecha could seamlessly negotiate winning deals and blackball distasteful people as she saw fit.

She headed to her husband. Jumin raised his champagne at her and smiled. Only she could see how insincere the smile was.

He never liked her enough to bestow her any semblance of authenticity.

No, that was her. A solemn, porcelain-faced her.

Jumin stared at the back of the woman’s head when she turned to thank the waiter and Aecha nearly broke. His naked yearning was embarrassing and she felt the urge to apologise to anyone who caught him. When a bald man approached him, Aecha intercepted and went on about nice, irrelevant things like the doltish young lady she decided to be.

I’m sorry, my husband is occupied. Partner? What business partner? Come on, don’t be boring. Leave your work at the office and drink! Here, take mine.

He spun the champagne glass in his hand and drank where her lipstick had stained its rim.

Aecha giggled and covered her lips while looking down at the marble flooring. The violet lights were giving her a headache. Fucking gaudy. People these days liked to use flashing colours as a theme instead of acting like it was a proper formal event.

Was Jumin staring? Of course he was. And he was coming, Lord save her.

Jumin rounded his arm around her waist and kissed her head. It meant nothing and Aecha felt nothing. She used all her strength not to lean away when he ruined her sleek, freshly cut bob and embraced him. Over his shoulder, she did a quick sweep for another sighting of the woman, but she couldn’t find her.

That was how it started. At a gala dinner, a married businessman sought a reprieve through a fleeting conversation with a woman as small as an easily crushed bird. He was entranced ever since. His wife couldn’t blame him, for she was also a wraith in their marriage. A chasm was where she looked, and this might be her best plunge yet.

*     *     *     *     *

Jumin had been gripping his phone tightly. Whether he was waiting for her to text back or deciding to send the first text, Aecha couldn’t be arsed. She just wanted him to stop bothering her peace with his pacing.

She slammed her book shut. “Would you be so kind as to fucking sit down and overthink quietly?”

Jumin scowled at her, but Aecha didn’t bristle. Gone were the days when she had to be timid in front of him. Jumin was not as powerful as everyone thought. He couldn’t even break out of his marriage. “You complain when the house is too quiet, yet you berate me when I endeavour to make this space livelier. I can’t get anything right.”

Aecha crossed her legs and studied her glistening nails with a breezy disinterest. “The brunette looked like your taste.”

While they did have an agreement to be able to see other people as long as it was discreet, the reality of it rattled Aecha more than she liked to admit. It was not jealousy she felt. She hated that Jumin won in this game of misery, that he had found a raft to tide over his loneliness while she had to drown alone.

Jumin sighed. “I only conversed with her because she and I share a similar view on certain subjects.”

“Like wanting her mouth around your cock,” she said. “Did you manage to sneak off for a quick fuck in the closet?”

“You are dreadful when something is not to your liking.” Jumin’s face twisted in disgust. He was only this expressive when they were alone. All that wasted media training. His childhood tutor would be disappointed. “I apologise that you had to deal with unpleasant associates on my behalf, but it’s been a long day. Do postpone your vitriolic statements. No one has the patience to deal with your tantrums all the time, Aecha.”

She held her hands up in mock acquiescence. “I only have one request: do not fuck her in the master bedroom. Take the one downstairs if you’d like.”

Jumin seemed to be calculating something before he sat beside her and placed her book on his lap. “If I ever brought anyone home as you apparently wish, perhaps I should do it in the bedroom beside ours. You could take notes on being more delightful in bed.” He smiled, but it made him look all wrong. Too crude and cruel for his elegant countenance.

Aecha patted his cheek, hot derision burning against her chest. “It says more about your dirt-poor standard that you still want to sleep with me if you’re this dissatisfied.”

“You’re within reach.” Jumin shrugged. “But I assure you, that won’t happen anymore.”

The jab didn’t land as he expected. Aecha was well-acquainted with the extent of his obsession with a mere cat, so she shuddered to think of being on the receiving end as a person.

“You’re a boring fuck too, Han Jumin. I just had to make do with what I had.”

Jumin let out an audible scoff and Aecha seized her book. At least he had a good mind not to crease the pages.

*     *     *     *     *

Let bygones be bygones.

Their squabbles never lasted more than a few days, but still, sharing a bed with Jumin was ridiculous. Aecha didn’t know why they never separated despite the many available rooms in this penthouse. Perhaps sleeping with someone you loathed was better than no one at all.

The harsh glow from Jumin’s phone washed over his face as his fingers tentatively danced across the screen. His facial features were worth the applause, she had to admit. As beautiful as a forbidden painting, as empty as a forgotten memory. No wonder the brunette was drawn to him. Jumin was a mystery to be solved and opposition would only drive her further into his arms.

“I can’t sleep with your phone light,” protested Aecha.

“You can turn the other way,” Jumin replied without a glance at her. “Elizabeth the Third is sleeping soundly, see?”

The white cat, curled like a doughnut between them, peeked through her eyelids. Aecha stroked her fur and she purred, dozing off again. “Have you met her again?”

Jumin’s fingers froze while a new message popped up on his phone. How would that woman feel if she knew he was lying side by side with his wife as he flattered her? She must know about Aecha’s existence. Their wedding was highly publicised.

But Aecha couldn’t judge her for trying to hold on to a strand of flimsy hope. It happened to the worst of them. She hadn’t been strong enough to resist the temptation either.

“Yes.” The word scraped against Jumin’s throat. “Have you taken your melatonin?”

He was always trying to get rid of her. “I want to take more than the prescribed dosage,” she said.

“You wouldn’t want to relieve the experience of your stomach being pumped. Neither do I.” He pulled the duvet up Aecha’s neck and folded the corner into a neat rectangle. “So save us the medical trouble and go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

“For you, maybe.” She suppressed her surprise that Jumin noticed her shivering. “You finally found a toy to distract yourself, but it’s hell for me every day.”

“You should have acclimatised yourself to this by now.” Jumin looked down at her with a pity that bordered on condescending. Aecha wanted to scratch it off his face.

She nodded at his phone and he turned the screen away. “You’re like a little kid with a candy dangled right above him,” she said, “but you’re too short, too powerless, to reach it.”

“She is a human being, not a candy or a toy. Get your facts straight.”

“You’re stupid for someone so smart.”

Jumin let out a long-suffering sigh. “Now who’s acting like a child?”

That was enough reaction. As long as Jumin was still useful, Aecha couldn’t annihilate him, but she could prick him with little poisons every day. She might have been sold off to him for the betterment of her father’s company, but she would not be delivered meek.

Aecha curled into a foetal position, eyes trained on him with resolve. It was self-flagellation to a degree; rage broiled inside her whenever she caught his genuine smile. She wanted, for once, to be on the receiving end of that smile. Jumin never seemed to enjoy his conversations with her, and she was always incensed or numbed by the end of them.

It wasn’t that she wanted to be loved by him per se. She thirsted for the acknowledgement that she was worth loving and capable of reserving romance despite everything that made her a monster. It offended her that Jumin never even tried to weigh her worth and turn this marriage into a real thing. One look at her and he detested her with the kind of resentment that didn’t fade with age.

Aecha knew that her sheer existence was a nuisance for Jumin. But if not her, who? Who else could save him from his mess? It wasn’t her fault that he didn’t put up a fight when Chairman Han trapped him into marrying her. C&R was suffering and Jumin was even more so. Aecha put the fire back inside Jumin when no one could. He had been a ghost of a person after his best friend disappeared. Now he was often irritated at her instead of walling off his emotions. Now he was someone to a nobody.

But affairs never ended well and Aecha was not planning to let go. She anticipated their doom with the giddiness of a child watching a car explode.

*     *     *     *     *

They were strolling in the sweltering heat, cloaked under the pretence of two lovers having a romantic date at the park. Aecha swerved when a teenager was cycling at them full force and pulled Jumin out of the way.

Posture was a good excuse to do something nice. Aecha didn’t want to forget how to be generous. That was a fitting practice.

Jumin thanked her and held her hand as they passed the glint of a camera behind the bushes. Aecha almost squirmed. Damp, sweaty hands were the bane of her existence. Jumin squeezed her hand in warning and she rolled her eyes.

“You never give me flowers when we’re having an outing,” Aecha said as they saw a man surprising another man with a bouquet. “Send me some if you want to maintain your image. We’ve come too far to generate false rumours about our divorce.”

“There are many ways to show affection without flowers.” Jumin’s attention was on a kid licking her ice lollies. “I wonder how the taste of that frozen stick differs from a gelato.”

“Artificial.”

Jumin turned to her in shock. “You have tried it?”

“I’m not as out of touch with commoners as you.” Aecha huffed. “The employees appreciate it more when you can understand their culture.”

“I shall take note of your practice.”

When Aecha caught a whiff of another bed of roses, she got annoyed that her mission was side-tracked. “Send me flowers, Jumin. Or is that something reserved for your side chick?” Aecha knew she was shattering their fragile peace, but she couldn’t help it. Her bitterness always came out before she could stop herself. “Her sad face is charming to lonely boys, I’ll give you that. Makes you want to save her, doesn’t it?”

Frustration flashed across Jumin’s expression, but he swallowed it. Jumin never lost his temper, not even when they were not being watched. If she was a cannonball, he was an impenetrable fortress. She couldn’t elicit an explosive reaction no matter how hard she tried.

It didn’t mean Aecha would stop trying though. One hole in the wall was all it needed to break him down.

“Keep her out of our date.” Jumin texted his assistant before slipping his phone into his pocket. “A bouquet will be delivered to the penthouse tomorrow. I expect it will be sufficient if you post it on your socials.”

“I thought we had a scheduled lunch with your father tomorrow.”

“I’ve called it off until further notice,” said Jumin. “I think we can both agree that none of us is eager to talk to him.”

“He’s not mad?”

“I’ve held up my bargain as a prized son. He’s already tied me to you. He should not expect anything more.” Jumin’s jaw was set. “Would you like to set our picnic here?” He gestured at the plain grass.

Aecha didn’t have an affinity for the great outdoors. Insects made her antsy and the sweat that dripped down her back and diluted her perfume were very far from her definition of a perfect date. The public demanded a lot of things from her.

She stood at the edge of the stone path as Jumin laid out the picnic rug. Knowing she had to play her part, Aecha cautiously knelt on the cloth and fished out the various pastries the chef had packed, arranging them neatly on the plates.

“Would you fetch a book for me?” Aecha asked as they dug into their croissants. “I’ve been eyeing the first edition of Anna Karenina, but I can’t find it anywhere.”

“You have a competent assistant. Utilise him.”

She didn’t know how, or why, but Jumin had a knack for making her feel small. She didn’t know what to expect from him or how far his niceties extended. “Do you really hate me that much?”

Jumin stared at her impassively, his tone bored. “Don’t pretend as if you loved me more than my money.”

The photographer was holding up his camera, so Aecha leaned forward and brushed off the crumbs from Jumin’s lips. “I never did.”

It was more complex than that, but he would never understand.

Aecha yelped when a tomato fell out of her croissant onto her skirt. She hated everything about today’s faux date. Jumin almost offered her a tissue, but he paused and shifted closer to remove the stain himself.

Aecha desperately wished this nearness made her heart thump. Their arrangement would’ve been so much easier if they could learn to fall in love with each other.

Aecha was a tortured wife, but she lived a fate worse than Anna Karenina’s. At least Anna found the will to break free and left all the wretchedness behind, but Aecha would never seize that chance.

She hated herself the most for it.

*     *     *     *     *

Well, there was a bouquet on her bedside table.

Supposed it was gorgeous. Supposed she didn’t know what these particular flowers meant because she never fell in love with a flower connoisseur who was always excited to teach her the language of flowers and never had to leave him for money. Supposed she never got tangled in her sister’s hospital debt and her father’s company wasn’t on the verge of bankruptcy.

She quashed the image of the man in her mind without mercy. It had been years ago, and she thought she might have loved him then. He was kind and loving and had no business of knowing what Aecha had become. A public figure on the news was all she had to be to him.

Aecha plucked out a stem from the bouquet. Green daylily. It should have been the romantic sort, but Aecha would not subscribe to its meaning of forgetting the pain from the past and present. She would hold on to the thorny memories. She wouldn’t have survived this marriage otherwise. Sometimes to stay alive meant to torture yourself with your kindest ghosts.

And how could she forget the very life she was living? Not a day went by without Jumin reminding Aecha what true sadness was. She wanted to be angry at Jumin’s assistant for getting the wrong flowers, but it was nobody’s fault, she knew. Her fury was really just loneliness was really just disappointment and guilt directed at herself.

Her choice brought her here. Her loyalty to her family cost her Jumin’s friendship and genuine love from someone, anyone.

Both of them would have suffered less in this marriage if they had been able to forge even the barest connection. Who, aside from Jumin, could understand her plight exactly? They were trapped in this together. They were supposed to turn to each other when hope eluded them. Jumin was as lonely as her, and no amount of wine and luxury for Elizabeth the Third could mask his emptiness from her.

They had never laughed together, Aecha realised, despair writhing in her gut. There were sarcastic chuckles and conceited smirks and plastic smiles, but never laughter that made them double over while clutching their stomachs. She hadn’t expected love to be on the table when she entered this marriage, but she had thought at least happiness could be within reach.

Aecha choked back a sob. She had turned her life over to Chairman Han and sentenced herself to a lifetime indenture. She couldn’t predict what she would do if her sister ever woke up. She wasn’t sure she would be happy with what Aecha had done.

But she didn’t need to approve of Aecha, she just needed to wake up.

Aecha captured a photo of the daylilies and posted it on her socials. Not a second later, comments of awe and support flooded her inbox.

Aecha was so lucky to have such a rich and loving husband. She received a surprise bouquet from a busy director while their husbands couldn’t even bother to take them out for dinner.

They had seen the pictures from her park date. How sweet, how romantic. Proof that if you were truly committed to your partner, you would carve out the time to be with them.

Aecha wanted to carve out her throat.

She turned off her phone, lay down and stared at the ceiling. She was so, so lucky.

*     *     *     *     *

“Why green daylilies?” Aecha asked as Jumin walked through the front door well into midnight. His black hair was dishevelled and his cufflinks were gone. She didn’t have to wonder where he had been. “I’ve never told you my preference.”

Jumin shot her a pointed glance. “Exactly.”

No surprise there. He didn’t bother remembering that she had a vase of irises in her study.

But Aecha was in a better mood tonight, so she decided to play nice. “They died on that same day, but I liked them when they were alive. Thank you.”

Without turning on the light in their walk-in closet, Jumin pulled off his tie and placed it on the island. Aecha noticed a lipstick smudge on the tie when she aligned it with the watch partition below the glass top. She imagined the other woman blindfolded and eagerly anticipated Jumin’s touch. A kiss here, a bite there.

What did it say about her character if the thought didn’t rankle her at all?

Aecha’s sex with Jumin was never adventurous. It was solely to satiate the thirst when they only had each other to turn to. They had agreed that searching outside their marriage was an awful waste of time and a gateway to a publicity nightmare.

“If you would like, I could arrange it with the florist so you’ll receive a bouquet each week.” Jumin was also nice today. A satisfying fuck could do that to someone.

“That’s not necessary.” Aecha shrugged. “How is she doing?” There was no hatred in her voice, only curiosity. She truly was baffled at how someone could enrapture Jumin so completely that he had been sparse in his appearance in his own house.

Jumin stiffened as though waiting for the next blow, and only slumped slightly when her jab didn’t come. “Nothing good can come out of this, you know that. She gains nothing and has everything to lose.”

“You also have a lot to lose,” Aecha said with a gentleness that sounded foreign to her ears. Strangely enough, she pitied the state they had put themselves in.

“I am hurting her.”

“You hurt a lot of people.”

“I know.” Jumin dipped his head, and it hit her that his exhaustion was more than a good fuck. His eyes were ringed with dark circles and his shoulders appeared to be weighted down. He had also been like this in their first year of marriage.

“Does she make you happy?” Aecha asked.

“Yes.”

“Does that make you unhappy?” she asked again.

Jumin’s breath trembled as he exhaled. “Yes.”

Aecha glanced down at the ticking watches locked in the glass island, relentlessly marching forward without an end destination. “Then I feel sorry for you.”

Jumin shook his head. “Don’t be. You bear the most pain of them all.” He covered her hand with his and the diamonds on their wedding rings clinked. “Don’t presume I didn’t know the origin of your rage.”

Aecha’s hand balled into a fist. Jumin was giving her too much empathy and it felt like she was stripped to the flesh and forced to bleed before him. “Stop assuming accountability. Your knowledge won’t change anything. I chose to marry you for myself.”

“Right.” Jumin leaned against the island casually. “How’s your sister?”

Aecha looked away. The closet suddenly felt too dark and imposing. “You wouldn’t see me here if she had woken.”

“I can accompany you to the hospital on your next visit.”

She drew her hand out of his grasp. The moment was over. “No.”

Aecha had tried her best to separate her sister from this world. Her innocent, pliable little sister would be easily mangled by the vultures here. Aecha was the older one, so she should take all the knives thrown at her.

No one touched her sister. Not even her husband who was sometimes lucid enough to be nice.

Aecha grabbed a pair of fresh pyjamas on the way out and flung them at Jumin. He caught them with his face, which just meant that he had shit coordination. “Take a shower before you sleep,” she said. “You reek of her.”

*     *     *     *     *

“Jumin, did you see my toothbrush?” Aecha yelled from the bathroom.

“It must have been thrown away by the housekeeper!” Jumin shouted back.

“For fuck’s sake,” she grumbled. A quick rummage through the cabinets presented no spare toothbrushes, so she wrapped a towel around her body and exited the bathroom. “Do you have any idea where she stocked it?”

Jumin was stroking a sleepy Elizabeth the Third on the bed, lying on his side. “I’m afraid not.”

Aecha put her hands on her hips. “How can you not know?”

“The last time I recalled, you’re also an occupant of this house.”

“Housekeeping is not my territory. You have a big brain, use it.”

“It’s not mine either.” Elizabeth the Third sneezed and Jumin chuckled with endearment. Aecha never got to be at the receiving end of that laugh. “And my brain is normal-sized. I just had a health check-up.”

“Then who should I ask?”

The answer came to Aecha right after she spoke. At the same time, they called out, “The butler.”

She scoffed and the side of Jumin’s mouth quirked up.

“I don’t have their number. I’ve never even seen their face,” Aecha said.

“Me neither. All forms of communication are made between Assistant Kang and them.”

“Care to help me find my toothbrush then?” Aecha asked impatiently. When Jumin didn’t budge, she re-entered the bathroom, dunked his toothbrush into the toilet bowl, and thrust it at him with a winning smile. “Look, you need a new toothbrush too. It travelled into the toilet on its own.”

Jumin’s eyes followed the water dripping down the toothbrush. “You just ruined a perfectly good cashmere rug.”

“It will be the next thing that travels into the toilet if you don’t move.”

Jumin levelled Aecha a glare that would’ve made everyone else cower, but she simply raised her brows. He grunted. “We can check the storage room.”

“Perfect.” She tossed the toothbrush into the bin and clapped her hands, then winced at the thought of splashing bacteria onto her skin. “Right after I wash my hands. Where is the storage room?”

“You have lived here for years, yet you still don’t know such a simple fact?”

Aecha shook her head with confidence.

“I don’t either.” Jumin kissed the top of Elizabeth the Third’s head and stood up. “Let’s find the mysterious room, shall we?”

*     *     *     *     *

It took them an embarrassingly long time to spot the storage room. In Aecha’s defence, it was located at the very end of the hall on the first floor where she had no reason to venture to. Jumin just thought she was always holed up in the library when she was not working. What was she supposed to do? Supervise the housekeepers around the clock? He could do it himself if he were so inclined.

To Aecha’s surprise, the room was remarkably tidy and spacious. She had been envisioning spider webs and broken bulbs; she should find the time to meet their house staff and thank them.

Aecha immediately scoured the room, pulling out drawers and opening boxes with determination. Jumin followed suit in a more curious fashion, flipping through files and looking into the washing carts with childlike fascination.

She paused. Jumin rarely showed this side of him to her. In fact, their recent exchanges had been bizarre. They fought, not banter.

What was happening to them?

“Did you get struck by lightning?” Aecha wondered aloud. “You’re easy to talk to these days.”

The scuffling from Jumin’s direction stopped and she turned around. “My—she suggested I treat you better, and she was right.” His smile was sad. “I have been cold to you even when you didn’t do anything wrong. My sincere apologies.”

He wasn’t standing far from her, but this was the farthest she felt from him.

Jumin couldn’t be told to do anything, barring this marriage. Jumin was obstinate and held a grudge towards women like her. Tolerating materialistic women was not in his nature, so the fact that he was changing merely because of—what, love?—was unacceptable. If he could change this much this fast, the woman could very well command him to do more drastic things.

“I didn’t know I was up for discussion. Doesn’t she hate me for being a hurdle to your eternal love?” Aecha couldn’t contain the bitterness in her tone.

“She understands this isn’t the ideal situation for any of us.”

“How saintly of her.” Aecha sneered. “What’s next? You promising her that this won’t be forever and asking her to wait as you find a way out?” She was picking at her nail bed with so much force that she felt a trickle of blood sliding down her thumb. When she wished for a disaster to befall Jumin and that woman, she didn’t mean to be the fallout. “Newsflash, you don’t get to divorce me. I will never accept it.”

Aecha’s hospital debt was building up at a rate that she wouldn’t be able to keep up with if it weren’t for Jumin, and the stability of her father’s companies relied on him.

She hated feeling powerless, but she had to do her part to save her family. It was the one thing she could do right in.

Jumin approached her with the caution of startling a feral cat. “I would never ask it of you,” he said. Another sentence spoken with kindness. Aecha loathed to hear it. “I’m aware of the consequences you would face.”

“Are you fucking with me? Drop the noble act,” she hissed. “She’s just one person. You don’t get to trade her for everything we’ve built. Our families wouldn’t cooperate if we split. Stocks will fall and the board will drive me out.”

Aecha knew she was far from being a favourite among the shareholders. The only reason they tolerated her was because of her relationship with Jumin. She couldn’t be seduced and tended to bulldoze over stupid, backward, outdated opinions. Her impressive performance didn’t matter when she couldn’t be moulded to their liking.

“I’m not going to divorce you. I also have my responsibilities.” Jumin massaged the crease between his eyebrows. “My end of the agreement requires me to stay with you to ensure the livelihood of our subsidiaries. I know what you will do if I attempt to leave. Your rage has no bounds. I won’t let you abuse your power and ruin innocent workers’ lives.”

Aecha was too hurt to react. She might be a headache to live with, but she was not evil. She wouldn’t put thousands of people out of their jobs because of her marriage issues. The media would hound her like wolves and she would lose people’s admiration. Love lost was almost always impossible to earn back.

But the fact that Jumin thought Aecha could do heinous things made her want to prove him right. It was too easy to latch onto fury and let it consume her. Why create a job crisis for strangers when she could strike at Jumin’s heart?

That woman was her final card. She wouldn’t hesitate to use it the moment he put her and her family in jeopardy.

“You’re wrong. I care about strangers,” Aecha said, her cheeks hot from restraining her anger.

“I have never seen that from you, Aecha.”

Jumin’s statement was so ridiculous that she had to laugh. “No, you just never see me.” She almost choked at the admission. “But that’s fine. You should keep an eye on that woman. You think you’re the only one with a hacker on your side? You already know what I’m capable of. What makes you so sure that I wouldn’t go berserk on her instead?”

Jumin came so close to her that she had to retreat until her elbow hit a cabinet. “Touch her and I won’t stand still,” he said in a low voice. “There’s only so much I can tolerate from you.”

Aecha’s tightened fists shook and she ignored the sting from the peeled skin. She looked up at him, holding back the urge to slam his forehead into the cabinet behind her. “She’s safe as long as my family and I are safe.”

Once upon a time, Jumin could have loved her, had she approached him with pure intentions. Their brief moments of camaraderie had proven it. But in this lifetime, Aecha had soured their relationship purely through the circumstance she entered Jumin’s life and he never forgave her for it.

Jumin scrutinised her for several seconds and she held his gaze without wavering. “Then we have reached an agreement.” He handed her a sealed package from his pocket. “Your toothbrush.”

Her blood smeared on the plastic as she snatched it from him.

*     *     *     *     *

Jumin had moved out of their bedroom into the guest room down the hall. They would see each other even rarer now.

Aecha cast a look around the library. Walls of books stretched up the ceiling with a sliding ladder docked on one side. She couldn’t remember when books ceased to give her lasting joy. She couldn’t remember the last time things didn’t hurt. She had caused this, she knew that.

Aecha rested her temple against the cold window and brought her knees to her chest. From her plush seat, she watched the gardener maintaining Jumin’s private garden, and there she noticed a small patch of green daylilies.

Jumin must have had them planted before they fought. She wondered if he would remove them from the premises soon.

Sometimes, Jumin was considerate. Sometimes, it almost made Aecha crumble.

She didn’t think her loneliness could amplify, but what had taken root in this penthouse was crawling up her limbs like vines, determined to crush her.

She wanted to stop fighting them.

But her sister. But her father.

Aecha gritted her teeth as she picked at the newly scabbed skin on her thumb. It broke open into a deeper wound. Fresher sting, freer blood.

Just one more day. Then another. Then another.

-

Footnotes:

Aecha always assumes the worst from Jumin, but I hope the subtle details were noticeable enough that this is still the Jumin we love, just trapped in his resentment of having to marry someone who’s blatantly after his money.

At the event, Aecha calls herself a simpleton because she threw herself into this marriage for her family despite her sense of self-preservation.

When Jumin squeezed Aecha’s hand in the park, it wasn’t a scolding. He was trying to signal “I’m here.”

It’s not mentioned in the fic, but Jumin personally picks out the daylilies for her, not his assistant. He doesn’t know she likes irises because he respects her privacy and never goes into her study.

Years of familiarity translate to them subconsciously caring for each other’s quirk without noticing: Jumin setting up the picnic because he knows kneeling on the grass squicks Aecha out, Aecha straightening Jumin’s tie on the rack because he doesn’t like things crooked...

The toothbrush scene isn’t just a comic relief. I wanted to show a domestic moment and what they could’ve had if they’d started on the right foot.

Aecha’s fingers are a small allusion to her downspiral. In the second scene, the fingernails glisten, but by the penultimate and last scenes, she makes them bleed.

Why an OC? Simple. Writer wrote about 2 women, writer backed herself into a corner because she had a hard time referring to who as who, main woman got a name and developed personality. Aecha means good daughter in Korean. I love dooming her from the start.

When I couldn’t decide whether to develop Aecha into a full villain or give her some redeeming qualities, my friend told me it’d be more interesting if she’s morally grey. That stuck with me. At the end, they’re just a married couple who are trying to survive this lifelong prison they’d put themselves in.

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[juminweek2019]

Jumin Week 2019 Masterpost

Day One

Day 1 | Happy Birthday | Family | RFA by @jumin-love

Mysme-Fictober Day 5 AND Day 1 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Gratitude by @jylcie

Happy Birthday Jumin han! by @kicamiju

Happy Birthday Jumin by @shittylongcatposts

Day One: Happy Birthday! by @edgelord-saeran

Happy Birthday/ Family by @mysticmelove

Beef Wellington by @mrs-han

happy birthday !!! by @artsy-sorbusaucuparia

Jumin Week - Day 1: Happy Birthday! by @yeleleow

a family lost by @anon-drabble

Jumin Week: Day 1 {Birthday} by @little-writings

Jumin Week - Day 1 “Happy Birthday” by @somethingspookyythiswaycomes

Happy Birthday Jumin :3 by @salty-pretzel

Jumin Week 2019, Day 1: Happy Birthday! by @caire-draws

Stay by my Side by @jafndaegur

Day Two

Day 2: Touch | Caged | Zen by @jumin-love

Jumin week- day 2: Touched by @mysticmelove

Mysme-Fictober Day 6 AND Day 2 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Day Two: Touch by @edgelord-saeran

Jumin Week Day 2: Touched/Caged by @kicamiju

Color by @jylcie

a family lost ch 2 by @anon-drabble

Touched by @somethingspookyythiswaycomes / Pualani (Ao3)

Fragile Duetto by @jafndaegur

Jumin trying to wake you up by @camilastuf

Cupid and Psyche - Prelude  by @mrs-han

Day Three

The Forest by @jylcie

Jumin Week Day 3: Fairy tales/AU by @kicamiju

Day 3: AU/Fairy Tale(kinda) by @edgelord-saeran

Mysme-Fictober Day 7 AND Day 3 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Jumin week- day 3: Soulmate AU by @mysticmelove

Day 3| Fairy tales | AU | Yoosung by @jumin-love

Jumin Week - Day 3: AU by @yeleleow

a lost family ch 3 by @anon-drabble

Jumin Week: Day 3 {AU} by @little-writings

Day Three - Fairy Tales by @mrs-han

Broken by Eyes of Jade by @jafndaegur

Day Four

Day Four: Comfort by @edgelord-saeran

Day 4: Resilience/Comfort/Jaehee by @jumin-love

Resolve by @jylcie

Jumin Week Day 4: Resilience/Comfort by @kicamiju

Mysme-Fictober Day 8 AND Day 4 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Comfort by @somethingspookyythiswaycomes

a family lost ch 4 by @anon-drabble

Jumin week- day 4: Resilience/ Comfort by @mysticmelove

Day Five

Nature by @jylcie

Day Five: College by @edgelord-saeran

Mysme-Fictober Day 9 AND Day 5 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Day 5| Nature | College | Seven by @jumin-love

Jumin Week Day 5: Nature/College by @kicamiju

Day Six

Day Six: Future by @edgelord-saeran

Mysme-Fictober Day 10 AND Day 6 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Jumin Week Day 6: Domesticity/Future by @kicamiju

Jumin week- day 6: Domesticity/ Future by @mysticmelove

Domesticity by @somethingspookyythiswaycomes

Day 6 | Domesticity | Future | V by @jumin-love

Jumin Week: Day 6 {Future} by @little-writings

Ten Years by @jylcie

Day Seven

Do You like My Costume? By @icantbelieveitsnotdeviantart

Jumin Week Day 7: Party/Kindness by @kicamiju

Day Seven: Party by @edgelord-saeran

Mysme-Fictober Day 11 AND Day 7 of Jumin Han Week by @elvendara

Jumin Week - Day 7: Free choice (Hide and seek) by @yeleleow

Day 7| Party | Kindness | Free Choice by @jumin-love​

Compassion by @jylcie​

Party by @somethingspookyythiswaycomes​

Note: If you definitely submitted something on time and you don’t see it here, please DM me! My eyes are tired and I could’ve definitely missed something! THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION 

[shittylongcatposts]

Happy Birthday Jumin

@juminweek2019 Day 1: Happy Birthday

(this is my badly written letter to Jumin on his very special day, hope you can still enjoy this, i really wish i had more time but London was calling and time is running soo fast )

My dearest love,

First of all i wish you a happy happy birthday! I hope all of your future days may be bright, joyful and full of love. As you might know I am currently in London, together with my godmother- and i am so, so sad i cannot not be by your side right now to join you on your very special day. (Even if you think it just might be a day like every other) But i will make sure our Elly gives you the kiss i want to give you! Oh i long for you to be here, too. With me.

Juju, i have to tell you something really important. It's still hard to write it down and actually find the right words for all those feelings i have towards you. Even though i still think words cannot describe what i feel about you. But i will try my very best:

Jumin, whenever i see your smile- whether it's the smile of your eyes when you're blushing or this small chuckle you make, when hear your laugh or just hear you talk to someone, joke about silly stuff (or Zen) or just hear you breathe, it calms me down, makes me feel at ease, and makes all my doubts disappear. I feel like I can truly rely on you, and i admire your strong, pure, kind and lovingly personality. You really have a big heart, which makes it really easy to fall in love with you within a blink of an eye.

Because your laugh is the sweetest thing I heard in years, your humour leaves me quite speechless sometimes, (among other things). I... I Love the way i feel when i am near to you... When all those butterflies start flying inside of me... I miss you, all the time, i miss your touch, your hugs, your kisses. Your everything. I love you, and i always will.

With lots and lots of love,

Your M.

[jafndaegur]

Fragile Duetto

@juminweek2019 ​Day Two: Touch and Caged

a/n: I have no idea what the hecky-heck this is. I just really like Professor!Jumin.

In front of his door, MC remembered where once she would count through all of the worse scenario instances in her head, of all possible ways to greet him. Hi Dr. Han I just— H-h-hey Professor Han did you know— Jumin Han, I am— Dr. Jumin Han—

Jumin Han...I’m in love with you.

Countless days she wandered to the professor’s building, searching for him during his office hours. She’d never entered his room, never dreamed of it. Instead MC settled for sitting at the front during lectures, listening intently and fondly as he listed through different plots and rules of the business world. She absorbed every and all information that he provided as best as she could. On bad days, when she could tell he was distressed, she’d buy him a hot tea and leave it on his desk in the lecture hall. When he had his good days, which were more often than his worse, she’d smile and greet him—wave and ask about his day. Because that was what she wanted from him. To smile, and say hello, and ask about her. But she never asked for anything in return. Her heart would flutter with content when he would nod his head and give a brief response. Sometimes when he responded with an anecdote about his cat Elizabeth the Third and a faint grin, she knew she beamed far brighter than a student just being polite should be.

But in class, everyone tried to wriggle themselves into the heart of the ever cold-stared Dr. Han. And MC didn’t want him to think that was what she wanted. She wanted him. Not his favor. 

She wanted to know him. Not as a professor.

As her senior year drew to a close, she found however, that no longer taking his class led to most sessions in person with him to be scarce. But the one or two times a week when she could see him, she found their encounters different. The corners of his lips quirked a bit, his eyes seemed to brighten, and his posture almost relaxed. When he called out to her, it was no longer “Ms. MC” it had become just “MC”. A stuttering hope filled her chest, one that she tried not to nurture.

So when her best friend invited her out a party, MC told herself why not. “You only live once,” her friend had added. “You don’t want to waste it on a professor, right?” Afterall she’d be graduating from university, and would move on. She needed to move on from what her parents liked to call a ridiculous and immature crush. Maybe they were right. Going to a party, meeting new people who were eligible and her age would most definitely be far more appropriate.

The party had been great at first. Load music roaring in her ears. Guys and girls, girls and girls, guys and guys, all dancing together in one giant hodge-podge of sweaty jive. Flashing colorful lights and cold drinks that left burning trails down her throat, MC had tried to ignore the voice of reason that sounded a lot like the disdained voice of a certain professor. So when a man took her hand and pulled her into the club’s rhythm, she did not refuse him. Crashing noise, crashing bodies, it was a wave that pulled her into the flow of the chaotic world around her. Because the one time she pulled herself away from the thoughts of Jumin Han, it was as if everything around her collapsed. 

The man led her away from the crowd and whispered harsh, lewd nothings into her ear. She didn’t like it; but she never said no. She gave him a faint and shy nod, a half-hearted muttered yes. When he pushed her up against the wall and asked her what she wanted, MC could only think about large, blanched and bony hands—storm grey eyes and dark knitted brows, a fine thin mouth, and soft strands of feathered raven hair. 

And the man that caged her between his body and the wall was not what she wanted.

So she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him away, she left and went home without her best friend too. Without her permission, her body trembled. Without her say-so, her eyes wept hot and salty tears.  

So this was how MC found herself, first thing in the morning, in front of Jumin Han’s office door. How many times had she done this so meaninglessly, pacing back and forth but never entering? Now, of all times she decided to approach the open doorway. His deep tenor lilted from the doorway and she paused, he was talking to someone. She hadn’t noticed anyone in there before hand but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was on the phone.

Flashes of a stranger’s shoulders and the press of some other man’s chest flooded her mind, and MC pressed a hand to her mouth to suppress a sob. What the hell am I doing? All of this needs to stop. She clenched her free hand into a fist and turned sharply on her toes. Her eyesight blurred and the breath in her chest heaved. She needed to leave right this minute. 

“MC.”

The call of her name had been so calm, so sure.

MC turned her head just slightly to see Jumin Han standing in the doorway with his brows raised slightly. His expression went from questioning to concerned in an instant and she wondered if it was her probably distressed look of her expression or the rivulets of tears that by now had spilled over her eyelids. Whatever it was, her professor did not hesitate to reach out his hand. He said no words.

Only looked from his hand to her’s, curling his fingers gently.

In the back of her head, she could hear that little chirp of reason telling her to just walk away.

But her body worked against her, and her grasp found his. It was warm, and the slight callous of his hands rubbed gently over her skin as he lightly tugged her into his office. He closed the door behind them, before turning back to her. His arms crossed over his chest and he gave her a thorough look-over.

Her shoulders shook and she found she cried harder.

“What happened, MC?”

Her hand did a poor job of blocking her mouth, of muffling her words. Broken and weak sobs slipped past her lips as she told him everything. Her crush on him since freshman year. Wanting to see him smile. The party from last night. Begging that he rescue from the stupid situation she put herself in.

“I’m so ridiculous,” she cried, scrubbing furiously at her eyes when she realized that she should honestly be slinking away. “I never meant to bother you with any of this, to tell you any of this. I just always thought that—”

In her mind she never got past confessing to him; she always expected a word of distaste from him or an angry quirk of his eyebrows. Instead, when she finally braved looking up at him, she found his grey gaze widened and his mouth slightly parted. A faint hue of color spread along the curve of his cheekbones and if she didn’t know any better, MC would have said he was blushing.

Even when her voice tried to stick to the walls of her throat, she still managed to choke out a “...Dr. Han?”

He stared a bit longer at her before slowly raking his hand through his hair with a dazed look. “Pardon, me MC. I just...never expected you to enjoy my company in return.”

She laughed, the first time in the last twenty-four hours, before realizing he was serious. Despite their puffy and tender state, her eyes rounded in incredulity and she twisted her hands in one another. Surely she’d misunderstood him. “I’m sorry what?”

His eyelashes fluttered for a moment, and he gave her a narrowed glance. “May I do something?”

“What will you do?” She murmured back, her fingers tightening in her fists. This was a dream. This was a crazy and insane dream, and if she woke up she would sob for days.

“You’ll have to find out.” He smiled.

Jumin Han smiled. At her. It was a shy thing, radiant and nervous, and yet there was a conviction in his glance that prompted her to take a step closer to him. God was she desperate? Surely she wasn’t this desperate for him—

“Please,” MC heard herself saying. “Surprise me then.”

Jumin inclined his head with an amused smirk, before reaching out and gathering her into his arms. MC gasped out, goosebumps trailing her skin as his hands skimmed up and down her spine before their touch held firm at the base of her head and the small of her back. His nose nuzzled into the crown of her head, and beneath her cheek she felt his chest rise and fall with a sigh. Her hands found his sides, and her fingers clenched and wrinkled his vest. Warm. He was so warm. Her breathing began to match his and MC found herself burying her face into his chest.

“Is this better?” he whispered, voice low and gentle. “Than last night.”

“Way better,” her voice trembled. 

The hand on her back rubbed soothing circles, fingertips tenderly pressing into her skin.

She held him tighter. “I’m dreaming.”

“If we are both sharing this vision,” he chuckled. “Ms. MC I would not like to be disturbed from such a dream.”

She giggled and refused to look up at him. If she did, then surely this moment would end. “I graduate in two more months.”

“Then I will wait.” His chin pressed onto the top of her head. “Afterall, you put yourself through the trouble of waiting for this whole time.”

She flushed furiously and finally stared up at him, ready to protest. But Jumin’s finger hooked lightly under her chin, and he rested his forehead on hers. Shy and hesitant, her fingers found his free hand, and she laced her hold into his. They stayed there, pressed in a fragile and fluttering embrace. MC smiled and tilted her head back, nose gently brushing against his. Jumin laughed softly, and moved his hand to cup her cheek. They did not move closer, just stayed, pleased in tranquil warmth. 

Unlike the sharp crudeness of last night, it was a slow and sweet dance that they swayed to in tandem.