#luciel fic

[whats-it-mean]

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── 

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

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

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

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

“Eh--? Why did you--”

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

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

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

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

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

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  End

[brighteststar707]

Summer always feels like Saeyoung to me, probably because I replayed his route almost every year I went on summer holiday.

(coincidence much that these holidays often involved long car rides that lined up nicely with that part of his route? I don't think so)

So, despite my own discomfort in summer, the warm air and sunny days make me think of him. I may not be replaying his route this summer (yet), but he's been in my mind more strongly than ever.

In the spirit of that, and to bring back an old post of mine, here are some more Saeyoung summer headcanons.

Falling in love with Saeyoung (in the summer):

His route takes place in a particularly hot and humid August

Not that you'd know it, having been stuck inside for all that time

Especially towards the end, the apartment starts to feel like its own isolated world

With your feelings developing and Seven's life unravelling, you have barely any time to pay attention to what's happening outside

So imagine when it comes time to leave and you step out into a cheerful sunny day

It feels almost like the world is welcoming you back after nearly ten days of isolation

There is something magic in the air, a sweetness you can almost taste

Your mutual pining has become nearly unbearable, and perhaps it's just the endless blue skies as you drive down open roads but it feels like maybe the two of you will finally get somewhere

Time stretches out in front of you, not in the way it did back in the apartment (a neverending dark corridor) but more like a promise: there will be time to breathe before the future hits you

And the tension! If the apartment was small then the car is absolutely cramped

There are so many opportunities for (not-so) accidental touches to happen - and you bet that they do

Your arm brushing his as you reach around for something in the backseat, his hand accidentally overshooting when reaching for the handbrake and touching your thigh...

It's nearly enough to do you in

Flirting and teasing him in the apartment was one thing, but out here it feels different (in the open, nowhere to hide, sunlight on his face making his eyes sparkle)

For a while you speed down the roads with the windows down and you feel carefree in a way you haven't in a long time

The adrenaline of being on the run and the excitement of being with him on this journey combine into this rush that's heady and dizzying

It seems like even his spirits have been lifted, whether it's because he's out of the apartment or because you're both on the move, you have no way of knowing

You are aware of the fact that something big is coming, you have been warned of the danger of the task you are undertaking

But there has been so much: the bomb, the break in, the secrets that have come out

That you cannot begin to conceive of worse things, cannot bear to linger in anxiety any longer

Seven is here right next to you, more real than anything else - so you choose to focus on that

A few hours in, he pulls into a side road to record his message to the agency (wincing just before pressing the button, trying not to look at you as he speaks, as if he's ashamed of you seeing it)

For your benefit, he has stopped by the sea, and you watch the waves roaring in and washing out as he talks, picking up the way his inflection has changed (the very real threat that sits right under the brightness of his voice), sun hot on your cheeks in the absence of the car AC

The roof is down and there's a slight breeze drifting through the car (if you try, you can just about pick up the scent of the sea: brine and salt and the endless open)

Yet, you find yourself craving having him close again

The second the recording ends, he turns back to you (and the malice is gone, he's all sunlight and perhaps some trepidation)

You reach your hand out to him almost by instinct and he holds it tightly

There is a moment, just a second that passes between you that is silent and all you can hear are the distant waves and the beating of your own heart and you know something bigger is coming

When he tells you his name, it is like it has been there on the tip of your tongue the whole time

The first time you say it back to him, it comes out as tender as a term of endearment (Saeyoung like Love)

And he must hear it to, because before it can sink in truly, he is leaning down closer to you and kissing you, hard

It's not like the first time (soft kisses between nervous laughter and hesitant hands)

It's hot and hungry and sure and you don't know if the roaring in your ears is the sea or just your own exhiliration

By the time he is back in the car next to you, his cheeks are a burning red and he is hurriedly putting the car hood back up - he is muttering that the heat is getting to him

And then you drive on, changed

The little cabin he finds you is incredibly hot and stuffy

Even though the sun is going down, you have to prop open all the windows in an attempt to get some air in

He eventually gets an old dusty fan working and as night approaches it cools off marginally

However it does nothing to cool you off later in the night

Sticky and breathless and the heat between your bodies inevitable, the hours that night linger, thick like honey

You wouldn't have it any other way

You still don't know what gift it was that allowed that day to stretch on for as long as it did, but you are grateful for it regardless

Later on, knowing everything that happens, you will think back on that time differently, the whole thing coloured with a tinge of horror that you could never have anticipated

But some part of summer will always taste like adrenaline and the dizzying thrill of falling in love

And that is worth so much more

[natasha-in-space]

Take Your Breath Away

Pairing: Saeyoung/afab!reader;

Notes: !Minors do not interact! This one contains smut! Set in RAE timeline, with you getting together with Saeyoung after RAE takes place. Lots and LOTS of pet names. This was a gift fic to a friend, so keep that in mind while reading, as the dynamic between you and Saeyoung was written in a very deliberate way <3

Summary: No birthday is exactly the same, no matter how many years go by in your shared life with Saeyoung. Catching a private moment with your husband can be a bit difficult when there's a whole group of dear friends eager to celebrate yet another year of his life. Which is why a little private celebration was in order.

AO3 link - 8k words (what);

Credit: Dividers by @/saradika-graphics

Despite your hushed footsteps against the smooth, wooden floors of your apartment, you knew Saeyoung probably heard you already. Not that you minded. While sneaking up on him was fun, you had nothing to hide from him anymore. The surprise was ready and waiting. And this was just the ideal opportunity to finally bring your plans to reality.

His birthday was finally today, the day you had been anticipating for weeks now. Though, to prevent him from being overwhelmed with too much attention, you kept your excitement mostly to yourself up until now. From what you could observe of him over the years, Saeyoung was still only getting used to actually celebrating his birthday properly, so you naturally assumed that doing something big and loud wouldn't be something he'd be very happy with. And your wish was for him to spend his birthday with a smile on his face. This year around, his birthday just happened to be on your day off work as well, so you two could spend the entire day together for the first time in a long time.

Given that the rest of the day was set aside for Saeran and the RFA, you made the natural decision to arrange a private surprise that was only for you and him alone. Plus, Saeran seemed to approve of this idea, even creating a small gift for his brother that he entrusted to you to give him. Whether it was due to bashfulness or something else entirely.

It wasn't unusual for you both to be fully awake at midnight. Night was a special time for you, and not just because of the stars now sprinkled across the inky black void of the sky above, twinkling dimly against the bright lights of the city bellow. It was a time when the world slowed down, grew quiet, peaceful. A perfect time for meaningful conversations and sweet moments hidden away under the comforting solitude the night would bring with it. Many of the precious memories you now cherished dearly were made during the night. You supposed that was only natural, considering you both just happened to be night owls through and through, as opposed to Saeran and his beloved, who were more like a pair of early birds.

It was just you and Saeyoung in a cozy space you now called your home, no one to disturb you, and no one to steal the attention back onto themselves. The apartment was a perfect mix of peace and quiet, a welcome reprieve from all the hustle and bustle of the day prior in preparation for the twins' birthday party tomorrow. The living room of your apartment was already decorated for the celebration ahead, with balloons scattered about and a small collection of gifts from you, Saeran, Saeyoung, and Saeran's  partner already waiting on the shelves to be opened.

So, you take your chance while you still can.

"...Happy birthday, love," you whispered at last as you leaned over the back of the couch with cake in your hands, a small smile playing on your lips in anticipation of the upcoming reaction from your husband.

Upon seeing him looking up at you, you gave him a small giggle, knowing that his evident expression of surprise was mostly due to the small cake you had in your hands. Saeran made it himself only a day ago, but you did provide some assistance of your own. You both made sure that Saeyoung was kept in the dark about it up until today, though. When Saeran sought your advice on what gift to give to his big brother, you both decided that a present made by hand would be the best starting point, though it wasn't anything extravagant or expensive.

But Saeyoung had more than enough money for all three of you, after all.

As you placed the small cake on the coffee table, Saeyoung blinked up at you and swiftly glanced back at the clock hanging by the front door, squinting rather adorably. Without a doubt, it was just past midnight. June 11th. Today was the day of his birthday. And the day he was now officially 29 years of age.

Almost hitting his 30's.

"...Oh," Saeyoung blurted out, sounding slightly embarrassed, and immediately you sensed a slight feeling of guilt rising within him as he looks down at his lap for a split second, almost as if he wasn't sure what to say or how to react to your quiet congratulation. Feeling melancholic on this day, particularly at night, wasn't something new to him. Regardless, he quickly shook it off, smiled up at you, and swiftly wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you down onto his lap with practiced ease. "You didn't have to-"

"Oh hush," following his lead, you settled on his lap, giving him a small, affectionate smile. "It's your birthday. I want to treat you. Even if it's something small and intimate. I figured tomorrow will be mostly about Saeran and RFA, knowing you. So I wanted to make a little something just about you."

Saeyoung was only able to produce a small 'urgh' sound and shake his head in amusement, but you just laughed and winked at him cheekily. The way you were able to read him like an open book could be borderline unnerving to him at times. But hey, occasionally, he needed to be called out. And you were always eager to do just that, keeping him in check when needed.

"Touché... You know me way too well sometimes. It's unfair," he whined with a playful pout, wrapping his arms more securely around you and leaning back against the couch with a long sigh. Giving your cheek a small kiss, he looked back down at the small cake again, now resting nearby on the coffee table. "You made the cake yourself?"

"Nope! Saeran did. I know you're not as big on sweets as he is, but giving you another box of Dr Pepper seemed kind of ridiculous. Sometimes some good old sugar is not so bad, I think. Saeran worked hard on this for you," you chirped, perking up a bit after hearing about the cake. As you glanced between the dessert and Saeyoung, you smiled and tried your best to observe his reaction.

"Saeran...?"

Saeyoung's eyes widened as he stared down at the cake, a whole cocktail of various emotions filling his gaze behind his thick glasses. That's a reaction you well enough expected of him, just letting him take his time before responding. Even after all these years, he was still adjusting to not being the one who took care of Saeran in their relationship. Saeyoung would often find himself feeling choked up and overwhelmed with even the slightest hint of affection from his younger twin. Even so, he was improving year by year. And you could not be prouder of him.

Considering the time and ingredients that Saeran invested in this little project of his, you were very proud of what he achieved after hours of tireless crafting. Compared to your brother-in-law, baking was not your strong suit. But buying a cake was just not the right choice for you either. So, you delegated that task to Saeran, while you observed him from the side and acted as his inexperienced baking assistant.

The cake was not particularly large or grandiose. Just a simple homemade cake that was medium-sized and decorated with cherries and delicate flowers made of frosting. Though you were certain that there was more hidden meaning involved here than you were aware of. Saeyoung was the one who needed to figure that out, however. The cake was also decorated with a few candles and a traditional 'Happy Birthday' written on top with syrup. Simple, but endearing nonetheless. There was also a small, neat envelope tucked next to it. Something Saeran added there as a sort of bonus. Out of respect, you haven't peeked inside yet.

"...Wow. Yeah. That is definitely a lot more incredible than giving me more Dr Pepper. He really went all out with this... And for me nonetheless," Saeyoung said eventually, chuckling under his breath and gazing down at the cake with softened eyes. He carefully picked up a small cherry from the top and popped it in his mouth, chewing on it with far more care than was necessary. He ended by licking the syrup off his lips after swallowing it. You tried not to stare excessively. You tried even harder to resist kissing him right then and there, but you were interrupted again by his warm voice: "Mm, it's really good! You said Saeran made it himself... how many times did he have to mess it up until this one?"

"Oh, he got it right on first try. Compared to us, he's practically a pastry chef," you groaned a bit, leaning back on his lap comfortably. "If I was to try and bake you a cake myself, it'd take me at least a dozen of ruined cakes before I'd get to something at least decent enough to eat."

Saeyoung snickered as he shook his head when he saw your pouty face. It was obvious that he'll be bothering you about that comment later. That was not important right now, though. He looked at the small envelope next to the cake, raising a curious eyebrow instead.

"And what's that?" he asked.

"Oh, a small letter he wrote for you!" you grinned after following his gaze, looking back down at his face with a small, knowing twinkle in your eye. "-Yeah, yeah, I know it's a bit silly and cliché, considering you'll see him tomorrow morning. But I think it's sweet. Plus, it's something for you to keep and return to! The cake will be eaten, after all."

Saeyoung's expression was once again one of surprise before he reached out to take the envelope and study it.

"...Wow. You guys are... really spoiling me this year 'round. I didn't even hit 30 yet," he chuckled softly, looking back up at you. "Will I finally get a kitten next year, then?"

You only laughed at that, giving his shoulder a playful push, to which he shot you a cheeky grin of his own: "Don't get cocky."

This was the usual banter between you two, one that was familiar and comfortable.

Without further ado, Saeyoung carefully opened the top of the envelope and extracted the letter that was folded inside. He opened it and held it in front of him while quietly reading it fully, his expression changing occasionally as his eyes moved through the written words. You got closer, Saeyoung turning the letter to ensure both of you could read it.

Saeran did state to you that it was not particularly noteworthy. Just a written expression of his feelings, since he found it easier to express himself like this, instead of using direct words. You understood that perfectly.

The letter read: 'Dear Hyung. Whether you are reading this on the very day you were given this letter, or sometime later, I can stay assured that what I wrote in here remains true. I want to wish you a happy birthday. I never thought I would get a chance to say that to you like this, much less for so many years in a row. And not with us both now being adults. You were always my pillar of strength and my other half, as far back as I can remember. I used to be so full of anger at that... So full of anger, and of hurt, but I'm wiser now. In part, thanks to you. I know now that you were always there for me. You were always thinking of me, just as I was thinking of you. We were always connected. I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, Hyung. And I'm grateful to be your twin. I wish to be your pillar of strength now. I want you to know that you can rely on me with whatever that may trouble you. There's no need for you to hide your true self from me anymore. Ah... It's tradition to make wishes on birthdays, right? I suppose I should wish you something... And I think I want to wish you peace, Hyung. You've fought long and hard for my sake. I want you to rest now, with me, and Y/N, and RFA. I wish for you to find your promise of happiness, as I did mine. Maybe we'll even share it, like we shared everything. Let's eat some ice cream tomorrow. I can't wait to watch the clouds with you - Saeran :) ❁ '

Saeyoung slowly placed the letter on his lap all while still observing the handwriting, his fingertips tracing over the scribbled words, feeling the settled ink under his skin. His expression softened significantly, his usual relaxed face now filled with a strange mixture of fondness and... something else you couldn't quite put your finger on. Something fragile.

"God... You two are going to make me cry on my own birthday..." he muttered quietly, raising his hand to rub a bit at his eye, on which you did not comment to avoid embarrassing him. With clear tenderness in his movements, he folded up the letter and placed it aside before wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your shoulder with a deep, shaky sigh. "He sure has a way with words, doesn't he?"

His voice was muffled by your shoulder, but you heard him loud and clear nonetheless, his words laced with familial affection you loved so much. Your stomach was fluttering at the precious moment between you. Seeing these brothers reconnect and rebuild their relationship step by step always made you feel incredibly happy for them both.

They deserved to live in peace.

You laughed softly, wrapping your own arms around his torso and giving him a small hug in return. Your heart was warmed by the knowledge that Saeran's words have truly touched him. You knew how important this was to Saeyoung, after all.

"Yeah, he sure does. But all he wrote in there is true, you know?" you hummed while tilting your head to the side to nuzzle into his hair, feeling the soft curls tickling your cheeks. "He want you to be happy. As do I."

Saeyoung sighed hesitantly, raising his head and pulling back slightly to gaze up at you again. His expression appeared vulnerable, almost teary-eyed. Although you weren't surprised by that, it still made your heart lurch a bit. Reaching out, you cupped his cheek tenderly, to which he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, making you smile.

"I am happy," he responded, his voice soft. "You make me happy. You and Saeran. You are my two angels I will treasure forever."

You giggled at that sentiment as you leaned in to gently rest your forehead against his, allowing him to bask in this moment of genuine affection he was still trying to adjust to sometimes.

"You're the angel in my eyes, love. Maybe all four of us are angels. Wouldn't that be sweet? A featherly family of four. Although, that would be pretty dusty."

Saeyoung laughed at that, letting out a couple of small sniffles here and there, and you let him, not saying a word. After a few minutes of comfortable silence have passed between you, you pull back and settle on his lap as he looks up at you. You gave him a more cheerful smile.

"-We just wanted to give you something that would show you how much we care. This is your day, as much as Saeran's," a sheepish grin tugged at the corners of your lips as you shrugged. "...And I won't lie that I didn't want to sneak in a small private moment, just for the two of us. I want you to be happy, too, you know?"

Saeyoung was quiet for a second, a somewhat pensive look now falling over his face... before he shook his head and leaned back against the couch with a small huff.

"Well... there is something I'm not very happy about."

You blinked and tilted your head to the side curiously.

"What's that?"

With a soft exhale and a growing smirk, he suddenly tightened his strong arms around your waist and pulled you in towards him: "...You're wearing too many clothes."

After a brief pause, you blinked once more and raised your brows incredulously. Well, that was random. Still, this wouldn't be the first time Saeyoung caught you off-guard. Far from it, actually. As you looked down at him with a knowing smile, you chuckled softly.

"...Aren't you going to try out the cake first? Saeran worked hard on it, you know."

You let out a small pouty sigh, quickly falling into step with a familiar game you two would play with each other whenever things got a bit heated.

Saeyoung raised his eyebrow at you and rolled his eyes with a playful whiff.

"Oh, I'll save it. I want to show it off to everyone tomorrow! Plus, it wouldn't feel right just eating it by myself like this. I want to do that with you and Saeran," he whispered, running his hand up and down your back while observing the cake with one last thoughtful look. And just like that, his attention was now fully on you, his golden eyes twinkling alluringly in the dim light of the nearby lamp. "...Not to mention, I'm not sure if I'll be thinking about the cake right now when I have something way better to bite into right in front of me…"

Despite his words and actions making your body shiver slightly, you giggled again. While still sitting on his lap, you rested your palms on his chest and gazed down at him, quite enjoying this view of him from above.

You could get used to this.

"Well, I suppose that's one way to start your birthday off," you mused playfully in an overdramatic show of reluctance, your voice dropping an octave or two, growing more hushed and sensual in nature, the tension between you two rising steadily. Like a small spark of fire steadily growing in size and shining brighter with every second.

With a radiant grin now plastered on his face, Saeyoung slid his hands down to grab your thighs and pull your body taut against his, eliciting a tiny gasp of surprise from you: "Get over here then, starshine."

You just smiled at that, enjoying the teasing sensation of his hands now trailing up and down your thighs. Then, unexpectedly, his palms slid around to grasp your at backside, making you jolt and squeak far louder than you would have liked to. A response that was clearly in his favor, judging by the burst of laughter that rumbled in his chest as you shot him an embarrassed glare. Before you could open your mouth to grumble, he interrupted you.

"-And, frankly, this is the best way to start off my birthday," you could feel the slight vibrations of his voice reverberating in his chest in your palms, the noticeably deeper tone of it quickly making your head start to get all fuzzy. "And also my favorite way."

God, you loved it when he talked like that.

With a gentle tug, Saeyoung grasped the back of your thighs with his hands, pulling you in closer and shifting your position until you were sitting more directly on top of his legs. He then gently rocked you forward, grounding you against the growing erection straining in his jeans, your fingers grasping at his shirt in response. The way your voices merged together into one intimate melody in the form of a shared gasp that left your lips' was truly dizzying, in the best way possible. He gently moved his hands up your sides and then slipped them under the edge of your shirt to feel the warmth of your bare skin under his fingertips, your back arching into his touch.

The way your body felt in his hands was something you absolutely adored, as if it was made to fit into his arms. His expert care left your body buzzing with the rising heat of desire that blossomed between your thighs as you shivered in his grasp. It was nothing new, Saeyoung was always a highly perceptive person. It was only natural that this trait of his translated into the bedroom as well. What he lacked in skill and experience, he would compensate with attentiveness to your body's responses and eagerness to learn. Over the years, he has truly mastered the art of making you come undone in so many wonderful ways. As you did with him.

As his lips glided across your neck, you closed your eyes and tilted your head to the side to give him more space to work with, sighing lightly. His lips left a heated trail of small kisses up the side of your neck, before pressing directly against your ear.

"I need you, buttercup," Saeyoung whispered in a deep, hoarse voice. "Right now."

"...Shouldn't I be the one treating you, though?" you contemplated quietly, raising one of your hands to comb through his curly hair, eliciting a pleased hum from him that caused you to shiver in turn. "It is your birthday, after all. Not mine. You should be getting all the attention tonight."

"Oh, you're more than welcome to treat me," Saeyoung murmured softly against your skin, his warm breath creating a tickling sensation on your neck as he moved his lips downwards, planting kisses towards the lower part of your throat, nearing your collarbone. "It's just that my favorite treat just happens to be you."

His hands firmly gripped your thighs again, gently massaging the soft flesh with growing greediness that always tended to come out of him whenever you two got intimate. A greediness you've always welcomed happily. Then, gradually, he moved up to your hips and settled on the small area of exposed skin between your pajamas shorts and shirt. His lips now touched your collarbone, leaving a trail of lovebites in their wake, then moved towards your shoulder, all while his fingers started to trace back and forth along the border of your shorts, gently touching the delicate skin there. It was impossible to focus on anything but his smothering presence overwhelming your every sense. Not that you wanted to. You would happily drown in his touch, each and every time.

"Saeyoung..."

"-Besides," he mumbled, his breath warm against your skin. "You're all I want, anyways. As long as I have you right here, with me, I'm good for the rest of my life, trust me on that."

Despite the circumstances, you managed to give out a hearty laugh at that.

"...You are such a dork," you said with an obvious fondness in your voice, shaking your head at him slightly. You glided your finger across his black button-up, tracing his chest where it was casually unbuttoned, the small shiver that ran through his body at your delicate touch making you grin to yourself. After all, he was just as affected by you as you were by him.

"Well you married this dork, thank you very much," Saeyoung smirked as his own finger trailed down your chest in return, mimicking your gesture. With a mix of love and longing in his eyes, he raised his head and looked up at you. "And this dork needs you bad, right now."

"Well, who am I to deny the birthday boy?"

With that, you slid down and gently cupped his cheek with the palm of your hand, pressing your lips against his at long last, tasting the sweet cherry flavor on his tongue with a pleased hum. A gentle sound of pleasure rumbled in the back of Saeyoung's throat as he immediately reciprocated the kiss with equal fervor.

You quickly molded your body into his as you shared a tender, lingering kiss that only grew in passion as seconds trickled by. Although he was clearly more than eager to move on to the next step with you right away, the affectionate and unhurried kisses seemed just perfect as they were. He slowly moved his hands up your abdomen, lifting your shirt as he went and feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his touch. You effortlessly lifted your arms for him, allowing him to smoothly remove your shirt from your body. Breaking off the kiss only for a moment, he swiftly did just that, discarding it somewhere on the floor, and then pulled you back in closer for another kiss, seemingly unwilling to be away from your lips for too long at a time.

Your seamless communication without any words being spoken was clear on display as you acted in perfect harmony with each other, your bodies moving as one. There was a certain beauty in that. To lose yourself in another's warmth and touch, letting yourself surrender and become a part of something special. A testament to the years of trust and experiences together.

Or maybe you were being a bit too sappy for your own good.

As Saeyoung pulled you closer for yet another kiss, your fingertips skillfully unbuttoned at his own shirt, gently brushing away the soft fabric to caress his warm chest, his skin smooth under your fingertips.

Saeyoung let out a soft moan into the kiss, feeling your hands trace over his muscles and scars reverently. By this point, you knew his body in all of its tiniest of details, as he did yours. Every freckle, every scar, every dip and crevice. You knew the stories behind all of his scars, shared in quiet conversations under the cloak of the night.

His scars were a reminder of his perseverance. And they made him that much more beautiful to you.

Meanwhile, his own hands eagerly explored your body, firmly grasping and squeezing in all the right places to make you jolt and shudder against him, as he explored the contours of your figure he already knew so well.

Saeyoung gently broke the kiss and looked back at you, his eyes now fully glazed over as you two panted, regaining your breathing from the heated exchange that just took place between you two. You shivered as you saw his lips, now plump and reddened as a result of your own actions, his cheeks dusted with a pretty shade of cherry-red that made his freckles even more prominent, the shade of his blush almost matching that fiery hair of his you loved so much.

He looked good enough to eat like that.

"You always know how to take my breath away, starshine..."

Saeyoung leaned up and gave you a gentle peck on the cheek that made your heart flutter in your chest. Then, he moved his hands lower to take hold of your ass again, but this time, with clear intention rather than a mere tease. He began to lift you up effortlessly, to which you only gave him a questioning look, but went along with it nonetheless, wrapping your arms around his neck and hooking you legs over his hips to help him out. He grinned at that, giving you another quick, appreciative kiss. This time, on the tip of your nose.

He carefully guided you off his lap and instead positioned you onto the coffee table next to the cake, settling you down with your back against the armrest of the couch and your lower body now resting comfortably on the edge of the table.

Your breath caught audibly as you observed his every movement with reverence. Your eyes were half-lidded, just as captivated by him and perfectly oblivious to everything and anything else in the room at this moment. You couldn't control it even if you wanted to; he was incredibly attractive, almost painfully so. Since that first silly selfie he sent to you in the chatroom all those years ago, you had always believed that to be the unrebukable truth. And even after everything you have experienced together over the past few years, he still managed to leave you utterly breathless.

His own expression was almost mesmerized and he smirked a bit to himself, taking in the captivating sight before him.

"Told you my favorite part of my birthday is already right here," he whispered softly while sinking down on his knees in front of you.

"Jesus, Saeyoung..." you exhaled shakily, your heart pounding all the way up in your temples, a mix of excitement and admiration gripping at your chest.

His hands rested on your thighs, his thumbs gently caressing the smooth skin there. Gradually, Saeyoung parted your legs, positioning himself between them, and lifting your legs to rest comfortably on his shoulders.

As he gazed up at you with amber eyes now darkened by desire, he formed a knowing smile that almost made you whimper from the sight of it alone.

Even though you tried your best, you wriggled impatiently on the coffee table while he touched you, kneeling before you in such a breathtaking manner. The mere sight of him in that position for you ignited a strong sense of lust within you, and it only intensified with every passing moment. However, you held off on the urge to rush him - as you usually do with him - even though you knew he wouldn't mind you being demanding with him. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Your knuckles turned white as you tightly grasped the edge of the coffee table, your breathing inevitably quickening in anticipation and making your heart beat ever faster, pounding against your ribcage and sending blood pumping to the growing knot of desire in the pit of your stomach.

"You look just like an angel like that, you know..." Saeyoung whispered, not at all helping with your growing state of lust-filled turmoil.

With that, he bent down to plant a series of kisses along the sensitive inner flesh of your calves, slowly moving up to your inner thighs, towards the aching spot between your legs where you needed him most. He firmly grasped at your thighs with his fingers, holding them open for him while he gently and sensually kissed up, nearing the edge of your silky shorts. The warmth and scent of you were driving him wild, intensifying his craving for more, to bury his face between your thighs and taste you on his tongue.

However, he, too, refrained for now. He made sure to spend enough time with you to savor you like you deserved, kissing you gently everywhere but where you really wanted him, until he breathed on the thin fabric covering your core.

"...Are you seriously about to eat me out on your birthday? Like I said, it should be me treating you, not the other way around," you murmured, your voice hoarse and breathy, a clear sign of your ever-increasing arousal.

"But you are treating me," Saeyoung said matter-of-factly, his breath touching your skin. "And this is the best treat you can give me, love bug, trust me."

He was driving you crazy, dear god.

You couldn't quite understand what had gotten into him today, but you definitely weren't complaining in the slightest. His every action caused your breath to catch in your throat and your chest to fill with nervous excitement for what would happen next. Seeing him in this state, kneeling between your legs, so eager and willing to taste you without you even having to ask...

Wow, you really hit the jackpot with him, huh? Though, it's not like you were unaware of that. But it was truly surprising to you that he was doing this for you on his own birthday. By all accounts, it should have been you pleasuring him, not the other way around. And yet, he was more than eager to focus on you instead. That damn lovable goofball.

Your breath was shaky, and your hand instinctively reached down to gently stroke his hair, wishing to show him some of your affection and gratitude, to which you felt him hum appreciatively against you, making your legs shake a bit.

Saeyoung moved closer, positioning his face directly between your legs now. He lowered his head and nuzzled his cheek against one of your thighs, taking a moment to just breathe in your scent and soak in your warmth. Then, slowly and deliberately, he turned his head and planted a firm kiss directly on your clothed core. He could feel the heat practically radiating from you by this point, and he made a soft sound of approval, closing his eyes for a moment to just enjoy the feel of you.

In a way, it was to remind himself that you were really here. Real. Even now, he would still find himself doubtful and paranoid of this fragile happiness you have built with him so generously. The mere fact that you have chosen to give your heart to him was a miracle he will cherish for the rest of his days on this Earth, of that, he was certain.

The least he could do was make you feel good like this. Show you his appreciation through his touch. Ravish you like you deserve.

Saeyoung leaned closer, pressing his face against you, sensing the dampness that could already be felt through the soft fabric of your thin shorts. He raised his head slightly to lock eyes with you, then trailed his nose along the curve of your hip, feeling the soft fabric of your shorts against his skin.

The eye contact was just too much.

"Can we please get these shorts off me?" you whined softly, uncertain how much longer you could handle being teased like this, even though you knew he wasn't doing it intentionally.

Yet.

Saeyoung chuckled at your request, his warm breath tickling your skin. He obviously noticed how your body trembled with every movement, and it only fueled his desire to playfully taunt you with all that he had. However, right now, he only wanted to taste you, to make you come undone for him, above all else.

"Roger that, my lovely 606," he whispered in a hushed and raspy voice. "Lift up for me, starshine."

You complied without any extra guidance needed, raising your hips from the table all while taking in the familiar combination of nervousness and eagerness buzzing in your chest.

Saeyoung took a moment to appreciate the sight before him, admiring you in your vulnerable state. Your body was now fully exposed to him, laid out, and ready for him to enjoy. He slowly moved his hands up your legs, observing how your muscles responded to his touch, twitching and tensing in anticipation. With care, he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and smoothly pulled them down along with your underwear, discarding the soft pieces of clothing along with your shirt in a messy pile on the floor. As soon as you were completely bare from the waist down, Saeyoung moved closer and placed his hands back on your hips. Without much delay, he once again buried his face between your thighs, no more barriers getting in the way of his desire.

You trembled a bit, attempting to avoid squeezing your legs together around his head. A soft whimper escaped your mouth as you felt him finally touch you where you needed him most, your heart pounding in your chest, your pulse reverberating in your temples. You reached down with one hand and gently stroked his hair again, not tugging at it quite yet. Though it will probably happen eventually as the night progresses. His hair would always end up a mess after this. A very lovely looking, fiery mess.

As Saeyoung exhaled, his breath was hot and heavy against your folds, feeling the warmth and wetness now pressed directly against his nose. He had no shame in expressing his enjoyment of it all. He couldn't contain himself and let out a soft, eager moan as he savored the first taste of you, his tongue quickly getting to work as he swiped it between your folds in a painfully slow motion, savoring the feel of you against him.

He observed how your muscles tightened as a result of his ministrations, the sounds of your soft gasps going straight to his groin as he fought back the urge to squirm on his spot. This was about you. He'll get his share later. He gently glided his hands down from your hips to your thighs, encouraging you to relax.

"Relax, buttercup," Saeyoung murmured against you, his warm breath touching your core and making you tremble. "Just let me treat you..."

He turned and placed a few more leisurely, heated kisses on the inside of your thighs before diving back in, his whole mouth now fully on you, leaving nothing to imagination. He savored your taste with a deep, primal moan as he finally got what he wanted. His gentle pressure on your legs kept them apart for him, his hands holding you firmly while you twitched uncontrollably, keeping you exposed to him.

His tongue gently teased at your entrance, gathering some more of your juices, then moved higher to circle around your clit, his lips sucking on it gently, his gaze now fully focused on your face.

As you threw your head back with a needy moan, you realized that this was going to be a long night.

Taking deep, unsteady breaths, you tried your best to soothe your pounding heart and the lingering tremors that were a stark reminder of your passionate lovemaking that took place only minutes prior. With you now resting on Saeyoung's chest, you both reclined on the couch, gradually regaining your composure.

You finally broke the comfortable silence by letting out a soft chuckle after a while.

"So... That's certainly one way to start off a birthday," you repeated your earlier words, your fingers drumming against his bicep lightly.

The sound of Saeyoung's breathless laughter quietly vibrated within his chest as you rested against him. He smiled at you, tracing delicate designs on your skin, his hands gently stroking your back.

"One of the best birthdays I've had, I'd say," he said with a slightly hoarse voice as a result of your previous activities together. Though, you loved how he sounded when he was like this. All breathless, a bit raspy, and gravely. Because of you.

He adjusted his position slightly, bringing you in closer to him, relishing in the messy sensation of your sweaty, naked body against his. He tucked his face into your hair, taking a moment to unwind and soak up the warm afterglow with you. This time, he was the one who broke the silence, his voice now being more gentle and contemplative than playful: "...Seriously, though, what did I do to deserve an angel like you, hm?"

You expressed your irritation by rolling your eyes and playfully bumping his bare chest with your fist.

"Hey, none of that. Especially on your birthday. Or I'll have to kiss you senseless to shut you up for good."

Saeyoung's eyes were quick to sparkle with lighthearted mischief as he grinned up at you: "...Is that supposed to be a threat, starshine? Because I'm afraid I won't mind that at all."

He reached out to gently hold your chin, tilting your head back a little, his lips hovering mere inches from your own.

"Maybe you'll give me a demonstration, my little alien? Shut me up, will you?" he whispered, his eyes filled with silent challenge for you. One that you took with not much thought.

"Gladly," you chuckled, leaning in and securing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss as the afterglow of your latest lovemaking washed over you in a pleasant, relaxing buzz in your achy muscles.

Your affection was immediately reciprocated, with Saeyoung emitting a soft moan and tightening his grip on your chin ever so slightly. Your lips touching his so gently and unhurriedly created a warm and contented sensation that has wrapped his heart in a soothing embrace he was unwilling to let go of. Gradually, he turned you both over, positioning your back against the couch, all without interrupting the kiss. His body now towered over yours.

Gradually, what started out as a simple press of your lips against his has escalated into a full-blown makeot session, with Saeyoung's tongue entering your mouth and savoring your taste all over again, never once getting tired of it. After all, he would often find himself getting insatiable when it came to you. He firmly grasped your waist with one of his hands, keeping you close to him.

His embrace made you tremble, as his passionate kisses caused your breath to get caught up in your throat all over again. However, you still retained enough awareness to pull back a bit, placing your hands on his chest, and gazing up at him with glazed over eyes and flushed cheeks. In this moment, Saeyoung appeared absolutely stunning. He was positioned above you, with the light from the ceiling creating a tinted shadow over his face, his skin glistening from the thin layer of sweat covering his body.

Now that's a sight for sore eyes.

"I can't get enough of you..." he murmured against your lips once he pulled away, his breaths shaky against your lips, his voice deep and husky once again. "Never could. Never will."

With genuine affection in your gaze, you gently stroked his cheek, letting out a soft, shaky giggle.

"I still want to be able to walk straight tomorrow for your birthday party, you know."

Saeyoung chuckled quietly at that, the sound resonating deep within his chest. Leaning closer, he was clearly enjoying the sensation of your touch on his cheek, even closing his eyes in contentment. At this point, he would likely be vibrating with his entire body, if only he could purr. A thought that made you laugh to yourself with amusement.

"Eh, can't promise anything, love bug," he whispered back with a slight playful smirk now playing on his lips.

His hand, which was previously resting idly on your waist, glided down to your inner thigh, applying gentle pressure and caressing the delicate skin there, but not doing anything more than that.

Nonetheless, you expressed your disapproval by lightheartedly rolling your eyes at him and adjusting your position slightly to raise yourself up onto your elbows.

"Come on, we do need some strength for tomorrow," you gave his cheek a gentle kiss. "Let's go start up a bath and go to bed for tonight. It's almost 2 am now, anyways."

Saeyoung gave out an overdramatic sigh, feigning disappointment. His eagerness for a second round was evident, maybe even a third, if you were willing to let him. Nonetheless, he did acknowledge that you both indeed needed some rest.

"You're right, you're right," he conceded. Before getting up from the couch, he gave you one last kiss on the lips. "I'll get the bath ready, you go get the towels, deal?"

"Deal."

He caught one last sight of you swiftly standing up after him and walking away to get the towels and spare clothes for you both. His eyes scanned over your body, appreciating your every movement and the way your skin glowed smoothly in the light of the apartment, noticing the small marks he had left on you. He sighed once more and then entered the bathroom to begin preparing for the bath.

Meanwhile, you retrieved some towels and pajamas for both of you to change into after the bath. Satisfied, you headed back to the bathroom with pep in your step, eagerly anticipating the simple pleasure of relaxing in the warm, soapy water, ending this already wonderful evening on a very positive note.

When you entered the room, Saeyoung quickly turned his head to look at you, flashing you a wide grin.

"You can set those on the counter!"

He pointed towards the towels while still adjusting the water in the bathtub to ensure the temperature was just perfect for you. After turning off the faucet, he stepped away from the bathtub and observed the gentle movement of the bubbly water against the sides.

Unable to resist, he stole another appreciative glance at you, his eyes fixating on your physique before finally speaking again: "...You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days looking like that, starshine."

With clear disbelief, you looked over at him and raised your brows incredulously.

"...I'm literally just standing here, love."

Your blunt response was clearly more than amusing to him, as he folded his arms over his chest and leaned back against the counter: "Oh, I know. You just look angelic doing absolutely nothing, buttercup."

You entered the soothing bath with a slight snort and a shake of your head, exhaling a satisfied sigh as the fragrant water cleansed your sweaty body. The sweet scent of blackberry quickly surrounded you in a pleasant cloud of tranquility, and you even found yourself closing your eyes in pure bliss.

As you immersed yourself in the water, Saeyoung's eyes once again scanned over your body, observing your every move with warm affection in his gaze. Nonetheless, his attention was still directed towards the various marks he was the direct cause of: proof of his existence now scattered across your skin like a temporary tattoo. Small marks in the shape of his lips and fingers that were now turning a pretty shade of red thanks to the heat from the water. A familiar feeling of fulfillment rose within him at the sight, knowing that he had left his trace on you, that you were his in body and spirit, as much as he was completely yours in turn. He was even tempted to leave a few more, but he realized it was far too late in the night to bother you with that. You both needed to rest, and above all, he just wanted to hold you in his arms and feel your warmth.

"Hey, scooch forward a bit. I'm getting in," he said, tilting his head toward the water.

And that was exactly what you did, quickly adjusting your position in the bathtub and gazing up at him with a small smile of anticipation, waiting for him to join you at last.

Saeyoung stepped closer to the bathtub until he was right behind you, and then slowly lowered himself into it, taking a seat and wrapping his arms securely around your waist. He drew you in toward his chest, keeping you close and placing you snuggly between his legs.

"Mmm. Much better," he whispered to you softly, nesting his face into your neck and planting a few light kisses on your skin. "God, I love holding you like this, starshine."

As you leaned back against him, a gentle smile tugged at the corners of your lips, letting out a contented sigh. The delightful aroma of the soapy water and the affectionate touch of your husband had you in a truly happy mood. Taking a bath together was like shooting two birds with one stone: both cleansing yourself as well as finding solace in one another after engaging in some rather intense activities with him. You gently rested your hand on one of his arms, which encircled your waist beneath the water and kept it there, your thumb running over his skin in slow circles.

As he leaned back against the bathtub, Saeyoung felt the sensation of your warm skin against his chest, almost completely pressing against you. He slowly moved his hands down your sides, gently touching your skin while he buried his face in your hair.

"Happy birthday, Saeyoung," you said in a hushed voice.

His warm breath touching your ear, Saeyoung released a gentle laugh.

"You already gave me the best gift I could ask for," he replied, the tone of his voice deep and playful. He delicately held the lower part of your jaw and tilted your head upwards before planting a series of slow, leisurely kisses on your neck after shifting one of his hands from your side. "...You."

[chizue-witchery]

⚜️. *. ⋆ Fandom: Mystic Messenger

⚜️. *. ⋆ Rating: Teens And Up Audiences

⚜️. *. ⋆ Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

⚜️. *. ⋆ Pairing/s: 707 | Choi Luciel/Main Character

⚜️. *. ⋆ Character/s: 707 | Choi Luciel, Main Character, RFA Members, Vanderwood, Choi Saeran

⚜️. *. ⋆ Summary: Seven's world disappears into binaries and codes for a long time until his bunker appears like it never disappeared. Not only that, but he also finds himself back on the day MC enters the chatroom. He tries to understand what it means.

⚜️. *. ⋆ Word Count: 2,711

⚜️. *. ⋆ Tags/Warnings: Reset Theory, 707 Route Spoilers, After Ending Spoilers, Secret Ending Spoilers, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst

⚜️. *. ⋆ Prompts/Squares Filled: Forgotten || @whumptober 2024 Day 2 alt prompt

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

AO3

The first time it happened, Seven didn't understand what was happening.

He was happily eating his Honey Buddha Chips while he sat on the sofa when it happened.

The first thing that disappeared was his chips. It turned into binaries and codes while he was mid-bite. He thought it was odd, but he didn't think too much about it. He was going to grab another chip, but the chip bag disappeared, turning into binaries and codes.

He stood up from the couch and noticed how the furniture and his bunker itself were disappearing into binaries and codes. He panicked and avoided any of the binaries and codes going his way. He took out his phone and the only thing he could see was a giant red text that said 'RESET IN PROGRESS'

"What…?" he muttered out loud as he stared at the screen in disbelief. What did it mean by 'reset in progress'?

He received the answer just as everything but him disappeared into binaries and codes. He was left in a black-and-green space that was only filled with binaries and codes.

He walked and walked, but he was getting nowhere.

He tried looking for anything else other than binaries and codes, but there was nothing else. Even the phone in his hand disappeared into binary and codes.

He stayed lying on the ground, waiting for something to happen.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, but everything suddenly changed.

His room slowly appeared again, which took him by surprise. He stood up and watched as more of the bunker appeared as though it never disappeared, but it was off.

The state of the bunker didn't look the same before it disappeared.

He slowly sat up and watched as the phone appeared in his hands and dings. He immediately opened it to check the RFA application and his eyes widened when he saw new messages from MC.

The messages MC sent were the same as though it was her first time chatting with them. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stood up and looked over at the security cameras in Rika's apartment.

"What the—?" He doesn't understand what's happening.

MC looked the same when she first arrived at the apartment; a nervous wreck, pacing around the apartment and hesitant to touch anything.

The RFA members eventually asked for his help with the newest member in the chatroom, and what was he supposed to say?

He was the one who wanted to question them.

Why didn't they recognize who MC is? Why are they acting like this is their first time meeting her? Why are they talking about her as though they never bonded with her? She is the RFA Coordinator.

But he didn't ask about it in the chatroom. He replied to them, acting like he also didn't know who was the new member in their chatroom. He chatted endlessly while he went to check on his computer, hoping to check if any of his files had been saved.

None of the files that dated back eleven days ago were saved.

The date on the bottom right of his computer was on the same day MC arrived at the apartment and the Unknown hacker infiltrated the chatrooms.

How…?

Did he travel back in time? But that didn't explain the binaries and codes.

Was the past eleven days a vivid dream he had?

It had to be, right? There's no other explanation for this.

He smiled as he looked back at his phone, following the messages alongside and adding his own whenever he had something he wanted to say.

Once everyone left the chatroom, he leaned back in his chair as a sigh escaped his lips.

He doesn't understand what's happening…

The first time it happened, Seven didn't understand what was happening.

He was happily eating his Honey Buddha Chips while he sat on the sofa when it happened.

The first thing that disappeared was his chips. It turned into binaries and codes while he was mid-bite. He thought it was odd, but he didn't think too much about it. He was going to grab another chip, but the chip bag disappeared, turning into binaries and codes.

He stood up from the couch and noticed how the furniture and his bunker itself were disappearing into binaries and codes. He panicked and avoided any of the binaries and codes going his way. He took out his phone and the only thing he could see was a giant red text that said 'RESET IN PROGRESS'

"What…?" he muttered out loud as he stared at the screen in disbelief. What did it mean by 'reset in progress'?

He received the answer just as everything but him disappeared into binaries and codes. He was left in a black-and-green space that was only filled with binaries and codes.

He walked and walked, but he was getting nowhere.

He tried looking for anything else other than binaries and codes, but there was nothing else. Even the phone in his hand disappeared into binary and codes.

He stayed lying on the ground, waiting for something to happen.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, but everything suddenly changed.

His room slowly appeared again, which took him by surprise. He stood up and watched as more of the bunker appeared as though it never disappeared, but it was off.

The state of the bunker didn't look the same before it disappeared.

He slowly sat up and watched as the phone appeared in his hands and dings. He immediately opened it to check the RFA application and his eyes widened when he saw new messages from MC.

The messages MC sent were the same as though it was her first time chatting with them. His brows furrowed in confusion as he stood up and looked over at the security cameras in Rika's apartment.

"What the—?" He doesn't understand what's happening.

MC looked the same when she first arrived at the apartment; a nervous wreck, pacing around the apartment and hesitant to touch anything.

The RFA members eventually asked for his help with the newest member in the chatroom, and what was he supposed to say?

He was the one who wanted to question them.

Why didn't they recognize who MC is? Why are they acting like this is their first time meeting her? Why are they talking about her as though they never bonded with her? She is the RFA Coordinator.

But he didn't ask about it in the chatroom. He replied to them, acting like he also didn't know who was the new member in their chatroom. He chatted endlessly while he went to check on his computer, hoping to check if any of his files had been saved.

None of the files that dated back eleven days ago were saved.

The date on the bottom right of his computer was on the same day MC arrived at the apartment and the Unknown hacker infiltrated the chatrooms.

How…?

Did he travel back in time? But that didn't explain the binaries and codes.

Was the past eleven days a vivid dream he had?

It had to be, right? There's no other explanation for this.

He smiled as he looked back at his phone, following the messages alongside and adding his own whenever he had something he wanted to say.

Once everyone left the chatroom, he leaned back in his chair as a sigh escaped his lips.

He doesn't understand what's happening…

The sixteenth time it happened, Seven believed that he was stuck on a time loop.

His bunker reverted to what it looked like eleven days ago. All of his messy Honey Buddha Chips lying on the ground were gone. His clothes were free from the messy stains he didn't bother cleaning.

He checked his phone, and they were talking to MC like she's a stranger. Again.

Her replies remain the same, but there were also some odd ones in it, talking about a game. But he believes she's just joking around.

Other than that, there was nothing different about it.

Her first day remains mostly the same, almost like a pattern.

The start of a change began during the second day onwards. She would reply differently to each RFA member, except there were times when she favored one over the rest.

She would grow close to any of them until the other eventually grew feelings towards her by the fifth day.

Then something bad would always happen afterwards.

The security system messes up, Unknown comes to try to kidnap her, the love interest comes and saves her before it happens, drama involving their personal lives, and the RFA Party happens smoothly.

Sometimes he and someone else would go to this place called 'Mint Eye' to find out more about the 'Unknown' hacker that he could never seem to figure out their true identity.

There's a part of him that wonders if he already knew, but something is preventing him from remembering who the Hacker is.

The thirty-third time it happened, Seven was now being pursued by MC.

He wondered what the sudden change was.

She never went for him in the other time loops. She always went for the other RFA members—never him.

He thought she was just joking around, replying to her messages flirtatiously, and following along with her calls with entertainment.

His heart slowly warmed up to her charms, and he found himself unconsciously smiling whenever he watched as she left him messages right where the CCTV could see them.

He grew tired of work that he'd been constantly re-doing every time the time loops back to the beginning of her arrival. He is distracted by her and Vanderwood knows it. He came inside the bunker and demanded he get back to work, especially when he was backlogging everything.

He grew so careless that he had almost forgotten about the situation that always happened on the fifth day.

He saw his computer screen light up in codes while there was a red skull that was giving him a warning. The RFA server was hacked.

He was hacked.

He focused on getting the systems back together and tightening the security. While he was working on tightening the security system, he received several messages from the RFA members, asking him about the strange alarm they heard from the app. He tried to keep it as vague as possible until he was sure he had the systems under control.

And once he finally got the servers back to normal, he entered the chatroom and explained the situation. He smiled when MC kept the situation light, not letting her fears get to her. She continued to joke around despite the others being concerned.

He knew he should be over it by now, but he couldn't help but worry about her. He saw the way she paced around the apartment while nervously biting her fingers. He saw the way she stared at the emails, yet to be responded to, before closing the monitor and opening the RFA app. So he called her.

And it seemed like she knew he was worried about her because she was reassuring him of his concerns. She made him laugh, despite the danger she didn't know she was in. She trusted him.

It made his heart soar.

So he went on and built a little robot dog that could spit fire. He thought it was a good idea at first until he thought of the possible injuries she might sustain from it. He showed it to her in the chatroom and she loved it. She loved anything that he made, even though she didn't know all of them.

However, he had to leave to focus more on strengthening the security system in Rika's apartment and finding the hacker.

He called her a few hours later, finally finding a few minutes of free time on his already-packed schedule of things to work on. He worried about her, reassuring her to no end. He played along with her before ending the call with a laugh.

He wanted to meet her badly, but he couldn't.

Vanderwood was watching him, making sure he did his work. He complained to no end and Vanderwood told him he was getting attached.

And that made him freeze.

He wasn't allowed to get attached.

He ignored Vanderwood and instead watched the security monitors, his face flushing when she smiled at him widely with a handwritten message for him to take a break.

So cute, so cute… he thought as he groaned while covering his face. He was distracted by her.

His thoughts are swarming with her, her, her.

He wanted to meet her in person.

He threw those thoughts away, shaking his head.

He can't have romantic feelings towards her.

By the seventh day and onwards, he stayed inside Rika's apartment, along with MC. He tried fixing the security system while being cold towards her.

He didn't want to, but he had already put her life in danger.

Not to mention, he found out the Unknown hacker was his brother.

It made him question what happened to Saeran after he left. He grew suspicious and untrustworthy of V and wondered if he knew about it the entire time.

He tried avoiding talking to MC. He told her that he acts differently in real life compared to his goofy messages in the chatroom. However, she never gave up on him.

No matter how stubborn he was, she never gave up.

So, he hesitated to open his heart towards her. It took a while before he began to open up his past to her, showing her the USB files she tried to access and it was all images of his brother, Saeran.

He gave her the robot cat he destroyed, taking extra care to make sure the robot cat was in a perfect state.

He told her to wait for him as he held her hands and she accepted it.

He goes against V's orders and opens the drawers to see secret documents. He finds an earlier version of the logo found in the emails the RFA members received, as well as blueprints for the building where the emails were sourced.

He stopped the car once they arrived at the building. He and MC went inside and looked around the room. They wandered until they found the computer room. He went on and hacked the monitors, trying to get as much information about 'Mint Eye', but his brother arrived.

He tried convincing Saeran about the truth of what happened, but he didn't believe him. MC showed the contents of the floppy disks. He thought Saeran would finally understand him, but he didn't.

His brother broke down and left in such a hurry.

He and MC left the room to chase after him, but all they saw was V.

V admitted that he saw Vanderwood take Saeran away.

V asked for forgiveness.

He did not accept.

He no longer trusted V.

However, his new mission is to save Saeran.

He told MC she could leave, but she stayed with him.

They didn't join the RFA party.

He held MC's hands as he told her to refer to him by his real name from now on.

She smiled at him. Instead of responding, she kisses him instead.

He held MC close to his chest as they both laid on the bed.

He whispered to her of his fears, and his desire to be with her forever.

He didn't know whether he would survive or not.

He asks if he can embrace her, and she accepts.

He lowered his head so he could properly look at her. She looked back at him, her eyes warm and full of love.

He closes his eyes as his lips make contact with hers.

He finally saved Saeran.

He finally got his brother back—

He was so overjoyed he couldn't stop smiling.

He spun MC around, laughter bubbling in his throat as he looked at her with so much love and affection.

It would take a lot of rehabilitation and therapy for Saeran to recover from his experience in the Mint Eye, and he knows it very well.

He won't leave him.

Never again.

His world is back to binaries and codes when he opens his eyes.

Oh.

Oh.

… right—

He had forgotten about it, too elated to be with MC and reuniting with his brother again.

"Hah…" he chuckled as tears ran down his face. He didn't bother wiping them away, relieved no one would see him in this state.

And yet, it also feels lonely.

Why did he even—

He told himself he wasn't supposed to fall in love with MC, but he couldn't help it. Her charm and personality drew him closer to her. His heart soared whenever she flirted back.

He loved listening to her voice whenever they were on a call.

He loved how she made him laugh.

He loved watching her on the monitor and how she would leave him messages through it or make funny faces.

He wanted her to be his forever.

And she was.

And then she wasn't anymore.

The one hundred and second time it happened, Seven cried.

He finally understands what's happening.

He was not stuck on a time loop.

He was stuck in a game.

He is nothing but a fictional character that exists for the player to fall in love with.

It explains why MC's messages keep changing. It explains why no one remembers what happens.

It explains why MC acts different towards him whenever it was his turn to be pursued. It hurts every time she does.

However, it doesn't explain why he's the only one who remembers everything. He asked the other RFA members about it, but they all replied, not understanding what he meant by it.

He was still unsure whether he was right about it or not, so he joked about it during the chatrooms. Sometimes MC would reply ominously, but there were a few times she didn't know what he was talking about.

He had doubts whenever she didn't know what he meant by it, but the more frequent the odd replies were, the more he believed his theory to be true.

And he doesn't know what to do with this information.

It's world-changing to him.

Seven doesn't know how many times MC has reset the game.

He has grown tired of it.

He is used to MC's patterns.

He knows what happens next. He knows what happens by the end of the eleventh day.

However, the endings change.

The normal ending, the good ending, and the bad ending.

He never liked the bad endings, but those seem to happen often. He doesn't understand why the player likes the bad endings, sometimes a little more than the good endings.

But that didn't matter.

His world repeats over and over again.

And he is the only one who remembers.

He lives his life in a lie.

His thoughts, dialogue—basically everything about him is all because of binaries and codes.

Or maybe he is an error.

707.

A memory that can't be freed or removed.

Was it a coincidence he was named after the 707 error or did the developers make him remember every single route the player takes to make his character more interesting?

He demands answers from them, but he knows he'll never be able to reach far enough for their coding to not affect his decisions and thinking.

He has no control over his own life.

He even begins to question whether what he's thinking right now is his own thoughts or another thing coded on him.

He has grown used to the black and green walls covered in binaries and codes as he awaited for the player to play the game.

His world shifts into color as his bunker appears.

His phone dings and he sighs, putting on a smile as he opens the RFA chatroom to meet the player again.

A/N: i have not played the game for over 3-4 years so i apologize if it's a little inaccurate. i used my pre-existing knowledge of mystic messenger lore and research to make sure i got some of it right.

i genuinely thought i would fail again at writing at least one mystic messenger fanfic every year but luckily, the alt prompt stopped it from happening.

[gxnic]

past, present, future

—saeyoung choi x reader

fandom: mystic messenger

cw: none! gn reader, fluff :)

masterlist

Saeyoung grew from a lonely child into a lonely man. He’s smart enough to acknowledge how his childhood forced him to mature faster, forced him to become the kind of person that withholds information from people. The kind of person that keeps secrets. A lying, scheming, self loathing con artist. He’s not, however, strong enough to pull himself out of the nightmarish isolation he feels deep within his soul.

At least, that’s what he used to tell himself. As much as he values the RFA and the rest of its members, Saeyoung felt as though he was living his life on autopilot until you came along. He can still remember how exhilarating it felt when you first joined the chat room, how his heart skipped a beat the first time you matched his energy, how his face was painted with a deep crimson blush hidden behind his phone screen every time you teased him by calling him a cute nickname such as “lovely seven, sweetie” and so on. He often reminisces on how he used to call you up just to hear your voice before you officially met in person, and the first time you called him just to hear his voice is still as clear as day in his mind.

It took quite some time for Saeyoung to accept that he wanted to let you into his heart. He was extremely closed off and emotionally unavailable, but despite his anxieties he knew with his head and heart that you were somebody he could rely on. He saw the love you wanted to give to him, and he had plenty to give in return. He decided that, no matter how it ends up, you’re worth every risk.

Now he sits observing you with a smile as you sleep in his bed curled up into him. He thinks to himself that, for the first time in his entire life, he’s looking forward to the future. He knows he can take anything on and it’ll be okay, as long as you’re there by his side.

[marshmallowprotection]

I'm not sure if you respond to asks like these so feel free to ignore if not, but do you know if there are any fanfictions/posts/anything about 707 with an MC who has a similar personality? Basically fun in chat and concept but cold and detached IRL.

BTW your masterlist is impressive. I've seen you a lot in the MYSME fandom and I'm glad you're still here, your writing is very comforting. I especially loved the one with Seven and the MC with BPD.

I hope you're doing well, thank you in advance ❤️

(Also this is a rewrite of another ask I tried to send, but something went wrong and I'm not sure if it went through. I'm sorry if I've sent it twice!)

You know, a lot of people have done takes on this specific concept, but if you're looking for an MC who is specifically cold and detached, I don't think I've seen too many of those. Because, for the most part, there are a lot of takes out there where the MC is very outgoing in the chatroom, but they're withdrawn and shy in person. There aren't a lot of Readers or MCs who are blunt, sharp-tongued, or aloof when they meet Saeyoung in person.

Off the top of my head, I can only think of one specific fanfiction that might fit this category. This particular MC loves to make jokes and have fun, but there is a serious nature in the background that is just floating underneath the surface that you may find interesting if that's something you're into.  

Constellations by Cervella

I might have been here for a while but I don't always consume a lot of media that has Saeyoung as the love interest. I have only written two forms of long fanfiction about him being the love interest. Though, you might be interested in my Angel / Demon story! Saeyoung's MC in that story is very rule-following and can be a bit standoffish to his natural bite.

Gardenia, et tu Polaris?

Might I suggest checking out some of the other imagine blogs in the fandom to see if they have better examples and/or writing that might interest you? I know these three in particular have been more active as of late and have good takes on Saeyoung, plus their ask boxs are open.

@rfaromance @brighteststar707 @natasha-in-space @pastelsapphy

Also, thank you for your support! Feel free to send me another ask about this specific concept if you would like me to write a little bit of something, but I feel as though it would be sweeter for the Saeyoung MCS to provide their takes on this first!

[vethsoddities]

The New Birthday Song

Saeyoung Choi x Penelope Brenatto

Summary: a birthday fic for the twins

A/n: I love my wifeband Saeyoung

Ao3 link

Masterlist

Penelope took a step back and looked over at Vanderwood and asked “Does everything look alright Mar?” Penelope looked around at the bunker that she decorated for the twin's birthday with a bit of help from Vanderwood.

Vanderwood shrugged as they looked at the brunette “Looks fine to me, Pen I think you did a good job I mean you are a party coordinator for a reason” Penelope looked over at Vanderwood with a tilted head, brows furrowed with her hands balled on her hips.

“Seriously It looks fine it needs to be perfect for them I want them to have a good birthday,” Penelope said with a sigh as anxiety started to creep up on her “They never had a good birthday now they are back together again after years of not seeing each other.”

Penelope shook her head “Besides I want them to have the best birthday possible that I can give to them ya know”Vanderwood sighed placing a hand on Penelope’s right shoulder.

“Penelope I think you are overthinking it knowing zero-seven as well as I do I know he’ll love whatever you do for him regardless of what it is,” Vanderwood then Elbows Penelope with a half smile.

“So will Saeran he maybe an asshole but he still will live it because you took the time to do something for him” Penelope takes a breath and smiles back “Yeah your right thanks Vander, so now we need to add the extras and then get the cakes I made for them.”

Penelope walked into the kitchen getting Saeyoung’s cake out of the oven and smiled as she started to decorate it as a sunset with stars and moons and candles that said 23 on it.

Penelope eventually started to work on Saeran’s cake It was an ice cream cake with pastel pink and blues with a bit of bright red and a lavender color to symbolize herself and Saeyoung entering his life and helping heal from all that he’s been through and adds another thing of candles that says 23 on it.

[literally a time skip to when the twins get back from a trip Pen planned for them bc I don’t wanna write it]

Eventually, the twins got home and were greeted by an enthusiastic Penelope who took both of their hands and led them through the garage.

“I have a surprise for both of you that Vanderwood helped me with and I’m so excited to show you both I think you’ll love it!” Penelope had a big smile on her face “Oh boy” Saeran muttered with an unhappy look on his face that the Choi-Brenatto family knew wasn’t always meant to be taken as negative.

Penelope led them into the main part of the bunker and kept smiling as she went “Ta Da! Happy 23rd birthday you two you’re a year away from being a grandpa like I am!” When Penelope called herself grandpa it was always a joke she said about herself “Wow you and Ms. Vanderwood did this all by yourselves” Saeyoung said with a smile as he looked around Penelope nodded her head. “Well I wouldn’t say I did a lot for once Ms.Choi over her busted her ass off to do this” Vanderwood said as Saeran nodded his head “Yeah I’d believe that”

“Well, I’d say we both worked our asses off and I even busted out my core 40 from high school to bake the cakes and decorate them for you both. They have a little special meaning to them and I hope you love them.” Penelope stated as she had them sit down so they could relax and eat the cake and other foods Penelope made and bought.

When it got to gifts Penelope got the twins things they wanted for a long while and even included a few handmade bracelets that Penelope tended to make for those she loved and a few other things like coupons for an ice cream place Saeran liked and even a gift card and even a thing that paid for a months worth of therapy sessions. Safe to say Penelope spoiled the twins for their 23rd birthday which made it easily one of the best birthdays they had.

[muttsomnia]

Oh my fucking god oh my fucking god oh my fucking god oh my fucking god oh m

[oblitus-vulpes]

i should write. i know what i want to write about but i don't know Who.

[astridthevalkyrie]

honeymoon period | jumin han x reader

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

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

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

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

There is a knock on your door.

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

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

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

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

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

“Jumin!”

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, Jumin.”

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come over here and find out, hubby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” you question, with gleaming eyes.

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

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

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

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

Jumin Han is in love.

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The only limit is his imagination.

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

“No.” He is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything.”

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

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

///

Ice Prince.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yes, you’re right. However…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did. Did you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have an idea.”

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everyone cares,” Jumin insists. 

“Excuse me?”

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

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

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

“Call…call the doctor?”

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

“Yes. Of course. Whatever you desire.”

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

“What did she say?”

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And who is Jumin to ever deny you?

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

“A glass of wine.”

“Of course, sir. And you, Mrs. Han?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

…

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

“Likewise.”

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

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

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

“Not the only thing,” he hums slyly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Losing his mind is just the beginning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shake your head, clutching onto him stubbornly.

“You can sleep on my lap in the car.”

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

He opens the door, then freezes in his tracks.

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

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

“Care to join me, husband?”

Jumin swallows.

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

///

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

///

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

Because this. This, is heavenly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will do. Bye, have fun!”

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

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

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

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

“You were meant to go out today.”

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

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

“I know that.”

“I—you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

///

A soft knock on the door. 

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

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The doorknob jiggles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t work. 

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

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

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

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

You.

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

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

He takes one step towards you.

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

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

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

“You’re fucked up, Jumin.”

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

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

But maybe you’ve just…had enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He hurt you. He hurt you.

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

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

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

“Jumin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s okay. 

I’m right here, I’m here for you. 

You have me forever. 

We’re going to get through this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The promise knocks him right out.

///

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

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

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

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

An angel, indeed.

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

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

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

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

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

“All from home today, my prince.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A bad nightmare.”

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

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

His hands grip the back of your shirt.

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

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

“Alright,” he concedes, trembling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taking a deep breath, he continues.

///

Jumin is addicted—addicted—to making you cum.

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

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

He could taste you forever.

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

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

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

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

///

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jumin, I can’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

Jumin’s heart seizes.

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

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

///

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

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

“You’re welcome,” he breathes.

[brighteststar707]

Hungrily + Saeyoung for the Valentine's day event! I love your writing btw <3

Thank you, nonny! Happy early Valentine's day to you, thank you for the request <3

I'll be honest, this is was mostly me referencing Hozier's It will come back again, because that to me is the definition of Saeyoung loving hungrily. I hope you enjoy it <3

A warning for very vague spice, this takes place at the first night in the cabin during his after ending.

Saeyoung loves hungrily

It’s in the middle of your first night together at the cabin, as he’s staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, that he realises just how deep that hunger runs.

Something inside him has changed. Maybe it happened tonight, or maybe tonight was the last straw, but he knows now that he will never be able to return to his old shallow personas again.

You've introduced something to his life that he cannot live without.

You’re fast asleep beside him, tucked into his side with an arm draped over his chest. The feeling of your bare skin against his still gives him goosebumps. He should probably be sleeping too, but his mind keeps replaying the sequence of events that unfolded just a few hours ago.

It still all made his head spin. Those words that had escaped him in a moment of overwhelming fear and desire after a full day on the road:

Can I… be a bit selfish to you?

I want to leave evidence on you… that I existed.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to ask it. He had never dared to be so greedy in his life. Being around you seemed to have loosened the control he usually kept.

His hunger, his need had never been an issue before.

He had always been aware that something was missing from his life. He often felt like a hollow, carved-out shell of a being, built to keep working until he inevitably caved in on himself. He was not built to receive tenderness or affection.

The thing about being hungry for so long is that at some point you stop noticing it.

But from the beginning, you had made him deeply aware of just how much he craved that warmth. In one fell swoop you had managed to fill his idle thoughts with fantasies of finally, finally, allowing himself to be loved. He’d lie down on the floor in the apartment at night and the little bad voice in his head - the one that never listened to his rules - would taunt him with thoughts of how comfortable it’d be to be held by you. Wrapped up in your arms, maybe he’d finally be safe and warm.

Now, here he is - and there he was a few hours ago. Holding you close after hours on the road, it didn’t feel real. That was when those words slipped out.

And oh, if he had had any control left, it would have all melted away at the way you had looked at him after he asked you that question. It was as if you had been waiting for him to ask you this whole time (and of course, you had).

It was that easy. His body seemed to move of its own volition, his mouth moulding itself against yours before moving to press against every inch of bare skin he could reach. The last of his walls finally came down.

It was in those moments that he realised just how starved for touch and tenderness he had been. His hunger in those moments was overwhelming. He indulged in the tenderness of your kisses and the warmth of your smile as you encouraged him and forgot himself completely.

All his worries and fears of the last week all seemed to temporarily disappear, along with the deep-seated fear he had harboured about what would happen if his hunger won out.

Now, in the silence, it’s slowly creeping back up on him. Interspersed with memories of your hand guiding his across your skin and the sound of your voice saying his name over and over, is the creeping dread of what he has awoken.

He might have been able to survive without you before - just about. Now, it feels like you've handed him a new life. Even the mere thought of not having you near him made his stomach drop with fear. Now that he knew the warmth you could bring, he could never return to the cold he was once used to.

He has never been scared to die before. He didn't have much to lose, his life wasn't ever worth very much. Somehow, in the span of eleven days, he had gained everything, and it was his to lose tomorrow.

It was also his to protect. It had been so long since he had something worthy to fight for. You, Saeran, a life where the three of you would be free and happy.

You sigh softly and your breath sends goosebumps across his skin.

Yes. He would not crumble now in the face of the greatest reward he could ever get. He would do it for the family he so desperately wanted.

He might even do it for himself. He would not ever be a hollow shell again.

[natasha-in-space]

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

They are glasses buddies.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Careful, here be wolves in sheep's clothing

or the story about a shepherd and their sheep

The Plains

Gender-Neutral Unnamed MC & All the Brothers

Tags: • Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting • Mild blood & violence

Comments & kudos & reblogs are always treasured because I am a cave dwelling little creature that hoards that shit and snorts it like crack, also I haven't posted a fic in months and would like a pat on the head please

Tag List (if you want to be added like this -> post. If you want to be removed lemme know);

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@aspiring--cryptid

@wanderwelle

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@jabesa0

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@dweeb-central @noblognamepleasee @fully-automatic-ass

@sweetbrier2908 @reikabae17 @emiosb

[cassandralie]

Muriel, the Dimmest Little Morningstar

Maybe the question isn't "was Crowley Lucifer?" but who else was also Lucifer? After all, there was more than one Morningstar

or, as Crowley put it more casually,

he doesn't remember them, of course, probably due to Book of Life fuckery, just like he doesn't remember Fufur and Saraquel, who were also probably in the Morningstar Legion (that or the rebels called themselves Morningstars).

Which is why he also doesn't remember Muriel and Muriel also doesn't remember him. Both of them had their memories altered by the Book of Life*

*Sub Theory: the Book of Life erases who you were, makes it so you never existed... but you don't disappear or die. You become someone new. Hopefully this theory doesn't implode later--yeah, that's right, I made that sub joke instead of the other kind involving um...sandwiches.

But, just like Pepperidge Farms, the Metatron remembers.

he didn't say the "dumb" one, or the "stupid" one. Maybe to be polite. But "dim" isn't very polite either. It's just slightly less on the nose than the "not very bright one", aka the Dimmest Morningstar

But what happened to Muriel and their original memories? The same thing that was going to happen to Gabriel, obviously!

Muriel is basically a junior reporting angel. Sorry, scrivener. A no one and they know it.

Ranked so low they didn't know there was a rank under (which there probably wasn't until the Metatron wanted to punish Gabriel)

whatever Muriel did Before the Fall, whatever their name used to be, the Metatron didn't get rid of them because:

that's right, Neil Gaiman the Metatron will need Muriel for his evil plans, probably involving thee Second Coming and another apocalypse.

maybe to keep them out of the way, or maybe because they have power he's waiting for the right moment to unlock.

But he does make sure it's still locked.

Other people have explained that the book is about pieceing together fragments of the past* Maybe Muriel will remember who they are? Remember who Crowley is? Remember what really happened to cause the War in Heaven, the Fall, all that?

Maybe they will remember just in time to stop the Second Coming and the Second Armageddon--with help from our divorced dads, of course.

(*also a missing uncle - Crowley? A fellow Morningstar.

*also an estranged father with a belief in a higher power - Aziraphale? the Metatron?

*and also an exploded Grandmother - God? Muriel's previous identity?)

For further evidence, please note the star and crown on their helmet and recall "everything is meant" TM

This looks like a former Prince of Heaven, Morningstar Legion to me

And that is my theory :)

(if anyone said this first, sorry! All credit to you!)

Now, I'm no published author and barely anyone reads my fics (but the ones who do are Real Ones-- I love ya'll), so I have zero street cred here, and am probably so off the mark my dart hit the wall instead of the dart board, but I wanted to share my thoughts anyway and see what everyone thinks. Please let me know!

(Bonus Crack Theory: Muriel's original name was Lucy/Luci/Luciel. Combine with Fufur, that would make a Lucifer with bad demon spelling Lucyfur.)

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: jaehee celebrates your birthday!!

COMMENTS: @dove-da-birb I HAD TO SPEED WRITE THIS BC I DIDNT KNOW IT WAS YOUR BIRTDHAY BUT YOURE AWAY FOR TODAY SO ITS FINE. HAPPY BIRTDHAY!!!

why do so many of my beloved mutuals have summer birthdays....its like birthday fic week over here

also i tried to write trey clover but he was being a butt and i couldnt SJDJSDJDSJ

“Did you have fun today?” Jaehee murmurs, raising a brow at you as you stumble into the kitchen, “You look exhausted.”

“You know how they all are.” you shoot her an amused look, taking your spot next to her, “Luciel chased Elizabeth the Third around the room and she clambered on top of the presents to escape, then they fell on Jumin and Zen laughed so hard he turned bright red, then Yoosung tries to get him water and ended up slipping on a loose ribbon and face planting into the carpet.”

Jaehee sighs, and you sigh with her.

“I don’t even know why Mr. Han insisted on bringing his cat...” Jaehee huffs, lifting the mug of coffee in her hand to her face.

You watch as her glasses cloud with the steam, and how her wrist curves when she places the mug down on the counter as taking a quiet sip. You hear Zen sneeze from the other room and Jumin makes a snide remark about the beauty of cat hair and it takes all your strength not to roll your eyes.

Jaehee does it for you.

“I hope you enjoyed this get-together nonetheless.” she says, eyes meeting your own, “And...I’m glad you came in here with me. It’s nice to spend time with you alone like this.”

“Of course. There’s no one else I’d rather spend time with.” you beam, a smile bright and happy and lovely just for her.

You’re not sure how it happens, but you find yourself wrapped up in her arms and her in yours, faces pressed to patches of bare skin where your shirts don’t cover, chests rising and falling as you embrace. It lasts for one beat, two beats, three, and you feel your mind slipping into peace.

This is what it means to love, to fall into it and feel safe doing so.

“I love you, Jaehee.” you say, and it’s not a whisper but its just as soft, your breath ghosting across her neck.

“I love you too.” she says, just as softly, her fingertips pressing into your back as if she’ll never be able to touch you enough, “Happy birthday.”

[marshmallowprotection]

hello I'm finally reading the rest of Gardenia, et tu Polaris? (after like... six months. damn school) and I just finished chapter 13 and I had no idea how everyone was going to get out of That and I. was NOT expecting that, god fucking damn. Bastard had it coming though, sucks to suck i guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I mean now they have to deal with Rika, but. (hoping to finish reading tonight or tomorrow but i got stuff to do so :/// )

Would you believe me if I told you Chapter 13 is my favorite one of the entire story? It was one of the initial plot threads I thought about just as I decided what I wanted to do with the story, and my excitement... to have that visually laid out in front of readers kept me going on and on in excitement at how people would react to that plot twist.

Forgive me, I can't help but laugh whenever people come to tell me they got to that chapter because all I hear is: "OH MY GOD. WHAT IN THE WORLD JUST HAPPENED?" I hope you're able to read the last three chapters so you figure out how they react to that situation... it's not over yet, and should mentally prepare yourself for the final act of the story.

There is a part of me that really wants to either draw or commission someone to draw that scene in my story because that happens to the one that lives in my head like nothing else. Hey, does anyone out there feel like drawing that gut-wrenching scene for Angel Saeran and Demon Luciel?

[Link to Read Gardenia, et tu Polaris]