@darling-aries requested: Hey! I saw that you are wanting some request? I was wondering if I could request a singer MC who has been put on vocal rest (with possible vocal damage) because of overuse? I have done something very similar to this recently and it is awful. My speaking voice is really hoarse/non-existent if I speak for to long. I also have a cough that won’t go away. I just want some RFA boi comfort… :’( You can decide what RFA character you want to write for. Im not picky!
A/N: hi @darling-aries im so sorry that this request took so long and it’s only two characters T-T my summer has been surprisingly busy but i hope your vocal rest is going well & you’re feeling better!!! this is my fist time writing for these characters so I hope they aren’t ooc ;-; sending good vibes your way and i hope you’re having a wonderful day <3
Summary:Scenarios of how Zen and Jumin would react with MC on vocal rest!
Warnings: vocal rest but nothing else i don’t think ;3
- Zen -
- this man knows the struggle
- overused his voice a couple of times after doing too many intense performances in a row
- is willing to have a one-sided conversation while you text him and he talks to you
- whenever you try to talk to him, he’ll scold you just a lil bit
- “I want you to get better, jagiya. Can’t do that if you keep talking.”
- gives you excessive amounts of physical affection to make up for it
- lots of kisses on your throat all in the name of making you feel better
- “This is where it hurts right? I’ll kiss it better!”
-honestly just a cutie i love him T-T
~~~~~
As much as you hated the whole “vocal rest” thing, this was pretty amazing. Zen had decided that, because you couldn’t sing or speak, this would be the perfect time to give you a private performance of his own creation. A medley of all of your favorite songs along with songs you performed before. Your round of applause sounded throughout the apartment. Zen took a deep and over dramatic bow, waving to an imaginary audience. “Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week!” Zen half-shouted, blowing kisses at you. Grabbing a water bottle and plopping himself on the couch next to you, he dragged you on his lap and took out his phone. “How’d I do babe? As amazing as you’d hoped?” he asked, expectantly waiting for your response. Typing out a flurry of praises, a handful of pings came from Zen’s phone. “I see,” he said, drawing out the “e”. “Your favorite part was when I had the least amount of clothes on, hmm?” he teased, pulling you closer to him. “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you only like me for my body,” he joked. At your pouting face he let out a loud laugh, the sound of your fast typing in the background. Another ping, your indignance showing clearly through your expression and text message. “Sorry jagiya, you’re just too cute to tease,” he said, his voice dropping slightly as he planted a kiss on your neck.
- Jumin -
- probably more concerned than anything else
- also the silence in the apartment is a little unsettling for him
- you have unlocked “concerned husband”
- has a little furrow in between his brows whenever he hears you cough
- unintentionally makes you laugh with his bluntness of how rough you sound
- “Your laugh sounds like a dog toy, darling.”
- buys you all the fancy teas and remedies
- definitely takes off work at least the first day just so he can make sure you’re ok
- just a lil overbearing but it’s only because he wants you to make a full recovery!!!
~~~~~
“Jumin-“
“No darling, you have to drink the tea.”
You love your husband, you promise, but this is ridiculous. The third cup of tea you’ve had today and Jumin is insistent that you drink another. Letting out another painful cough, you grab the pen and paper Jumin had given you and write a quick response and hold out the paper. Reading your refusal to drink the tea, Jumin sighs. “You know I won’t force you, but please take care of yourself.” You nod at him, turning your attention back to the show you were watching. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jumin typing on his laptop, and check to see what he’s doing. Stifling a laugh, you read the name of the article he’s reading, “Top 10 Best Remedies for Vocal Rest.” Gently tapping on his hand to get his attention, you slowly close his laptop and Jumin looks at you questioningly. Writing out a quick response, you tell him how much you appreciate him taking care of you, but assure him that you’ll be fine. Once Jumin reads your response, he heaves a sigh and grasps your hand in his. “I have been a bit overbearing haven’t I?” he asks you, his brows furrowing a bit in consideration. As you nod, Jumin releases a deep breath and kisses your knuckles. “I just want you to feel better darling. I feel useless not being able to take this pain away.” He looks so sad and dejected, you give him a kiss between his brows to get him to relax. Grasping your hand, he kisses your ring finger once more before asking again, “Can I get anything else for you?”
“Just cuddles,” you wrote, and without another word, Jumin picked you up bridal style and carried you to bed, at peace knowing he’s helping you heal through his warmth and love.
love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide
ch. 1/7 – prev. – next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings:n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father’s most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link
note: office romance slowburn. featuring hallmark tropes and bad flirting. enjoy the ride. hop into my inbox for a tag if you’re interested though! kiss kiss.
-
You don’t mean for it to happen the first time.
Considering the state of your routine and your general efficiency (required when it comes to a job at C&R) it’s easy to say that showing up early is an ingrained habit. It had happened a few times too many when you’d first started working and just sort of stuck. However.
It’s thirty minutes past schedule when you wake up in a state of panic, rushing and grabbing for clothes and keys and wallet before stumbling out the door.
But for as much as you’d worried, it all turns out fine. You’re still on time, a nice man holds the door open for you–you don’t think you’ve seen him before, or maybe you’re so distressed your brain doesn’t recognize the face–and there aren’t any consequences. You don’t get yelled at. You aren’t behind. Really, you should have overslept more often.
It’s in his dreams when he tells her his truest feelings and deepest regrets.
And she stays with him, holding his hand as he speaks, words tumbling over each other as he struggles to get out every thought he had of her - a whole days worth.
She just smiles, eyes soft and gentle.
She never replied.
But that’s okay.
He wouldn’t have wanted to hear those words from her in a dream, anyway.
He tells her in every language he knows. Binary, C++, Python, Java, French, Arabic, Mandarin. He flows into each one, fluent and unwavering.
It’s only in his dreams that he can tell her.
And he has to tell her.
Or he runs the risk of giving her hope that this could work out. That the bomb inside the apartment isn’t the only reason he’s here.
Of course it wasn’t.
But he couldn’t tell her that.
He knew what she’d say. What she’d do.
She’d stay with him and hold his hand, eyes soft and voice warm and coaxing him towards her with peaceful and calming words.
He woke up, a heaviness on his heart he could not explain.
He sat beside her and the nurses and visitors and group members would all try and convince him to go get some rest and that they’ll call him as soon as her conditioned changed.
But he wasn’t moving anywhere. He wanted to be there for her, the moment her eyes flickered open. The moment her hand reached for his.
It had been two days and her condition was steadily improving - the doctors were surprised.
“She must be a real fighter!” They’d tell him, noticing the bags under his eyes, and he’d smile. Of course she was.
Perhaps this is how she had felt, with him so close yet so far. Forcing a drawn line on the floor into a barrier against her. His heart shattered every time he thought about it.
She’d bring him food and drink and a silence that was friendly and patient. Not like what he was used to - where silence meant threat and danger.
It was just a ring. That just happened to be referred to repeatedly as an engagement ring.
He liked to tell himself that it was just an impulse thing - he’d done these kinds of things before. Messed around on Amazon and EBay and ended up with a living room full of singing pickles and glow in the dark flash lights. This could just be one of them.
But when he saw her, he’d catch himself in the process of reaching for it. And thinking about it. The perfect proposal which would lead to the perfect wedding and then the perfect marriage and the perfect family.
Maybe that would make everything that had happened before her almost seem like it had meant something.
It was in the moment when he got down on one knee, at the party, hand already wrapped around the small box he’d made a habit of bringing with him everywhere, that he thought to himself that…
There is an hourglass on your bedside table that you got from the last flea market you went to with your best friend. She was looking for a certain book that her boss sent her to find, and you had poked around and looked at what else they were offering. The owner said that it didn’t work anymore, but you thought it looked cute- especially since the sand was a pinkish red color that seemed to shine gold in the light and its frame had these diamond shapes that made it unique. So despite what the owner said, you still went ahead and bought it.
You figure the owner must have been mistaken, because when you got home that day and placed it in its spot, you saw the sands trickling down to the bottom half of the hourglass- albeit at a rather slow rate than usual. Whether it measured a week or a month or a year, you weren’t exactly sure. But you paid it no mind, simply content to use it as a decoration.
Most days you never spared it a second glance, but over the course of the year, you’d find that a noticeable chunk had gone missing from the top and fallen into the bottom of the hourglass. You weren’t exactly waiting for the sand to run out, but you wondered when it would finally happen.
Hands blindly search around the table, the hourglass shaking a little when you bump into it on your way to shut off the alarm on your phone. Sighing, you sit up and rub your eyes, blinking them open and awake. As your feet pad their way to the kitchen, you try to remember why it is you set an alarm today when you had no work- but your phone ringing all of a sudden again reminds you why.
“Good morning,” the voice on the other end of the line chirps. Your best friend is rarely this cheerful this early, and despite how groggy you feel, you manage to make your voice sound alive.
“Hey, Jae!”
“I wanted to make sure you were awake,” she laughs. “And you are! Will you be ready soon?”
“Mhm! Just let me eat and shower and all that,” you reassure her as you begin to prepare your breakfast.
“Alright, alright…oh! Did you listen to the-” Jaehee begins to ask you excitedly before you cut her off.
“Yes, yes! I’m ready. A hundred percent ready for the show, all thanks to you!”
“Okay,” you can hear the sheepish smile in her voice through the phone. “Sorry, I’m just really excited…”
“You should be! Now, let me finish up and we’ll meet at the theater soon okay?”
You both say your goodbyes and you finish up your business in the kitchen, staring at the sink for a moment after you put away your dishes. With a deep breath, you exhale and shake your head, walking towards your bathroom to prepare for the long day you knew you had ahead of you.
It doesn’t quite sink in that you’re going to have the full experience of this show, stage door and dressing room tours included, all thanks to Jaehee. You didn’t know how to repay her- getting her to accept your share for the tickets was hard enough.
But now you stood beside her underneath the giant marquee, flashing wide grins as Jaehee’s phone snaps a selfie of you two. The fangirl squeals excitedly and quickly uploads it to the messenger accompanied by some of her emojis before she pockets her phone.
Even though Jaehee had showed you the cast recording and you’d watched a few potato-quality videos on MeTube, nothing could have ever prepared you for the live performance that was happening before your eyes. Your friend was right, and you understood exactly why her adoration and support was so strong and unwavering.
Your eyes are glued to Zen the entire time he’s on stage, his voice absolutely captivating you with every note he sings. Each time he moves, it’s a sight so heavenly- the lights and smoke giving you the illusion that he was dancing on a cloud. And he might as well have been, with the way he glided across the floor. By the time the cast took their final bows, you found yourself wiping at a few stray tears that had escaped as you clapped rather loudly, you and Jaehee joining the others who were giving standing ovations as well.
It takes you a minute to collect yourself, sitting and chatting with your best friend as the rest of the people made their way out of the theater. Fortunately for you, Jaehee had already insisted on buying merchandise during the intermission, so there was no need to rush in line. You both made your way to stage door, the fangirl bouncing rather excitedly on her heels beside you. Swallowing, you turn to face her.
“So, Zen…”
“-Was so amazing, right? Did you see how beautiful his hair was? He didn’t even need a wig for this role! It’s actually that nice, and did you notice…”
You chuckle at your friend’s enthusiastic rambling and nod along, blushing a little as you remember all the details about the actor and his performance that Jaehee brings up again. Before you can chime with any of your own comments, though, a smooth, baritone voice interrupts the conversation.
“Aha, I see Jaehee here has already put in a good word,” the actor chuckles as he places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it lightly. She bashfully stops mid-speech, turning to face Zen.
“I couldn’t help it,” she shrugs, giving the man a look. “You just did so well!”
To this, you nod, endeared at your friend’s display. You also try to drown out the screaming that has suddenly surrounded you.
“I did my best,” he says humbly before turning to face you. “Now, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Zen.”
He flashes his signature smile and reaches his hand out. You go to shake it, but he gently maneuvers his palm underneath to catch yours. Raising your hand, he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.
Somewhere in your darkened apartment, the final sands in the hourglass trickle down to the bottom of the timekeeper as you manage to tell him your name.
“I’d love to get to know you more and catch up with Jaehee, but I have some things to sign,” he gestures to all the people waiting. Zen speaks again before you can even begin to feel bad about holding up the line.
“Will you guys wait for me over here? I promise I’ll be quick!”
“Of course! It’s no trouble at all, right?” Jaehee answers before you can as she turns to you, waiting for your input.
“No, it’s not! We’ll wait,” you smile, linking your arm with hers.
“Perfect!” is the last thing Zen says, then he uncaps his marker and quickly makes his way down the line.
It looks like he’s shining. You’re not sure whether it’s just the sun hitting his alabaster skin, or stage makeup he hadn’t properly taken off yet, or the way he flashed his pearly whites- but he looked almost golden in his element. Jaehee catches you staring, but who was she to say anything if she was doing the same?
Once he’s out of good earshot, your friend speaks up.
“I think he likes you,” she says as nonchalantly as she could, pretending not to observe your reaction.
“What?”
Zen chooses this perfect moment to spare you a glance, to spare you a smile. Of course Jaehee catches this, too.
“He kissed your hand,” she tells you knowingly. There’s a look on her face you can’t quite read.
“He was probably just being a gentleman,” you quickly jump to his defense, swallowing slowly before smiling back at him.
“He doesn’t really do that to begin with,” she quickly responds. Mentally, Jaehee goes over all the times she’s seen Zen kiss a girl’s hand. Sure, the man was a flirt, but if she didn’t count all the times he did it to a stranger for the sake of formality, well… there was nothing else to count.
Before you can say anything else, Zen jogs back up to you, several gifts in hand. How can he carry all that in one hand?
“Alright, I gotta put these away before continuing. You guys can wait in my dressing room instead, I’d hate for you guys to get cold out here.”
Jaehee is surprisingly silent. She nudges you.
“Ah, that’s alright! Yeah, we can wait there,” you reply, shooting Jaehee a look after he takes the lead.
“After you,” he says, holding the door open.
“Thanks,” you mumble with a blush.
As you pass him by, his scent tickles your nostrils and you think another whiff will make you absolutely intoxicated. Your shoulders brush, and for a moment, you lock eyes- both of your faces falling into soft smiles.
You don’t know what it is, at all. You just met this man. Sure, he was devastatingly beautiful, but there was something else that was there.
The hourglass would never tell its secrets, but you had a feeling you were going to find out anyway.
!! this i dedicate to jay, @galaxytastes, my one and only starboy. THANK YOU for bringing dear sev into my life.
You’re on the moon.
This, you know because of the view of Earth before you- an image you had only ever seen on screen was right before your very eyes. Below you were craters of moondust, and you stand to look outside the glass pane that separates you from the moon’s atmosphere.
Fifteen.
There are fifteen little redhead children running around in circles, leaving clouds in their wake. They don’t seem to be wearing any spacesuits, nor you for that matter- a quick glance at your reflection confirming what you had already suspected. You were in your normal clothes.
“Honey?” a familiar voice calls out, reverberating against the steel walls of the vessel you stand in. Whipping your head around to face him, you greet your husband with a smile, beckoning him to join you. And here he was: the king of the redheads himself, wrapping an arm around you and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“You should stop letting them have that stuff,” you hear yourself say matter-of-factly. “I know that’s what you just did.”
“What? Nonsense, angel! It’s important that they know what the superior soda is before anyone else can change their wee little minds! Even if they have to share one can,” he chuckles proudly, puffing his chest out.
“Sev,” your voice carries that tone reserved for situations like this. “We’re the only ones here. No one can tell them that anything’s better than PhD Pepper… except maybe me,” you giggle, and he shakes his head before wrapping his arms around your waist, carrying you to the other end of your moon-house.
“Oh yes, you…”
Your cries and protests are only met with tickles before he finally sets you down in front of a giant telescope.
“I wanna show you something,” Saeyoung whispers with a wicked grin, eyebrows wiggling in excitement.
“What did you do this time, huh?”
“Look into the telescope, my star.”
And so, you do, but not without giving him a look of suspicion.
You’re met with the sight of your name. Beside his, and now your, surname.
Toggling with the lenses, you zoom the telescope out a little bit to see what your married name had been on: a mountain. On Earth.
Your mouth falls into a gasp. Blindly, you reach over to smack his arm. “No, no you didn’t-”
He adjusts his glasses with a smirk that you can’t see.
“Why yes, yes I did, with the help of my trusty laser. Now everyone will know that I married you at the space station,” his voice goes from pride to fondness, pulling you away from the telescope and into his arms.
“Earth knows I love you. Mars is next,” a hushed whisper from your husband as he leans down to capture your lips with his in a chaste kiss. You feel yourself sigh against him as he pulls away, squeezing both of your hands.
“Naming all those stars was enough, you know?” you mumble, blushing.
“No way! I told ya, all the planets in the galaxyshould know!” he chuckles and rubs your arms, kissing your forehead.
He feels warmer this time. You feel this forehead kiss even more than the one earlier and-
Your eyes fly open, met with the sight of your boyfriend pulling himself away from your face. He jumps back, glasses askew with a hand clutching at his chest.
You blink at your surroundings, at Saeyoung’s monitors glowing behind him, at the walls of the bunker- the chip crumbs on his side of the bed.
“Woah there angel, you scared me!” he laughs, coming back to cuddle you again.
“I dreamt of you,” you say, your voice a faraway thing while you try to sink back into reality.
“Ofme?”he says overdramatically, his hand returning to its position on his chest. “What did this lucky alien boy do to make it in your dreams, huh?”
Seven ruffles your hair gently and presses a kiss to your shoulder before hooking his chin over it, awaiting your response.
“There were fifteen baby tomatoes, the moon, and a laser.”
It may have been a passing comment, but it was one that had stuck to you ever since you attended your first RFA party.
“I must ask Sherlocking to retrieve my lost vacation days,” Jaehee says with a little laugh after welcoming the detective and checking the his name on the guest list. It was said lightly, but you felt the truth in her words, especially after the soft sigh that escapes her before you both move on to the next guest.
So naturally, you burst through the doors of C&R one day, fully clad in a detective outfit- complete with a briefcase and a magnifying glass. The borrowed coat you had on was way too big on you, but it only made you look all the more endearing.
“I found them, I found them!!” You exclaim as you enter Jaehee’s office, and she makes a very confused face at you, before looking back and forth between you and Jumin’s door, motioning for you to lower your voice.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Han is currently on a conference call with our associates from Japan,” she says apologetically, using a finger to lift her glasses back to the bridge of her nose. The assistant motions you to come closer. “What was- what was it that you found?”
Her eyebrows furrow as she blinks twice, taking in your appearance. What were all these stuff you were bringing? What in the world was your reason for this attire?
You erupt in laughter for a moment before you remember yourself, eyes widening while your hand comes up to stifle the laughs. As much as Jaehee adored the sight, the sound- she couldn’t tell you not to be quiet.
“Ifoundthem,” you say in a hush now, as if you’ve unearthed the biggest secret in the world, as if you held the very key to life in your hands. The briefcase is lifted onto Jaehee’s desk by your hands, an air of importance surrounding you. She tries sitting up straighter, higher to get a peek at what’s inside as you open it, but it’s obscured from her view.
You pull out a folder that held travel documents inside, an all expenses paid week-long trip to paradise as handpicked by you and Zen, and financed by none other than mister director, Jumin Han.
The briefcase is shut as you lay the folder on her table and slide it across in an official manner, like in a movie you’ve watched with her just to see Zen’s cameo in it.
“What is all this… ?” she asks quietly, a puzzled expression on her face.
As she opens the folder, you lean in and grin widely.
“Your lost vacation days!”
You can’t help but giggle again, excited for the overworked assistant. With eyes scanning through the details written down, she slowly begins to smile, but then her mouth falls back into a hard line.
“This cannot be possible. Is this one of Seven’s pranks, are you in on it this time?” She asks in disbelief, once again surveying your outfit.
“No no no, I swear-” you try to explain before Jumin himself walks out of his office, steady beats of his Oxfords slowing to a stop as he reaches the two of you.
“Assistant Kang, this is perfectly serious. We discussed this beforehand, everything has been worked out. Is that any way to show your gratitude?”
“Mr. Han- I didn’t- and,” Jaehee begins to fumble, caught off guard.
“It’s alright,” you swoop in and save her, laughing it off and waving your hand in reassurance. “I see why it would seem too good to be true. But it istrue, I asked this guy right here,” you smile as you jut your thumb outwards towards the man in question.
Jumin only nods.
“I- How did you manage this? I’ve been trying to ask for so long…” she responds, still in shock, going through the files in the folder.
“Easy. I have seven cat-sitting days Jumin can redeem whenever he needs them,” you smile proudly, shoulders straightening out as you tug on the collar of your trenchcoat.
The director shares one of his rare smiles too, and gently lays a hand on your shoulder, nodding in approval. He turns to Jaehee and gives her a curt nod as well, before walking towards the elevator without another word.
The assistant finds the tickets and holds them up, staring at her own name printed on them. Like it’s a mirage that’ll disappear. Like it’s a hallucination she’ll snap out of soon.
But she feels the paper in her hands and- oh, why is it so thick?
Her thumb slides forward as her index slides backwards in an attempt, and to her surprise, the second ticket comes into view. Curiously, she places her ticket behind and gasps at what she reads on the second one.
Your name.
“You’re coming with me?” she asks, eyes still glued to the ticket.
“Of course I am!” you say, blushing sheepishly. “What good is a vacation if you spend it alone, am I right?”
Jaehee actually grins this time, finally setting down the documents and looking into your eyes once more. She looks so happy, you think you could almost melt right here, in your entire ensemble and everything. Magnifying glass included.
Nervously, you ramble on.
“I don’t know if you saw it yet but we’ll have time to go to some spots where Zen filmed for his latest movie!! He gave us all of the directions, he even helped me fix our whole trip! And there’s lots of cute coffee shops near where we’re staying, they do all the latte art and-”
You don’t notice that Jaehee’s made her way around her desk already to wrap her arms around you tightly, the way they are now. But you do notice the smile on her face and the way she has her eyes closed, the way she holds you tightly and oh my god, she smells so good-
You’re blushing, but she is too. Sighing happily, you tenderly hold the side of her head close to you as you relish in the warmth of your embrace.
“Thank you,” she murmurs most gratefully against your hair, and you’re so dizzy that you can’t tell if its the ghost of her lips that you feel brushing against your temple or the breeze on this office floor.
!! reader is wearing a dress, but nothing other than that is specified.
also, this isn’t my favorite cg cause i cannot pick one, but it’s definitely one of them <3
You feel yourself go still as his hands wrap around you, as his chin hooks over your shoulder. He has you surrounded you now, and you know well enough that there’s no getting out of this. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide- not in this bunker, not when you’re in the hands of God Seven himself.
The heat of his breath tickles your skin and coaxes bumps to come to its surface. You swallow thickly, and you can hear it in your ears when you do- in fact, you can hear almost everything in your ears, including the hammering of your heartbeat. His hands are large enough to splay over your back as he slowly pulls down the zipper of your dress- and this, this you can hear too, every little click that each pair of teeth from the zipper makes resounds in your ears. It’s this very sound that seals your fate.
You can feel the fabric slipping down your shoulders almost torturously, grazing against your elbows as it falls down your arms.
Maybe it should scare you, the fact that you’re standing almost fully bare in your boyfriend’s arms, but you don’t feel an ounce of fear at all. With hands on his shoulders, thumbs hooked under the collar of his jacket, you rest your head against his as you push his jacket down until it falls to the floor, joining your dress.
As much as Saeyoung wanted to rid himself of the rest of his clothes, this was a game. He had to be patient, had to take a deep breath as he felt the pads of your fingers brush against his muscled abs before you lifted his hoodie off. He cups your cheek and presses his lips against your skin languidly, trailing down until they linger in the crook of your neck.
So that’s how you want to play?
You act as an exact mirror of him, both hands coming up behind his neck to cradle his head, lips leaning in to start kissing right below his jaw, getting lower and lower until you make it to the very same spot he chose to focus on.
Exhaling slowly, the feeling of your warmth makes his little hairs stand on their ends, their own special greeting for you. You can hear it, the way you breathe, the way he breathes, each gentle brush of skin on skin and every little kiss you give each other.
It’s a game.
With an upwards drag of your tongue flat against his neck, his free hand clutches at your shoulder, jaw falling slack to let his teeth graze against your pulse point.
Maybe it’s something beyond your comprehension, something more powerful than the both of you that connects you both together. Maybe it’s all the time you’ve spent together, or maybe it’s simply because you’re the 606 to his 707-
But when you bite down, he does too, teeth sinking into skin, lips latching, sucking; tongues laving down at each other’s fresh bruises, at the matching marks you’ve made for the world to see.
! the main idea for this piece was given to me by my very epic friend, @galaxytastes! there is an amazing jumin birthday fic my friend also wrote so please check it out ♡
Jumin had been making weird faces at you all morning.
It’s taken almost everything in you to suppress the urge to laugh.
Admittedly, your fiancé was right- you had been acting suspicious. But hey, who could blame you for being excited?
Jumin knew it was his birthday today. That was for sure. If the chatroom flooded with edits of him and Elizabeth along with greetings from the rest of the RFA weren’t enough to remind him, the tender kisses you had woken him up with did the trick. Ever since he had mentioned in passing that he had forgotten his birthday twice, you’ve silently made it your mission to prevent it from ever happening again.
Starting with today.
To be fair, it wasn’t Jumin’s fault that he was always so busy. Busy is good, he remembers his father telling him. What else is a business, if not busy?
Flash forward to several years later, where the CEO-in-line who had been hiding sleep deprivation and fatigue under the guise of good grooming was ambushed by the entire C&R conglomerate standing in his office. The moment he walked in, his body had flinched against his will in response to the chorused greeting of Happy Birthday, Director Han!
Needless to say, Jaehee Kang was promptly given an explicit order never to let anyone in his office, unless it was his father or V.
Today, he stands in the kitchen, watching you make breakfast. The fact that he’s here past 8 in the morning on a Tuesday is a gift in itself- literally. Once you had told Jaehee about your plan, she took it upon herself to clear his schedule for you.
“Think of it as a gift,” she smiles shyly, shrugging a little. “I’ve never known what to give him, nor have I actually wanted to. Not until now.”
That’s what you had told Jumin as he was waking up- that Jaehee had cleared the day for him. Your routine pleas for him to stay were met with indulgence this morning, the two of you wrapped up in each other’s arms for as long as you wanted. The rest of Seoul could go on without you.
“Jumin, dear, is there something wrong with the food?” You ask from across the breakfast table, tilting your head a little to sell the act.
“The food is… perfect,” he says slowly, cautiously, as if it were a prelude to something he wasn’t sure of how to say.
“But what do you have in mind for the rest of the day… ?” Jumin asks, neatly setting his utensils down. You smile at him and reach over, offering your hand which he gently takes in his.
“Have you planned anything? I’ve never had much days off, I’m not exactly sure what one should do…” he admits, staring at your joined hands. It’s not just him wanting to know if you had something up your sleeve, no- he didn’t actually know what it is that he wanted to do today. Jumin had planned on going to work today as usual, but all of a sudden he was freed from that obligation. Touched by his small act of vulnerability, your thumb brushes against his knuckles in reassurance.
“You’re lucky you have me then, right?” The corner of your mouth lifts fondly. To that, a little smile of his comes through- the one you’ve fallen in love with. He finally meets your eyes.
“I’ve always been lucky with you, my love,” he says with a little squeeze of your hand. You feel the squeeze in your heart, too.
His knuckles meet your lips one by one as you lean over to kiss his hand. He always took you by surprise, this beautiful man of yours. You never knew how to react to it.
You put the dishes away and return to sit in his lap, wrapping an arm around his neck.
“So what’s gonna happen now is, you and I will get ready, because Driver Kim will be taking us somewhere in an hour.” You explain, absentmindedly fiddling with the hairs on the back of his neck.
He kisses your cheek and sighs. He hated surprises, and he made sure you were well aware of this. Your behavior almost perfectly lined up with the nature of the texts in the chatroom from everyone today.
“Darling, you wouldn’t happen to be taking me to some big party, would you?”
You only giggle and shake your head, hopping out of his lap and making your way towards the bathroom.
“You’ve gotta trust me on this one, okay?” You call out over your shoulder, hand leaning against the doorframe.
“Now, are you going to shower with me or not?”
After the events of the shower, you now find yourself dressed in comfy clothing, Jumin in the same. It was always unusual to see him in anything but a suit, but never unwelcome. Clad in a dark blue sweater and khaki slacks, the sight of him so cozy brings a warmth to your heart. You can’t help it when you lean up and kiss his cheek before holding out his white tennis shoes.
“Sneakers?” he asks, accepting them and sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on.
“I’m sure you can give up your Oxfords for one day, Jumin,” you chuckle, pulling on your own shoes. They looked exactly like his.
With laced fingers, the two of you walk towards the elevator. As you make it inside, your phone pings with a text from Driver Kim, signalling that he was waiting out front.
“Happy Birthday, Mr. Han,” the driver says in greeting, reaching out with both hands to shake Jumin’s. This makes the celebrant laugh softly, his hand happily being squeezed by Driver Kim, his very favorite employee.
“Thank you, Driver Kim,” he says sincerely at the man, who now holds the car door open. Jumin nods once more before climbing into the vehicle after you, a very thoughtful smile on his face. If there was one thing he always appreciated, it was authenticity.
As Driver Kim starts the car and leads you into the city, Jumin speaks to him.
“Where are we headed?” he tries to ask as nonchalantly as he could, disliking the fact that he was clueless at the moment. But all Driver Kim does is shrug helplessly and flash an apologetic smile at his boss through the rearview mirror.
“I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid your fianceé has given me instructions not to reveal our destination.“
He sighs at this, and you only giggle, squeezing his hand.
“Don’t worry, love. We’re almost there,” you offer him a reassuring smile. Before he can make another face, you lean up to kiss his jaw. So Jumin resigns, and instead, settles on combing his fingers through your hair. You secretly wonder if this was a habit he had carried over from showing affection to his cat, but you weren’t complaining. Not at all.
And true enough to your words, within a few minutes, the car slows to a stop somewhere in the Yongsan district. Jumin is visibly confused, unable to guess where exactly you’ve taken him.
“We’ve arrived,” Driver Kim nods curtly at both of you. He goes to escort you out of the vehicle, but you stop him- and you stop Jumin, too, letting yourself out. You smile through the opened door and make a gesture with your hand, giggling.
Jumin feels his eyes grow fond as he looks at you, climbing out of the car. You were so happy. Perhaps… perhaps this was going to be a good surprise.
He doesn’t want to risk ruining your mood by asking if you were at the right place, so he doesn’t. Taking your hand, he chooses to stay silent and follow your lead instead. The exterior of the building didn’t give him any clues as to what was inside, but he spots a few furry felines in one of the windows above, and his suspicion is confirmed the moment you both walk through the doors of the establishment.
Nabiya Cat Shelter, the sign inside reads. He turns to you with a puzzled expression on his face.
“I don’t understand…” he says with furrowed brows. “We already have a cat?”
You only shake your head and approach the employee on duty.
“Hi! Mr. and Mrs. Han, we’re here to view the…” You trail off, not wanting to ruin the surprise but hoping that they understood what you meant. Earlier, you were able to sneak a phone call while Jumin was fixing his hair, so everything should have been in order.
“Ah, yes! Right this way,” they say, leading you and Jumin through the corridors. You smile at him and squeeze his hand in encouragement, gently tugging him along as you walk. Mentally, the man was still stuck replaying the words you said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Han?” his voice is hushed, just for you to hear. You haven’t reached the room yet, but he was already fighting a smile.
“It was easier to explain to them,” you smile sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before you confess. “I like saying it, too.”
His thumb gently brushes against the back of your hand. He couldn’t wait to make you his.
“Here we are!” the employee chirps, bursting the little bubble you were in. “Everything we discussed has been put in place. We hope you find it satisfactory. On behalf of Nabiya, thank you, again.” They say, heartfelt. You smile and shake the employee’s hand, before Jumin does the same- albeit a little unsurely. It isn’t felt in his handshake, no, but you can see it in his face.
When the employee leaves, you turn with your back against the door, obscuring the label from Jumin.
“Okay, so I was figuring out what to give you for your birthday. But then came the question, what do you give a man who can buy anything?” you laugh, and he interrupts your little speech.
“I told you, you didn’t-”
“Ah ah ah!” you tut, holding your palm up in a motion that tells him to stop. “I already did this. I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to,” you say softly, lovestruck eyes gazing into his.
This is the moment you move away from the door, revealing a sign that says ELIZABETH on it in fancy cursive lettering, a little paw print beside it. To anyone else, it might have looked like any regular paw, but this was Jumin Han- and Jumin Han knew his cat better than anyone else did.
“For your birthday, I made a little donation to this cat shelter in your name…” you begin to explain. The donation was not little by any means, not to this shelter, but you knew that if Jumin himself had made it, he would’ve given way more.
“…and they used the money to build this room and fix it. As you can see, they’ve named the room after our dear Elizabeth the Third,” you gesture to the writing before blindly opening the door behind you, stepping backwards and letting you two inside.
Immediately, Jumin is met with an abundance of cats; a few of them lounging on a cat tree, some sleeping on cat beds in the corner. One lifts its paw and begins to lick it, grooming itself, as if knowing that it should be presentable to the people who just walked into the room.
His previously scrunched brows are now raised in surprised and delight, and now, the smile he’d been fighting had finally made it to his face. The grin only grew wider as he took in his surroundings.
“These are all rescue cats, and here, they get cared for until someone fosters or adopts them!” You say excitedly, closely observing your fiancé’s face.
One of the cats that had been on top of the cat tree jumped down, grabbing your attention. In true catlike fashion, it sauntered over to Jumin curiously, surveying the man with its glowing green eyes. It turns up its nose and blinks at him, as if waiting expectantly. Ever the master of cat language, Jumin crouches down and offers his closed fist, which the black kitten sniffs and rubs its nose against, before proceeding to lick at his knuckles.
“… I think this one likes you,” you sigh happily, bending down with your hands on your knees. He’s still silent, but you don’t mind. This place probably seemed like heaven to him, after all.
Which it was- but not just for the reasons you assumed. To see all these cats in a safe place, knowing it was your doing, your gift, your tribute not only to him but to Elizabeth as well-
He feels like he’s about to burst of love.
Jumin turns to you with a look in his eyes, and with his free hand, he cups your face and carefully pulls you in for a kiss.
“This is absolutely wonderful,” he whispers against your lips before kissing them again. “My love… thank you.”
With his forehead against yours, you take a deep breath, eyes closed as you take it all in.
“Wasn’t just me, you know?” you say knowingly.
“And… Miss Kang?”
“Not just Jaehee either.”
“Tell me,” Jumin sits down and you follow suit, watching him as he lets the cat jump into his lap, his hand now making the same motions that it had been doing to your hair earlier in the car. You chuckle.
“Saeyoung suggested the whole cat thing… but Yoosung helped me find this place, he told me that his friend volunteered here during the weekends. Zen took me here to check up on the progress every now and then while you were out with Driver Kim,” you bite your lip, knowing how he wasn’t partial to the idea of you riding on a motorcycle, but you carry on. “And Jaehee made sure you wouldn’t find out, plus, she’s the reason you’re actually here today.”
There is a strange feeling in Jumin’s chest, one that doesn’t appear very often, but he was familiar enough with it to identify its source. He leans against the wall and looks at you.
“How about… V?”
This is when you reach for his hand, interlocking your fingers with his.
“He helped me with the donation. We split it in two,” you explain before remembering to pull up your phone and look for your conversation with the mint-haired man. Standing up, you follow the instructions in his text message, approaching a curtain and wrapping your hands around the neck of an expensive bottle which you hand to Jumin.
Pour this one out with me tonight?
It reads on the note attached above the label, signed by V himself. Jumin feels warm without having consumed the wine yet, but the message on the bottle makes him look to you for a little help.
You scratch the back of your neck.
“Do you want to come over to V’s house later tonight? Everyone will be there… Only if you want to go though! But I probably should have asked you earlier because Saeran and Vanderwood were already getting all the stuff…” you ramble on worriedly, a little disappointed in yourself that you ended up asking later in fear of ruining the surprise.
He didn’t actually think you’d pay this much attention to how he wanted to spend his birthday. He was aware that you knew he would be content, alone with you, but here you were- giving him the most thoughtful gift he’s ever received, going through all the trouble of organizing him a party, but still giving him the choice whether or not he would attend. The donation alone was special enough, but the fact that you had somehow roped everyone into playing a part…
Jumin’s hand on your thigh cuts you out of your spiraling.
“We can go,” he smiles softly, leaning in yet again to kiss you. The cat in his lap purrs, now asleep. It seems to have grown attached to him already.
And so, later tonight,the bottle of wine that Jumin received from V will be emptied to its very last drop, and everyone will get to see how much of a lightweight Yoosung really is. But right now, he’s surrounded by cats in a room that was built in his honor, sitting right next to the person he loves the most- you.
He’s frozen in his place, watching as you beckon the other cats closer to scratch their chins one by one. When you laugh, he almost swears he sees the light glow around you. Like the brightest, rarest white aura was radiating from you.
“I love you,” he breathes, soft and sure and true. Like it’s the one thing in the world that made sense no matter what.
You grin from ear to ear, blushing.
“I love you too, my Jumin. Happy Birthday,” you say solemnly, content as you lay your head on his shoulder.
“Huh, a happy birthday…” he muses, mumbling into your hair as he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. He wraps an arm around you and holds you tight, realizing that he was actually happy this year- and there was no doubt about it.
The sound of your giggle makes his stomach erupt with butterflies all over again. You nod against him.
“Mhm. A happy, happy birthday to you, my one and only love.”
NOTE: Nabiya Cat Shelter is an actual shelter in Seoul, you can find their Linktree for PayPal donations and adoptions/applications here, and their Instagram is here. If any of you are feeling the Jumin Han spirit and have a few change to spare, consider donating to them!!
Your boyfriend sings as he selects his assortment from the shelves, holding the bags of sweets in his arms and dropping them into the cart you were pushing along.
Saeyoung smirks, coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, positioning his lips right at your ear.
“She’s sweet like candy in my veins~”
No one else was in the aisle, and so, no one else was there to see it when he swayed you as he sang- when he kissed your cheek and let it linger. You can’t help the grin that breaks out on your face, blushing and reaching out to pinch his cheek.
“You’re going to eat all this candy alone?” you giggle, shaking your head at the copious amounts of sweets he had chosen. It’s not like the bunker would be part of trick or treat. There was certainly no giving out of candy to children.
Well, except for the overgrown child who was paying for them in the first place.
“Wouldn’t you like to know, angel?” He winks with a ruffle of your hair. Still behind you, he grabs hold of the handles and pushes the cart to the counter with you between his arms, his chin resting on your head. The sleeves of his jacket had draped over your shoulders, surrounding you with his warmth and the distinct smell of a certain soda. Of course he spilled PhD Pepper on his jacket.
When you get to the register, he one-handedly unloads all his treats onto the conveyor, internally laughing at the way people behind you in line were staring at what you were buying. You were used to this, having witnessed strangers survey the contents of your own shopping cart all the time, but the grocery store wasn’t Saeyoung’s natural habitat. And in true Saeyoung nature, he finds a way to make it entertaining.
“Honey, do you think this is enough for the kids?“ he asks, rubbing the side of your arm and holding you close.
In a snap, you’ve gotten on the same page with him, smiling brightly and cooing at the man fondly.
“Of course, dear. There’s enough for seconds and thirds and any more or their teeth fall off!“
The redhead smirks, looking down at you with that proud twinkle in his eyes. All he does in response is kiss the top of your head, reaching over and handing the cashier some money to pay. Everyone’s eyes widen at the thought of children consuming that much candy, and so, the mission is accomplished… but when has your boyfriend ever stopped at the bare minimum?
“Oh! The dance recital, isn’t that today?“ Saeyoung looks at you with faux worry, mirroring the expression of a forgetful dad as he carries the bags for you.
“Yes, darling, it isn’t for another few hours. We have some time to kill before then,“ you purr suggestively, leaning up to run the bridge of your nose along his jaw in front of the entire supermarket. Make him proud and beat him at his own game. That’s the plan.
He chuckles wordlessly and squeezes your side as you walk out. You don’t see the darkened look in his eyes as you head towards his shiny red sports car that looked way out of place in this parking lot. Oblivious, you smile to yourself, climbing into the passenger seat while he swings the bag onto the center armrest. And then he swings himself into the car, too. In the time it takes to push the key into the ignition and turn the car on, you’ve somehow managed to snag some sour tape from his purchases.
The candy is hanging from your mouth when he turns to face you, and he bursts out in laughter at the sight. With a smirk he leans over and bites onto the other end of the tape, wiggling his eyebrows and throwing a flirtatious wink at you.
“C'mon, ya know ya wanna taste some of this sugar too~“ he says, but it’s muffled by the candy in your mouth. You giggle, and together, you create your own version of the Spaghetti Kiss from Lady and the Tramp, your faces getting closer and closer with each bite. The heat rising in your cheeks doesn’t bother you- it’s something you’ve gotten used to when you were around him.
The silence is thick, weighing down on you like a blanket; but it doesn’t suffocate you. His eyes never leave yours, something playful dancing in those golden pools of honey that you know you will be meeting very soon. But time seems to slow, and it’s as if you can’t nibble on the sour tape fast enough. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin now, the telltale sensation that lets you know what’s coming next.
When the very last bit of candy disappears, Saeyoung hooks his fingers under your chin and pulls you in, a little mmmf pressed from your mouth to his as he kisses you deeply, tongue running over the remnants of sugar that coats your lips. You’re not exactly sure what he’s intent on devouring- the candy, or you, but as he pulls away, you don’t miss the glint that shines in his eyes.
He definitely breaks a few speed laws getting back to the bunker.
It’s nice to meet you! My name is Jay/J, and I write fics/RP for the Mystic Messenger and Genshin Impact fandoms. I use he/him pronouns and I am 18+. Please click below to know a bit more about my new blog. Thanks!
★ When writing for Mystic Messenger, I feel strongest writing for 707, Jumin Han and Saeran. Though, I am always willing to write outside of them!
★ All my “Character X Reader” pieces will be gender neutral readers, unless otherwise specified or requested as something different. Any and all (legal and non-sus) ships welcomed. I am glaring at all proshippers.
★ Within the Genshin fandom, I feel comfortable writing anyone at all! I have a huge bias for certain ships, (Kaebedo, Zhongchi, Aebedo, Eimiko), but I would be happy to write any other characters. Multishipper supremacy.
★I will stick closer to canon for most everything, but I’m not against AUs! In fact, I’m really curious as I haven’t dabbled much in writing for AUs. So, if this is something you’d wish to see, let me know :)
★ My requests are currently open!I’m very excited to write more, especially things my friends/followers would want to see. Please DM me anytime. I promise I’m super nice. I welcome any requests! Ships between canon characters, character x reader, narrative pieces, angst, fluff, crack, headcanons, etc. Let’s chat!
★ This is a warning. I write a lot about my OCs. Probably too much. :D
★I will tag all NSFW implied content but I do not feel comfortable sharing explicit NSFW pieces in such a public space at this time. I am willing to discuss this in DMs and if I decide I feel comfy enough, I would share it with you privately.
I can’t wait to get to know you better. Thanks for reading!
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ASMO AND ME!! For our birthday, I’m hosting another NSFT alphabet! Below are the rules for requesting!
This is an 18+ event!
Reblog and like to participate!!
This event is for the male characters from Genshin, Obey Me, The Arcana, MysMes, and Legend of Zelda (Link only)!
Send an ask in one character and up to three letters. If you want to do more and no one else has done it by the end of the event, then and only then can you request more. (Try not to request the same letters as other people if possible)
This event is going on from May1sttoMay16th!!
This event will be tagged #abc2022!!
If you have any questions about what I write or who I write for, look here. If you have any other questions, please message me, comment, or send an ask!!
(for any of the kinks below, it’s just asking if they’d like it, would they do it, how often they’d do it, etc)
Look at the bottom to see what has been requested and done!
⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰
a - anonymous sex (would they do it?)
b - breeding
c - choking
d - degradation
e - ejaculate (where do they like cumming?)
f - foreplay (what do they prefer to do? how long does it last?)
g - gangbang/group sex (would they do it?)
h - humiliation
i - impact play
j - just for fun (free card)
k - kissing (where do they like to kiss?)
l - lingerie (what kind of lingerie is their fav? do they prefer to wear it or when you do?)
m - masturbation (how often do they masturbate? mutual masturbation? how fast do they cum?)
n - nipple play
o - orgasm control
p - porn (what kind of porn do they like/watch? will they watch with you?)
q - quit (how long can they last? how many rounds will they go? what will make them stop?)
r - rope and bondage
s - squirting (do they like making you squirt?)
t - threesome (would they do it?)
u - unprotected sex
v - voyeurism/exhibitionism
w - wet dreams (do they have wet dreams? how often? of what?)
x - x marks the spot (where can you touch them that will make them cream on the spot? where makes them moan the loudest?)
y - yes (what will have them jumping your bones the fastest?)
z -zelophilia (arousal due to jealousy) (are they the jealous type? what makes them the most jealous? are they interested in jealous/angry sex?)
Hello! This is one of my slightly belated pieces for @mysme-rbb, which I worked on with the very, very talented and sweet @amagicalduckling <3 Their art is so beautiful and I’m honoured to have been paired with them for some Saeran pieces! Please check out @amagicalduckling for more of their beautiful artwork, they are criminally underrated!!
Tw: mentions of blood, biting, vampirism, rough kissing
Will be under the cut after Ray!
Vampire! Ray Drabble
Ray was melancholic by nature, you knew that, but you’d never had been able to guess why it if hadn’t been for that fateful night in the garden. He always did such a good job of hiding his fangs from you and brushing his hair over his ears so you couldn’t see their slightly pointed tips. He always kept his distance as best as he could, never coming too close into your personal space. You’d assumed it was out of respect and the nervousness of overstepping the boundaries, this idea was always aided by the fact that he usually looked a little bit strained whenever he was in your company.
The way you came to find out about Ray was because you had foolishly pricked your finger on a rose that he had been trying to show you outside. With the beautiful arrangements only being illuminated by moonlight, it had been difficult to see what you were doing, and you’d placed your finger directly onto the little spike and yelped in pain. As soon as you had pulled your hand back, to indicate what had caused you to cry out, Ray had immediately brought his own hand up to his mouth and feverishly covered it. You were confused and thought that perhaps Ray was sensitive to the sight of blood, but it was when he turned to run from you that you saw the white, iridescent fangs peering from behind his lips. You saw them, and he knew that you had. Ray ran at top speed away from you, leaving you with the drop of the blood slowly dripping down the side of your finger.
You felt a little lightheaded from the sight and had to stumble your way over to the bench, a… vampire? Surely, such things like that didn’t exist. They weren’t real. They were myths. Folklore. Children’s horror stories to tell before bed. And yet, as you considered Ray, really thought about him, you realised how quickly it all added up. He was so pale, sickly looking even at the best of times. You’d thought that the prominent blue veins on his neck and wrists was a result of his pasty complexion, but that was clearly not the truth of the matter. It also occurred to you that you never really saw him during the day, but he had always excused this fact as he must work arduously long hours and the only time he could find to get away and visit you was into the early hours of the night. While you supposed that there was at least some truth in that statement, it didn’t help the fact that it aligned with what you thought could be coming into fruition. Was he really a vampire? Had he been trying to hide it from you for all this time?
And thosefangs. Those could not be denied. They were the teeth of a predator, a hidden threat that he had tried so hard to keep a secret from you. So many questions raced through your head, and yet all you could worry about was where Ray was. He had left so quickly, clearly a bit distressed. You felt somewhat guilty for your own carelessness, but how were you to know? There was no way you would have guessed what was really happening here at Mint Eye. You had only been here to test a game, for crying out loud.
Suddenly, you felt anxious to be alone in the gardens at night, especially without Ray. Even if he was hiding something this serious from you, he was still the only person that you had gotten to make yourself friendly with. Well, in his case, more than a little bit friendly, but that was besides the point in that moment. You stood, trying to find your way through the maze of flowers and get back to your room but with little success. As you turned the corner, you spotted a figure at the other end of the path and it caused you to cry out in surprise, maybe slightly even in fear. It was Ray.
You’d never thought that the sight of Ray would ever frighten you, but as he stood there, pale and gaunt surrounded by the red flushes of rose petals, you had to wonder how you hadn’t realised it sooner. He looked guilty, and scared. So, so scared. You put your hands up to him slowly, asking if he was okay, but instead of receiving any sort of reply about his own wellbeing, Ray flurried out several apologies at you. He averted his gaze downwards, as though he felt as though he was no longer allowed to look at you directly for what he was. You stared at him as he spoke, focused on the slight protrusion of his sharp teeth over his lips. It was obvious that he had practiced speaking without making them visible, so you could only really see them if you were already looking for them.
‘Ray… It’s okay.’ You whispered, coming a little bit closer to him. He took a step back, moving his back up against the roses further so that he was surrounded by them. If it had been at any other moment, you would have taken the time to think about the fact he looked like a delicate portrait right then, the passion of the red surrounding his pale frame. But alas, you did not have that luxury.
‘It’s not! I scared you, oh how could I ever forgive myself! How could you ever forgive me for this! I should have been able to show more restraint… My savior was right, she’s always right…’ He replied almost frantically, to the point where you weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you or telling you his own inner monologue.
‘M-My Savior said that I’m not strong enough yet, which is why I find… you difficult to be around. I want to be around you always but- she says you’re too tempting for someone like me.’
‘Too tempting…?’ You asked, a slightly unsure as to what he meant. That was, until he gestured to your bleeding fingertip, and it suddenly made more sense to you. ‘I don’t mind if you… want to be around me. I want to be around you too.’ You added, attempting to phrase it in the same way that he did, since he was clearly skirting around using certain vocabulary. It made you realised that there was a good chance that Ray was unhappy about the fact he wanted you in such a way. If he allowed himself to get too close, he would inevitably bring you pain.
As you stepped closer to him, you watched as he reached his own leathered hand towards his mouth, anxiously biting onto the tips of the fabric. He wasn’t just chewing it, he was really biting it, to the point you were worried he might hurt himself.
You were suddenly moving quickly down the path towards him, ‘Ray! Please, stop that. It’s okay! I’m not scared of you.’
‘I’m scared that I might hurt you!’ He almost wailed. You knew that there was an obsessive nature to Ray, which walked hand in hand with his melancholy, but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you like this. For the most part, he was tender-hearted and sensitive. Of course, he had room in that heart for hate, but yet, so much more room for sensitivity.
‘You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.’
‘Please, be more careful with who you award your trust to. I don’t deserve it.’ He replied, but pulled his own glove away stiffly, since he didn’t want to worry you any further. At such a distance, he had nothing to distract himself from the pull he felt towards your blood.
‘If you want it, take it. I don’t want to see you be so strained over this. I don’t know what’s happening here at Magenta, but I know that you’re good. And kind.’ You were at his side, offering your hand to him. Initially, he tried to move his body away from your hand and cover his teeth again with his hand, but it was evident that he was growing more and more needy by the passing second. You tried to assure him that it was okay and reached out a slightly shaky hand to his cold cheek. ‘And I want to help you.’
After a few moments of tentative consideration, he took your offer. Ray watched your eyes as he held your finger in both of his hands, as though it was something fragile, delicate even. He hesitated before bringing it to his own lips, the thin line of dark red suddenly giving a burst of colour to his otherwise exceedingly white pallor. He gently took the blood that was already at the surface of your skin, closing his eyes as he did so, but you couldn’t decide whether it was out of shame or whether it was to savour the moment between the two of you. You gasped as you felt the sharpness of his teeth graze against your skin before he let the tip of them bite into your soft flesh, producing more of the red he was so desperately craving. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, but your heart was still racing, nonetheless. When he was done, he pressed a single, sorry kiss into the palm of your hand and apologised for hurting you, adding that he was undeserving of your pain as he wiped the rest of the blood away with a handkerchief out of his pocket.
‘I’d rather be hurt a thousand times over than for you to have to suffer even once…’ He whispered into the darkness of the garden. Not that he would feel bold enough to tell you, but Ray undeniably saw the poetry in tasting your blood. He’s ashamed of what he is, but he relished in the fact that you were willing to share such a vital piece of yourself with him like this. He entirely made a mental plan to carry the handkerchief with him at all times, as a token and reminder of this newfound connection with you.
love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide
ch. 3/7 – prev. – next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings:n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father’s most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link
note: it’s been a hot minute. that’s my b. work sux
He takes you to a restaurant.
Not he— actually, his driver does. You sit in the backseat next to Jumin and make contented, jittery small talk about the weather and how each of your days have been. It’s the first conversation you’ve ever had with him past noon.
He’s dressed as he usually is, three piece pinstripe suit and groomed to magazine cover perfection, but there’s something else. You haven’t actually spent that much time looking at him— really looking, not past the brush of your fingers on the sleeve of a coffee cup and morning greetings past the elevator. He holds the door open for you when you leave the car, when you enter the restaurant.
You take a moment to stare— to indulge. He takes the seat opposite you after pulling out your chair, and as he settles himself into that ramrod straight posture he looks like he’s some bygone marvel, set in amber and unknowing for all to see. The lights are yellow and dimmed, they bear down on him and for some reason you can’t help feeling a little overwhelmed by it all.
Jumin acts the perfect gentleman through the drinks and the appetizers and it isn’t until your meal is laid in front of you that you notice him finally start to loosen. He’s attractive, sure, but he’s a lot softer than what the papers say. The magazine opinions and the TV interviews.
“Something on your mind?” He asks finally, and it makes you freeze.
You’ve started loosening too, eased by the good food and expensive wine and the way he sometimes smiles at you like sunlight, if only by the faintest curve of his lips. “Nothing much,” you reply, and his eyes are like the calm before a storm, the darkening of rain clouds and maybe you are a little tipsy. Can’t let him know you’re waxing poetic about him. “You know, I wonder why we haven’t gone out before.”
“I have a very busy schedule,” Jumin interjects, and he leans a little further towards the table. Towards you.
You let out something of a laugh, half exhale and half chuckle. “I wasn’t aware that petting your cat in the darkness of your penthouse warranted a time slot.”
“Well. Do you plan on earning one of your own?”
“I’m very competitive.” You tell him, “And I’d hate to have to compete with a cat.”
“I’d say she’s worth it.” Jumin says, and it’s with such fondness that you almost forget he’s talking about his cat. It’s one of those oddly endearing things about him. Like the small talk he sometimes struggles to make and the way he still glances at his phone wearily as if expecting periodic advice from it.
Maybe that’s where he gets his ideas.
-
The next idea is yours, of course, and it’s three hours of conversation at a coffee shop. The atmosphere is softer here, softer in the way he holds himself and the way he talks. He still shows up in a dress shirt and slacks, but it’s less than usual and that’s enough for you.
Here he tells you about his family. About his cat and his friends, about the RFA, the advice that he does actually get from his phone. The way that admittedly he doesn’t drive much, nor does he cook very often. He likes embroidery, which is something that comes up sometime during the iced Americano and after a second blueberry scone. It isn’t something that he’d inherited or taken up out of desperation, something all his own. He seems very proud of it.
In turn, you tell him about your family and your friends, where you went to school and where you grew up. The way your hobbies have grown over the years and the way you’d never really expected to be having this— thing between you, much less this conversation.
“I don’t hate it,” he says, in reference to ‘this thing.’ It’s a plain statement but there’s something deeper in his tone that says maybe he was expecting to hate it. You don’t question it any further.
“I don’t hate it either,” you say. “I’m still expecting you to slam that door in my face one of these days.”
“It will look like the perfect accident,” he quips, and then you laugh and there’s a returning smile on his face that makes you think you really, really don’t hate this.
“Really though, how long did you hold that door open before you realized I work with C&R? It’s your company, damnit.”
Jumin shakes his head a little, as if warding off the memory. “That’s all my fault, I suppose. I make it a point not to pay too close attention to that… end.”
“I’m offended. Ouch. Look, you’ve wounded me.”
“I’m sure you can handle it.” He smiles a little, hesitates before resuming. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you, if that’s your implication.”
You wave it off with a shrug. It still kinda stings, but curiosity bites at you more fervently than any kind of insecurity about your day job. “What’s it got to do with, then? Or who, I guess.”
Jumin scoffs. “Women.”
“Yeouch.”
“That isn’t— you aren’t—”
“Jumin. I know.” You’re ready to laugh it off, but there’s a deeper kind of trouble in his eyes. It makes the grin at your lips ebb, and you reach a hand out across the table, an olive branch.
He stares at it, as if worried. “I didn’t mean that you—”
“Would you tell me about it?”
He reaches out then. You think— you hope— it’s the first of many where he’ll do this, in all confidence and uncertainty. It makes you wonder how many times he’s been given the opportunity to reach out, to reach back to a hand willing to listen.
His hand is kind of cold, not quite so calloused and probably moisturized regularly with some luxury brand lotion. There’s a joke dying at the back of your throat about that, but you figure that isn’t really important right. Jumin looks down at your hands, one on the other, and then he talks.
His relationship with his father from what you’ve seen and what you’ve heard is mostly good, but it makes him so worried. There’s this crease between his brows that you want to press flat with your fingers, borne out of a concoction of worry and love for his father and it permeates him like an ominous cloud as he talks over the incident that had happened earlier that year.
Every gay rumor you’ve ever heard about him is starting to come together like some sad, convoluted tabloid puzzle.
Jumin finishes his story, falling action, and he almost sounds insecure about it all, about being manipulated and forced into his father’s impulses— overt in some hindered tone that he takes like he’s trying to defend himself with it.
“I’ve— I am not a relationship person.” Jumin says. “I don’t believe I am.” He squeezes your fingers just slightly, trying to cement the feeling as he looks back at you. “I hadn’t wanted to be.”
This is also the longest you’ve ever had any kind of physical contact with him. It’s soft and mundane, easy like another routine you wouldn’t mind committing to memory. “Well, what now?” It’s much quieter than it had been before, silence like a blanket.
“I worry that I’m going to end up like him,” Jumin confesses. “What makes it any different?”
“I think everyone worries about becoming their parents at some point,” you say, and he doesn’t look very reassured by it. “That’s the first part of– of healing, though, isn’t it? Coming to terms with your dad’s habits and then wanting out of that cycle.”
“He wants romance just like any other person, I think.” Jumin says. “I couldn’t tell you why those women were all….”
“Like that?”
He lets out a noncommittal hum. “Like that.”
“I’m different though,” you say confidently, and it’s meant to come out as a joke but he nods in agreement so quickly it gives you whiplash.
“You are.”
“You too,” you say, sort of brokenly, but it slips out and you’re not quite sure what you meant by it.
Neither is he, apparently. He asks, “How so?” and it makes you shrink a little in your seat. He’s tracing patterns on the back of your hand and you zero in on it so intensely that you notice the neat trim of his nail beds.
“I dunno,” you confess. “I was kind of thinking you’d just be a distant work crush forever. This is different from that, it isn’t… it’s not Hallmark, you know? It’s good-different.”
“Good-different?”
“Good. Different.”
“That’s good.”
“Good.” Jumin smiles kind of crookedly at you, so small and human and real that it makes your head spin. He kisses your knuckles then, looking up at you, just barely brushing them with his lips. And you figure that’s the end of that.
-
From there it’s weeks of sideways smiles, of good and different and patterns on the back of your hand, the small of your back. Like a special secret to be let in on.
You ask him about an art exhibit next, pinky-finger in his between murals and portraits and sculptures, tugging him closer by the arm. It’s more comfortable than anything, the heady rush of being near him and around him. The humdrum of it all, the way it warms you to your fingertips, to the apples of your cheeks and the temple where he kisses.
You find his affinity for physical affection at a wine tasting the following week when he nudges at your hand the fifth time since arriving, standing so close that your knuckles brush and you can feel the warmth of him beside you.
It’s a crackling edge at rose colored glasses every time he does, the way he leans into you and you into him. And the only singular, striking thing about all this is its ambiguity– the label you’ve never bothered to give it.
However good and different it is, every time you talk about him to other people it comes like ad-lib: Jumin,the guy I’m seeing, the one who gets me coffee in the mornings, or sometimes just him. Whatever label the two of you are supposed to have, he’s never mentioned it directly to you or vice versa and it makes you wonder if there should have been something to follow his “not a relationship person” remark, dialogue that feels like a lifetime ago.
Maybe he’s scared.
Maybe he thinks it’s implied.
Maybe it’s because you still work together?
And in all truthfulness you realize “all of the above” might also be a viable answer. But you’re a couple to all eyes but each other’s, the dates and the casual intimacy and the ground swallowing you whole whenever he smiles at you in that way he does, the way your name rolls off his tongue like Catholic prayer, more devout than he ever was growing up.
He gives you gifts, too. Lots of them.
It might be a Pavlovian sort of response, or so you’ve garnered. He gets lots of gifts himself, whether they’re from his father or from companies looking for his sponsorship, co-workers and the like. He buys you things like eventually he’s gearing up to give you the world; the moon and stars on a string of pearls. It’s a good feeling, knowing that you are cherished and thought of, the glint in your eye while you’re window shopping with your hand in his or a personal interest that you’ve mentioned offhandedly, excitedly, while Jumin makes note of it.
But you’re starting to get a little fed up.
You spend the afternoon at an arcade, shuffling between new VR sets and old time-y joystick games (he seems to be very good at Q*bert and little else). It’s a quiet drive home past the occasional comment about how many times you’d beaten him in multiplayers, the coincidentally cube-like shapes he’s tracing into your palm in the backseat. Jumin opens the car door for you, walks you to your home and suddenly– very suddenly it’s like he’s crowding you against the door and you haven’t even stuck the key in.
“This was nice,” you say into the crook of his neck, hoping and praying this goodbye hug lasts longer and longer. He smells like expensive cologne and cheap arcade nachos and the juxtaposition is enough to have you grinning even now.
“It was nice until you started going power hungry about your win count,” he whispers back, hand soothing along your back. You laugh softly, tipping your forehead to knock against his chest. He sits his head atop yours like routine. Like it’s easier than rainfall, easy like breathing.
“I think that’s just because you suck.”
“You could stand to have a little decorum, you know.” He leans down for a second, kisses the top of your head, and resumes. “I don’t know how much more public humiliation I can stand.”
Your breath hitches as if to say something, but then Jumin pulls back just far enough to get a good look at you. The way he looks at you isn’t new, like an earth shattering mundanity– it’s tangible and bright in the palm of your hand.
love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide
ch. 2/7 – prev. – next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings: n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father’s most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link
note:sticking a read more right at the beginning. u kno how it is. thank you for sticking around i’ll try my best to keep updates within a week or so!
(weeks prior.)
Jumin Han has entered the chatroom.
Jumin Han
She talked to me today.
ZEN
??
Who?
707
She??
There’s a she?!
Jumin Han
Oh.
I must have neglected to mention it.
ZEN
????
Last time there was a “she”…
Jumin Han
… No.
There’s a woman at my office.
Jaehee Kang
Does she work for you?
Jumin Han
Yes
707
That took an awfully long time for you to type lolol
Are you sure~~
Jumin Han
Yes. She wears a lanyard.
Jaehee Kang
Do you not know her name??
Jumin Han
I should think it would seem impolite after… all that.
Jaehee Kang
???
ZEN
?????
All that WHAT?
Jumin Han
I only caught a glimpse of her lanyard. I don’t know.
ZEN
Dodged my question… T_T
Jaehee Kang
Is this that woman you see in the mornings?
Jumin Han
How did you ….
ZEN
?!?!
707
Is our Jumin finally getting some?!
I’m so proud. Haha T_T
Jumin Han
Getting some… what?
Jaehee Kang
I can look into her.
For research purposes. Of course^^
Jumin Han
;;;
I only just started seeing her this month.
At the door. Seeing her at the door.
707
Seeing her OTL
Maybe she’s your future lover come to save you^^
Jumin Han
I doubt that.
ZEN
Yeah lolol
I doubt it too
And right after the Choi thing?? No way.
707
T_T
Ur right
There’s no way…
-
“Do you play video games, Mr Han?”
That’s a new one. “Where would I find the time?” He asks, thinking of Yoosung. “It’s a useless hobby.”
“That was a quick answer,” you reply. “Who hurt you?”
Jumin raises a brow, inquisitive. “No one.”
“Okay,” you say, the beginnings of a grin playing on your lips. “Who ruined video games for you?”
He thinks of the dark smudges under Yoosung’s eyes, the awful typos and the messages at 3am. It’s only a little funny. The door closes behind them. “No one in particular.”
“You’re smiling, Mr Han. Just a little.” You smile too at this, tilting your head in that curious way of yours. When you reach the lobby and then your separate ways, Jumin spares a glance at you.
He wants to say something more, something lodged very deep in his throat that comes out dry breath. He’s never been too good at small-talk, not with colleagues, not with business outside of work. He wants to be, just a little.
He’s not quite sure how that came to be.
-
It’s beyond embarrassing the way he comes up to you in the cafeteria. “You work here,” he says, a very belated realization.
You blink a few times, as if processing. “Yes,” you say slowly. “I have a lanyard.” You wave the offending item around and Jumin finally, finally catches a glimpse of your name.
“I see,” Jumin says, because that’s all he really can say. “Work hard.”
He consults his phone right away, willing the heat from his face and opening the messenger app. It goes as well as expected when he mentions it so vaguely– Hyun rags on him for his lack of conversational skills and Yoosung drops a line or two about his own miserable love life. In any case, Assistant Kang’s information on you had only reached him earlier today and in a way he’s still coping. It had been baffling to say the least, finally having everything in front of him rather than scattered in the bits and pieces of your dialogue.
You work, technically, in the same position Assistant Kang does. Only in the fashion department, of which Jumin had strategically ignored after Echo Girl and the Chois. It really isn’t his fault he hadn’t noticed you– not since before this month when you began arriving so consistently.
“Something on your mind?” Assistant Kang asks, looking up from where she’s shuffling through a stack of papers. It isn’t unusual for her to break the silence with a quip– she’s always been good at easing into a mode of conversation that takes the edge off. As a good assistant and employee should, of course. Jumin wonders if he should relay this to her.
“Nothing,” he says instead, because surely she already knows. “Is it polite to bring gifts for someone you’re sure you will be seeing every morning?”
She raises a thin brow. “Who– that woman at the fashion department?”
Jumin deigns not to answer right away, looking down at the state of his nails and the tick of his wristwatch. “Surely there must be some etiquette about that.”
-
Jaehee Kang
Buy her coffee.
ZEN
Get her a promotion lol
707
A new car!!!
Yoosung★
Maybr a nicce pen
??
-
“Any favorite TV shows?” You ask one morning. “Personally, I’m fond of office romances.”
Jumin lags for a moment, waiting to catch up. It isn’t an unusual occurrence. “Is that an innuendo?”
You smile, a little flushed-looking, and wave a hand. “Nope. Not at all.” When you look at the second coffee in his hand, though, it seems you need a second to catch up yourself. You’d mentioned offhandedly how you take your coffee the day before, and today something had stopped him at the threshold of the coffee shop he stops at every morning. Funny how things work like that.
“This is for you,” he says determinedly, and you smile a little but there’s still an edge.
“You dodged my question.” You state simply. Jumin does not know what to say.
He thinks about it for a moment, really thinks about it. The only thing that really comes to mind are the Sunday morning programs, and he doesn’t really know them off the top of his head. Maybe the morning news. “No TV shows. Next question.”
“Okay then,” you say, “Any pet peeves?”
Jumin smiles a little. It isn’t really conscious, but he’s finally figured out a way to respond and he just hopes it takes well. “Women who stop me at the door in the morning.”
“Oh,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. You hum appreciatively. He feels strangely, indirectly accomplished. “Shame. Mine’s men who give me three word responses when I ask them things.”
He scoffs, although it isn’t as hard as it usually comes out. “I answered that in a sentence.” He says, very assuredly. When he looks back at you there’s a softer smile at your lips, rounded at the corners and not quite so mischievous as he’s seen it look before. It looks fond.
“I know,” you reply. He feels a little warmer now, turning the corner where you two part ways. You offer him a two-fingered salute, a “See you in the morning!” and a final turn.
And then you’re gone.
-
The next time the conversation lingers long past the lobby it’s because you’ve coaxed him into talking about Elizabeth III. There’s a point where you’ve reached the elevator and he’s talking to you about her care routine and the minutiae of what it takes to keep her fur so soft and pristine (much of it is her own work and her natural beauty– of course) and he’s only barely aware of how long he’s been going on, but he pauses to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’s expecting, between Jaehee’s hesitancy and Luciel’s rabid praise and Hyun’s outright disgust–
But there’s something about the way you’re looking at him when he’s finished, curiouser and half-curved into a smile. And he’s been on the receiving end of that before– his father’s lovers, interviewers and subordinates– but none of them have ever seemed so affectionate.
He’s seen the same look before when it’s Jaehee with a new photocard, the way Yoosung danced around Rika. It’s the glint in Luciel’s glasses when he gets to working and it’s something, something.
You look like you’ve seen something beautiful.
Which is understandable to him, really, having just shown you pictures of his Elizabeth III. What he understands less is the way you’re looking at him and not the open phone, caught up in a silence that seems way too heavy for a conversation about his cat. Even when the elevator dings it’s with some trepidation that you leave first, a memory, a discovery pulled taut between you two.
“I hope I get to meet her sometime,” you say.
Jumin nods, wordless. The delight on your face at such a simple gesture fixates itself in the forefront of his mind until he returns home to Elizabeth, flickering like hell and unbidden and unexpected but not exactly unwelcome. It’s just as confusing to him as it sounds on paper.
-
Somehow Jaehee gets to you first.
For all the time he’s spent working with Jaehee, working around her and in her general proximity, he doesn’t actually know what time she gets into the building. She seems like an inevitability, something constant and fixed and always there.
So when he holds the door open for two women, Jumin is feeling like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to. Especially since the two of you seem to be chatting so jovially, shaking her hand with both of yours when you go to part.
There’s another something clogging his throat, a cloying want and a halfhearted desire to draw that same laugh from you, that same open brightness. He hasn’t let himself feel so much about one person– one particular and fixed point in his life. Jumin feels like he’s chasing– some feeling, some unnamed ball of fire– a meteor, blazing and brilliant and too much to be real.
It’s too much to be compared to anything else, not when Sarah Choi was an unlit match next to what a beaming bonfire you are. Suddenly Jumin feels more tightly wound than he usually does.
And really, truly, it feels like a lot to handle, so he turns on his heel after silently handing you the coffee and begins to march. It feels like karmic debt for not having experienced these things as a schoolboy, and then only once as an adult. He doesn’t even know if the one time counted.
“Mr Han–” you say, and it happens at the same time he holds his breath to turn again. Just to look, to see if you appeared as off kilter as he felt. Maybe the world had rotated wrong today.
You stop there in your tracks and he really does believe for a moment that the world has gone astray– because then it would explain the way air isn’t getting to his lungs right. He inhales just to make sure and before any other dialogue comes from your lips he asks, “Walk with me?”
You both take the elevator then.
-
Jaehee Kang
She’s a very nice woman.
Yoosung★
Huh?
707
U met her?!?!!
Tell me everything
-
It makes your mornings longer, the introduction of the elevator route. He isn’t sure how it became mutual agreement and routine, the same way the cup of coffee steams in your hands and the way you ask after Elizabeth III. The way the door gets held open.
Jumin isn’t sure how many mornings go by, how many of them are spent dreading the chime of the elevator, but one of them brings a much quieter you. And you’re usually such a whirlwind of life, pulling him toward and towards you– he’d be lying to himself more than usual if he said he wasn’t worried.
You look like you’re steeling yourself too, and you’ve never done that– there isn’t a thing you’ve said to him that was measured or prepared. You’re kind of like an overexcited puppy, and he’s never been too fond of dogs.
He feels something slide out of place, something like a realization that’s far grander than he knows, hovering at the tip of his tongue. He doesn’t know what it is yet, not really. He’s barely out of his head, ready to ask if you’re alright–
And you cut him off. Like you did that first morning, knocking the breath from his lungs and everything else out of place. Jumin likes things neat and tidy, likes things where they should be, where he’s used to seeing them. You aren’t too good for him, he thinks.
Then you ask, “Would you want to go out sometime?” And he has no reference materials and no forewarning and no prepared response. The odds are against him.
So against all odds and every simmering nerve in his body he says, “Yes.”
love for the rich and emotionally stunted: a comprehensive guide
ch. 1/7 – prev. – next. pairing: jumin han x f!reader warnings:n/a series summary: in the months following the incident with his father’s most recent paramour, glam choi, the corporate heir of C&R finds himself discovering exactly what it is that makes a person in love so blind. ao3 link
note: office romance slowburn. featuring hallmark tropes and bad flirting. enjoy the ride. hop into my inbox for a tag if you’re interested though! kiss kiss.
-
You don’t mean for it to happen the first time.
Considering the state of your routine and your general efficiency (required when it comes to a job at C&R) it’s easy to say that showing up early is an ingrained habit. It had happened a few times too many when you’d first started working and just sort of stuck. However.
It’s thirty minutes past schedule when you wake up in a state of panic, rushing and grabbing for clothes and keys and wallet before stumbling out the door.
But for as much as you’d worried, it all turns out fine. You’re still on time, a nice man holds the door open for you–you don’t think you’ve seen him before, or maybe you’re so distressed your brain doesn’t recognize the face–and there aren’t any consequences. You don’t get yelled at. You aren’t behind. Really, you should have overslept more often.
So the next day you set your alarm a little later than usual and allow yourself to sleep. It goes much smoother than the day before and you still make it on time, looking much better than you had 24 hours prior. The same man–you think– holds the door open for you, and you glance back to smile and thank him.
Except you really must have been too stressed to notice because the man you’re staring at is the executive director and immediate heir to C&R.
Your smile falls.
And then you choke out a noise of gratitude that’s supposed to sound like “Thanks,” but the shock in your voice turns it to audible mush. Mr. Han only hums in return and walks past you with all the dignity and poise of a seasoned Calvin Klein model. Your heart hammers with a startling lucidity at the surprise of it all but it isn’t anything that you think much of, so you make it back to your desk on time and it’s all fine, it’s all fine. It isn’t until about an hour later that you realize it’s probably the first time you’ve seen him so close in person.
Not that it matters, of course, but then it does - because it happens again.
And again, and again.
The routine continues for about a week: the “thank you,” the hum of a response, and no further conversation besides that at the door. You’ve gotten to catch longer glimpses of him as this routine has gone on, the shine of his hair, this grey of his eyes, but there’s something that intrigues you infinitely more. You haven’t gotten him to smile and it nags at you, incessant. So you’re determined to do it now.
You crack a joke about his consistency the next time you see him, a smile playing coy at your lips. He just hums again. Killjoy.
“What?”
“What?” You ask, turning on your heel. His voice is much deeper than in the press interviews.
“Were you calling me a killjoy?”
“Not intentionally, no.” You quip back, face feeling hot. You turn again and begin walking back, nursing the humiliation you can already feel pricking at your nerves. “Have a nice day, Mr. Han.”
You think he says something like “You too,” but you wouldn’t notice it over the rush in your ears.
That went well.
-
Another day passes, another routine, rinse and repeat. He doesn’t seem bothered by yesterday’s incident, so you’re planning to talk to him again tomorrow, just to give it a day in between. It’s going to get annoying soon, but he’s neither fired nor closed the door in your face so in all situations, it really is a win-win.
Jumin Han opens the door for you, wordlessly as ever. You spare a glance at him.
“I’d considered arriving late just to get a reaction out of you, and then I realized that I wouldn’t even be there to see it.” You quirk your head in wait, watching as the corners of his lips twitch into an unwitting smile.
Mirth is very becoming on him, you realize. Oh no.
“I’m sure it would be quite the sight, Miss.” He replies, that same almost-smile creasing a dimple into his cheek. When he nods his good morning and walks off to the tippity-top of the C&R building, all the office lights seem a little brighter in the wake.
You shake yourself from your musings and an intern is already brushing past you in their hurry to return to their place– wherever that may be, and it reminds you to do the same. C&R International, with all its focus on exports, has a wide breadth when it comes to fashion. Having directed several of its projects, you know this firsthand. You also know that when your schedule isn’t filled to the brim, everything else seems like busywork.
For the first time in a few months you feel like a regular, 9-to-5 office worker.
Additionally, this means that you’ve returned to being hyped up on watery coffee all the time. The building’s cafeteria is a modern marvel in and of itself, overpriced as its food may be. Your break is just long enough for you to catch two-thirds of a meal and a conversation if the mood strikes, otherwise a whole meal and a moment to catch up on social media. Having just passed the two-thirds-meal mark, you’re surprised to see someone else approaching your seat.
Funnily, horribly enough, it’s Mr Han himself, who’s looking at you with the same unbidden curiosity that a child might grant a particularly fascinating caterpillar.
“You work here,” he says, without greeting. It’s an innocent enough statement.
Did he not know? That you work here? Was he under the impression that you’d just started showing up for his own personal amusement and one-sided banter at the beginning of the month?
“Uh,” you say. “Yes.”
He blinks at you. You think for a moment that he might fire you on the spot. You don’t know why.
“I have a lanyard,” you say dumbly, holding it up. You wave it around a little. Mr Han nods, looking professional as ever. “I see,” he says. “Work hard.” And then he leaves, Italian leather on polished marble and all. You still need to finish the rest of your salad.
-
It’s almost ironic, the fact that you arrive late the next day.
After the strange half-encounter with Mr. Han, you’ve given yourself a moment of contemplation. Surely if the man hadn’t given a second thought to you besides your shared mornings– not even a minute, besides– then there wouldn’t be any point in pursuing him any further. He hadn’t even realized you worked there, not really.
Office romances never work out, anyhow.
You don’t even know if it was an office romance that you were pursuing in the first place. Perhaps it would have been nice, just to have another friend at work. Not that you were lacking, only that everyone had already seemed to settle in their routines and you’d been so busy, and well. Some things work out that way, and it’s not like you’re awful at small talk.
You’re running to the door of the office building, shoes clacking noisily against the pavement. You have to open the door for yourself this time.
“I thought you were kidding about arriving late to see my reaction.”
You think your neck just about cracks with the speed you turn to the noise. Mr Han stands not two meters from you, head tilted curiously in that same innocent wonder. He looks sort of sheepish, though you can’t quite figure why.
“I’m, uh–” You stare at him then, really take him in. Nothing comes. “I’m late for work.”
His eyes widen a fraction. And then he starts chuckling, softly, and it’s petrichor after rain, a deep tenor from low in his throat that has you suddenly, instantly warm. It isn’t much, not really.
But then you start laughing too, familiar and gleeful and it’s almost like you weren’t having a deep monologue about him that spanned most of last night. When you meet his eyes again, warm like the earth, it’s enough to boil hope in you, sunlight spilling over.
You don’t know for what yet, but you figure it’s something you’d like to find out.
