#jaemin angst | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starsstuddedsky · 7 months

Text

Persimmon Problems

jaemin x reader

summary: fantasy crushes are all fun and games until it stops being a fantasy and he’s really talking to you. but what are you supposed to do when he invades every part of your life?

genre: fluff, angst, university au, non idol au, he’s not a frat boy but he’s basically a frat boy, inaccurate depictions of student council, I don’t actually know what this is

warnings: swearing, drinking, implied sex (it’s pg-13), lmk if I missed any

wc: 18.3k (oops)

a/n: ahahaha remember that jaemin dream… yeah. anyways so I’ve looked at this for so long that I don’t even know what this is anymore, all I know is that I can’t keep working on it. also I still don't know what a persimmon tastes like so.. yeah. I really wanted to try one but if this stays in my drafts any longer I will go insane. I hope you all enjoy!!!! as always I'd love to hear what you think :)

You’ve never had persimmon before but you think maybe it’s the best word to describe Na Jaemin. He is a persimmon in your palm, an unknown flavor to be discovered if you dare to bite. It doesn’t help that he chose to wear orange today, the sweater a shade away from pink.

There’s a pinch at your side. “You’re staring again.”

You glare at Renjun, who doesn’t bother to look up from his laptop, working on the graphic for the student council. “Was not.”

“Whatever,” he says. “Just don’t let the pretty boy distract you from paying attention because I needed to finish this yesterday.”

“The only one distracting me is you, and you aren’t pretty.” You pretend his silence is agreement instead of him trying to force you to take notes as Professor Bae closes up the lecture.

It’s not that you can’t focus around Na Jaemin–your perfect notes at the end of class prove just the opposite. Jaemin simply exists in another world. There is your corner, mostly filled with student council responsibilities and never ending university work, and there is Na Jaemin, honorary member of every frat on campus. Not that you’ve been thinking that much about him, but his Instagram shows up in your recommended often enough for you to know that he goes to parties nearly every weekend. The sliver of overlap in the Venn diagram of your world and his only includes Microbiology on Tuesdays and Thursdays from 1 to 4, and that’s enough for you. To fantasize about him from here, a fruit you’ll never have the opportunity to try.

Jaemin starts to turn around and you quickly turn to Renjun, resisting the urge to peek at him out of the corner of your eye. You look at the shapes on Renjun’s computer instead.

“That looks like shit.”

“Trust the process,” he says.

“You spent the entire lecture working on this, you are aware we have a lab where you actually have to do things right?”

“You don’t think you can handle it on your own?”

“Stop trying to bait me into doing all the work.” You close your laptop, standing and stretching. You see Jaemin out of the corner of your eye, a blob of black hair shuffling down the aisle toward the door to the classroom. The orange-pink sweater is actually a cardigan, large cream colored buttons keeping it together. That’s when you realize you’re staring again. Shit.

“Are we eating before lab or do you seriously think you’ll finish that thing in the next thirty minutes?” You ask Renjun, who still hasn’t moved.

“You want to be president when you aren’t even pressuring me into posting the election announcements that were supposed to go out yesterday?”

“I want to eat something before we have to stare into microscopes, so what do you want?” You wonder if he’s focused enough to miss you grabbing his wallet out of his bag.

“Whatever you want is fine and if you use my card it will literally decline.” You curse and toss his wallet back into his backpack.

“Should have taken that class with Chenle, his card never declines.”

“That’s because it’s his parents’ black card.” He finally looks up from his laptop at you. “Are you getting the food or not?”

You open your mouth to say something extremely witty and/or smart, but your stomach rumbles. “I’m going to fire you when I’m president.”

“And who else will put up with your bullshit?” he calls as you walk down the aisle. You prepare a mature response (sticking your tongue out at him), walking backwards. Directly into someone—bouncing off their chest, more specifically.

Hands grab your shoulders before you can react, straightening you before you have a chance to fall. “Woah there.”

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry,” you say as you turn around and find Na Jaemin staring at you. Apologies spill out, even as he smiles at you, a true, knees-to-jelly, threat-to-sunshine smile.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says.

“Sorry,” you repeat. Your brain struggles to diversify its vocabulary with him looking at you, smiling with his eyes in full focus. His eyes are so dark it’s difficult to distinguish between his pupils and his irises. Staring, again, the third time in an hour. Why can’t you be normal around him?

“I was blocking your way out anyway, so it wasn’t all your fault.” He steps back, letting you out of the aisle. At least, giving you the space to do it, since your feet decide not to work. He tilts his head at you, sending your brain into a spiral of predictions, ranging from he’s going to ask you out (rather fantastical) to he’s going to tell you that you have something stuck between your teeth (horribly realistic).

Instead, he says, “You’re YN, right?”

“Yeah. How did you know that?”

His smile widens when you say yes. “Student council vice president, right?”

You don’t trust your voice so you nod.

“I’m Jaemin,” he says, extending his hand for a moment like he wants to shake hands but he pulls away at the last second. “Your picture is on the website.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say, mouth going through the motions on its own since your brain’s whiteboard has been wiped completely clean. The only thing left is NA JAEMIN in giant bold letters, bright red marker and all.

“Yes, it is,” he says. Does he know the effect his smile has on people? Legally it could be considered a weapon. He pauses a moment longer, like he wants to say something else but instead he turns away, walking back to his seat, waving at half the class because of course he does.

You don’t have to turn around to feel Renjun staring at you. You don’t feel like hearing his judgy comments, even when they’re only passed on through his eyes. Whoever said eyes are the window to the soul was right—Renjun’s give you a clear view of the most judgmental person you have ever met. You leave the class without looking back.

Very few places nearby campus sell edible food, and even fewer are ever empty enough to be able to grab food and eat before the three hour lab starts. Today is even worse than normal, as if everyone has chosen to be hungry at the same time as you. You end up at a 7/11, grabbing Takis since they’re the only chips Renjun will eat. You grab an iced tea, tapping your finger in line as you wait. Getting the food was enough of a distraction to keep you from thinking about Jaemin but as you wait for the person in front of you try to get a discount using a coupon that expired three months ago, you go over every millisecond of the interaction–and god, you were so awkward. All you really did was apologize to him, you couldn’t even move. You have got to grow up, stop acting like a middle schooler with a crush.

The cashier finally gives up, giving the person a discount and waving them out. You set your food down and smile at her. She does her best to put a customer service smile back on her face, though you can see the exhaustion. You thank her as profusely as you can.

By the time you make it back to the lecture room, there’s barely five minutes left of break.

“Thank god, I’m starving,” Renjun says, grabbing the bag out of your hands. You keep your iced tea on the side farthest from him, glaring at him until he tilts the bag so that you can reach it too. “We are going to make Donghyuck cook tonight, I need real food.”

“Agreed,” you say, covering your mouth with your hand so you don’t spew hot chip dust everywhere.

“And I took pictures of you embarrassing yourself in front of Jaemin, so please try to replace me as your social media correspondent.” He smiles at you over the purple bag.

“You’re horrible, has anyone ever told you that?”

“Music to my ears, sweetheart.”

Unfortunately, Renjun’s graphic does look good, though still not good enough to warrant how much time he spent on it. The messy shapes don’t look half as bad when they’re the right color, and all the information is listed (not in Comic Sans, though it’s only a matter of time before he tries to use it again. You have yet to find out if he actually likes the font or just wants to be annoying). He posts it an hour after the lab, which wasn’t half bad. Your percent error was under 50% for once.

It’s a Friday morning, no classes since your university actually listened to the student requests for a three day weekend, which the student council (you) takes full credit for. Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean you are responsibility free. Instead you sit in cheap plastic chairs rented from the events and planning committee and under a tent that’s in serious danger of blowing away.

You cling to your ball cap, NCIT STUDENT COUNCIL embroidered on the front. The papers in front of you whip around, the weights on top of them holding steady. At least it isn’t raining, though the thick clouds overhead get darker every minute.

Realistically, there’s no reason for you to be here. All the information about running for student council is posted online and with over 30,000 students, only a small portion of the student body actually care—none of whom are walking around campus at 11 in the morning on a Friday. You pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders. Just another fifteen minutes and then Jisung will relieve you. Mark should be the one freezing his ass off since he’s the one that insists on upholding tradition, but as president he takes advantage of avoiding work whenever he can.

Only two and a half months before that privilege is yours. Assuming you are elected, of course, but there’s no real danger in losing that. You’ve been a part of the council since freshman year, appointed as vice president as a sophomore. Few people have more qualifications, and fewer are actually interested in the position. Usually the competition comes from within the cabinet, but none of the rest of the guys have said anything about the running, though that might be because you haven’t shut up about the position since freshman year. Either way, the position is all but yours, and there is absolutely no reason you need to sit here when you could be studying for midterms.

A strong gust of wind blows from in front of you instead of behind and this time you are too slow. Your cap flies off your head, tumbling across the empty quad. You shuffle after it, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly over your shoulders, which helps protect you from the cold winds. Unfortunately, said cold winds don’t stop blowing, and your hat blows faster than you can shuffle. It reaches to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the squad by the time it finally stops.

Moving as fast as you can wrapped up one dry day away from mummification, you try to snatch the cap before it gets blown away again. You bend down to reach for it but a pair of sneakers appear in front of you and a mitten-clad hand grabs it before you can. You stand up and find Jaemin, wearing bright red earmuffs that have a green headband to make it look like a pair of cherries. He holds your hat out, smiling when he sees you (when he recognizes you?).

“What’s wrong? Hat got your tongue?” He waits, with an expectant smile. The boy next to him, wearing more layers than you, shakes his head. “Sorry,” Jaemin says, “bad joke, I know, but I couldn’t help it.”

Even the most lovesick part of you can’t defend him on that one. You take your hat from his outstretched hand, sticking it back on your head when you realize what your hair must look like after crossing the quad with all the wind.

“It’s Jaemin, from microbio,” he says, as if there’s actually a chance you don’t know him.

“Thanks, Jaemin from microbio.”

He flashes a smile that warms you better than any sun. “My pleasure, Vice President.”

“You can just call me YN,” you mumble.

“Where’s the fun in that?” You swear he winks, though maybe it’s the wind blowing in his eyes.

The boy next to him nudges Jaemin with his shoulder, keeping his hands tucked safely in the pockets of his jacket. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Jaemin rolls his eyes. “This is Jeno, he’s–God, I guess he’s my best friend.” He glances at Jeno, unimpressed. “The position is temporary.”

“Thanks!” Jeno says brightly.

“Jeno, this is the vice president of the student council,” he says.

“YN,” you say, “I’d shake your hand but…” You show your hands, stuck keeping the blanket wrapped around you.

“It’s alright, I lost my gloves, so my hands are stuck here.” Jeno lifts his jacket with his hands in the pockets, just to prove his point.

“Hey, I didn’t get a handshake,” Jaemin says.

“Did you need a handshake?”

He tilts his head, showing off his jawline, not that you’re paying attention to that at all. It simply calls attention to itself, and who are you to ignore a jawline that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo (not the ninja turtle). He must be cold with so much skin exposed.

“I’ll settle for some advice,” Jaemin says. Right, maybe you shouldn’t be comparing his face to famous works of art mid-conversation (save it for the Instagram stalking like everyone else).

“Advice?”

“I was actually looking for you anyway.” Jaemin glances at Jeno before meeting your eyes again. “The student council election is open to anyone, right?”

“The presidency is open to seniors that are enrolled here, but yeah,” you say. “Why?”

He shrugs. “I’m going to apply.”

You blink at him. “For president? Of student council?”

“Yeah,” he says. Jeno shuffles beside him, stuffing his hands impossibly deeper into his pockets.

President… but that’s your position. If it wasn’t for the senior-only rule, you’d already be president. You rose through the ranks, suffered through a vice presidency with Mark to get here–it’s your position.

“Do I apply there?” He asks, pointing at the table you’re supposed to be sitting at.

“The application is online,” you find yourself saying, “you have to submit a resume and go through a qualifying process, and submit your proposals for campaign policies and a whole bunch of other stuff, it’s all on the application information.” You’re about halfway through your own application, though it’s mostly copying and pasting from the document you’ve been working on since you joined student council.

“You can scan the QR code on this blanket, it’ll take you to the application.” You hold it straight, cursing Renjun in your head for being so creative with marketing. You look like an idiot, waiting for him to scan your shoulder.

“Cool,” Jaemin says, pulling out his phone, but instead of scanning the code, he hands it to you, a new contact profile with your name already in it. You glance between the phone and the smiling boy. “Can I ask you if I have any questions?”

Jaemin is asking you for his phone number. To help with his campaign, against you. Your brain works in overdrive, trying to determine how you are supposed to feel. Your heart doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of the internal turmoil. You put your number into his phone and hand it back to him.

“Sure,” you say, even as your brain screams at you not to. “Whatever I can do to help.”

He grins and your brain fully malfunctions, gears popping, cartoon sparks flying. “Thank you, YN.”

“No problem,” you mumble, knowing that’s not true at all even without a functioning brain cell. You should have let him call you vice president when you had the chance–this is so much worse.

“I should go back,” you say, taking a step backward, a gamble considering your history of walking backwards around him. Trying not to linger in Jaemin’s presence is like a planet resisting the pull of gravity to the sun–no matter how hard you try, you can’t beat physics.

But maybe he isn’t the sun because when you take another step, Jaemin takes a step to follow you. Are there stars that revolve around planets? But Jaemin doesn’t revolve around you, he doesn’t even exist in your solar system. Maybe a black hole is a better metaphor, sucking you in from a galaxy over. You should stop making metaphors based on middle school astronomy.

You peer at Jaemin as he continues across the quad, walking leisurely beside you as you shuffle. Jeno trails behind slightly, risking the cold to pull out a phone.

“Are you following me?”

Jaemin looks at you over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows. “You think you’re that special already?” Before you can answer, he laughs. “But, yeah, I am. I can’t leave you all by yourself out here, anything could happen.”

“As opposed to by myself at the table?”

He shrugs. “There’s two chairs. I could sit with you.”

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows, looking him up and down. He’s got a puffy jacket (bright red, probably to match with the earmuffs) and jeans. “You’d freeze in five minutes.”

“You could–”

“Are we going to Doyoung’s or not?” Jeno calls from behind you.

“Right,” Jaemin says, “I definitely did not forget about that.” He glances at you. “Rain check?”

“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you to keep me company freezing my ass off,” you say, “but seriously, I wouldn’t let you stay anyway.” You reach the table, turning to face him.

Jaemin pouts. “Why not?”

“For starters, I don’t want to be responsible for the hypothermia you’re bound to catch,” you say, “and it’s a student council thing. You’re not a part of the student council.”

“Not yet.”

Right. The standard, crush-threatening-the-dream-you’ve-spent-three-years-working-toward-situation. “Also, no offense, but I barely know you.”

“Offense taken,” Jaemin says, holding a hand over his chest. “We’ve taken half a class together!”

“We’ve spoken twice if you count today!” You say. Does he really not get it? “At the very least it would be awkward.”

“I take full offense to the idea that I could ever be awkward,” Jaemin says. He folds his arms over his chest, eyeing you. “I’ll prove it to you.” Your gut twists, sending off the warning bells, but there’s no way Jaemin is actually flirting with you. He probably hates the idea that someone doesn’t immediately trust him with their heart and soul. He doesn’t need to know that you already do. That’s why there’s simply no way he’s flirting with you–it simply doesn’t make sense.

“Dude, we seriously need to go,” Jeno says. “Doyoung is spam texting.”

Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows at you. “I’ll see you in class.”

“Bye Jaemin,” you say. You watch him walk away with Jeno, throwing his arm over his friend’s shoulders. He doesn’t look back at you.

What just happened?

Jisung approaches so quietly you jump when you turn around and he stands in front of you. “Was that Na Jaemin?”

“Yes–wait, how do you know him?”

Jisung avoids your eyes, turning to watch the pair of boys trudge away. “Renjun talks.”

You’re going to kill him. But first you need to defrost, so you hand the blanket over to Jisung and jump a few times to warm yourself up, trying in vain to make up for the loss.

“What was he doing here?” Jisung asks, wrapping himself so tightly his feet are bound together. One strong push would send him tumbling over, probably unable to get up. If only it was Renjun.

“He wants to be president.”

“Of student council?”

“Apparently.”

“Huh.” Jisung sits back. “Aren’t you supposed to be president?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.” Jisung stares at you.

“Have fun!” You say. The air without Jaemin is so much colder. Maybe your toes have frostbite. “It’s cold!”

Jisung grunts, huddling down and you don’t spare a second look at him. There’s a solid chance he’s texting Renjun already, since your best friend has decided to be a dirty gossip. You walk along the sidewalk and try to tell your heart that no matter how pretty his smile is, Na Jaemin is bad for you. Your heart reminds you that he saved your hat.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. You pull it out, fully expecting to see a message from Renjun but instead a string of numbers show up. you better save my number :). You stare at your phone until it fades to black, which is why you know the exact moment it starts to snow. Though it’s March and the groundhog didn’t see its shadow, a snowflake falls on your phone, melting quickly. You walk home in the snow, thoughts of Jaemin piling up a snowbank that no plow can clear.

For breakfast on Tuesday morning, you have an untoasted bagel with a side of impending doom. You woke up with the feeling, a knot in your gut that usually only appears before exams or after you drink too much coffee, but today has chosen to warn you of unknown horrors yet to come. It has to be the dream you had, only you forgot it the moment you woke up.

[Bitch #1] You’re just trying to avoid jaemin.

You don’t know why you expected Renjun to support you. Unsurprisingly, he found out about Jaemin’s intent to run for president before you made it back to your apartment, and dedicated an hour to lecturing you over FaceTime, then spent the entire pregame on Saturday side eyeing you.

Jaemin’s message sits at the bottom of your recent texts. He hasn’t sent anything since Friday, though neither have you. You close your phone and try not to think about him, an impossible task. In the end you can’t think of a valid excuse, and go to your morning lecture. It’s one of your favorite classes (world history of medicinal developments 1200-1600) but today your mind drifts, still trying to figure out why today feels so off. Are you forgetting an assignment? You’ve checked the syllabus for all of your classes and the reminders your professors sent out but nothing has slipped past your the list on your planner. You check your outfit after class to see if you put something on backwards but you look fine. By the time you head toward microbio, you’ve resigned yourself to a day of inexplicable anxiety.

You should have trusted your gut.

You take one step into the room and the knot in your gut twists itself into a mess that spells out leave now while you still have the chance.

In your normal spot at the back of the classroom, sitting beside Renjun, sits Jaemin, grinning and waving at you like he’s been sitting there the entire semester.

You walk carefully down the aisle of desks, stopping in front of him. “You’re in my seat.”

Jaemin doesn’t seem to notice Renjun’s snort, opting to smile at you. “Hello YN, it’s nice to see you.”

“Hi Jaemin,” you say, “you’re in my seat.”

He rolls his eyes, sliding his backpack to the side and slipping into the next seat over. “I was just getting to know Renjun.”

You glare at your best friend, sitting beside him. “I’m sure he’s been lovely.” Renjun smiles innocently, turning back to photoshopping a graphic of the student council.

Jaemin pulls out his laptop, sitting leaning back into the chair. Is he planning on sitting here for the whole class?

“What are you doing?” You ask softly. Renjun continues to click around, not even pretending not to eavesdrop.

“I told you, I could never be awkward,” Jaemin says.

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, shrinking in your seat. Does he really not notice the class staring at you? Okay, maybe staring is an exaggeration, and it’s not the whole class, but the people he normally sits with keep glancing back at you and whispering to each other.

Professor Bae walks in and they turn back to the front, saving you from (more) embarrassment. From the corner of your eye, you watch the boys at your sides—Renjun doesn’t bother to open the notes doc he shares with you, opting for continuing the edit, which you can’t really complain about because it’s the series of posts you asked him to make. Jaemin pulls up a cartoon series, Teen Titans, volume off with the subtitles on.

“Is this what you do every class?” You whisper.

Jaemin looks away from his fake typing for a moment. “She grades for attendance, not participation.”

“Are you even passing this class?”

Jaemin grins. “Sweetheart, I skew the curve.” Just to prove his point, he pauses the bickering superheroes and pulls up the grade review for the class. True to his word, his scores are well above average, rivaling your own. With the exception of Renjun, you haven’t met anyone who’s gotten similar grades.

Jaemin smiles, switching back to the show. He exudes confidence, and why wouldn’t he? Not only hot and popular, he’s smart too, smarter than you—it takes you hours of studying, exam cram sessions, paying attention in class—he doesn’t even hide that he isn’t paying attention, and from his reputation alone, you know he doesn’t spend as much time studying as you. Does he know what he’s getting into with student council? Even the laziest of presidents put in several hours of work a week.

Jaemin laughs at the show. Renjun finally glances at you, raising his eyebrows at Jaemin in a silent question. You shrug, mouthing, I don’t know either. He purses his lips and turns back to photoshop. You’re sure the second Jaemin steps away he’s going to be on your ass again.

Belatedly, you realize you’ve spent far too much of the class thinking about Jaemin. Professor Bae has already moved on from weekly announcements to new topics, meaning you have a date with YouTube review videos tonight. Thank god Professor Bae actually cares about her students and has recorded lectures. You just have to hope you didn’t miss one of the exam hints she only drops during class.

Jaemin and Renjun stay quiet for the rest of the class period, though it does little to help you actually focus. Between Jaemin existing next to you and the inevitability of Renjun’s judgment, it’s hard to stay focused on virus identification. You take half the notes you usually do.

But can you really blame it on them? It’s you that loses focus, you that is distracted by Jaemin beside you when he doesn’t actively try to pull your attention. He may have disrupted the balance of the universe by sitting beside you, but that doesn’t mean you have to fall off the scale.

Professor Bae announces the end of lecture a couple minutes early. You swear you see her raise her eyebrows at you and glance at Jaemin before disappearing into her office for the half hour break before lab. Is it too self-absorbed to wonder if she’s taking things the wrong way? But what is the wrong way? None of it makes any sense except that maybe Jaemin is too stubborn for his own good. Funny how a week ago he didn’t know your name and now you can say he’s ‘too’ something.

“So what do you normally do during break?” Jaemin asks. “Other than bounce off the chest of your roguishly handsome classmates.”

You roll your eyes to keep him from noticing how flustered his comment actually makes you. “Go over the prelab in case someone forgets to do it–”

“I always do it!” Renjun says.

“–but usually get snacks and do homework. Lately Renjun has been doing a lot of student council work during class, but that’s because he doesn’t know how to manage his time.”

“Says the one who asked me to design a scheduler for them.”

“Just because you’re good at Canva doesn’t mean you’re on top of your work.”

Renjun shakes his head. You can tease him all you want, at the end of the day, you know that it doesn’t really matter. The truth is, he just doesn’t need to study as much as you. Sort of like Jaemin, and absolutely nothing like you.

“What do you normally do during break?” You ask.

Jaemin purses his lips. “Well, my lab partner rarely does the prelab, so usually I let him look at mine.” From the row where Jaemin normally sits, a guy in a striped yellow polo glares back at you.

You glance between him and Jaemin, who turns away from his partner to look at you. “Should you go over there?”

“Probably.” He doesn’t make a move to get up, instead tilting his head and smiling at you a little. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

You cough, breaking eye contact to fiddle with the A key on your laptop which is in serious danger of falling off. “Well, your lab partner is probably going to try and inject you with a virus during lab if you don’t go over there.”

Jaemin laughs. “You’re probably right. I’ll talk to you later.” He stands up and glances at Renjun, who finally looks away from his laptop. Jaemin nods at him and flashes a smile at you, showing perfect rows of white teeth, and finally turns around, backpack half open in his hand.

You tear your eyes away from him, turning back to Renjun, who sits with his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand. He softens his eyes and looks up at you. “You’re very interesting, YN.”

“Shut up,” you say, pushing his elbow out from under him, though he doesn’t fall like you wish he would.

He shakes his head. “I do not like that guy.”

“Really?” You frown. “Why?”

“The fact that you’re even asking me that.” He sighs. “He’s just not my favorite type of guy.” He glares at you before you can tease him. “You seem to exclusively be attracted to shitty men, and then I become associated with them through proximity and it’s overall not a fun time for me.”

“Okay first of all, you barely know Jaemin,” you say, “and second of all, nothing’s ever going to happen with him.”

Renjun raises his eyebrows.

“Seriously,” you insist, “he’s literally Jaemin, and I’m… not his type. You can hate him all you want but don’t do it on my behalf.”

Renjun stares at you a little longer. He doesn’t believe you, and he’s probably right not to. But he turns back to his computer and doesn’t argue back.

“I didn’t do the pre lab, though,” Renjun says, “that was a lie.”

“I’m going to kill you and make it look like an accident.”

Jaemin doesn’t show up to class on Thursday. You stare at your phone, the single message in your conversation with him. Curiosity and something bitter boil together, making it impossible to think logically. He acts so friendly around you it would be easy to mistake him for a friend, but it’s not like you don’t have friends. You wouldn’t have a second thought about sending a text like this to Renjun or Donghyuck–but you’ve never felt butterflies when either of them looked at you.

So when your phone dies, you slip it into the pocket of your sweatshirt instead of trying to fight Mark for a charger (ever since “someone” stole one, he’s been overprotective of the cords). It’s movie night anyways, it’s not like you need your phone.

“Wait,” you say, “since when are we watching Endgame?”

“We literally just voted,” Donghyuck says, “You could have tied it for Lilo and Stitch but you weren’t paying attention.” He glares at you.

Mark throws an arm over your shoulders. “It’s all good, YN can just make the popcorn.”

“It’s hitting buttons on a microwave.”

“Oh, would you look at that, the movie’s starting!” Mark says, pushing you off the couch and towards the kitchen of his apartment. You glare at him, but the guys have made you watch Marvel movies enough times that you are glad for the excuse to escape any part of it. It’s bad enough you can hear it from the kitchen.

The shelves in Mark’s apartment are tall enough that he keeps a stool in the kitchen so that he can reach the highest of them. Of course that’s where he keeps his popcorn, so you jump as high as you can, snatching the box. Except you pull a little too hard and the box flies clean out of your hand, your feet slipping out from under you. You tumble to the ground, narrowly avoiding banging your head on the faux marble countertop.

A moment later, Donghyuck appears standing over you, box of popcorn in one hand. “You could have just used the stool.”

“That’s so much work.”

“And yet it keeps you off the floor.” He holds out his free hand and helps you stand. Your tailbone hurts a little but otherwise it seems you dodged major damage.

“You okay?” Chenle shouts.

“Fine,” you shout back. You wonder what the odds are that they’d let you bleed out to finish the movie—probably higher than what you want to calculate. At least Donghyuck is as anti-Endgame as you.

He sets the box on the counter, pulling the plastic off a bag and putting it in the microwave for five minutes. You would’ve just used the popcorn button but Donghyuck insists it tastes better this way. He turns around, leaning against the counter and studying you.

“So,” he says.

You raise your eyebrows. “‘So’ what?”

“So, Jaemin.” Donghyuck stares at you, eyes unreadable. He’s been like this ever since you met him—pulling people apart with his eyes and extracting the most important bits, all with a smile on his face. He knew Shotaro was going to drop out before Shotaro did.

“He’s…” A friend? A crush? The guy you wish would stay out of your life so you could keep daydreaming about him?

“He’s sort of famous,” Donghyuck says. “Or infamous, depending on who you ask.”

“And if I ask you?”

Donghyuck smiles like this is going according to his script. “He’s lots of fun to party with. I don’t know anyone that doesn’t like him.”

“But?” You jump when the first piece of popcorn pops.

Donghyuck pins you down with his eyes. “But he isn’t the boyfriend type. I mean, I’m not best friends with the guy, but it’s pretty obvious, and I talked to—”

“Stop.” You hold a hand up. “I know exactly what kind of guy he is, I’m not an idiot.”

“I’m not saying you’re an idiot, I just—”

“Donghyuck, I get it.” You stare back at him. “I really do, but I promise I know what I’m doing.” Okay, maybe that last part is a lie, but you know what you aren’t doing. You don’t expect a single thing from Na Jaemin.

“I heard he’s running for president.”

“Come on,” you say, “you think he can beat me?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows. He won’t call you out on it, but he doesn’t have to. Your lie doesn’t even convince yourself. Jaemin has it all—grades, good looks, and, most importantly, popularity. Yes, he can beat you. Easily.

“Why are you helping him?”

“Jisung can’t keep his mouth shut, huh?”

“Renjun was actually the one that told me, but that’s not the point,” Donghyuck says.

“He hasn’t even asked for help,” you say, “and it’s not like I’m going to give up. I just…”

“You like him,” Donghyuck says. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to try to deny it but you won’t fight a battle that’s already lost. But you won’t admit it either.

“I know what I’m doing.”

Donghyuck chews on his lip for a moment. “Just be careful,” he says, “I do care about you. A little. Just a tiny bit. And from what I know, Jaemin is a good guy, but I don’t want you to get hurt because he isn’t what you want him to be.”

“Gross, stop acting like we’re friends,” you say.

“Never mind, I take it all back,” he says, “and I won’t be your vice president.”

“Too late.” You shrug. “You already signed a contract.”

“Fine, I’ll veto everything you propose.”

“You don’t have the power to do that.”

He tossed his hands up. “What is the point of being vice president?”

You beam at him. “Doing the shit I don’t want to do!”

Donghyuck opens his mouth to argue back but he pauses, sniffing at the air, and that’s when you realize the popcorn has long since stopped popping. Behind Donghyuck, smoke rises.

He curses, pressing the button to open the door only to take a wave of smoke straight in the face. At least the bag isn’t on fire. You laugh as he waved his hand in front of his face, coughing.

“Dude, what is that smell?” Mark shouts from the living room.

You spend half the movie bickering with Donghyuck while trying to get the sharp smoky scent out of Mark’s kitchen. By the time the Avengers have all the infinity stones again and are in the final battle, you are curled up on the floor with a blanket, the popcorn bowl confiscated by Chenle when he realized how much you and Donghyuck ate while making it (it sort of tastes like smoke anyways). Two Marvel movies later, Mark shakes you awake and sends you and the rest of the guys out.

You’re so tired by the time you get home, you plug your phone in and fall asleep. That’s why you don’t see the message until your alarm goes off the next morning.

[Na Jaemin] you busy?

For the past three weeks, you’ve tried meditation. Renjun swears by it, but you’ve seen him lose it over half a quesadilla, so it doesn’t exactly instill confidence in you. Still, you set aside ten minutes every morning to listen to the podcast he sent you. It’s meant to be calming, to connect you with yourself, and usually you do feel better, at least for a few minutes.

You peek at your phone, checking how much time in the lesson is left (3 and a half minutes). No new notifications.

Jaemin’s message gave you a heart attack when you woke up. He sent it at 8:12pm, probably right after your phone died. So seeing his message first thing in the morning woke you up pretty fast. You sent an apology that you definitely didn’t rewrite fifteen times, and now you wait.

But no, you’re meditating right now. Clearing your mind, not thinking about a single thing except the air that floods your lungs, letting your heart beat twice before releasing the air again. You peek your right eye open. No new notifications.

The narration ends and you sigh, laying back on your bed and checking your schedule for the day even though you’ve memorized it. In half an hour you need to be in the library to meet with your study group, then a council meeting, some space for lunch (which will undoubtedly end up crashed by Chenle or Donghyuck), then more homework in the afternoon. Tonight you’re supposed to go to a party thrown by one of Mark’s friends from grad school—depending on whether Renjun can find out if he’s a poli-sci major or not.

You jump when your calendar disappears and the incoming call screen pops up. You stare at Jaemin’s name for a couple seconds before your brain begins to function again, and you slide the button at the bottom of your phone to answer the call.

“Hello?”

“YN,” Jaemin says. His voice is a little deeper than normal, raspy like he just woke up. “I was starting to think you’d blocked me.”

“Sorry, my phone died last night and Mark doesn’t let anyone use his chargers.”

Jaemin laughs, the phone distorting the quality, sounding choppy and un-Jaemin. “Damn, does the student body know he treats his council like this?”

You laugh a little but can’t think of anything else to say. The silence stretches longer as Jaemin doesn’t speak either. The ceiling of your apartment has a constellation of holes, evidence of the former tenant’s antics. You have yet to figure out exactly what it could be—stabbing the ceiling with a broomstick? What does Jaemin’s ceiling look like? He’s so hard to pin down, like the more you get to know him the less he makes sense. He’s the type to have a messy room with clothes tossed everywhere and a bed that’s never made, yet he’s also the type to keep it neat, put up diagrams to match the college aesthetic of studying even if Jaemin himself is allergic to it.

“So,” Jaemin says, apparently realizing you aren’t going to say anything else. “I actually texted last night because I wanted to see you.”

You shove down the butterflies that spring up. “For what?”

“First of all, it’s cruel that you don’t think I’d want to see you just to see you. But also I was gonna ask to go over microbio together because I heard a rumor that Professor Bae talked about the final.”

“Don’t you have a lab partner?”

“Yeah, he’s who told me she talked about it. Unfortunately he’s worse at taking notes than me.” He pauses. “Besides, you’re much cuter.”

“Oh.” The butterflies breach containment, digging like madmen trying to escape your stomach.

“So are you free?”

Despite just checking your schedule, your mind goes blank. You frown, trying to remember what you’d just seen, and thank every deity that might exist that Jaemin can’t see your face right now.

“I’m free after the council meeting. How is 12:30?”

“Damn, council meetings on Fridays,” Jaemin says, “that works though. Meet you in the library?”

“We can use the council room on the third floor,” you say, “no one else will be there.”

“Okay,” Jaemin says, “see you soon, YN.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

The butterflies have turned into zombies, rotting in your stomach and spoiling the leftover popcorn from last night. It’s just sharing notes. It’s just Jaemin. He’s just a boy from another world. The butterflies groan and demand chocolate.

Council meetings feel a little bit like the Magic School Bus series. The tagline plays in your head: A normal council meeting? With this group? No way!

Some of the blame can be directed towards having such an eclectic group of majors, Mark as the only true political science major. The rest of the group has been adamant about keeping the council safe from political science majors (how Mark doesn’t see the horrors of his classmates you truly don’t know). Another point towards Jaemin, being biochem and pre-med.

Though being a non-poli-sci major doesn’t mean he can handle the presidency. Mark can barely do that. Not that he’s a bad president. Though it sometimes feels like you do all the heavy lifting for him to take credit for, he does work hard. No, Mark’s problem isn’t his leadership—it’s that he doesn’t know when to give up.

The council meeting is long done but he continues to bicker with Donghyuck, who holds the entire student council hostage.

“It’s a proven fact,” Mark says. “How are you arguing with science?”

“Can science tell me what I feel?” Donghyuck folds his arms over his chest. His laptop has faded to black, the meeting notes long forgotten. “This isn’t about facts, it’s about my experience!”

You check your phone. The meeting has already gone over fifteen minutes. Any longer and Jaemin could walk in on a very not-empty room with Mark committing a crime against Donghyuck for saying that Froot Loops have individual flavors. Maybe it’s time to intervene.

“You’re just gaslighting yourself,” Mark says, “it’s not physically possible!”

“Well, you’re not physically possible!”

“That makes negative sense. I’m getting dumber listening to your attempts to argue.”

“Okay,” you say, standing up so quickly your chair falls back. “This isn’t council business anymore. All in favor of concluding the meeting?” According to the official rules, Mark is the only one that can conclude the meeting, but Jisung’s hand flies up, followed quickly by Renjun and Chenle.

“Cool, majority rule,” you say, ignoring the outrage on Mark’s face. Donghyuck pretends to be mad too, but he was only arguing with Mark to piss him off. He’ll probably follow the older boy around just to ruin his day. The two always have some fight going on—you’re convinced the reason Donghyuck agreed to be your vice president (if you win) is just because Mark would hate it.

Jisung leaves first, eager to escape from Donghyuck and Mark. Donghyuck pauses long enough to write a few more summarizing notes on the meeting but catches up to Mark before he can vanish, continuing to pester him about Froot Loops.

“Going home,” Renjun says, “we’re going out tonight, by the way. Turns out Taeyong is an econ major, and also a former frat president.”

“Huh,” Chenle says, “I can’t believe neither Donghyuck or me know him.”

Renjun shrugs. “I need to finish a couple projects since nothing will get done tomorrow.” He grins. “See you guys later.”

“Bye Renjun,” you say, tapping your phone screen to check the notifications.

[Na Jaemin] in the library [Na Jaemin] lost in the library [Na Jaemin] nvm found the stairs

[yn] need me to come find you?

[Na Jaemin] nah i don’t get lost (yes please)

“You’re texting with Jaemin?” Chenle breathes over your shoulder, making you drop your phone. Unfortunately it’s still open, your messages easy to read and Chenle doesn't hesitate to snatch it. At least the rest of the guys left, only Chenle is nosy enough to wonder who you’re texting.

“This is painful,” he announces. He hands the phone back to you. “You could at least add an emoji. Or, like, send more than one sad message.”

“Why?”

Chenle shakes his head. “You are texting the Jaemin, right? Na Jaemin?”

“Is there any other?”

“You’ve got a chance here,” Chenle continues, ignoring your question. “Not many people—well, I’ve actually heard he’s quite experienced but that’s beside the point, because you have a chance and that’s rare.”

“Genuinely, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You glance at the door, just in case Jaemin appears. Somehow you don’t think you want him overhearing this conversation.

“Okay, look,” Chenle says, “you’re you. Student council, 4.0 GPA, plans to be the next director of the WHO or whatever—”

“That’s not at all what I want.”

“—never a second you aren’t working, and then there’s Jaemin, and sure he’s a STEM major too, but the he’s type that strolls through life, who has things fall into his lap because he’s hot and lucky but you can’t really be mad about it because he’s Jaemin.” He pauses, like that explains everything. But you already know that Jaemin exists in a realm outside your own. Chenle waits a moment longer then shakes his head. “You know what, you’ll figure it out eventually.” He glances at you with a frown. “Maybe.”

“Good bye, Chenle,” you say pointedly.

He moves extra slow, closing his laptop only after spamming the save button. He once forgot to save a spreadsheet after a two hour budgeting session and you think he’s still traumatized. Still, spending a full thirty seconds hitting CTRL + S is excessive even for him—he’s stalling, trying to be as nosy as ever.

“I’m meeting him at the elevator so you can stop stalling,” you say. You hover over the send button, Chenle’s “advice” infecting your brain. You hit send before you can overthink it any more.

[yn] on the way now 👍

Chenle sighs, returning to peeking over your shoulder. “You’re hopeless.”

You grin and give him a thumbs up. “Thanks buddy. If you hurry you can run into him in the elevators.”

Chenle perks up, grabbing his still-open bag and sprinting out the door. You feel a little bad for lying to him, but he was the one that didn’t read Jaemin’s messages closely enough—evident from missing the fact that he’s on his way up the stairs and how Chenle thinks he might actually be flirting with you. You shake your head at the thought.

Just when you reach the doorway to the stairs and wonder if you should meet him in the stairwell, the door flies open. Despite climbing three flights of stairs, Jaemin breathes normally. A different backpack than usual is sling over his back, bright orange, like… well, an orange. (Persimmon, your brain unhelpfully supplies).

“Hi,” he says. “Sorry I’m late.” You wonder how anyone is immune to his smiles. A smile like that robs you of everything irreplaceable and leaves you missing it as soon as it’s gone.

“You’re not late,” you say, showing him the time on your phone as you walk to the council room. “Exactly on time.”

“Oh.” He glances at you, and when you turn your phone back to face you, you understand the awkwardness.

[Chenle] good luck 🤪🤪🤪

[Chenle] have fun with the hottie 🔥🔥🔥

[Chenle] but not too much fun 😼😼

You clear your throat, praying he didn’t get a chance to read all of the messages. “Chenle’s just making fun of my emoji use. Or lack of emoji use.”

Jaemin nods. “I hate to take the side of someone I’ve never met over you, but he might be right.”

“I use a perfectly respectable amount of emojis,” you say. “Besides, I’ve never seen you use any.”

“You’re just going to have to text me more to find out.”

You’ve never been so happy to see the doors to the council room. It’s nothing more than a glorified study room, with a rectangular table that stretches in the middle of the room, eight wooden seats set around it. A giant whiteboard stretches the majority of the back wall. The only truly special part of the room is the projector that hangs from the ceiling, with a screen that needs a button to come down. The walls that line the hallway are glass, along with the doors, so that anyone can see the council discussions, though tucked away in the back corner of the third floor, only the occasional passerby is subject to the bickering.

Jaemin raises his eyebrows and whistles. “This is nice.”

“Don’t lie,” you say. “The only nice thing about it is that we have full access to it whenever we want.” You point to the sign that reads Student Council Members Only. Truthfully, the six of you use it more as a private study room than for actual council work.

“It is nice,” Jaemin says, holding the door open for you. He pauses in front of the whiteboard. Chenle had been sitting closest to it, apparently spending the final thirty minutes of the meeting drawing out different game plans for the basketball club he somehow has time for.

“Chenle,” you explain, “he thinks he’s a part of the Golden State Warriors.”

“How much council work actually gets done in these meetings,” he says teasingly.

“You catch on fast,” you say. “It took me the full first year to realize how incompetent we are.”

“How come?”

“The president just wanted resume padding. He was incredible at sucking up to faculty and making the right people think he was a great leader, but he would send us fresh-terns to pick up condoms and sent Donghyuck with a fake to get drinks once.”

“Fresh-tern?”

“The freshman interns,” you explain, “since the president is the only elected position and the rest of the council is appointed, the only way to get known is through the ‘internship,’ which technically is open to anyone but only freshman are dumb enough to dedicate that much time to a job that does absolutely nothing—like, it doesn’t pay or even guarantee you a spot on the council in the future. It’s all based on whether the president likes you or not.

“Anyway, our president last year was marginally better, and he tried to abolish the seniors-only president rule but couldn’t get it to pass in time, so we ended up with Mark. Not that Mark is a bad president, though council meetings could be half as long if he wouldn’t go on tangents every two minutes.” You stop, realizing how much you’re talking. You’ve come dangerously close to telling him the truth about the presidency. Jaemin says nothing, probably bored. “Anyways, we’ve got a few new initiatives this year but mostly we try to maintain the annual events and keep Mark’s head on his shoulders until he graduates.”

“Sounds like fun,” Jaemin says.

“Sometimes.” You pause. “How’s your application going, by the way?”

He glances at you, smile fading a little. He turns back to the whiteboard, this time studying the fading drawing Renjun made a month ago of a goat fighting Donghyuck. “Still figuring things out. Mostly working on my campaign goals.”

You nod. A part of you wants to press further, learn more about his plans—but because you want to beat him or because it’s Jaemin? Why is it so difficult to think clearly around him?

You sit at the table and open your laptop, pulling out your notes. He sits beside you, scraping the chair against the tile floors until his knee is an inch away from yours. He must not notice the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans closer. A moment later and your brain is invaded by his scent, a clean smell like laundry detergent or body wash.

“It’s organized by subject,” you explain. “Usually I take notes in class and then Renjun reviews and organizes it with keywords and highlighting and this coding system that I don’t really get but he swears by. Either way it works for us.” You show him the keyword that Renjun uses to signify exam hints, combining it with the past class’s date to cross reference the relevant information.

Jaemin lets out a low whistle. “This is crazy.”

“Yeah,” you say, “Renjun puts a lot of time into it. But when we study for exams, it’s worth it.”

“You know Renjun from student council?” He asks, beginning to type a few notes.

“I guess that’s where I met him first,” you say. “But he’s pretty much my best friend. The whole student council is pretty close, way closer than the group Mark came into. He tells us horror stories about how they made the fresh-terms compete just to turn them against each other, though that’s back when it was filled with poli-sci majors.”

“None of you are poli-sci?”

“I’m public health,” you say, “and Mark is poli-sci, but the rest of the guys avoided it. We swore that the next council would be free of the plague of poli-sci majors.”

“You really hate them?”

“They deserve it,” you say. “But also it’s because I made the mistake of dating one last year.” You shudder at the memory.

“Really?” Jaemin looks away from his laptop, staring at you instead.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you whine. “It was a moment of weakness and he confessed to me with cookies.”

“Not making fun,” Jaemin says. “Were the cookies at least homemade?”

“Well, yes.” You shake your head, trying to stop the next bit from coming out. But Jaemin raises his eyebrows and you can’t help it. “He had his ex make them, actually.”

“No!”

“Yeah, and then dumped me for them after, like, two weeks, and the guys are all convinced that he cheated on me with them,” you say. “So, no, I don’t really like poli-sci majors.”

“A good observation,” Jaemin says. His approval makes your cells glow—scientists could discover a new form of bioluminescence from within you.

Jaemin continues to stare at you, eyes full of warmth. It’s so easy to get lost in them, glancing between the pure dark chocolate and fond smile on his lips. The change in light when your laptop screen fades snaps you out of it.

You eye him. “Do you even need these?”

“Nope,” Jaemin says. He grins at you. “Just an excuse to see you.” He turns back to the laptop and continues to copy your notes into his document. You turn around, giving him no chance to see the smile that creeps onto your face. You seriously need to get a grip. Jaemin needs to get a grip and realize that he can’t flirt with you like this, not without completely upsetting the balance of the universe. But even as the world slides sideways, you smile.

“Nothing special.” That’s what Renjun said when you asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday. But March 23rd falls on a Friday this year, and everything snowballed from there.

That’s how you find yourself wearing an outfit even the most lenient parents would dub inappropriate, wearing more body glitter than exists in the state of Utah, taking your fifth shot.

“Sixteen more to go,” Renjun says, patting your back. Why you promised to match him shot for shot, you aren’t quite sure. You had reasoning, at some point. Definitely before the shots.

At least you aren’t alone—Donghyuck curls his lip after his shot, lime slice snatched out of his hand by Mark before he can take it as a chaser. Mark laughs as he grimaces.

“What’s our motto?” Donghyuck shouts.

“Two and three to infinity!” Mark shouts.

“Nobody goes to the hospital!” You shout.

“To the grave!” Renjun shouts.

“Huh, I guess we should have coordinated that,” Donghyuck says. “I was thinking something more like ‘happy birthday Renjun.’”

“Shoulda said something,” you say. You take a step to the couch, the world tilting to the side, though maybe it’s actually you because you stumble into the wall. It holds you up until you make it to the couch, sighing as you reach solid ground. A couple people sit next to you, friends of friends of Renjun whose names you don’t know regardless of the alcohol.

“You’re YN, right?” The girl closer to you says, making you feel a little guilty for having no idea who they are. She beams when you nod. “I live in Apollo Hall, Karina is my RA, she says you aced biochem.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. “Who do you have?”

“Professor Ahn,” she says.

“He’s good,” you say, “I had him for a different class and he talks off topic all the time but if you visit him in his office hours once, he’ll remember and be more lenient on the research report. I can send you my notes, too, if you want.”

She smiles even wider. “Really?”

You nod, your brain sliding around your skull with the movement—not a good sign, only five shots into the challenge.

The music changes, a Britney Spears song that Donghyuck must have slipped into the rotation. The girl’s friend drags her up to dance before you get the chance to ask for her name.

Dancing sounds like so much fun, until you stand up and realize that you’ve been hydrated too well. Your bladder announces its need for attention much like the maintenance worker that fixed the leak in your shower—loud and last minute.

You push your way through the people crowded at the edge of the room, making your way to the hallway where the bedrooms and, more importantly, bathroom are. You pass by a semi-familiar face flirting with a girl from Renjun’s study group, but your bladder gives no time for your brain to make connections of recognition, let alone time to wave.

Finally, you break the crowd, ignoring the couple making out concerningly close to Donghyuck’s bedroom door (something you like to call “not my problem”). All your focus is on the door to the bathroom, a piece of lined notebook paper taped on with RESTROOM scribbled in marker. Just as you reach for the handle, the door swings inwards.

You might have caught yourself, two or three shots ago. Instead you tumble forward, the floor coming to meet you fast. And then you aren’t.

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” Jaemin says, laughing. He caught you by the elbows, your face pressed into his chest. He helps you straighten up, though he doesn’t let go of your arms.

“Jaemin.” You grin at him.

He tilts his head. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re pretty,” you say. Jaemin tilts his head and smiles at you. Endearing. Endearing, that Jaemin has an amused expression on his face. Like he is endeared by you. How funny.

But he really is pretty. He must be hot in the leather jacket, loose over his broad shoulders. Yes, those broad shoulders. He’s hot too. But first, he’s pretty. His black hair falls just above his eyes, loosely split down the middle, framing the perfect angles of his face–the perfect line of his nose, gentle curve of his cheekbones, that jawline–and of course those lips. Perfect lips.

Jaemin leans closer. “You’re prettier.”

You burst into laughter, stopping only when you snort. “You almost sound serious.”

Jaemin doesn’t say anything else, still smiling at you, only a couple inches of space between you. Ignoring those lips this close is impossible. They’re the prettiest shade of pink, and he must have put on lip balm–or maybe it’s the lighting–because they glow. What do they feel like? They have to be soft—you’d bet everything in your pocket (if these pants had pockets) he tastes sweet. Like a fruit, a yummy, juicy fruit, dripping with juice, which reminds you—pee.

You push past Jaemin, into the bathroom. “Need to pee.”

He catches his hand on the door before you can close it, frowning a little. “You’re not going to slip and crack your head open?”

“Nope,” you say. “Really need to pee.” He lets go of the door and you slam it shut, using one hand on the counter to steady yourself while you fumble with the lock. After an eternity, you finally get to the toilet, which, despite the number of people crowded in a house of two college guys, isn’t totally disgusting.

Two minutes, an empty bladder, and clean hands later, you push the door open. Your balance has improved just enough for you to feel confident in your ability not to die on the dance floor—and with perfect timing because Break Your Heart by Taio Cruz just started playing. You find Donghyuck in the middle of the room and join him, grinning when he cheers.

Renjun appears halfway through the next song, shots in hand. More of the tequila ends up on the ground than in your stomach by the time you knock it back but Renjun shouts, “Six!” anyways.

Another 2000s hit plays (it’s definitely Chenle’s playlist, which reminds you that you haven’t seen him in a while) and you get Renjun to stay on the dance floor for the full song. It’s hot and sweaty and you wouldn’t be anywhere else in the world.

Donghyuck cheers again, hyping up the people that join your little circle. You turn to see Jeno, wearing a piece of fabric that technically could be called a shirt though it really looks like a hole for his head that’s completely open at the sides except for the ties at the bottom. Beside him, and right next to you, Jaemin grins at you. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“And I was like baby, baby, baby, oh!” You shout along with the song, vaguely aware of the rest of the guys singing along—except for Jaemin, who waits for Ludacris’s verse to come in to rap it word for word.

Renjun drags you away before the next song can start. “Number seven,” he shouts in your ear over the bass.

“What about Donghyuck?” You glance behind you where he starts a full performance, an empty water bottle as a microphone.

Renjun shrugs. “He’ll catch up.”

You watch Renjun struggle to pour the tequila, holding the bottle with two hands off the edge of the counter to get the mouth as close to the paper shot cups as possible. You can’t see how much tequila actually makes it into the cups but it burns its way down, sending your stomach spinning. Only a third of the drinks you are supposed to take with him but you’re already questioning the next round.

Renjun gets dragged away from you by some people you aren’t even sure are actually his friends, but you lose track of him when someone tugs on your hand. Jaemin, again. He lost his jacket at some point, wearing a shirt that matches Jeno’s, showing off his considerable arms. Even in the poor lighting from the strobe lights Donghyuck set up, you can see the definition in his biceps.

Yeah, you’re definitely staring.

Jaemin asks something but you can’t hear him over the music. You step closer, stumbling a little on your own feet. As always, he catches you, arm sliding around your waist.

“How are you doing?” He shouts over the music.

You grab his other forearm to keep yourself from falling over. “I’m so hungry.”

Jaemin leans closer, lips brushing against your ear. “Wanna get out of here?” You raise your eyebrows at him and he grins. “The McDonald’s, across the street?”

“I need French fries,” you say, letting go of his arm and spinning out of his embrace to face the door. He catches you before you can go too far (and fall on your face), looping his elbow through yours.

As soon as the door closes behind you, everything falls silent. Not everything, because you can still hear the bass from inside the house, and cicadas sing, and the highway is close enough to hear the rumbling of engines passing by. But quiet falls in the space between you and Jaemin, a breath waiting to fall free.

He doesn’t let go over your arm, using his other hand to brace the three steps in front of Donghyuck and Renjun’s place. He leans on you as much as you lean on him, magnets stuck to each other, except magnets don’t struggle to stay upright crossing an empty street. Maybe if they could get drunk.

The street light flickers above you, crackling electricity. You can feel Jaemin’s bare arm against yours, firm muscle held taut. You peek at the boy beside you, his head tilted to the sky. Pretty. You won’t say it again for fear of being repetitive, but it’s the right word for this moment. Not just Jaemin, but the chilly night air, the faulty light above you fighting with the neon lights to illuminate your breath. You’ll blame the alcohol in the morning, but tonight it’s all pretty.

Jaemin swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, and he turns to meet your eyes. It’s definitely the alcohol but you don’t look away.

The crosswalk changes to the white man, beeping at you to cross the street. You tear your eyes away from him, settling for clinging to his arm to make it past the striped crosswalk illuminated by headlights.

You’re hardly the only drunk couple at McDonald’s. Jaemin notices you limping a little and drops you off in a booth, stumbling on his own to order. You must have done something dancing, though you don’t remember anything hurting. Your ankle hurts now, so you lean your head into your elbow and watch Jaemin’s back.

The fluorescent lights can’t make him look sickly. They show his arms in their full glory, open sides revealing enough of his body to make you self-conscious. The hint of a farmer’s tan dusts his arms, shoulders just a shade lighter than his forearms. Where did he get that from?

So many questions about him. So much to know. So little you do know but you like him so much it gets so hard to tell. What matters.

Jaemin puts his wallet into his back pocket, turning around and smiling when he meets your gaze. He slides into the seat across from you. “Potatoes are incoming.”

“Do you know what persimmons taste like?”

“What?” His brow furrows, a cute frown that makes you forget what you’d asked.

“Never mind,” you mumble. Opening your mouth any more around him is a dangerous game—you aren’t quite sure what will spill out.

He reaches out to tap his finger on your arm. Like the sun, being in his atmosphere makes everything warmer, his touch boiling your skin. The heat flows through your body, each cell vibrating with the need for something.

“You feeling okay?”

It takes considerable concentration to work past his finger, which has graduated to drawing shapes, and answer him. “Renjun wanted to do twenty-one shots for his birthday but seven is beyond enough.”

Jaemin whistles. “Is Renjun going to survive tonight?”

“Probably not,” you mumble. “That opens up a council position. You could be a good social media person. Your face is pretty enough.”

“Is that the only requirement for student council?” Jaemin asks. “Being pretty?”

“You can’t be a poli-sci major either,” you say, “which you pass. It helps that you’re smart, and kind. I like people that are smart and kind.”

“That’s a low bar,” Jaemin says. “What else do you like?”

“Hm…” Your voice rumbles, a funny feeling in the back of your throat. You hum for a little longer before you remember Jaemin asked you a question. What do you like?

“Sharks. They’re much cooler than dolphins. And potatoes, I love potatoes. I like Renjun. And Donghyuck. And Mark, even though he’s a poli-sci major. I like Chenle and Jisung. They might be my favorite people.” And you. I like you so much I don’t know how to say it.

“What about doctors?” Jaemin leans closer, intertwining his fingers with yours. “Do you like doctors?”

You lift your head up, pouting your lips at him. “Doctors have needles. I don’t like needles.”

Jaemin laughs. “Even if the doctor is super rich?”

“Rich? From taking all my money?” You cry.

“Rich from saving people’s lives,” he says. “Like a neurosurgeon.”

You squint at him, the blurriness of your eyelashes mixing with the blurriness of the alcohol and canceling out until his face becomes clear. “Are you actually pre-med because of Grey’s Anatomy?”

Jaemin looks away, running a hand to the back of his neck. “Maybe.” His biceps are almost enough to distract you from his admission. Almost.

“Oh my god.” You can’t hold back the giggles, trying to cover your mouth with your hand. Tears prick at your eyes and you gasp for breath, stomach twisting the alcohol with the giggles and turning over itself until you aren’t sure if you’re starving or need to throw up.

“It’s a perfectly respectable career!” Jaemin says.

“You want to be Patrick Dempsey?” You say between giggles. “Not even McSteamy?”

“Hey, he’s—wait, you watch it too?”

You shrug. “It’s fun.”

“Then how are you making fun of me!” He cries.

“I didn’t go into medicine because of it!”

Before he can say anything else, the workers shout a number. He glances at the receipt and shoots you a glare without a drop of malice in his eyes and leaves.

Jaemin being silly. Jaemin bickering with you. Hard to believe that even two weeks ago, you never would have believed he watched children’s shows in class and chose his profession because of a soap opera. Jaemin who keeps surprising you, who makes you want to believe that maybe he’s from the same planet as you after all.

He brandishes the brown paper bag in front of him like treasure. What does it matter that you’re grinning because of him and not the golden treats inside?

“For you,” he says, setting the bag in front of you and tilting it on its side so you can reach inside for the fries. “I didn’t know what sauce, so I fought… Okay, maybe flirted with the worker, but the important part is that I got one of each.” He pauses glancing at you. “Which apparently you don’t need.”

“So good,” you say, eating them properly: no sauce, just freshly fried golden perfection. You look up to find Jaemin smiling at you… fondly? Is that what’s in his eyes?

“What?”

He shakes his head. “You’re just cute.”

You stare at him, fry halfway to your mouth. He looks down, the tips of his ears tinted red as he grabs a fry and dips it in honey mustard.

The rest of your time at McDonald’s is dedicated to properly enjoying the French fries and not at all sneaking glances at Jaemin sneaking glances at you. You finish the fries long before the swirly feeling in your stomach goes away. The butterflies must be drunk too.

“Back to Renjun’s?” Jaemin asks, standing up and extending a hand for you to take. The most dangerous handhold of your life. You don’t think twice about taking it.

“Mm, I’m pretty tired,” you say, “and Renjun was pretty adamant about the twenty-one shots thing. If we go back, he won’t let me go until one of us is in the hospital.” Walking is easy when Jaemin lets you lean on his shoulder. Standing just outside the McDonald’s, your shadows stretch ten times as tall as you, the lines between you and Jaemin undefined.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow. “You aren’t worried about him?”

“He swore to send Donghyuck to the grave before him, he’ll be fine,” you say, “plus Jisung is there, sober. They’ll be fine.”

“And you?”

“I’ll be fine when I get home.” You tilt your head up from his shoulder only for him to look down at you, his nose brushing against yours. Your breath catches in your throat, heart pounding. But you don’t move away and neither does he.

“Take me home?”

He doesn’t move for a heartbeat, eyes flickering to your lips. Then he turns his head straight, patting your head with his free hand a couple times. “Okay.”

You whisper directions, a ten minute walk from Renjun’s place. The walk home is considerably less stumbly, your balance recovered halfway through the fries. You cling to Jaemin’s arm anyway, more afraid of letting him go than falling.

The building appears far too quickly, Jaemin pushing open the glass doors and walking you to the elevators. You don’t dare say a word to break the silence as the elevator dings to the third floor. He waits until you reach your door to disentangle himself from you, standing with the tips of his sneakers a millimeter away from yours, catching your hands in his.

“Goodnight, YN,” he says.

No. This isn’t the time for goodnight, not when every atom in your body might explode if he takes a step away. You tighten your fingers around his.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask. “See my apartment?”

He tilts his head, a little frown creasing his brow. “Okay.”

You fumble with your keys, hands shaking when you open the door. Emotions swirl around you, making it difficult to tell the difference between excitement and anxiety, if it exists. Calling the place an apartment is a bit of a stretch. Glorified broom closet is your preferred term–a bed shoved against the far wall with a tiny window next to it, desk tucked in next to it like a puzzle piece without enough space for a chair, a door for your bathroom, directly next to the “kitchen” of a stovetop oven and sink, and a closet that barely fits your coats.

Beyond being tiny, you left the place a mess, second, third, and fourth contenders for outfits strewn on your bed, unwashed dishes in the sink. The entryway is the only space for the two of you to stand together comfortably but you lead Jaemin farther in, balling up the clothes and tossing them into your hamper underneath the bed.

“I don’t normally have company,” you explain.

“It’s okay,” he says, “my room’s a mess too.” He picks up the pink teddy bear from your bed and smiles. “A gift?”

You shake your head. “Bought it myself for surviving sophomore year.” You pull the great white shark out from beneath a blanket. “Freshman year.”

“Cute,” Jaemin says, still looking at the bear.

You follow Jaemin as he wanders the tiny room. He pauses at a framed picture of the student council that sits on your desk. It was a gift from last year’s graduating cabinet, the whole group, president, appointed cabinet, unofficial members, and the fresh-terns, fifteen people in total.

“That one’s my ex,” you say, the word still strange in your mouth. “If you count two weeks as even dating.”

“The one in red?”

You nod.

Jaemin snorts. “I’m way hotter than him.” He sets the picture and turns, and suddenly only a couple inches of space separate him from you. This close, you can see exactly how pretty he is, long eyelashes that cannot be natural, even longer when he stares at his toes instead of meeting your eyes. And, this close, you can see the soft pink of his lips, lower lip jutting out just a tiny bit.

Not drunk, not yet sober, it’s easy to lean a little closer, brush your lips softly against his. The kiss is over before you can think about it.

You open your eyes to Jaemin staring at you, eyes wide, somewhere between disbelief and fear. You open your mouth to apologize but he moves faster, hand coming up to cup your face and pulling you closer until you kiss him again, your hand instinctively catching you against his chest. He links his fingers with your free hand, tugging you even closer to him.

He moves slow at first, a gentle kiss that takes your breath away anyway. He pulls away when the stars flood your brain, smile boyish and sweet. His thumb strokes your cheek into the shape of a heart. Then he slides his hands to the back of your neck, letting go over your other hand to wrap around your waist and pull you against his chest.

Jaemin knows how to kiss. He moves like it’s his last chance, desperate lips telling truths words can’t capture. And you might not have as much experience, but you understand the language of desperation. A never ending chain of fireworks explode within you, pushing you to wrap your arms around his neck, kiss him even harder. Your hands move on their own, tugging at the cloth of his shirt until he leans back, breathing heavily.

“How far you want to go?” He asks, chest rising and falling with each breath. “You know consent is so sexy.”

You laugh, giddiness making it difficult to think. “You have a condom?”

Jaemin grins, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out his wallet. He slips the shiny packet out, tossing his wallet to the floor along with his shirt. He gives you a proper amount of time to ogle his chest before tugging you against him again, your heart pounding so hard against him he must feel it.

He tilts your head towards his until his lips brush against yours, and when he speaks, you feel every word. “Now where were we?”

[Na Jaemin] sorry I had to go :( [Na Jaemin] wish I could have been there when you woke up [Na Jaemin] but! I have a surprise [Na Jaemin] [image attached] [Na Jaemin] see you in the morning <3

You blink at the message, a picture of him wearing a fuzzy headband in the middle of his skincare routine. Your head pounds a little, but otherwise your hangover isn’t too bad. Definitely not the worst it’s ever been.

No, the strange feeling in your stomach is something else. Last night is burned into your memory, every move, every touch. Jaemin, who you fell asleep beside, though the timestamp on the texts show he didn’t stay much longer after. Not that you expected him to. It’s Jaemin, you remind your traitorous heart. No matter how much he flirts, no matter what he did drunk, he was never yours.

Your phone rings, but it isn’t Jaemin.

“Hey,” Renjun says.

“You sound awful,” you say, throat aching.

“You’re one to talk,” Renjun says, “and you didn’t even get to double digits. Donghyuck out-drank you.”

“And how’s Donghyuck doing?”

“Throwing up in the shower, it sounds like.”

You laugh, the motion, sending your stomach spinning. “Happy birthday Renjun.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, “I actually did call for a reason.”

“I am not helping with clean up,” you say, “Chenle swore he’d do all of it since he bailed on set up.”

“Not that,” Renjun says. “I’ll be over as soon as I can walk without passing out.” He hangs up, leaving you to frown at the empty screen.

Well, considering how late he got back, Jaemin probably won't be awake any time soon. You need to shower and rehydrate and try to convince your stomach to take something—and with how Renjun sounded over the phone, it seems like you’ll have plenty of time.

An hour later, slightly burnt toast, and post-Advil, the headache is mostly gone. Your stomach still twists at the thought of Jaemin. You jump at the doorbell but find Renjun wearing a mismatched sweatsuit and his bright orange crocs, glasses nearly sliding off the bridge of his nose. He wears the hood of his sweatshirt up but you can see tufts sticking up.

“God, did you shower?” You catch a whiff as he passes by, reeking of tequila.

“I was serious about coming over as soon as possible.” He groans, collapsing on your bed. “I think I maybe came over too early though. Might need to throw up.”

“Do you want toast?” You offer.

He glares at you. “Just sit.” Renjun rarely speaks with patience but today he seems extra short on it. Maybe because of the hangover, but the way he glares at the carpet before turning to look at you makes you wonder if something else is wrong. His eyes soften a little when he meets your eyes, his frown lightening just barely.

“I really wish I didn’t have to tell you this,” he begins. “Did you go out with Jaemin last night?”

“He… took me home,” you say. “What’s wrong Renjun?”

“Last night—well—this morning, I met some guys from Sigma Nu, who are friends with Jeno and Jaemin,” he says, “who were talking about how Jaemin is going to be president. About how he’s messing around with the frontrunner, trying to distract them or fuck around, trying to take the presidency.” He falls quiet, studying your face.

“He wouldn’t.” Your voice feels so small.

He wouldn’t, you said, but you can’t even convince yourself. Your heart flounders, drowning in a lake of its own creation, choking on fantasies. Your brain takes control in the chaos, gears turning despite the crashing waves. Facts don’t need oxygen.

1) Jaemin approached you about the presidency first

2) he pretended not to know you were running

3) he’s known for hooking up with anyone

4) he never belonged in your world

The conclusion is obvious, a conclusion you could have come to much sooner if you weren’t too busy getting swept off your feet by his easy flirting and sweet smile. Though your heart doesn’t want to believe it, it makes too much sense. So much more sense than the hope you were stupid enough to believe in. Jaemin isn’t that type. How many of your friends told you that? How many times did you tell yourself that? But you let him hurt you anyway because he held your hand and called you cute. How quickly a fruit can rot when it sits in the palm of your hand.

Jaemin doesn’t exist a universe away–he lives in your world, worse than a cliche. The type of boy that made you want to believe in him, even when you knew better from the start, and maybe that’s the worst part. He never hid who he was, what he wanted. It’s you that wanted more, that believed he could want something more. How pitiful.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun says softly. “I wanted him to be different.”

“Did you? Because everyone was telling me about how I needed to be careful, protect myself, not get hurt over him. Did any of you consider that I didn’t ever expect anything from him?” You shake your head. “No, you all thought poor little YN, getting their feet swept out from under themself over a boy that doesn’t give a shit about them? A boy that’s actively trying to stop them from achieving a dream they’ve had since they started college? Well, guess what? You all were right. Congratulations.” You bite your lip trying to hold back the tears but it’s too late.

“I’m sorry,” Renjun repeats. He pats your arm, looking away when you swipe at your eyes. He waits for you to take a shaky breath, hand on your arm. You grab the teddy bear, trying not to hear Jaemin calling it cute.

“I slept with him.” The admission burns its way up your throat. “Last night.” You sigh. “You don't have to tell me I’m an idiot.”

“Okay, I wasn’t going to say that,” Renjun throws his arm over your shoulders. “Though I’m kind of regretting sitting on the bed.” He scoots a little forward but squeezes your shoulder. “You’re going to do things you regret, there’s no stopping it.”

“Why do you always have to be right? Why am I exclusively attracted to shitty men?” Your chin digs into the innocent bear, jaw tightening. “Why can’t I just like a boy that likes me?”

“Do you think maybe you liked him too much?” Renjun asks gently. “Like maybe you liked the idea of him more than Jaemin himself.” He pauses, squeezing your arm. “Don’t let a boy that isn’t real hurt you.”

You lean into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder. “But he was real. Sweeter than persimmon. Like a strawberry. Or a mango.”

“Okay, I’m not understanding.”

“I thought he was a persimmon, a magic fruit I could imagine tasting sweet or sour or tart but he’s real and even though his flavor isn’t a mystery, it’s better than what I could have imagined. Like taking a bite of a pineapple and it’s the best pineapple you’ve ever had, juicy and sweet.”

“Okay first of all, that’s a terrible metaphor, please stop talking about how he tastes or I will throw up,” Renjun says. “Also persimmons are real.”

“I know that,” you snap, “but I’ve never had one, so they’re magic to me.” You stare ahead, grateful Renjun knows when you just need a little bit of time to work up the courage to say what you need to say. “I’m saying you are right. I didn’t really like him, not at first. But it’s worse than that because when I did get to know him, it was so much better. He wasn’t a dream, he was a boy who watches Grey’s Anatomy and does skincare even after a night of partying.

“I know it makes more sense, that his flirting wasn’t real, that he was never really interested in me. But nothing real about him makes sense, and I want to believe in him, still.” You purse your lips. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

“You really liked him,” Renjun says, “that won’t just go away.”

“That would be too easy,” you mutter.

Renjun laughs. “You’re going to be fine. There are so many better men.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you say.

“And I was right,” Renjun says, “Jaemin is better than last time. Marginally. At least he isn’t a poli-sci major.”

You snort.

“See, you’re already laughing at him.” Renjun pushes you off his shoulder, standing up and groaning. “Now, I’m going to throw up in your bathroom, and then we can watch dumb action movies until your brain rots. The rest of the guys are supposed to come over, though I think Donghyuck is still throwing up.”

You bury your face into the bear. “Does everyone know?”

Renjun pauses. “The guys from this morning were sort of proud to be the ones to tell us.”

You groan. The door to your bathroom closes but you barely hear it. You clutch the bear a little tighter, as if the fluff could break through your chest and fill the spilling hole in your heart.

It would be too easy to blame Jaemin, to pretend like none of the pain is from your own stupidity. But you already told Renjun. You knew it from the start.

Knocking at the door, a knock that means only one person. You wipe the tears from your eyes and take a deep breath that does nothing to steady your heart.

“God, I was afraid I was waking you up.” Jaemin starts talking as soon as you open the door. He holds up a bag, a tray with two iced coffees and a hot cup. He looks unfairly good and, of course, he grins at you. “I wasn’t entirely sure what your hangover cure is, so I got hot and iced coffee, and there’s a breakfast sandwich and a donut and also these potato things, I really wasn’t sure what you’d like, but–”

“Did you know that I was running for president?”

Jaemin freezes, frown slowly curling his brow. “What are you–”

“Just answer the question.” You grip the door handle, knuckles turning white.

He pauses a moment too long. “It’s not like that.”

“Never talk to me again.” You fight the urge to slam the door, but your neighbors don’t have to suffer your wrath. You shake your head, “I can’t believe I fell for your bullshit.”

Jaemin opens his mouth but you close the door, sliding the deadlock as hard as you can. He has the audacity to try to explain himself. If you didn’t want to hear him out so badly, you might laugh. Instead you turn your back on the door, sliding down it until you can rest your head on your knees and sob.

Jaemin makes it halfway down the aisle of seats on Tuesday before you turn to Renjun, panic and tears in your eyes. He glares at Jaemin so hard he freezes in his tracks and doesn’t try again. He doesn’t look at you in class, not even a peek. On Thursday, he walks straight to his seat.

Chenle doesn’t bother to throw his packages into the recycling after opening them. He says he’s hanging onto them to make moving out easier, but really he’s just too lazy to break them down. You have to step around them to get into his apartment, since he thought it would be fun to make an obstacle course out of them. Navigating these sober is hard enough, you have no idea how he makes it to bed after a night out.

But today, it’s worth it. It’s been two weeks since you cut off Jaemin, a month since the day you bumped into him in class (a month and three days but who’s counting?). He doesn’t look at you anymore. You haven’t fully escaped him–every once in a while you’ll hear his laugh from the other side of the lecture room. The sound still stabs between your ribs, a wound turned new each time you hear it. But it cuts a little more shallow each time. One day you won’t feel it at all.

And today, Chenle got a puppy.

She cries before you make it over the baby gate in Chenle’s room. A tiny ball of white fluff bounds toward you, tripping over her own feet.

“Hi baby!” Your voice automatically rises three pitches looking at her. “Aren’t you just adorable!” You crouch down, letting her jump on your knees. She won’t sit still long enough to be pet, sprinting around your feet, then back to Chenle sitting on the floor, back resting against his bed.

“Hi to you, too,” Chenle says pointedly.

“Hi Chenle,” you turn back to his puppy. “And hello puppy!”

“Her name is Daegal,” he says. You can hear him rolling his eyes. “‘Cause she’s got a big ass head.”

“Chenle is so mean to you!” You coo at the puppy at your feet. “But that’s okay, I’ll take good care of you. You can come home with me!”

“You hear that baby?” Chenle says. “YN wants to pay me $1000 to take care of you!”

You stare at him. “Did you seriously adopt a $1000 puppy?”

He shrugs. “She’s really cute.”

“You’re insane.” Daegal settles down enough to let you pat her head.

“I invite you into my home for some much needed puppy love and this is how you treat me?” Chenle sighs. “To think that I felt bad for you, that I told you about her before anyone else. This is how I get treated for my kind heart.”

“I don’t need your pity,” you say. Daegal licks your hand.

“It’s not pity.” He pauses. “Well I guess it is pity, but you’re also my friend YN. Believe it or not, watching you live the sad boy lifestyle over some dude, again, is not fun. I’d much rather watch you being happy with my puppy.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” you mutter.

Chenle claps his hands, making Daegal jump. “But that does remind me, everyone has been too much of a coward to ask, but I’ve heard from tertiary sources about his reputation, but I’d love a first hand account.”

“What are you talking about?” You eye him.

“How was the sex?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?”

He shrugs. “Well, yeah.”

You pick up Daegal, staring at her instead of Chenle. She wiggles her tail, then her paws, so you set her back down. “I’m not answering that.”

Chenle narrows his eyes, studying you. “That means it was good.”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“And yet you’re not denying it.”

“Please shut the fuck up.”

For once he listens. With Renjun, silence means peace–he doesn’t say anything that doesn’t matter. When Chenle doesn’t speak, it means he has something to say and he isn’t sure how to say it. You peek up at him and your suspicions are confirmed. He chews on his lip, frowning at you.

“Just tell me.”

Chenle purses his lips. “He dropped out.”

“Of school?”

He rolls his eyes. “The election.”

You stare at him. “Seriously?”

“He hasn’t touched his application since Renjun’s birthday and Donghyuck said yesterday he emailed and said he wasn’t going forward with it.” He doesn’t say anything about how technically you should be checking the email.

“But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Chenle shrugs. “I’m just telling you what I was told.” He stands up. “Now! How much do you like cleaning up dog pee?”

You glance down at Daegal, who squats in the middle of the room, a dark stain on the carpet beneath her. Chenle tosses you some paper towels and a can of Febreeze.

“Why am I cleaning up after your dog?”

“Because you tried to steal her,” he says, “and I’ve already done this three times today and I’m really sick of it.”

You shake your head but pull off a paper towel and press it into the stain.

“We’re going out tomorrow night, by the way,” Chenle says. “And you’ve passed two weekends in a row so you’ve hit a cap for the month. You have to come with, no ‘buts.’”

Apparently the grace period of pity is over. Whatever, it’ll be nice to do something other than hiding in your room watching Powerpuff Girls. And maybe you will see him. Maybe you’ll get an answer to the giant question mark that’s lodged itself in your heart when Chenle told he dropped out. Maybe the little caterpillar of hope that’s survived these past few weeks can metamorphize.

And maybe he’ll break your heart again. But you won’t get any answers daydreaming.

How Renjun can still drink Tequila, you truly do not understand. Ever since his birthday, the thought of it makes your stomach flip, and you didn’t even drink that much. But he sips on the margarita, insisting it doesn’t taste like alcohol.

“It’s disgusting,” you say, pushing it closer to him. “I am not drinking this.”

He rolls his eyes. “You do realize the whole gimmick of this place is all their drinks are made with tequila, right?”

“No one told me that!” You glare at Chenle, who showed up at your door at exactly 8:00pm and dragged you to the bar. “For the record, I would have pre-gamed. But I guess I can be the babysitter tonight.”

Chenle cheers. “Donghyuck, you’re back in! YN is babysitting!”

Your drink slides down the table to Donghyuck, interrupting whatever ‘conversation’ he was having with Jisung.

“I thought the whole point of dragging you out was to make you have fun,” he says.

“You better be fun, then,” you say.

Donghyuck raises his eyebrows but eventually take a long sip. “Brain freeze!” He cries, clutching his forehead. You laugh with the rest of the guys. It’s almost normal, except you can’t help but peek at the door whenever somebody walks in.

The night passes and the guys get more drunk. The bar gets more crowded–soon you are squished between Renjun and Chenle, barely able to breathe as the music slowly gets louder. The tequila looks more and more appealing but the guys need at least one person sober to make it back alive: Chenle arm wrestles a stranger while Donghyuck has some poor soul cornered, practicing his pick up lines.

When Chenle loses, you push past him, muttering something about fresh air that they probably can’t hear. You push through the crowd of drunk people, trying not to remember the last time you did this.

You squint at the steps, edges difficult to see with so little light. Who builds a bar on the second floor of a building? You make it to the final step but misjudge how close it is and your foot slips off the edge, sending you tumbling forward. You might have caught yourself, but you don’t have to—strong arms catch you mid fall, wrapping around your waist and swinging you clean off the stairs and onto solid ground. You aren’t surprised at all to look into Jaemin’s eyes as he lets go.

He frowns at you, eyes so dark they look black. Maybe it’s the lack of light, but the twinkle in his eyes, the glint you’ve come to recognize as trouble, is missing.

“Hi,” you say.

He drops his arms, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. “So you’re talking to me now?”

An apology begins on your lips but you can’t push it out. Not when you still don’t understand. “Can we talk?”

He glances at you. “Have you been drinking?”

You shake your head.

“Okay.” He doesn’t walk away, folding his arms over his chest.

When you imagined this conversation, the sun shined so that you could see the warmth in his eyes. He smiled at you, called you silly for ever doubting him. The Jaemin in your head wouldn’t ever do something to hurt you.

But Jaemin doesn’t exist in your head–it’s far past time you learned that.

“I’m sorry,” you say. “I shouldn’t have just cut you off. But I thought… I don’t know what I thought, let alone what I think now.” You force yourself to meet his cold eyes, searching for a hint of warmth. “Chenle told me you dropped out of the presidency.”

He nods slowly.

“But Renjun told me that someone told him that the presidency is the only reason you ever pretended to like me, but if you dropped out then I really don’t get it. Not that I ever got it in the first place, though, because you’re you and I’m me, and everyone kept telling me that, like I didn’t already know that you are supposed to be a persimmon and grow on a tree far far away from my lemon or pomegranate or whatever kind of fruit I am, because the point is we were never meant to be.” You take a deep breath, realizing that you don’t exactly sound sane. “What I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t make sense. It made sense when you were trying to cheat me out of the presidency, but you dropped out. And it doesn’t make sense.”

Jaemin blinks slowly at you. “You would rather believe that I was trying to rob your presidency than that I actually like you?”

“Do you?”

He frowns. “Of course I do. I like you so much I think about things I’ve never wanted before, the silly shit–watching horror movies as an excuse to cuddle, having picnics by the river, buying groceries together–I wanted to do all of it with you.

“You talk a lot about how we’re different people—who gives a shit? If I’m the type of person that wants to be with you and you’re the type of person that wants to be with me, why does any of that matter?” He takes a step closer to you, and you can see you were wrong. His eyes aren’t cold, they’re full of emotion, dark waves of hurt. “What do I have to do to prove it to you? Should I tell you how pretty you are? How incredibly smart you are—not fake smart like me, but really smart. And when I’m around you, I like who I am. I know it’s cheesy but you bring out the best in me.

“I know I fucked up. I should have told you how I felt before anything else, and I shouldn’t have left. I regretted it as soon as I was gone but it was terrifying to lay next to you and give you my bare heart, even when I didn’t think you would ever try to hurt me.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know if it hurts more thinking that you never wanted a relationship or thinking that I’d ever stoop that low. I mean, everyone tells me about my reputation, but I didn’t think you cared about any of that.”

Tears prick at your eyes. How could you be such an idiot? Listening to all the wrong people, especially yourself. Jaemin doesn’t exist in another world, he isn’t any kind of fruit. He’s a boy that you like that likes you back. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, reaching a tentative hand out to rest against his arm. “I’m so sorry.” He drops his head, sighing. “I was an idiot.”

He sighs, staring at your hand. You start to drop it but he grabs it, squeezing your fingers. “Where do we go from here?”

You study him, eyes finally adjusted to the darkness. Jaemin who is not a fruit, not an alien, just a boy.

“Hey.” You reach out and cup his cheek, waiting for him to meet your eyes. “My name is YN. I think you’re really cute.”

For a heartbeat he doesn’t move. Then he smiles, cheek rising underneath your hand. “Hey, my name is Jaemin. I think you’re really cute too.”

“Oh really?” You slide your hand to the back of his neck, wrapping your other arm across it. His arms wrap on your waist, pulling you into a hug. He squeezes you flush against him, head tucked into your shoulder just as yours is tucked into his.

“I know we can’t start over,” he says, “but can we start again?”

“How about this time we just talk to each other?” You say, tapping your fingers on his shoulder. “No more rumors and gossip.”

He nods, chin digging into your neck a little. “I swear, I won’t give you any reason to doubt me ever again. I won’t be the kind of guy your friends call a red flag.”

You loosen your grip and lean back to look him in the eye. “Wait, did they seriously say that to you?”

“I ran into Donghyuck after I dropped out and we had a very… one sided conversation with his side doing all the talking,” Jaemin says, “and Renjun made it obvious from the start that he didn’t like me.”

You laugh a little, then even more when he pouts. “You’ll win them over again.”

“They really don’t like me,” he says.

You cup his cheek again. “You’ll change their minds.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes. You lean forward, resting your forehead against his. He gasps a little, hands tightening on your waist.

“Now, am I remembering incorrectly, or are you an amazing kisser?” You ask.

He grins, leaning forward and closing the distance without wasting a second. Neither of you can stop smiling, lips and teeth gnashing together but it’s still the best kiss you’ve ever had.

You stretch an arm out, only to find more bed instead of empty space. You sit up, shivering as the blanket falls away. Right, you fell asleep in Jaemin’s bed. His room is much bigger than yours, sharing an apartment with Jeno. He has enough room for a dresser and a nicer desk, even a chair. It seems he lied to you about being messy, because even when you show up unannounced, like today, his clothes are neatly folded and the biggest mess you’ve found has been three dirty dishes in the sink (which you later found out were Jeno’s).

Jeno, apparently, isn’t all bad–he did let you in even though your boyfriend was still out. He doesn’t fully trust you, but then again, your friends don’t hide their mistrust of Jaemin either. You maintain your earlier stance that time will heal that wound.

You hear a knife against a cutting board coming from the kitchen, so you wrap the blanket around your shoulders and shuffle towards the sound, unable to stop the smile from spreading up your lips when you turn the corner and find Jaemin standing at the counter. He glances behind him and grins at you, and even though you just woke up from a nap and probably have messy hair and marks on your face, he says, “you look sexy.”

“So cheesy,” you say. He laughs and turns back around. You slip behind him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his back and closing your eyes. He radiates warmth better than any blanket. It’s too easy to lean against him, take a deep breath of the scent of his laundry detergent and cling to him. Jaemin moves slowly, careful not to hit you by accident.

“What’re you doing?”

“A surprise,” he says, “at least my attempt at one.” He sets down the knife on the counter and taps on your hands, pulling them apart gently and spinning around to face you before setting your hands back on his waist. He tilts his head at you when you purse your lips and frown. “What’s wrong?”

“Still no ass,” you say, patting him a little lower than his waist.

“Hey!” He sticks his lower lip out. “I’m trying.”

“No one’s perfect,” you say, sliding your hands back up and sneaking a kiss to his cheek.

“You are,” he says, cupping your face to kiss you properly. Jaemin still kisses like it’s his last chance, drawing out every moment, lips lingering on yours until your head spins. It’s only when you can’t breathe that he finally pulls away.

“Good answer,” you say.

He smiles. “If you come to the gym with me I’d be more motivated to get an ass you’d be proud of.”

“You send enough pictures for me to know that if I saw you at the gym I would never survive,” you say. “You want me to die?”

He laughs, squishing your face together with his hands. “If anyone’s going to die, it’s going to be me, because you are too cute.”

He presses another kiss to your lips, still squished together in a pout. He laughs at the outrage on your face, letting go of your cheeks and slipping his hands behind your neck, kissing you one more time for real, letting go far too early.

“The surprise,” he says. He lets go of you with one arm, turning to the cutting board and holding up a slice of what he was cutting. It looks a little bit like a tomato, though it’s more orange than red, and about the size of a golf ball.

“A persimmon?”

“I still don’t really get the persimmon thing,” he says, “but I’ve never tried one.”

You blink at him. Jaemin makes it so easy to fall in love. He holds the piece closer to your mouth, waiting for you to open. A persimmon tastes sweet and mild and rich, a little bit like honey. Jaemin eats his own piece, frowning and nodding.

“No more magical mystical fruit,” Jaemin says.

“You’re going to make an amazing trophy husband,” you say. You tap him on the nose. “Maybe we could even be a power couple.”

He grins. “We’ll be so cool. Like Beyoncé and her husband.”

“Jay-Z?”

“Whatever.” Jaemin flips his hand. “The important part is that I am Beyoncé.”

You smack his shoulders softly. “Hell no, Beyoncé would never have a flat ass.”

“It always comes back to the ass.” He sighs. “Be honest: are you embarrassed by me?”

Once you never thought he could be embarrassing. That was before you knew he staked his career on a soap opera and wears jorts to the gym, before he called you drunk just to confess he accidentally stole your pencil, before he spent three hours putting up campaign posters for you (and then another two getting written up by campus police for not having permission). Before you fell in love with him.

“By you? Never.” You pat his cheeks. “Your ass leaves much to be desired, though.”

thank you for reading!

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct fluff #nct angst #jaemin #na jaemin #nct jaemin #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin angst

1K notes · View notes

polarisjisung · 28 days

Text

BITTERSWEET

synopsis: it's routine— you patch up his wounds and watch them heal, he salts your wounds but doesn't stick around long enough to watch them grow.

wc: 2.7k

pairings: jaemin × fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

warnings: mentions of violence, blood, uses of petnames, reader ogles at jaemin for a little while, jaemin gives mixed signals but also not really?

notes: I was supposed to post this last week but the formatting was so off anyways happy renjun day, here's a jaemin fic?

even when he was battered, bruised and most probably broken, na jaemin stared up at you with those shiny eyes, almost iridescent under the moonlight.

you havent seen him in weeks.

you'd like to kick and scream and shout at him for ghosting you all this time, the possibilities of everything that could've happened to him, worrying you endlessly up until now.

you hate him for just showing up like this, out of the blue, you think, but his composure suggests that this isn't as big of a deal as you make it out to be—whether it was weeks or maybe even months later, na jaemin would always circle back to you

like always, there he is stood at your doorstep at an ungodly hour of the night, dripping blood all over the welcome mat that lays on your front porch, his usual carefree self

you know you'll be getting a long scolding from your mother about the kind of company you surround yourself with the next morning, before being forced to rub the stains out of said mat, but in this moment, you couldn't seem to care less

perhaps it's because you swear you've never seen anything prettier, even with cuts littered across his skin, and a swollen eye that would certainly discolour the next morning, he looks ethereal.

for a moment, your jaw hangs low and jaemin holds back a chuckle at the sight, though you wish he hadn't, before you slip to the side and let him in, shutting out the cold as he flings the door to a close behind him, finally turning to face you

jaemin however, had always basked in the warm feeling of admiration that came with your look, though it mostly fell straight through his heart and inflated his sky high ego instead, jaemin wonders how despite his cocky nature you seemed to welcome him all the same

there's an unfamiliar sweetness to his scent tonight, his clothes oozing with the smell of cologne and what any sane person could recognise as perfume— women's perfume.

suddenly you find it difficult to keep looking at his stupidly pretty face, almost feeling sick

admittedly tonight your eyes hold a deeper gloominess to them, bloodshot, because you're tired, he tries to convince himself, but he knows a lot of that redness comes from the purple painted splodges against his skin, the bruises that burn deep inside his being— a burning that seems negligible at the sight of you

"cute slippers" he whispers, the sight of your fluffy pink hello kitty slippers causing the heat to rush to your cheeks

the embarrassment fades just as quickly as it seemed to have taken over your entirety— jaemin had seen a lot worse of you "almost as cute as you" he adds

you brush over the topic like it means nothing, frankly it doesn't, like most things with jaemin

"judging by the state of you" you sigh, two hands on your hips as you look him up and down disappointedly, "you didn't win this fight" and jaemin reels back, far too animated for you to assume he's actually in any pain considering the offended expression he wears, but you know him far too well to fall for his, admittedly convincing, acts

"I won, actually" he says weaving his arms through the gaps between yours to pull you closer, letting then hang at your waist

"sure you did" you nod sarcastically but he only rolls his eyes, following you into the kitchen

he knows what it means when you hold out two mugs, specifically the ones you had hand painted on your trip to the park when you were 5, adorned with the same floral pattern in different colours, and a cheesy quote continued across the two cups— his eyes light up

"hot chocolate?"

and jaemin hates hot chocolate, until its made by you, the sweet, almost childish drink something he could only savour in the dim lighting of your living room

maybe it was because of that specific brand of crazy expensive hot chocolate you used, that tasted a little dark and sometimes too strong for your liking, or maybe, most probably it was the taste of nostalgia that would linger on his lips each and every time

all jaemin knows is he would find himself laughing at the moustache of marshmallow fluff that would undoubtedly form over your upper lip as you carefully dabbed against his wounds with the antiseptic you kept on hand, one reserved solely for him since he was allergic to the regular stuff

he nods, attempting to grin before pulling his lip between his teeth at the sharp pain that strikes across it—hissing.

you laugh, despite the dull ache that takes over your chest seeing him like this

flicking your head over to the sofa is all you can do, worried your voice would give way if you gave the instructions verbatim but jaemin seems to get the memo.

as he takes a seat on your mother's favourite buttoned yellow velvet loveseat— you choose not to read to far into his choice of sofa

you're fishing through the drawers of your freezer to find some ice to help his wounds but all you can find is a bag of dino nuggets and a bag of peas— you decide the dino nuggets have a larger surface area and would probably be a little more help as you emerge through the kitchen door, hoping you made the right choice

jaemin finds the faint look of contemplation on your face far too adorable to hide the smile that reaches his now coloured cheeks, one darker than the other owing to the bruise that blossoms over it

"here" you offer it out to him wrapped in a towel, having learnt from your mistakes the last time you'd accidentally given him freezer burn

"gonna make me do it all by myself doll?" you shoot a questioning look his way "I'm all ache-y"

contrast to his tough demeanor, jaemin looks up at you with a pout and a look of feigned innocence

"yeah? well you should've thought about that before landing yourself in this situation"

you're ready to turn a full 180 on your heels and walk away, until jaemin's fingers wrap around your wrist, bruised knuckles begging for some sympathy

"please?"

ultimately you give in. you knew you would the second he looked at you with those shiny big eyes. you didn't know how to say no, not to him

"fine."

"that's my girl" he beams up at you, you know better than to let his words replay in your mind, his girl, why did that sound so damn good?

as your press the towel to his cheek, the cool feeling against his burning hot skin makes him wince, though you're not sure who's in more pain considering the way you your heart threatens to leap out of your chest

"how many times do I have to tell you to be more careful huh jaemin" you sigh, rubbing circles against his warm skin in an attempt to comfort him, angry eyes latched onto the rough blood stained patches

"don't call me that" his voice drops an octave somehow louder than before despite coming in whispers

"what else shall I call you? is that not your name jaemin?"

his eyes almost flash over completely black as he huffs, "not to you it isn't" and you notice the slither of seriousness that remains unmasked beneath his playful tone— you wonder why jaemin makes no effort to hide the solemnity of his words

but that's who he had always been, hot and cold, difficult to read, even more so to understand, he was confusing at best and so like most things with jaemin, you'd decided putting much thought to it wasn't your best idea, you would only be breaking your own heart.

"oh I didn't know it was different for me" you place a band aid against his wound, reaching to treat the next, your tongue poking out from between your lips causing jaemin to suddenly smile, eyes unwavering from the soft pink skin of your lip

between nights spent in his lousy apartment, cooped up in the illusive comfort of his arms and days spent with tear stained cheeks at the thought of being some disposable little thing in his life, you can't help but find yourself unsure of your place in his life

the acidity rising in your throat should be enough of a reality check for you to know the answer to your question, but self awareness had never been your strong suit.

at times he made you feel like the only girl in the world, most times he made no effort to acknowledge your existence, because jaemin was a man of two extremes

when he cared, or at least seemed to, he did so with his whole heart, and when he didn't— well you couldn't have felt any more worthless

right now his speech is sweet, like his voice is honey and his words are sugar-coated, you're intoxicated by the way his deep cologne overwhelms your senses, making your best attempt to filter out the cheap feminine scent that seems to have blended itself into his

"you know it is doll, everything is different with you" his voice reduces further into deeper whispers, words that hit your mind and soul all at once, heartbeat sounding somewhere in the background as the words echo in your mind

you shake your head.

jaemin had always been adventurous with his words, he was bold to say the least, meaning you knew to take his words with a pinch of salt, or two— however many were necessary really.

drunk on what little love he gave you, you find a sudden dizziness overwhelm you— the good kind that makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside even if just for a moment.

honestly speaking, you know you'd believe anything that came out of his mouth— na jaemin could wake up one day and decide the sky was pink and the earth was flat and you'd take it as bible.

you suppose it's just integrated into your genetic coding or something, to be at his beck and call, to let the walls you build around yourself fall down every time, you would protect yourself from the whole world, but the harsh truth was, you couldn't protect yourself from him ,though you didn't mind all that much.

"one of these days I'll leave you at the door to rot" your eyes roll at his words in an attempt to return to the playful mood, and jaemin knows you would never, but the brief mention of the possibility still makes him gulp, sound resonating in his ears

"never" he whispers, suddenly his eyes are glossy and his grip on the warm mug begins to loosen, the thought of losing you never having been one to cross his mind until now, you however, seem as unbothered as before

similar to most things in life, jaemin took you for granted.

but that was the thing, you were unlike anyone, anything, any part of his life— you were special.

jaemin knew you meant a lot to him, it wasn't a secret he tried to hide, not that he was particularly good at expressing it either, but the way your hair falls over your face as you concentrate on patching up his injuries and your skin glows under the dim light has jaemin wondering just how much you mean to him.

jaemin decides you mean the most to him, more than anyone else.

as a man of habit, he wonders what that would mean for these habits of his that you hated oh so much. very little, most probably. he had you amongst a thousand other wrapped around his finger, cast under his spell, deeply infatuated with him but somehow playing with you felt the most special.

that was the problem, you were special to him and as much as he enjoyed playing with fire, jaemin had never thought he'd find himself getting burnt.

you don't realise the silence that befalls the room, nothing but the soft buzz of the fridge or the flicker of the soon to fuse kitchen light mixed with your soft breaths— he had noticed they grew louder as you became more exhausted, guilt beginning to settle somewhere in the pit of his stomach, knowing he was keeping you awake

he was always a little selfish when it came to you, he knew that

your eyes land on jaemin, his flooding with something you can only hope is a feeling of warmth— anything but his usual sudden switch up before he'd announce he was leaving, only for you to see him the next time he got himself like this, a couple nights into the next week most probably, a routine you can't say you had appreciated, nor condoned

most things with jaemin were like this, short lived, and bittersweet, although the bitter part seemed more overpowering at times

you can't help but hold onto the little slither of hope that tonight will be different

"hey doll" his free hand cups your cheek, forcing your noticeably distant eyes into his—but instead of the icy cold stare you expect, you're met with fire, his eyes burning with promise

"hmm?" your eyes lock, "what's up?"

"never stop nagging at me, please" he sucks in a harsh breath, hoping you'll say something to stop him from completely losing control of his words and spilling every thought he's ever held back when it came to you, a lot really

but you only take a sip of the warm drink in your mug, the tones of dark cocoa and the traces of coffee so distinct.

the white foam spreading across your lip as you now decide to tend to the gash beneath his eyebrow, though jaemin sees it as an excuse to take ahold of your face between his fingers, thumb tracing over your upper lip

"cute" your wide eyes make him chuckle, noticing a small speck of white still resting on your lip

"would you look at that, I missed a spot" you find yourself being pulled further into his lap, legs messily sprawled across the couch along with his, you don't mind however, his pink glossy lips the only thing on your mind

you'd like to let him ruin you, make you his puppet, blind you with his warmth and make you his and only his. even if you were his little plaything, it didn't matter, nothing mattered as long as you were his.

"and what are you going to do about it nana, hmm?"

you let your nose rest gently against his, soft vanilla scent mixing with the deep musky cologne jaemin wore, you wonder how it manages to last throughout the day considering your perfumes lasted all of 5 minutes, at best

"whatever you'd like doll, just say the word and I'll do it"

"you promise?"

jaemin nods, "I promise" and he holds you tight, because like all things good in life, jaemin knows one day, he'll lose you too

as you pout your lips at his, a knowing smile in his eyes , the first aid box is long forgotten behind you and your lips fall atop each other, like they'd always meant to.

you can't help but wonder how long jaemin will stick to this promise of his, forever you hope, though you know better.

especially when his hot cocoa flavoured kisses, like the true essence of jaemin, were so damn bittersweet.

448 notes · View notes

leejenowrld · 3 months

Text

campus heartbreak series

m. angst, fluff, smut

— enter the heartbreak campus, where love, sex, heartbreak, playboys, fake dating, tangled emotions, and unexpected connections unfold in intricate ways. join the rollercoaster of relationships, where navigating matters of the heart is as demanding as acing your exams. tread cautiously in this campus; heartbreak isn't just an experience—it's a vital part of the curriculum.

— comment to be added to the tag list for each update

☆ PLAYBOY ONE - completed

lee jeno x reader

strangers to lovers, opposite’s attract

— my first and last meet jeno, the campus heartbreaker and secret nerd. he only has eyes for you—a shy, introverted stranger who turns his life upside down. what begins as a reputation-defying connection evolves into intense, immediate love. unexpectedly, personal struggles and external issues threaten your bond, leaving once-confident jeno shattered and entangled in a tumultuous love story.

☆ PLAYBOY TWO - here

na jaemin x reader

situationship vibes

— ghostin’ (inspired by ariana grande)

after being brutally dumped by your ex hyunjin, you’re living a broken life, lost in the consumption of getting high and heartbreak. then you meet na jaemin, a one-night stand transforms into a bond. he becomes the catalyst for your healing. but can you genuinely break free from the attachment to your toxic ex? between newfound connection and lingering attachments, will you move on or hold on?

☆ PLAYBOY THREE - unwritten

mark lee x reader

best friends to lovers

— if i get my way you've loved your best friend mark lee forever, but when he dates someone you have tension with, it gets rocky. unable to handle unrequited feelings, you distance yourself. when mark's relationship ends, he turns to you, sparking fights, emotions, and a tumultuous journey. can you navigate this chaos or will it all come crashing down?

☆ PLAYBOY FOUR - unwritten

donghyuck x reader

enemies to lovers, bet au

— 10 things i hate about you your no-nonsense attitude makes you the last person anyone would want to date. however, your younger sister jieun can only date if you do. enter renjun, a new student, who, with the help of the mysterious donghyuck, attempts to win your heart and clear the path for jieun’s love life.

☆ PLAYBOY FIVE - unwritten

jung jaehyun x reader

fake dating, friends to lovers

— love letter when your secret love letters are accidentally sent to your past crushes, you agree to a fake relationship with jung jaehyun, one of the recipients. as you navigate the charade, unexpected feelings surface, complicating the arrangement.

— all are smut, fluff, angst. all fics will be one shots or two part series. however they can also be read as standalones. these are connected, all taking place in the same universe and campus, meaning you will see original characters and nct members making big appearances in each and every fic.

— read with caution, the fics will theme heavily around smut, playboys, drugs, drinking, mature content, explicit language, heavy angst, heavy smut, heavy fluff

665 notes · View notes

gyeomsweetgyeom · 6 months

Text

[2:41 pm]

(cw: pregnant reader, pregnancy complication scare, a little angst with a fluffy ending)

Simply saying you were stressed wouldn't even begin to cover all the chaos that happened to you throughout the day. First, you car wouldn't start as you were trying to go to work, so you went in late. It was even more of a pain to call your boss and explain that on a day that you asked to get off early you were also going to come in late, even though it was out of your control he was far from happy. Then you had a meeting that you had to rush into, not to mention you were a little under prepared thanks to pregnancy brain and overall exhaustion.

After the meeting finished you just couldn't wait to take a break and then go home. Your mind had been in a million places all at once, focusing on only getting yourself through the day. Unfortunately your mind wasn't even on the other life growing inside of you until you were seated on an sterile, paper wrapped exam table.

You were 5 months into your pregnancy and just a few weeks ago your little one started to kick whenever they could. When you laughed you'd feel the little feet flutter at the bottom of your rib cage. Sometimes when you were falling asleep you'd feel that same flutter on the left side of your belly. It felt strange, like actual butterflies in your stomach, but it was a strange feeling you'd come to love- it was your baby.

Your mind began to race. All day you'd been so focused on yourself that you didn't even pay attention to your baby. You were still early enough in your pregnancy that something could go wrong, had something gone wrong? Had you been so stressed that something happened? Had you been too selfish to focus only on yourself and not the well-being on the baby inside of you?

You wrung your hands together as dad!Jaemin stepped into the room, pressing a kiss to your forehead in greeting while he took in the far away look on your face. He tried asking you how your day was and received only a hum in response. He reached out and ran a hand over your shoulder, "What's wrong my love?"

"I didn't feel the baby move today," you whispered, afraid your voice would crack.

"You had a stressful day my love, I'm sure everything is fine. The doctor will come in and we're going to hear a strong heartbeat, and everything will be fine," Jaemin reassured, pressing his lips to your temple as you tried your best to keep yourself calm. He wouldn't tell you in the moment or probably even for a while, but he felt his stomach drop and tie itself into knots at the idea that something could be wrong. He kept his face calm to reassure you but his mind was running through every worst case scenario there was.

The doctor came in and ran through her usual questions and asked if you had any concerns, of course you told her about not feeling the baby move. Her face didn't change as she reassured you that some days babies just weren't as active, but the scan would be the most informative.

You laid back with your shirt pulled up to reveal your bump, you brought up a hand to rest on your chest, noticing the shakiness from your nerves. Jaemin took note and took your hand into his grasp and pressed a kiss there to put you at ease.

Your doctor did her routine of showing you the baby's head, feet, arms, and hands. Then asked you both to get ready to hear the heartbeat. You shut your eyes tightly in anticipation, all you could hear at the moment was the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. Jaemin steeled himself. If they didn't hear anything he would have to be strong for you. He wouldn't be able to break down when you were already so worried that it could all be your fault. He hoped and prayed that he wouldn't have to do that and would only have to be the reassuring voice that, yes, of course everything would be fine.

"And there it is, steady and strong." You heard before you finally focused on the beat playing around the room.

It almost felt like you were deflating, all your worries seemed to melt away as it turned out that everything was fine. "Looks like the baby knew you needed all the energy you could get today so they stayed a little calmer. It's normal to have some days be more active than others, but of course if you have any concerns please don't hesitate to reach out if needed," the doctor smiled as she passed you a few paper towels to wipe off the gel still coating your stomach.

Jaemin let out a long breath too, feeling his heat return to it's usual resting heartbeat while the doctor told him that the receptionists at the front would have their pictures and help schedule their next appointment.

Jaemin pressed another kiss to your forehead, "I told you everything would be fine."

"Don't think I didn't hear you let out that long breath or squeeze my hand," You replied as you eased yourself off the table.

"That wasn't me." Jaemin stated firmly.

You laughed, "It's fine we can both cry about it when we get home."

He pulled you into his side by your waist, "I'd rather cry looking at the new pictures of our beautiful baby."

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct x reader #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #jaemin scenarios #jaemin x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #jaemin timestamps #jaemin blurbs

572 notes · View notes

moniescove · 4 months

Text

like him

snap!

"shit" is all jaemin can think as the girl he didnt even bother asking for a name peppers sloppy kisses along his neck. Her touch suddenly feeling nauseating as the flashes keep going off.

In a quick move Jaemin pushes the mystery girl off of him, hoping and praying that the camera was all his own imagination.

"What's wrong-" the puzzled girl starts before he cuts her off.

"Please just get out of the car I need to go." Jaemin says in a slur of words trying to get her out as quickly as possible. "But Jaem-"

"Please. Get out." Sternly he looks at her while unlocking his doors awaiting her leave.

"Ugh you're such a dick Na Jaemin." pouting the girl leaves the car and slams the door to head back to wherever she came from.

In the silence of the car his heart beats out of his chest before rushing home. But not before stopping at a flower shop to pick up a peony boquet. Your favorite.

•

Standing outside of your shared apartment Jaemin can only hope some higher power out there really can hear him and help him out. They just took the pictures, theres no way they've gone around yet. he tries to convince himself but being in this buisness for as long as he has, he'll be lucky if they aren't plastered on billboards right now.

With one final breath, boquet in hand as the other shakily reaches for the knob he goes in.

Relief washes over his anxious mind when he sees you watching television with nothing but nonchalance on your face as you witness the characters on screen laughing.

"Hey pretty lady" coyly he says as he approaches your shared couch with the boquet behind his back. Feeling relieved by the second realizing you havent seen anything yet.

"Hey Jaem" you say with the usual smile on your face. Skeptically eyeing him as he approaches with his hands behind his back. Finally standing in front of you he crouches down to land a kiss on your cheek before revealing the boquet he bought you.

"Aw you didn't have to babe." with a smile on your face you plant a kiss on a beaming Jaemin before getting up to look for a vase.

"Just felt like getting my princess something." Jaemin says following behind you before grasping your arm to pull you into his chest. Embracing you before planting a kiss on your forehead.

"Whats up with you today?" you giggle looking up at your boyfriend who can only grin back at you in order to mask his anxieties of you figuring him out. "Can't I just love my girlfriend?" Jaemin says before reaching in for another kiss.

"Which one?" you ask. His heart stops as the color begins to drain from his face.

"'nct Jaemin caught in car with girlfriend'" recalling the title of the article name as you look up at his aghast face. "I didn't know we went on a date today" you continue with not a single change in the smile you send his way. "From what I remember I've been here all day."

Jaemin's mouth opening and closing trying to form words but with no avail. All he can feel is guilt. In an attempt to save himself he starts "I don't know what you're talking about babe." he tries but fails.

"Jaemin" seperating from his grasp feeling repulsed you gulp down the lump forming in your throat. "Don't act stupid with me, I saw everything. The pictures the articles, everything." Unable to keep up the facade your face drops as your emotions finally come up to the forefront. Jaemin watches as your clear eyes become glossy with a blink, the way your face contorts into that of heartbreak and betrayal.

"B-baby you know those tabloids lie-" he lets out hesitantly trying to convince you to believe him as he walks towards you.

"Stop." finally the tears breaking through your eyes down your face all you can do is cry before continuing. "Please Jaemin, just leave I really don't want to play this game with you just please." All he can do is watch with unease as the one girl he shouldve loved and protected is hurting because of him.

"Please baby it was a misunderstanding, I don't even know that girl-"

"So all these years we spent together was worth a girl you didn't even know? Thats all we amount to? That's all I amount to? Because you couldn't keep your dick in your pants you decided to throw it all away?" through your messy tears you continue to break down. "You threw me away for a short high Jaemin." Throwing the boquet at his feet you finish. "I hope it was worth it."

Trying to push past his way Jaemin grabs your wrist. "Please baby I'm sorry it didn't mean anything." going on his knees to express his sincerity. Refusing to meet his eyes you attempt to pull your arm away to no avail as he brings your hand to his lips and lands a chaste kiss before sliding it to his cheek. "I know I fucked up please baby I promise I'll make it up to you." Jaemin continues to spill out to try and break through to you. All you could do is let out an exasperated laugh before finally looking at him kneeled before you with pleading eyes. The same eyes that promised you his future, the eyes that had all the answers you needed. The same eyes that threw it all away for a second of bliss.

Hurt and anger leaving you feeling nauseated as the tears kept falling down your face. You felt so betrayed that he could do this to you and so unabashedly beg for your forgiveness after crushing your heart like it was something as accessible as whats under his pants.

"You promised me you wouldn't be like him Jaemin. You promised you wouldn't hurt me the way he did." is all you could cry out without continuing to break down. And just like that Jaemin is left stumped trying to find words that won't come out, any word that he hoped would change your mind but nothing formed because he knew he lost you.

All the feelings of betrayal, insecurity, heartache, grief, new and old consumed you as the wounds in your heart continued to drive deeper with every aching memory that rushes back to you until all you feel is complete numbness watching the man who was once the love of your life hurt you in unimaginable ways. With not another word you turn around, walk out that door and never turn back.

425 notes · View notes

iced-nct · 5 months

Text

Greedy NJM

Pairing: CFO Na Jaemin x F Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Suggestive, occasional swear, jealous Jaemin Synopsis: Jaemin knew the second you walked into his office to interview for a sales role that he needed to hire you. Incredibly well spoken and driven, you reminded him a lot of himself in some ways. Except he didn’t want you for a sales position. Oh no. He wanted you as his personal assistant. Promptly after meeting with you, he let go of his current assistant to hire you for it instead. If Jaemin is going to be stuck at his desk for ten hours a day, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a pretty thing to stare at just outside his door. Maybe you’ll be able to tame the infamous office playboy.

a/n: just casually dipping in to drop a 4.5k Jaemin Apply Within fic that I have been working on for like years lmfao. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! I promise I'm going to be more active with my fics again!!!

Jaemin’s secretary blinked slowly at him, as if to process what she had just heard. “You are… firing me? Did I do something?”

“No, I just needed a change of scenery! And I’m not firing you, I am just relocating you to a different department” He chirped in response, his voice cheerful though his eyes were dark and expression firm.

Jaemin turned his back to her to head into his corner office, “oh. One more thing.” He turned, one palm pressed firmly against the door frame as he leaned back. “I need all your things moved by tonight. My new secretary starts tomorrow morning” He winked before slamming his door closed.

Today could not have been off to a worse start. First there was the hole in your favorite pair of stockings, then your coffee machine decided to have a meltdown, and finally you had missed the bus that would allow you extra time to grab coffee on the way to the office. As far as first day’s go, this was not your best. Having to settle for a pair of plain sheer black tights to wear under your skirt and ordering a taxi, knowing full well the extra money was well worth having time to grab a cup of coffee. You hurried out the door, laptop bag and purse in hand, just hoping as you hustled into the back of the cab that the day wouldn’t get any worse.

The line at the coffee shop was surprisingly not horrendous, it only took about 10 minutes before you were holding your iced coffee and making your way through the entrance to Neo Dream. Jaemin’s office was on the 20th floor, you remembered this from your interview. As you moved to get off on your floor a solid chest made contact with your cup, spilling coffee all down the front of yourself and the stark white dress shirt in front of you.

“I am so sorry! I was in such a rush, I should have paid better attention” You rambled, hoping that this stranger wouldn’t chew you out for such an accident.

“Miss Y/n?” You looked up to see Jaemin smiling down at you. “First day jitters?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, “I am very sorry Mr. Na. I will clean this up right away”

“Don’t bother, I will call the janitorial staff to clean up. We should get started with your tour, after we get changed” He tilted his head, indicating for you to follow.

The view from Jaemin’s office was stunning to say the least, the sun was almost up now but you could imagine the sunrises and sunsets that could be viewed from these windows.

“Yes, the view is lovely isn’t it?” You turned to find Jaemin, a sliver of his chest just barely exposed to you as he buttoned up a black dress shirt. “I apologize, I seem to have run out of women’s blouses, but I do have a knit sweater that may work” he jested while handing you a gray wool sweater.

It was clearly men’s, but this would have to make do for today. Just as you were about to slip the sweater on over your stained blouse a hand stopped you.

“If we don’t send these off to the drycleaners, the stain will set and ruin your shirt. I can’t have that, and I don’t want you to either. Just wear the sweater and I’ll send your shirt off with mine” His smile was charming, almost knee weakening.

“Oh okay… but is there somewhere else for me to change?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin’s eyes widened with realization “Yes, oh gosh I’m sorry, I will turn around. You let me know when you’re decent”

You turned your back to him and began unbuttoning the shirt. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin could make out the reflection of your chest in the window beside him. Not much could be seen, but the way the black lace of your bra held you had him wishing you allowed him to watch. Just as Jaemin’s dress pants started to get a little too tight for his liking, you cleared your throat, snapping him back from his thoughts.

“Thank you for the sweater! What should I get started with today?” You asked, whilst handing over your stained shirt.

“You can get started on unpacking your desk and setting yourself up. I have some afternoon meetings that I will be in today, so I doubt we will see eachother very much. Just answer the phone if it rings and book in meetings for this week” You nodded at the instructions and headed out, closing the door behind you.

You paused to lean on it, breathing slowly as the picture of that small sliver of Jaemin’s defined chest floated around in your head. In the office behind you, your boss sat down at his desk, taking all the effort in the world to not call you back in to help him deal with the situation beneath his desk right now.

Days had turned into weeks, and though nothing of note had happened after that first eventful morning. You had settled in wonderfully, making friends with people on the finance floor, accompanying Jaemin to the occasional meeting to take notes for him when he didn’t feel like it, and canceling meetings he had with Mark just because it was funny to watch them squabble. There was lots of extra chatter throughout the office as everyone buzzed with excitement for the first annual company gala. A newer finance colleague had asked you to the gala a few days ago, and you had gladly accepted, assuming that it was a friendly gesture from one newbie to another. Excitement filled your chest as you thought about how much fun it would be to attend this company gala. The excitement was cut short however, when the door to Jaemin’s office swung open. Your boss stood there staring daggers at you, dread rushed in as you mentally went through every file you placed on his desk today, every meeting you had booked. What could you have possibly done wrong?

“Y/n. Come in here please.” Jaemin’s voice was deadly cold as he strode back towards his desk.

You slinked in, he gestured for you to close the door. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked, hesitating to turn around to face him.

“Have a seat, we’ll talk about it” He nodded to the chair in front of his desk for you to sit.

Despite sitting, the load on your shoulders felt ten times heavier under Jaemin’s stare. He slid a small pink envelope across the desk to you, your name scrawled in ink on the front.

“What is this?” He tapped the envelope with his middle finger.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen that before” You answered, and truthfully you hadn’t seen it before.

“It was in the files you brought me this morning, just tucked between some reports. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found out my trusted secretary is having an office romance with one of my junior finance employees” the smile that hung on Jaemin’s lips did not reach his eyes.

Your eyes widened “office romance? No no you’ve misunderstood. He just asked me to the gala last week, that's all. I have no idea what the letter is and I- wait. You opened it?”

The smile faded as he processed your words. Oh Jaemin would not have his secretary on the arm of anyone other than him, and he would make sure of that. Despite the other women around the office, who Jaemin had been making his way through, you managed to get under his skin in all the right ways.

“Sorry, I thought you knew” He started, propping his head up on his hands “secretaries are required to escort their managers to the gala. Mark’s rules” Jaemin grinned lazily.

“Oh! So I’ll still be working, right?” you thought about all the extra things you would need to prepare in this case, starting with a much bigger clutch to keep all Jaemin’s business cards in.

Jaemin smirked, “That’s correct Y/n. You have to be by my side all night. Make sure you let me know the color of your dress so I can plan my tie accordingly”

You nodded, your boss’ phone began to ring echoing throughout his large office. “I’ll bring you a swatch tomorrow morning” You spoke softly as you stood to leave the room.

Jaemin only nodded in response before picking up the phone “Mark!! How goes it over in-” His sentence cut off as the door shut behind you.

“What an odd day” you pondered while sifting through the hundreds of emails in your inbox. Mark had taken the liberty to have Haechan set up all Jaemin’s emails to duplicate so you had copies of important things as well. Unfortunately this also meant you got to see all the emails that lovestruck employees sent him without knowing you could see the confessions as well. After deleting what must have been the 20th email love note, you came across a thread that caught your eye. The email was from another female employee, detailing things she and Jaemin had done the previous night. From the sounds of it, you weren’t the only one engaging in an alleged “office romance”. There were quite a few more like that email, all talking about how they loved it when Jaemin did that “thing”. You weren’t sure what the “thing” was, but from the way he had these ladies begging for him via email correspondence you couldn’t help but be curious. It didn’t help that some had described certain acts in such detail, it was only natural that your head drifted away from work causing you to think about Jaemin’s head between your-

The thought was cut short by a loud thud from the elevator. Upon inspection you could see the finance junior who asked you to the gala had dropped a box of their belongings on the floor. The security guard who was with them helped gather their belongings back into the supply box before giving them a reassuring pat on the shoulder. You thought about going over to ask what happened, but a ping from your inbox beat you to it. ‘I WAS WRONGLY FIRED BY NA JAEMIN” was the subject line, there was no body to the email. Just that one subject line that left chills down your spine. You glanced to your boss’ door then back to your computer screen, the email was sent to everyone on the finance floor. It wasn’t long before chatter began amongst your colleagues on the floor. Everyone was curious to know about their former colleague scorned, making incredibly obvious passes by the now barren desk that once housed the junior finance employee. Jaemin seemed unbothered by the office bustle, opting to send you a teams chat asking for you to accompany him out of the office for his suit fitting for the gala.

The interior of the store was full of mannequins decked out in name brand clothing that had your bank account near tears. Though you were only here to keep an eye on Jaemin’s emails and schedule for the day, he kept asking for your input on the suits he chose. The swatch you had at home would have to wait for another day, though he assured you it would be no hassle to have a tie ordered into the office in the correct color.

“Well? Does this make me seem intimidating enough?” He turned his head over his shoulder to ask you.

There was simply no denying the fact that Jaemin WORE the clothes, they did not wear him. He looked stunning in everything, so much so that you kept catching your mind slipping off to imagine the things he could do in the dressing room. Your eyes must’ve lingered for too long without speaking, as Jaemin chuffed a laugh.

“I’m so sorry, yes it looks great!” you smile warmly at him, just as another ping comes through on his work phone. An email from Mark asking about the firing of the finance colleague and why he is now receiving multiple emails from the distressed former employee.

Jaemin cocks his head, one brow raised in question “Something the matter?”

You lock the phone quickly and look up at where he stands on the pedestal for his fitting. “Just Mark asking about an employee who was fired earlier, apparently he is now receiving emails stating that he was wrongfully terminated.” You stare, waiting for a reaction from him that never comes.

“Ah yes, he was fraternizing with other employees. Can’t have my department become a cesspool now, can I?” His answer is cold as ice, his face revealing no indication of what he is thinking.

You can’t help but laugh at his reference, as if he hadn’t been sleeping with multiple employees from different departments. “What seems to be so funny, Y/n?”

“Oh, nothing. Just your cesspool reference was funny” You roll your eyes, not expecting him to continue prodding. But he does just that.

“And why, pray tell, is it funny? Is my finance department a joke to you?” His eyes narrow, the shop steward who was pinning the suit even stops momentarily to give you a glance.

You need a moment to collect your thoughts. To try and decide just where you should begin with this. “You know Haechan set up my email so that I get duplicates of all the emails sent to you, right?”

Jaemin nods thoughtfully, before his eyes widen in realization. “You get all my emails?”

You bob your head “every single one of them. Mark insisted it was set up that way so you can never say you just missed a meeting invite in your swaths of emails.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in frustration. “Y/n, what have you been seeing?” his foot tapping against the stained wood of the pedestal.

“Just the usual. Multiple emails from Mark about meetings, Renjun sending gala updates, Haechan providing timelines for software updates, Jeno sending memes that he has made instead of marketing campaigns, Jisung sending you meeting schedules with investors for the week, Chenle sending selfies mostly.” You shrug, pleased with your answer.

“That’s it? Nothing else?” His tone is tense and his eyes are fixed on you, gluing you to the spot on the bench.

“Finance employees sending you updated reports too. Oh! And just the casual love confession, or excruciatingly detailed emails from your lovers” You smirk at him.

“I see.” Jaemin steps down, shooing the shop steward away as he strides towards you, “and tell me, Y/n. Do you read all of those excruciatingly detailed emails?” He leans down slightly, your faces mere inches apart.

You wet your lips, noticing Jaemin’s eyes flick down to your mouth before coming back up to meet your gaze. “Yes.”

He straightens back to his full height, now towering over where you sat. “Interesting indeed” he mutters before turning back to the shop employee to continue with his fitting.

The next morning you had a large iced americano sitting on the edge of your desk for your boss, along with the fabric swatch. It was odd, seldom did you beat Jaemin to the office. But today you felt extra jittery, especially after how hot his eyes had felt on you yesterday during his fitting. In fact, it was a shock that you managed to get a few hours of sleep. You had tossed and turned all night, thoughts of Jaemin taking you in the dressing room after your conversation had taken your mind hostage. A few times throughout the night you had awoken in a cold sweat, finally deciding to just get up at 5am instead of trying to get a few more hours of rest. That was how you ended up at your desk at 6:30, a large cup of tea clutched in your hands as you sifted through more meeting invites and emails.

“Good morning Y/n. You’re awfully early.” Jaemin smiled warmly, a glint of something else shone in his eyes.

You gestured lazily to the cup of coffee on the edge of your desk “That’s for you, the swatch too”

His smile dropped as he stared at the coffee and the swatch “your dress is red?”

“Yes” you nodded before adding “I hope that’s alright”

“That will be just fine, I just so happen to have a tie that I think is the same color.” Jaemin fixed a tight smile before heading into his office and closing the door.

A few hours later a gorgeous intern from accounting came by, stopping at your desk “I have an appointment with Mr. Na” She smiled.

“Sure, just a moment” you returned her smile while getting up to knock on your boss’ door.

“Send her in.” Jaemin said through the thick oak door before you could even let him know his one o’clock was here.

She left an hour later, hair messier than it was when she arrived and her stockings had noticeable runs down both legs. All you could do was cock a brow as she breezed past with her blush stained cheeks. ‘I’m sure I’ll get an email about that later’ you thought, mentally rolling your eyes. Moments later your boss appeared at his door, fixing his tie nonchalantly.

“Y/n, take the rest of the day off before the gala tonight. I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight, alright?” His voice was cold and detached, much like it had been at the store.

“Sure, thank you. I will see you then” It was no use putting up a fight. And it was certainly no use to ask him what had been on the tip of your tongue since yesterday. All you wanted was to know why that employee had been fired, and if their claim had any merit.

True to his word, Jaemin arrived at 7 on the dot. A swanky black car pulled up outside, the driver meeting you by the door for you to get in. After the door was shut you noticed Jaemin’s eyes fixated on you, suddenly the tight red dress you opted for felt all too revealing.

He licked his lips slowly before speaking “I get the feeling there’s something you want to ask me, Y/n?”

“Why did you fire that employee that asked me out and gave me that letter?” You asked, Jaemin just stared at you in shock, clearly not expecting that to be the question.

“I- well. He had falsified a few reports so I was going to let him go anyway, but…” He trailed off, turning to look out the window instead of at you. “I thought you were going to ask about the escort from earlier”

You nearly choked on your own breath “Escort? I thought she was from accounting!”

Jaemin hung his head in defeat “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was never good at processing things. Instead of thinking though the issue I jumped straight to numbness, and I apologize”

You simply could not believe your ears, you had figured that’s what was going on. But somehow it still took you by surprise. “Wait, why are you telling me all this?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“When I interviewed you for that sales role, I had such bad thoughts. I decided to tell you I needed an assistant instead. But I had one already. I fired her to give you the role. I just wanted that pretty little ass outside my office. I wanted to rub it in everyone’s faces that I had the hottest secretary. But then you got that letter, and I noticed you starting to get a little too much attention than I liked. And I didn’t expect to like you this much and-” He rambled on before stopping abruptly to look at you.

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall “two people lost their jobs because of me?” Your voice felt raw.

“Technically only one, the other guy was getting fired for fraud anyway. It was just a coincidence. And I didn’t fire my former secretary, I relocated her to another department. That was poor phrasing on my end” Jaemin reached for your hands, you foolishly let him hold on.

This was an enormous pill to swallow. “So let me get this straight.” You squeezed Jaemin’s hands. “You removed your secretary, hired me because you think I’m hot, got jealous when I was getting attention, forced me to be your date for this gala, and then hired an escort to take out your frustrations instead of just coming clean and talking to me?”

“That’s about it, yeah” Jaemin nodded enthusiastically.

“I quit.” You pulled your hands back to your lap.

Jaemin’s smile fell, his eyes showing the panic he was feeling. “No, no you can’t quit. Who’s going to read my emails to me and copy down all the meeting notes that I don’t feel like doing?”

You shrugged “I’m not sure, Jaemin. I just know it won’t be me.”

The timing was lovely as the car had pulled up to the venue, the driver was already opening the door to help you out. Jaemin clutched your hand desperately. “Please, Y/n. Please just give me the night to make things right.”

You brushed him off “I will accompany you tonight, but tomorrow morning I will be packing my things. I’m sorry”

Jaemin led the way into the gala, his shoulders slumped in defeat. To anyone else, you were sure he looked angry, but you knew the truth. The first hour of the gala was spent greeting fellow colleagues and investors. You stopped to chat with Renjun, praising him for how incredible the party turned out, to which he agreed with a small smile and flushed cheeks.

“He’s into the party planner he hired” Jaemin leaned down to whisper in your ear.

The sudden closeness took you by surprise, but you couldn’t help but slightly lean back into his chest. The countless champagne flutes did not help the situation, no matter how much you wanted to not be around Jaemin right now, your other desires had taken over. Jaemin’s hand was placed firmly on your hip, holding you in place.

“I think it’s time we get you home sweetheart” He spoke softly, looking around to find the nearest exit.

You could only nod, agreeing that it was in fact time to head home. Jaemin kept his grip on your hip as he escorted you through the crowds of people, stopping only once to whisper something to Mark before continuing to the exit. Just as it had been when you arrived, Jaemin’s car and driver were stationed out front. The car door was already open for you two to get in, he helped you into the car and you slumped against him.

Sun had streamed in through the large windows of your bedroom bright and early. You cursed yourself for not remembering to shut the curtains before getting into bed last night. Wait, you didn’t have curtains, or the luxurious silk bedding, or a king sized bed. Realization hit you, Jaemin must’ve taken you home. But when you looked over to the other side of the bed you found it still untouched. You were thankfully still in your dress from last night.

After gathering up some courage and taking the Advil that was conveniently left on the nightstand you took off down the hallway of the apartment. On the couch you found your boss, drinking a cup of coffee while leisurely flipping through reports.

“Good morning sleepy girl” He cooed at you.

You squinted back at him “lest you not forget, I quit last night. And you upset me.”

“I recall. I also recall you chirping at me in the car that you wanted me to bring you here and ‘do the things from the emails’ to you” He chuckled, blush crept across your cheeks.

“I am very sorry. I will head out now.” You started towards the door.

“Y/n. Wait.” Jaemin rose from his place on the sofa, his long strides reaching you quickly. “Now that it’s not a conflict of interest, I was wondering if you would allow me to take you on a date?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “A date? Jaemin, you only hired me because you thought I was hot! I’m so pissed off at you! I thought I had merit, I thought I was good at my job!” You were stopped short by Jaemin’s lips on yours.

The kiss seemed to have surprised you both. Both of you stood in shock, just staring at each other.

“You are” His voice was soft.

“I am what?” Your brows furrowed.

“Good at your job. Mark requested we send you off to another department that needs a manager. I said no, because I need you to keep me organized. I have never made it to so many meetings!” He grinned at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Could I move to a different department to be a manager?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin breathed a sigh of relief “Yes, you absolutely can. I can always bring back my old secretary in your place”

“Then I will.” You beamed happily.

“You will what? Move departments?” Jaemin’s hands squeezed your shoulders in anticipation.

“Well yes obviously.” you rolled your eyes. “But also, I’ll let you take me out.”

Jaemin pulled you into another kiss, this one much less abrupt than the last. His lips were soft against yours, and his hands worked their way down your body. Your fingers combed through his hair, stopping occasionally to tug slightly.

“Oh we have to stop. I still think about your first day when you had to change in my office.” He confessed.

You smirked at him, “That’s alright. I think about it too.”

“I’ll have the driver take you home and I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something red again. It looks stunning on you.” He kissed you one last time before sending you off.

The next week was a do over of your first day, but this time as a manager for partner relations. But instead of taking an Uber, you arrived with the CFO in his personal car.

“I’ll see you after work sweetheart. Let me know if I need to fire anyone for you” Jaemin winked before placing a kiss on your lips before exiting the elevator onto the finance floor.

“Ugh, you are so lucky” another employee in the office wined before exiting at the next stop.

The doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator. The biggest grin plastered across your face as you thought aloud “Yeah, I am pretty lucky, aren’t I?”

#nct dream #nct #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #nct fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #jaemin angst

444 notes · View notes

kyufessions · 6 months

Text

customer service

synopsis: you get into a small argument with your boyfriend over facetime

pairings: idol, boyfriend! jaemin x g.n. reader

genre: angst w/ a happy ending, drabble(?)

word count: 1.1k

general taglist: @jwnghyuns @eaudenana @soobin-chois

jaemin smiles to himself as he listens to you telling him about your day at work, the corner of his lips turning downward as you tell him about a rude customer you encountered today.

“you didn’t deserve that baby, i’m sorry.” he responded, propping his phone up against the extra pillow on his hotel bed as he laid against the other.

on the screen you dismissed his apology, chuckling at it, even. “don’t apologize, it’s not your fault people can’t respect customer service workers.” he watches you smile as you take a sip of your hot chocolate, taking note of the colorful marshmallows you used that he specifically filled up in the cupboard before he left home three weeks ago. “how’s tour? are you taking care of yourself? please say yes.”

nodding, he adjusts himself on the bed so his elbow is propping up his head to properly face the phone. as he lays on his side, he hates how you’re on a screen and not directly across from him or better yet: next to him. “tour is good, i just wish you were with me to experience it with me.”

you knew where this conversation was headed. you’ve had this same exact argument many times before that ultimately led nowhere but into space, never to be heard of again until months or weeks later. “jaemin-“

he grips some of his hair in his fist, not tightly but enough to grab onto it to feel a little something. as he sighs, he sits up a little more to come across more serious. “i don’t know why you don’t just quit your job.” he starts talking with his hands as he speaks, the phone moving as he continues to speak. you put down your mug on the coaster and hug a pillow to your chest to brace yourself for the same exact talk you’ve had before. “you don’t exactly love your job, you complain about it a lot. you don’t even make a lot yet you still stay there.” he lets out a deep sigh before continuing on, both of his hands taking a quick break to run through his locks and landing on top of his pillow. “i make enough for the both of us to live comfortably. lavishly even, if we wanted. you wouldn’t have to work, just stay home and do whatever you want. i don’t get-“

“because jaemin, how would that look if i just stayed home all day not contributing to the household at all while you do all the work and bring in all the money?” he stares at you blankly through the screen, waiting for you to continue. “lazy, jaemin. it would make me look lazy. and spoiled. and look like a good-for-nothing partner that doesn’t do anything but clean around the house, cook, look pretty and use their hard earned boyfriend's money. i’m not going to be that person.”

“but that’s not how you’d look!” he protests, rolling his eyes before continuing to speak. “i want you to live comfortably doing whatever you want to do-“

“then let me work, jaemin! i’m tired of having to work a stupid retail job, yes. but i also enjoy this stupid retail job, it’s annoying but it’s the same type of annoying that your job is.” you begin slouching deeper into the couch with a huff, your bottom lip pursing out slightly. “plus my job has good benefits. i don’t mind working. if you want me to cut back on my hours, fine. just say that, use your words; we’re both adults. but stop pestering me to leave my job.”

“i just want to take care of you without worry, that’s all. i don’t want you to have to worry about a roof over your head, about your next meal or clothes or-“

“as much as i appreciate that jaemin, and i really do, trust me, i feel a sense of accomplishment when i have a job. if i did not have a job, i would feel lost and out of control. and spending your money would make me feel bad because it’s your hard earned money, not mine. besides, my compact has great insurance and my coworkers are wonderful to work with- it’s a fun environment. just- please stop asking me about it, okay? i’m sick and tired of the same old discussion.”

jaemin nods, taking everything you say with consideration. you’ve told him every time how much you enjoy your job despite the complaints, but he never believed you- or maybe just refused to believe you. jaemin was a firm believer in doing things that made you happy, and if you weren’t happy then find something that did. so that’s all he was trying to do- but he sees now that he was wrong about that. he didn’t take into consideration the amount of time you’d have to spend alone while he was at practice, out at schedules, or even touring if you didn’t have a job. if all you did was stay home, at first he thought you would love the idea until he realized that that isn’t the type of person you are. you’ve been working since you were a teenager and have loved it ever since. so who was he to think your stop now?

he lays his head on the pillow, his eyes never leaving yours from the phone screen. “i’m sorry, baby. i just want the best for you, and only you know what’s best for you. so i’m sorry my baby.” you start to reassure him how it’s fine until he says it’s not. “you’re a hard worker and i love you for that, okay? i love that so much, and so much more. im sorry. i’ll make it up to you when we get back.”

you just laugh at how soft he’s become, picking back up your mug and holding it in your hands for warmth as it gets colder during the ungodly hour. “thank you for apologizing jaem, i appreciate it.” you pause for a brief moment, smiling at him. you admire the look on his face. the way his eyes are looking at you through the screen, the corner of his lips, and the way his skin is glowing so effortlessly. and all he’s doing is just laying there, freshly woken up and ready to take on the day in another random city. “i love you.”

the words bring butterflies to his stomach, the joy hard to hide as he refuses to disguise itself behind a tired facade. “i love you more, my royalty.”

“you’re a liar.” ensues an argument that goes on for another fifteen minutes before jaemin has to leave for schedules. but not before allowing you to win the ‘i love you’ game you two always play.

#kyufessions nct #nct #nct imagines #nct angst #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct dream #nct jaemin #jaemin #jaemin na #jaemin angst #na jaemin #jaemin fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst

815 notes · View notes

jnnul · 2 months

Text

forgetful

a/n: was supposed to be much longer but i couldn’t keep this to myself anymore. missed you guys <3 w/c: 2.1k words genre: fluff and angst, mentions of car crashes + hospitals, memory loss

jaemin na is forgetful. he forgets his keys at home when he’s supposed to serve as the designated driver, but you stick into his jacket pocket on your way out. he lays out a jacket for when it’s cold outside but he forgets it in his rush to catch the train to the city where he works, but you always manage to convince him to wear thick sweaters that day. he writes sticky notes upon sticky notes about doctor’s appointments, only for you to have to corral him into the car because he inevitably forgets. he forgets just how much of his salary he donates to charity every year because every time someone asks him if he would like to round up and donate, he always says yes.

needless to say, taxes are an obstacle to hurl past every year.

but the one thing that jaemin na will never forget is how much he loves you. in the way how he never lets you leave the house without a kiss to the forehead, even if the two of you are fighting. in the way he always somehow remembers to wear his favorite sweatshirt (for you; he always forgets to bring an extra for himself) when the two of you go stargazing for date night.

you asked him once, why he’s able to remember every single detail about you when he’s so forgetful about himself. he might not remember his PIN to his card but he most definitely remembers your exact order from dunkin - per your every mood.

and his response was when you knew that you made the right decision choosing him to be your person.

“i’d never forget anything about my person. forgetting you would be like forgetting how to breathe.” cheesy, sure, but you were drunk and so in love that it really didn’t matter.

so the shock when you get a call from the hospital three hours away when jaemin is traveling for a work event is almost unbelievable.

“hello? this is the mercy specialized hospital speaking. we have your loved one - a mr. jaemin na - in our hospital. mr. na suffered a car crash while on the highway due to negligent driving from a truck driver. unfortunately, the truck driver passed away but we do have mr. na in our care. emergency surgery must be performed in order to save his life. how far are you from our hospital?”

the calmness in the woman’s voice almost pisses you off. that was your boyfriend, your person that she was saying that needed emergency surgery. how could she be so calm when she was delivering such earth shattering news? you really didn’t understand. in fact, you really couldn’t fathom pretty much anything at this point.

jaemin had just left this morning. this morning, he had forgotten his keys once again and you had to flag him down on the way out so that you could hand off the car keys. he had pressed a kiss to your forehead, like he always did, and he had left with the same soft look in his eyes that he always had when it came to you.

how could someone you had been with just this morning be in such a situation like this? how could it happen to jaemin? jaemin?

“hello? i need you to confirm your address please,” the woman on the other end of the line says, startling you. you stutter as you list out the address, the same as jaemin’s and the woman pauses for a moment, as if to confirm something with someone before speaking once more.

“thank you. unfortunately, due to the nature of the situation, we cannot wait for your arrival at the hospital for mr. na to go into surgery as every minute is valuable to ensure the survival of the patient. you are listed as mr. na’s emergency contact and the person to consult in the case mr. na cannot consent. do we have your consent to perform surgery on mr. na?” the woman continues, almost too calm. her voice wavers just slightly when she says that you must consent to life saving surgery.

it’s a façade, you realize. she’s trying to stay as calm as possible for your sake. so that you don’t get frightened. you almost want to laugh out of how ridiculous the thought was. frightened? you were close to passing out. but instead, you just consent.

“i consent. please. save him. save my person.” when your voice breaks in the middle of your sentence, the woman elects to save your dignity by staying calm.

“we will do our best.”

+++

you didn’t trust yourself to drive. not in a time like this. so you call jeno, jaemin’s best friend, telling him that you needed him to drive you to mercy general. he asks no questions when he hears how distraught you sound. he’s at your home in almost thirteen minutes.

jeno lives twenty-five minutes away.

jeno’s fiancé, jihyo, is sitting in the back, where she pats the seat next to her when you crawl in. you don’t even say a word as you tumble into the seat next to her, your tears blocking your vision.

the car is silent for almost an hour until you are finally able to calm down enough to explain what was happening. jeno’s knuckles are white from his grip as you recount the phone call, and you feel the car pick up speed.

the highway is almost eerily quiet, a sense of uncanny unfeeling that settles into your bones like the fog on the road wants to take up space within your hollowed out chest.

jihyo doesn’t say a word as she pats your hair, and lets jeno push the gas even harder, as if that would save your boyfriend. his best friend, you remember with a startle. he might be your everything but jaemin was something to other people too. it was hard to remember that through the shock and the grief.

so when jeno says he’ll drop you and jihyo off at the entrance, park the car, and then come back, you say no.

“he’s your best friend, jeno. i know you’re trying to be strong for me but let’s go together. we all need all the support we can get,” you say and you can see jeno wipe his eyes stubbornly with the back of his hand as he finds a parking spot.

the three of you rush into the hospital, having already called jaemin’s parents to meet you at the hospital, unsure if you could muster up the courage to tell his parents that you weren’t sure if he would make it out alive or not. so, you just swallow your tears, ask them to meet you at mercy general, and pass off the phone to jihyo, who immediately jumps in and steps away to mumble the details of why you were at the hospital into the phone.

after what feels like decades, a tired looking surgeon and a man with gray, wiry hair come up to you with a heavy air and you can feel jeno’s grip on his jeans turn even tighter as the worst possibilities run through each of your minds.

the surgeon opens her mouth to say something but she immediately stops when jaemin’s parents come rushing into the hospital, wrapping you and jeno in tight hugs and shaky arms as they try to understand what was happening when they see the nurse and surgeon.

“i’m sorry, doctor. is my son out of surgery?” jaemin’s mother says, her hand drifting to her mouth subconsciously. the surgeon nods, exchanging a look with the man behind her.

“yes, mr. na is out of surgery. thankfully, the debris from the wreck didn’t damage any vital organs, and we were able to treat most of the damage,” the surgeon says softly, and your knees give out from the relief, jihyo catching you and jeno holding you steady as you try to gain your balance.

jaemin’s father is silent as he examines the face of the man behind the surgeon carefully. “most of the damage? is there something that was untreatable?”

the surgeon’s face takes a slightly uneasy sheen as she nods, guiding everyone to sit down once more, in the secluded part of the waiting room they had been guided to by receptionist when they first arrived.

she takes a deep breath before continuing. “however, our neurologist has detected that mr. na had suffered severe head trauma during the accident. although we cannot determine the extent of the issue until mr. na wakes up, we wanted to keep the family informed about...the possibility that mr. na might not be the same person he was prior.”

“what? what does that mean?” jeno exclaims, his eyes red and raw from the number of tears he had been trying to hold back this whole time. the man with the gray hair steps forward with a somber look as he introduces himself.

“hello, my name is dr. gonzalez, the neurologist assigned to mr. na’s case. in cases of severe car accidents such as these, we have seen numerous possibilities of how people have changed due to the trauma to the head. some people forget their past up to the accident, some forget how to speak. some may forget how to control their body and be unable to walk or control their motor functions. and some patients are able to walk out of the hospital with no issues other than the occasional migraine. it is entirely dependent on the severity of the trauma and the patient’s health.”

“but there’s a possibility that he’ll be okay? he won’t forget?” you whisper, clearing your throat when you realize how teary your voice comes out.

mr. gonzalez pauses for a moment as he takes in the sight of a family so incredibly afraid for their loved one. how could he deny them the smallest hope?

so he nods gently and for the first time in thirty years, prays to some higher being that he can deliver good news to them.

+++

jaemin wakes up thirty-six hours after the surgery. the first thing that he remembers is that he had something important to do. he has no idea what it was, where he was supposed to do it, or why it was so important. all he knew was that he absolutely needed to get it done.

the second thing that he remembers is that he almost died. jaemin has no clue how it happened - or even if he was really alive now - but all he remembers is bright lights and the feeling that he was forgetting to do something important.

trying to figure out what exactly jaemin had forgotten is giving him the migraine of the century so he decides to put it aside, gathering his strength to push himself. as soon as he does though, there are four pairs of hands trying to push him back down.

he recognizes three pairs of them - his parents, and jeno - but as he follows the hands with his eyes to recognize the last pair, jaemin comes up with a blank. the face is familiar, with beautiful eyes and lips that tell stories that jaemin knows instinctively that he loves.

but he has no clue who you are.

+++

you can tell that jaemin doesn’t recognize you by the way that his eyes light up when they see jeno and his parents, and the way they immediately cloud over when he looks at you.

he clears his throat, and you feel as though he’s holding your breath involuntarily as he tries to get his words out, his voice breaking from the effort of speaking after so long of not doing so.

“you’re - you’re someone i know,” jaemin says slowly, looking at you dead in the eyes. you try to keep yourself from collapsing right there, jihyo rubbing your arm in solidarity as she sees you struggling.

“i am,” you manage to whisper. jeno looks between you and jaemin tentatively as the situation clicks in his head.

“i love you,” he says. it’s not a question, because jaemin never forgets.

he forgets your name, and you spend the next few months trying to recover his memories, but he never gets impatient.

he always asks you to tell him more stories about yourself, even ones that don’t include your relationship to each other at all, to tell him all about your dreams and aspirations.

jaemin is slow, and he doesn’t remember many things that he knew before.

he forgets how you like your coffee, your first date with each other, and all the little things that you’d thought jaemin would never forget.

but he never gives up and he never forgets how much he loves you.

because na jaemin loved you to the moon and back, and that was something that no one could take away from him.

#jnnul #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #nct dream x reader #jaemin fic #jaemin headcanons #jaemin #nct dream #nct dream angst #jaemin angst #nct dream fluff #nct x reader #nct

319 notes · View notes

mrkis · 1 year

Text

nct dream reaction :: sleeping on the couch after a fight

𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗? 〚𝗬𝗘𝗦✗〛/ 〚NO〛 ⟶ dream reaction to you sleeping on the couch after a fight

𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗞

Mark hides his frown in the crease of his arm as he watches you silently changing into your pyjamas, refusing to make eye contact with him as you sniffle to yourself quietly. You and Mark weren't prone to arguments, having small little disagreements here and there, but Mark is sure that this specific fight has been one of the worst and to see you pick up your pillow and a spare blanket has his heart twisting in his chest uncomfortably.

The silence is deafening and Mark's positive he's seconds away from shedding tears, chewing down on his bottom lip to try and not let his emotions come through, causing his throat to tighten

He wants to reach out to you, to pull you back into his embrace and tell you how sorry he is for fighting with you, fighting over something so silly and fixable yet was blown so much out a proportion that it leaves the both of angry, confused, upset.

"Don't" He finally finds his voice, wincing at the crack as he sits up in bed, staring sullenly at you as you stand in the doorway facing away from him, ready to leave and sleep in the living room. "I'm sorry, baby, but just—please... please don't go"

𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗡

The air was cold, the think blanket hardly doing anything to warm up your freezing body, the pillow behind your head uncomfortable and at an awkward angle that causes discomfort in your few minutes of sleep. You scolded at yourself for being so silly and storming out into the living room to sleep on the sofa after the fight you had with Renjun.

Honestly, the argument wasn't as bad as you're making it out to be, and there was no need for you to show off and venture out of the bedroom to sleep alone. You were just stubborn, and Renjun knows that all to well, so you weren't surprised when you sat up and saw Renjun lingering near, one brow raise with his arms crossed.

"You win, okay?" You give in with a pout. "And I'm sorry"

"Nobody won anything" Renjun tells you as he walks around the sofa to stand in front of you. "And I'm sorry too. For shouting and making the situation worse"

"We're both pretty silly" You admit sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck as you raise to your feet. But your lips slowly curl into a teasing smirk, "Although... you did t—"

"Nope" Renjun cuts you off, bending his knees to throw you over his shoulder with a huff, palm slapping your backside teasingly before he carries you back to the bedroom, smiling at your giggles.

𝗝𝗘𝗡𝗢

"I'm so fucking tired. I'm done with this" Jeno's words repeat in your head even after half an hour of the argument you just had, the image of him collecting his pillow and a spare blanket to go sleep in the living room instead of sleeping beside you scorches your mind. You and Jeno have been arguing on and off over the past few weeks, letting things set you both off. Tonight, it was about Jeno coming home later than planned when he had told you that he would spend the afternoon catching up with you and you questioned him the second he walked into the bedroom, causing another argument to build between you both until Jeno gave up and left to go sleep in the living room for the night.

You hated sleeping alone and even after your arguments, Jeno would always climb into bed with you and sleep, which is why you decided to venture out into the living room to find him. A pang hits your chest as you see Jeno sleeping on the sofa, one hand behind his head and other resting on his chest which raises and falls calmly. You feel terrible seeing him so uncomfortable and you softly call out his name, watching as his eyes slowly peel open and sit up when hearing your voice.

"Do you think we argue too much?" You ask the question that's resting on the tip of your tongue, heart pounding in your chest as you see Jeno's shoulders sag and head drop low, giving you a quick and simple nod. "Maybe... Maybe we should—"

"I know" Jeno mumbles sadly, his hand reaching out to grasp your own as you near him, lacing your fingers together. "Just for tonight lets forget. Let's be together... one last time"

𝗛𝗔𝗘𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗡

You're huffing as you plump the cushion behind you head, trying to your best to get comfy on the uncomfortable couch that you're deciding to spend the night on, not wanting to be anywhere near Haechan or his petty attitude.

Truthfully, you're no angel in this situation either. Both of you were petty and refuse to give each other the last word when you were fighting about something that you can't even remember, proving that it wasn't as serious as you both made it out to be. But with your petty nature, you decided to sleep out in the living room to avoid him at all costs, not wanting to be the one that caves in first.

"This is so stupid" You grumble to yourself, throwing your arm over your face as you sigh, trying to get some shut eye but your head perks up when you hear the floorboards creak, spotting Haechan padding over to you with a blanket in hand. You scoff, "How chivalrous of you"

"Be quiet" Haechan grumbles back at you and you expect him to throw the blanket at you before leaving back to the warmth of your shared bedroom, but your brows raise in shock as he crawls over your body, shoving himself between the little to almost no space beside you. His arms slip around your middle, nuzzling his face in the crevice of your neck and he exhales deeply, "Much better. Goodnight"

𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗡

"Hey—wha—where are you going?" Jaemin questions you as your hand curls around the bedroom door handle, ready to leave him in the bedroom alone, not wanting to spend another second in here if all you're going to do all night is have silly little arguments.

"I'm going to sleep in the living room" You say as you tug the door open, getting prepared to bolt until you hear the sheets shuffling behind you. You crane your neck over your shoulder, watching as Jaemin jumps out of bed and gathers all the pillows and blankets, cursing beneath his breath as a pillow drops to the floor. You frown, "What are you doing?"

"Going to the living room" He replies as its the most obvious thing, giving you a weird look as he picks up the pillow and throws it on top of the stack. "Let's go—"

"Wait, Jae—"

"You think I'm going to let you sleep alone out there after our fight? I thought you'd know me well enough now, baby" Jaemin scoffs, slipping past you and planting a small peck to your nose before kissing your lips softly. "It's you and me always, yeah? Lets go. We can go push the couches together and build a fort or something"

𝗖𝗛𝗘𝗡𝗟𝗘

"You're joking about sleeping out there in the living room, right?" Chenle asks you, brows pulled together in annoyance as he leans against the bathroom doorway, arms tightly crossed over his chest as he watches you apply your nightly skincare, "Y/N—"

"No. I wasn't" You answer, tone sharp. "Go to bed, Chenle, we'll talk in the morning"

"No, we'll talk right now" He argues back and you sigh softly, not wanting another petty argument to rise. You're tired and in desperate need of some sleep, not to continue arguing with your boyfriend all night. "Shutting each other out isn't going to fix this. We're grown adults, we talk it out. So tell me... what's wrong? What's making you so frustrated today?"

"Work" You admit, feeling a weight being lifted off of your shoulders as you begin to open up, "Work is stressing me out and it's tiring, so I just want to come home and sleep, but you were being noisy and it just triggered me, I guess... I'm sorry"

"It's okay" Chenle hums, taking a step inside the bathroom to pull you into his embrace, stroking the back of your head as he gently kisses the top of your head. "I'm sorry works got you so frustrated, and I'm sorry about the loud noises... I'll keep it down. Just, come back to bed... okay?"

𝗝𝗜𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚

"I don't like this" Jisung's voice interrupts your sleeping, causing you to groggily lift your head up from the arm of the sofa just in time to see him trudging into the living room with a pout, hands on his hips. You're confused for a split second until you realise what he's talking about: you sleeping alone on the sofa and him in the bedroom after your minor disagreement. You sigh as you sit up, arms crossing over your chest as you look up at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"I'm sorry for saying what I said. I regret it, I'm stupid, I'm so in love with you. Now come to bed" Jisung orders as he points to the hallway leading to the bedroom and you raise your brow, causing him to exhale deeply, "Please"

"Okay" You hum, pushing yourself up from the sofa to stand on your two feet, grabbing your pillow to take back into the bedroom. You begin to walk towards him, stopping just beside his figure to cup his cheek, "You're not stupid. Just be a little mindful of what you say... I know you didn't mean it but words can hurt. But I'm so in love with you too, by the way"

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

#nct reaction #nct dream reaction #nct #nct dream #mark lee angst #renjun angst #jeno angst #haechan angst #jaemin angst #chenle angst #jisung angst

2K notes · View notes

rrxnjun · 1 year

Text

— SIMPLIFY ROMANCE *̥ nct dream 00 line [series]

You can try to simplify romance— reduce it to a touch, call it odd attraction, a pull of a magnet... but what if you're in love?

Everyone's story is different. One starts with a last resort decision, another one sparks from a petty argument, while some find the one by a total accident and the most lucky ones find love in their best friend... What do all of the boys in those stories have in common? They're completely, utterly smitten with their special someone, and while some are more casual about it, some go above and beyond to impress the girl of their dreams.

Sprawled across the couch of Liu Yangyang’s basement, passing along bottles of beer and laughing to themselves, there’s a group of people enjoying their Friday evening. The low melody of the music playing in the background is loud enough to make you move your head to the beat of the drums, yet still quiet enough to not disturb the conversation going on as the friend group decides to play a round of every college student’s dream game– Truth or dare.

“Renjun! Truth or dare,” Yangyang perks up from his place, occupying the bean bag in the very corner of the room.

“Truth,” the latter hums, too lazy to actually stand up from his place on the old, cigarette-smelling sofa in case of getting a dare that requires being active.

“What’s the most over the top thing you’ve done to get a girl?”

The boy chuckles, rolling his eyes as his gaze drifts to the girl sitting on his right, the feeling of being exposed creeping up his cheeks in embarrassment; he wonders if he can play off his flushed cheeks as being too drunk and not at all flustered. Sighing, he shakes his head as he prepares to answer, already getting ready for the amount of teasing that will surely come next, knowing how his friends are, grabbing every possible opportunity to laugh at someone.

And while they all have every right to tease and poke fun at him for his love story, the knowledge that one day, they were just as down bad as he was back then brings him courage as he tells the truth; because as long as he’s aware, there are people in this circle who have acted way more dramatic than him in the process of getting the girl of their dreams to like them…

Everyone’s story is different, but you know what they all have in common?

They’ve all been utter simps for a special someone before.

✲ 01. blondes are done with fun — huang renjun.

a rumor has it that the popular couple in town broke up after years of being together. having to share your favorite seat in class with the male part of said relationship, you try to find out how to make your heartbroken project partner warm up to you— or— huang renjun goes blonde when he's sad.

journalism student! renjun x fem! journalism student! reader

genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. fluff, comedy, angst, smut.

wc. 30k

✲ 02. take the stairs — na jaemin.

after having an unexpected guest witness the neverending quarrels with your roommate, na jaemin starts to practically live at your place— or— where yizhuo's flegmatic project partner starts to put a suspicious amout of effort into their assignment.

neurophysiology student! na jaemin x fem! literature student! reader

genre. college au, strangers to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive.

wc. 18k

✲ 03. dancing in my backseat — lee donghyuck.

there are only a few things in which men value their social status; one of them being the number of girls in their bed, the next one their rank in league of legends, and lastly, their cars— or— where you would never fuck a guy without a driver's licence.

film student! lee donghyuck x fem! film student! reader

genre. college au, acquaintances to lovers. fluff, comedy, suggestive.

wc. 24k

✲ 04. language of averted eyes — lee jeno.

an anonymous love confession appears on your university confession page one day and you drag your best friend along to help you find the person behind it— or— where lee jeno aimlessly pretends to look for an answer he already knows.

computer science student! lee jeno x fem! music student! reader

genre. college au, best friends to lovers. fluff, angst, comedy.

wc. tba! [est. 15k]

-> get added to the taglist! <-

Do not translate or repost anywhere.

2K notes · View notes

dkfile · 10 months

Text

forgiveness (i would redo it all if i could)

❛ sure, the joy you exhibit is at his expense, but he can’t bring himself to care. jaemin would walk on burning hot coal if you asked him to. ❜

word count | 7.0k (7,009) genre | fluff with slight angst, humour, pining, idiots 2 lovers lol ━ fratboy!jaemin

the five times jaemin begs for forgiveness apologizes — and the one time you get a taste of your own medicine.

★ warnings | vomiting, humiliation (? not really but), alcohol consumption, and characters jumping to conclusions ★ author’s note | i wrote this instead of studying and it initially started as a drabble but the moment i finished the first part i realized i would just have to keep going. so i did. hope u enjoy this monster ❤️‍🩹

one.

The air reeks of hard liquor. You feel it stick to your skin the moment you step inside the frat house, trailing behind Lia as she zigzags her way through the crowd and into the kitchen. She’s a creature of habit, always following a routine, so it doesn’t surprise you when her first order of business is getting the both of you a drink.

Still, the vodka does nothing to contain your nerves. Bitterly, you eye Lia from the corner of your eye as she makes chit-chat with some friends from her Psychology class; she promised this party would put you out of your misery, but you have been here for all of three minutes and your misery has yet to be put out.

You had hoped — prayed — the trashy EDM and stench of sweat mixed with booze would have a quick effect on your aching heart, that it would snap you out of the wallowing you’ve been doing for the past two days, that it would make you forget about the 25 text messages and 10 missed calls you’ve left unanswered.

But, alas, here you are.

Lia makes quick movements out of the kitchen after spotting another friend of hers, gripping your wrists as if you’re a felon and her hands are the cuffs, and this frat, with its roaring partygoers and sticky floors, was your own personal prison. She casts a brief look over her shoulder, notices your expression has yet to change from the scowl you sported the moment you stepped outside, and eyes you with apologetic pity but does not loosen her grip on your limbs.

“Lia!”

She stops, quickly hides you behind her. You’re about to bite out a response before your face falls at the sound of the greeting that falls from Lia’s lips.

“Hi, Donghyuck.”

“Lia! How have you been?”

“Mm, great,” she replies, curt, but Donghyuck waves off her behaviour. He either doesn’t care about it or is too inebriated to do so — your guess is the former.

“How’d you do on that Psych test? Question three had me fucked up.”

“Kind of like how you are right now?”

Over Lia’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Donghyuck’s eye roll. “Ha ha, very funny,” he says before bringing a can of beer to his face. He gives it a shake, signifying that there’s still liquid in it. “I’m still on my first can.”

“That’s nice, Hyuck,” Lia sighs. “But I have to go, I’ll talk to you later? Chaewon needs me.”

“Oh, Chaewon! I haven’t seen her in forever. Where is she?”

Donghyuck begins to scan the room as Lia says, “Over by—” his eyes land on you peeking over Lia’s shoulder, “—the beer pong table.”

The excitement on his face falters, he blinks thrice, and as if snapped out of his reverie, his grin turns smug. Lia’s voice dies down as Donghyuck glances over to where a group of frat boys, rowdy and energetic (are they fighting for the title of life of the fucking party?) while he muses, “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Y/N.”

“I saw you last Friday,” you clear your throat when you hear the hoarse scratch in your voice. “Besides, I’ve been busy.”

Sarcastically, Donghyuck says, “Oh, I’m sure.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in particular,” he smiles, looking at you for a brief moment before returning his attention to his frat brothers. He makes eye contact with a boy, fading pink hair appearing orange under the lights, heavy eyelids opening fully at the sight of you. “It’s just weird, isn’t it, that I haven’t seen you since Friday?”

“Not… really?” you furrow your eyebrows. “We don’t have any classes together.”

He gives you a look. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

At the sound of quick footsteps, Lia glances to her side. At the sight of the very reason you’ve been holed up in your room the entire weekend, she tugs your wrists.

“We should go,” she says.

“Wha— why—?”

“Y/N!”

You jump far enough to release Lia’s hold on you. Donghyuck’s laugh is silenced by a stomp on his foot; the expletives he grunts at Lia goes through one of your ears and out the other — as people’s words often do when Na Jaemin enters your vicinity and punctures your comfortable little bubble.

He’s a sight for sore eyes — so, so beautiful, with his shirt half-tucked into his baggy jeans and a bajillion rings adorning his fingers. He gives you a smile laced with careful excitement, as if you are something to be cautious about, a ticking time bomb.

And suddenly, you’re transported back to Friday night, sitting in a restaurant in the fanciest getup you’ve stolen from one of your friends. Everything buzzes around you. You swear your senses have been heightened — you catch every pitiful glance, hear every sympathetic whisper, smell the desperation radiating off your chest.

Despite all of this, despite all your prayers for any sign of fortune, your phone screen stays black. Void of any texts or calls or even Instagram notifications.

The waiter, ever patient and remorseful, takes slow steps to your table. You take this as your sign to leave.

You ignore the first apology Jaemin sends eight hours later, and all the following others.

Over the noise, he shouts, “Can we talk?”

Your hands find Lia’s. “We need to go.”

Jaemin’s hands find yours. “Y/N.” He lets a drop of pathetic desperation taint his voice. “Please?”

“We have nothing to talk about,” you say.

“I’ll take five minutes.”

You don’t know what it is that gets you to give in. Maybe there’s a small part of you that wants to believe him. There’s a sliver of hope you cling to — like a child begging his parents for a new trinket while he stands in the toy section of a store — and it’s the reason for your downfall. It’s why you even said yes to him in the first place, sitting in the atrium of one of the science buildings as you both waited for the rainfall to stop.

Before you two had split ways, Jaemin had promised, “You won’t regret it.”

And yet…

Still, despite these broken agreements, you nod, allow him to take you to the porch despite Lia’s wariness and every voice in your head shouting at you not to.

He slides the glass door closed, muffling the noisiness of the party in the process. You shiver at the sudden gust of wind.

“Do you want a jacket?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Really? Mine’s only on the couch, it’s no trouble—”

“Jaemin, I’m fine,” you bite.

The venom is enough to get him to back off.

The silence that falls between the two of you only lasts a few moments. The alcohol has made Jaemin jittery and impatient, but he’s soft in the way he says, “I’m sorry.”

You huff, placing your cup of fruit punch on the porch. “What for?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Well... isn’t it obvious?”

You tilt your head, leaning over the railing as Jaemin centres his hip against it. He faces you, drenched in remorse, and you face away, engulfed in humiliation.

“I guess it is. But I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there on Friday,” he murmurs. In the corner of your eye, you see him inch closer, and your skin begins to tingle at the sensation — but then, with words sharpened with knives, he adds, “I’m sorry for standing you up.”

Shame washes over you like a pail of cold water on a hot summer’s day. This is what you wanted, you remind yourself, for him to admit it. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting any less.

“Okay.”

“Y/N,” he almost pleads. His hands twitch at his sides, begging to touch your shoulder, your face, your hands, anything. The vodka doesn’t mix well with his regret and he thinks he might vomit if he doesn’t find something to anchor himself back to Earth. The railing isn’t enough — he needs you.

But he has enough self-control to back off. He hurt you, he shouldn’t be allowed to touch you.

“You know, you flirted with me for four months,” you begin, voice wavering. “And I thought you were excited for the date. I mean, you looked excited.”

“I was.”

“Well, not enough to show up.”

“Y/N, come on—” he takes a step towards you, grips the railing a little harder. His stomach growls at him to stop moving. “Just let me explain. I just need a couple minutes, that’s all. And then you can decide whether you still want anything to do with me.”

You glare at him, though it’s not sharp enough to sting. “I’d rather not waste my time.”

“I’ll be quick. I promise.”

You stare, and while you do so, he uses the free time to try and decipher your expression. Futile.

“I think we should be having this conversation while you’re sober.”

“What are you talking about? I’m completely fine!”

A glance inside. Your eyes lock with Lia’s. “Sure. But you’re slurring your words, Jaem.”

Jaem. A nickname. That’s a good sign, right?

“I can make it through a conversation,” he promises. “Really. Just trust me.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk right now,” you tell him. “It’s— it’s just better for me if we do this when you’re in your right mind, okay? So can it wait?”

And then all fight leaves his body. He supposes he can wait another day for your forgiveness. 24 more hours can’t hurt.

“Okay,” he agrees softly.

You manage a smile and give him a nod before gesturing you’re going back inside. He murmurs that he’ll see you in a bit, despite the fact that he knows you and Lia will be making your way back to the dorms the moment the glass door slides open.

As you begin to walk away, Jaemin notices that you’ve left your cup on the railing. He grabs it, “Wait—” he says, lurching forward.

Oh. He definitely shouldn’t have done that.

A loud gasp falls from your lips. Jaemin stands to his full height, eyes wide with shock as he wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

You won’t look at him. You’re looking at your shoes and scrunching your nose at the rancid stench that begins to fill the night air.

Well. At least Jaemin’s stomach is feeling better.

two.

Flowers are fucking expensive.

Jaemin realizes this as soon as he leaves the flower shop Renjun works at (according to Renjun, Jaemin fucked up so bad he doesn’t even deserve a discount) but decides not to dwell on the dent in his bank account as he begins the trek to your dorm. He keeps an eye on the cloudy sky, murmuring pleas under his breath for it to not rain — the last thing he needs is for the bouquet he spent good money on to get soaked.

When he enters your building, his exhaustion replaced with nerves, he almost doesn’t notice the lively figure walking out of the elevator.

The way Liu Yangyang steps foot into the lobby, radiating all things bright and holy, is blinding. Jaemin resists the urge to flinch when Yangyang gives him a wide smile.

“Hey, Jaemin!” he greets, barely concealing his confusion at Jaemin’s suit and the big bouquet of flowers. “Do you have a date? At 10am on a Saturday?”

“Oh! No,” says Jaemin. “I’m apologizing.”

“Ah. I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“Oh, I’m not!” Jaemin corrects, plastering an embarrassed smile. “But, uh, I fucked up, so… it’s the least I could do. And, well, I wanted to do this, so—”

“Still. A bouquet this big is expensive,” Yangyang quirks an eyebrow, plucking the card out of the large array of flowers. His eyes scan the paper. And then again. And again. Jaemin wonders if Renjun’s pulled a prank on him and wrote something ghastly on it.

When Yangyang finally looks up, glancing from the card to the elevator, Jaemin asks, “What? What’s wrong? What does the card say? Fuck, did Renjun do something? I’m gonna kill—”

“No, the card’s fine,” Yangyang snorts, placing it back where he found it. “It’s just... you’re the guy, huh?”

“Sorry?”

“The one that stood Y/N up? The one that they were complaining about when I dropped by this morning?”

There is so much to unpack here. However, Jaemin can only manage a flabbergasted, “Wait, what?”

Yangyang laughs, gives Jaemin a pat on the back, then bids him a goodbye. He’s left the building before Jaemin can even think of a follow-up question, leaving him standing alone in the lobby, dress shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, hair swept up from the wind, and his right hand limply gripping the flowers — the perfect picture of disaster.

It takes him a while to finally move, and when he does, a new unpleasant feeling sinks in his chest.

But then you open the door, and momentarily, the feeling disappears.

“Hi,” he says with a gentle smile. With two hands, he presents you with the bouquet, which you carefully take, eyes sparkling in awe.

You absentmindedly step to the side to let him in while your fingers carefully brush the flowers. “Jaemin, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

“But you didn’t have to.”

“Well, I did,” he argues with no malice. He slips off his shoes and follows you to your desk, watching as you place the flowers in a vase, “so you’re gonna have to deal with it.”

He sees you roll your eyes. Still, you say, “Thank you.”

He beams. “You’re welcome.”

You lean against the back of your chair, folding your arms over your chest. Jaemin tries not to let your sudden indifference affect him. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah. Sorry I threw up all over you last night,” he winces.

You wave him off. “It’s fine. Those shoes were worn out, anyway. I was looking for a reason to throw them out.”

“I’m sorry for Friday too.”

Jaemin notices you cave yourself in. Your gaze has hardened and the tension has made you stiff. Something much more painful than guilt sinks its claws into his beating heart.

He thinks, even if he were bleeding apologies, that it still wouldn’t be enough to deserve your forgiveness.

“It’s okay,” you shrug. “We’re fine now.”

“Okay… But are you sure?”

You blink.

Jaemin continues, “I really want to make it up to you.”

You move to lay against the headboard of your bed, playing with the controls of your alarm clock to avoid eye contact. “And you have.”

“I have?”

You take one long look at him, raise an eyebrow at the state of his outfit, before commenting — with your amusement thinly veiled behind the lingering hurt, “Oh, definitely.”

Everything in Jaemin malfunctions at the sound of your voice. The familiar mellow glee shakes him to his core. He leans against your desk chair, refusing to break eye contact despite your determination to not look at him for longer than five seconds.

He kicks the foot of your bed. Not hard enough to scare you, but enough to glance at him in annoyance. “I’m being serious,” he says. “I’ll humiliate myself if I have to. Do you want me to beg for forgiveness in front of everybody? I’ll do it. I can do it by the fountain at the centre of campus, or maybe the cafeteria. Or maybe at the next party—!”

“Jaemin.”

“I can do it at the coffee shop. Not the one near here, but the artsy one. I'm guaranteed to get a lot of judgemental stares there.”

“Jaemin,” you interrupt. You’re staring at him now, the alarm clock long forgotten. “You don’t need to do any of that. I mean, would it be funny? Yeah, definitely. But I want an explanation more than anything. That’s what you promised me last night, anyway — if you remember.”

Jaemin tries his best not to wince. He’d love to tell you the truth, really, but when he had relayed what happened to Renjun, he was met with a slap on the back of his head and different variations of “This is really embarrassing for you, man.” Last night, he was more than happy to explain the reason for his absence on Friday, but that was because there was alcohol in his system.

Could Jaemin humiliate himself in front of strangers and his friends? Sure, no problem. But you were a completely different story.

Every move he’s made, every decision he’s followed through, has been to impress you. He doesn’t know what he would do if he ever blew that up.

“Oh. Okay, well, you see…” Jaemin begins sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck. “That’s a funny story.”

You frown. “If you don’t want to, that’s fine, Jaemin, but I don’t really wanna waste my time listening to excuses.” You turn to your side, taking interest in the alarm clock again as you grumble under your breath, “I’ve done enough of that already.”

The speed at which desperation consumes him is worrying. One minute he’s standing near your desk, the next he’s crouching to enter your field of vision. He’s next to your bedside table now, eyebrows furrowed and about two minutes away from begging.

“Okay, okay, no, you’re right,” he gulps. “Okay. It’s really embarrassing, though. It wasn’t my best moment.”

You don’t answer, instead giving him a look that urges him to continue.

“It’s dumb, alright, so don’t laugh,” he inhales. “A few hours before our date I went to the gym with Hyuck—” (Donghyuck had convinced him doing so would make him look so much better for the date) “—and I was exhausted. So, when we got back I… I fell asleep.”

“...What?”

“I took a nap,” he grumbles, more upset at himself than at your disbelief. “I was so tired and I didn’t want to go out with you if I was out of it, so I went to bed, and I thought I set an alarm for myself, but… I guess I didn’t. Next thing you know, I’m waking up at 1am, completely out of it, until Renjun barges into my room asking me how everything went.”

You stare blankly. “You… you fell asleep.”

He grimaces. He prepares himself for the brunt of your rage. It’s what he thinks he deserves — missing something he’s been wanting for months, looking forward to for days, all because he took a nap? He swears on heaven and Earth that he’s more mad at himself than you are at him.

But then you laugh.

It starts off as an incredulous snort before you start laughing in his face. And once he’s gotten over his initial shock at your reaction, Jaemin cracks a smile. Mostly because this is the first time he’s seen you happy since last week. He underestimated how much he missed all of this — sure, the joy you exhibit is at his expense, but he can’t bring himself to care. Jaemin would walk on burning hot coal if you asked him to.

Raindrops begin to land on your window as the sky becomes darker. Jaemin should be dreading the moment he has to step outside and walk back to the frat.

(But…)

“You’re not lying?” you guffaw. “You’re completely serious?”

“Unfortunately,” Jaemin deadpans.

You burst into another fit of giggles.

(He thinks the sight of your smile just made his entire week.)

(He says so to Donghyuck when he gets home and is asked why he’s soaking wet and giddy. To which Donghyuck replies with a roll of his eyes and, “Jaemin, you are so fucking whipped.”)

three.

There are many things Donghyuck has seen Jaemin do in the name of love.

But this? This is definitely going at the top of the list of the worst things he’s ever done.

The act itself is mild. If Donghyuck was told about this then he wouldn’t even consider putting this in the top 10. But he isn’t the recipient of a storytime. Instead, he’s with Jaemin, standing with him at a supermarket thirty minutes after closing in his Kuromi pajamas.

Tonight, Jaemin isn’t only embarrassing himself, but he’s dragging Donghyuck along with him.

“Please,” Jaemin begs the tired employee on the other side of the locked doors. “I just need one thing.”

The employee locks eyes with Donghyuck. Donghyuck wants to crawl into a hole and die.

The catalyst of this impromptu trip to the grocery store is you. More specifically, what you posted on your close friends story. You had been baking but realized you don’t have any more baking soda, so Jaemin took it upon himself to drive to the store and get some for you.

You didn’t even ask him to.

“Don’t we have baking soda at home?” Donghyuck hisses under his breath, grabbing Jaemin’s elbow while the 16-year-old employee explains for the nth time, “No, sir, I can’t unlock this door. Like, I literally can’t. I don’t have the code.”

“No,” Jaemin snatches his elbow back. Donghyuck wonders how they both look, standing in their matching Melody and Kuromi pajamas in the middle of the night. “Jeno and Mark used all of it up, remember? For some bake sale.”

“I think they were raising money for the frat, Jaemin.”

“Oh, fuck the frat.”

Donghyuck snorts. “Dude.”

“What?”

Donghyuck throws his arms up in defence before tugging Jaemin towards the parking lot. He waves apologetically to the employee, who only shakes her head in response, and ignores Jaemin’s whining and thrashing as they make their way to his car.

“Okay,” Donghyuck says firmly, crossing his arms. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

Donghyuck raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, sure. It’s not like you’ve been moody for the past few days or anything.”

Jaemin throws him an irritated look. Then he runs a hand over his face and through his hair. “Sorry.”

Donghyuck waves a hand of dismissal. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I fucked up big time,” Jaemin sighs. “With Y/N.”

“Again?”

“What? No! Do you have no faith in me?” At Donghyuck’s silence, Jaemin kicks his shoe. “No, it’s just… I don’t know. I have no idea what it’s gonna take for them to give me another chance.”

“Didn’t they forgive you already?”

“Yeah, but… you know.”

He doesn’t. You and Donghyuck are more so acquaintances than friends, but even if that wasn’t the case, he thinks nobody in this world could ever know you as well as Jaemin does.

Plus, he’s pretty sure Jaemin’s just making excuses not to put himself out there again.

So, Donghyuck asks, “Have you asked them out again?”

“Well…”

“You can’t be serious.”

“You don’t understand!” Jaemin groans. “I’m scared!”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and starts typing a number into his phone. Jaemin is too busy listing off reasons on why you’d reject him to notice, and only stops his rambling when a groggy voice echoes off the speakerphone.

“Hello?”

Jaemin blinks, confused. “Y/N?”

“Jaemin?” you say, suddenly awake. Donghyuck places his phone in Jaemin’s hands and enters the car to give you two some privacy. “Why are you calling me from Hyuck’s phone?”

“Oh, I…” Jaemin starts, “My phone’s dead.”

“Oh,” you say. Jaemin presses the phone to his ear and closes his eyes as he leans against the hood of the car. “Why’d you call?”

“I, uh…” Jaemin murmurs, “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?”

If he was being honest, Jaemin’s surprised you forgave him so quickly. He thought he would have to grovel a little more, suffer for a few more days, before you finally flashed him a smile and a murmur of “It’s okay.” He asked you about this last night, his curiosity peaking past midnight with the only source of light in his bedroom being the blue light from his phone.

From: Y/N

I mean, it’s not like you’ve ever lied to me?

Unless you did. If you did, you are so done for, Jaem.

To: Y/N

I didn’t! I swear to God I didn’t

From: Y/N

Yeah, I figured

I’m messing with you lol

I trust you

Maybe this means he has a chance. He considers shooting his shot right then and there, but then he glances at the sky, figures now is not the right time. You deserve so much more than a hesitant question whispered into his best friend’s phone, the stars hidden behind a large blanket of clouds.

“I… I couldn’t get you the baking soda.”

A pause. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The store’s closed.”

“Oh,” you whisper with a little more understanding. Softly, you reply, “That’s okay, Jaem.”

four.

For the past few days, Jaemin’s hands have been finding you.

It’s in gentle touches. He pats your shoulder before bidding goodbye, picks off a piece of lint in your hair before flicking it away, brushes your skin with his every time he gives you a gift. Every touch is accompanied with a smile — lambent albeit unsure — and every smile is accompanied with a soft call of your name.

The next time he touches you is when he hands you a bag. It isn’t heavy, but when you peek inside, you frown.

“What is this?” you ask.

He flashes you his signature grin. “What does it look like? They’re shoes.”

His retort is met with silence. Jaemin is left to listen to the bustling of the hallway as you stare at the relatively new sneakers he’s handed you. His grin wavers, ever so slightly, though it really shouldn’t matter because it goes unnoticed.

“I can see that,” you mutter. “But why?”

“Consider it an apology. It’s the least I could do after I… you know…”

“Threw up on me?”

Jaemin huffs. “Yeah.”

You clear your throat, pushing the shoes into his chest. “I don’t think I should take this.”

“What? Why not?”

You shrug, resting the handles of the grey plastic bag on his fingertips before walking around him to head to the exit. He’s quick to follow, barely dodging lingering professors and boisterous students that obscure his path. You don’t bother to slow down, eyeing the time on your wrist with a frown. Fuck, you were supposed to be at the mall five minutes ago.

You glance over your shoulder to see if Jaemin’s still lagging behind you. “It’s nice and all, but I don’t think you ruining my sneakers meant you had to buy me new ones as an apology.”

“I disagree. Besides, I didn’t even buy them! I stole them—!” You halt, causing Jaemin to crash into you. The both of you stagger, struggling to regain your composure. He coughs, muttering an apology before adding, “—from Renjun’s closet.”

“What the hell!” you exclaim. “Why didn’t you say that sooner! I thought you were a felon.”

Jaemin gasps incredulously, ignoring the odd gazes thrown in his direction. “How dare you. You know I don’t have the mental capacity to plan a successful heist. Too tiring,” he tilts his head, “You gotta admit, though, I’d look very good on a wanted poster.”

Silence. You continue walking to the student parking lot.

Another gasp, and then— “Hey, wait, don’t just walk away. Are you disagreeing with me?” An overdramatic whine falls from Jaemin’s lips. You are no match for your own mirth. It doesn’t waver, no matter how much you try to fight the smile that threatens to split your face apart. “Are you calling me ugly?”

“Way to jump to conclusions,” you quip.

His hand clasps around yours, stopping your movements. “You’re not denying it!”

A laugh, caged too long in your chest, escapes. It dances in the air, free. “You’re definitely not ugly, Jaemin. The very opposite, actually,” you pause, “But no matter how much you pout and whine, I will not be taking these shoes.”

“But I stole them just for you!”

(A passerby mutters a “What?” to her friend).

“Yes, it’s very Robin Hood of you to do this for me,” you agree, briefly placing two hands on his cheeks and ignoring the way his skin begins to warm. “But what if Renjun finds out? You know he scares me!”

“Pfft. Renjun would never hurt you.”

Your hands fall from his face and back to your sides. He immediately craves your touch again, even though he’s certain it’ll burn his skin. “I’m not taking these. But thank you,” you give him a smile, a much tamer one this time, but it makes his heart stutter all the same. “Really, Jaemin. I appreciate it.”

I appreciate you, you almost say. From the way Jaemin’s eyes flicker to your lips, you wonder if he knows you almost did.

“I—”

“Y/N! You slowpoke! Hurry up!”

Jaemin snaps his head to the direction of the voice. His lips part at the sight of Yangyang trudging across the quad, hands tucked into his pockets. Despite Yangyang’s impatient words, he’s grinning.

What’s worse, Jaemin thinks, is that you are, too.

You give Jaemin one last look before waving. Before you leave, you promise something. He isn’t quite sure what — maybe you’ll text him tonight, see him tomorrow, email him the answers to the Chemistry practice tests later. Nothing you say can sway Jaemin’s focus from Yangyang’s arm, resting on your shoulder as he drags you towards his car.

A hand reaches into Jaemin’s chest, squeezes his heart.

He tries not to think too much of it.

five.

There are three things needed to spark a wildfire. Oxygen, fuel, and ignition.

Jaemin finds himself in an unfamiliar apartment on Saturday night, glued to Renjun’s side, as his friend drifts across the space like a butterfly soaring through the sky. Tonight is supposed to be carefree, a distraction from looming final exams, but Jaemin can’t help but feel a heavy weight in his pockets. His texts, sent 12 hours ago, are yet to be met with a response, and he’s getting fidgety. So much so that it’s hindering his chance of a good time.

Renjun tries his best to ignore him but all attempts end up futile. Once an acquaintance excuses himself to go to the restroom, Renjun nudges Jaemin and hisses (although he does it in a way that comes off as benign), “Can you stop acting like you’ve got ants crawling up your ass? Y/N will get back to you soon enough. Maybe they’re busy.”

Jaemin sighs, clenches his fist, then nods. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.”

Renjun looks at him sympathetically. “It’s okay. Just don’t stress.”

He manages to distract himself for a couple more minutes, engaging in conversations despite his dying social battery, and plasters a smile that he hopes Renjun deems decent enough.

This get-together is far different from any of the parties the frat has thrown, but its unfamiliarity tames the waves of worry clouding Jaemin’s brain, if only for a moment.

Everything in him comes alive, though, when the door swings open and a call of your name hangs in the air.

He’s plunged into a pool of relief at the sight of you. It’s almost as if the air has been knocked out of his lungs.

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

Oxygen.

He lazily mutters an excuse to Renjun and another acquaintance before walking towards the door. This conversation is the least of his worries especially when you’re standing in the doorway, radiant as ever.

When you spot him, he swears your eyes light up.

“Hey!” you greet, “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, Renjun dragged me here,” Jaemin tries his best to appear nonchalant, though the only person he appears to be fooling is himself, “he said I needed a change of scenery.”

“Well, I’m glad he did.”

Something akin to hope settles in the pit of his stomach. “You are?”

You hum. “Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love these get-togethers, but you make things a little more memorable.”

He grins. He can’t help it. “Just a little?”

“Alright,” you snort. “Don’t push it.”

A buzz. You take your phone out and, at the sight of the notification, your mood dampens — only slightly, but Jaemin notices nonetheless.

“Oh, by the way, did you get my texts?”

“Huh?” you glance up. “Oh. Maybe? Sorry, I’ve been so out of it. You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

“Ah. And here I thought you were ignoring me,” he says it in a way that’s insouciant, but you don’t miss the tension slowly easing out of his shoulders.

“I would never.”

“I mean, you did a few weeks ago.”

You hit his arm playfully. “Okay, well, you deserved that.” You tuck your phone back into your pocket. “I’m really sorry, though. I didn’t mean to screen you. What’d you send, anyway?”

“Nothing important,” he says. Really, it had just been a couple tweets he thought you would find funny. “How was your day?”

Before you can respond, someone enters, heaving. Yangyang, dressed head to toe in black, huffs out a breath as he slips off his dress shoes. He walks over to you, almost slipping when his socked feet meet tile, but he manages to save himself as he hands you a wallet.

Something feels off.

Fuel.

“Holy fuck,” Yangyang exhales tiredly. “You would not believe the kind of shit I had to go through to get that back. You owe me big time— oh! Hey, Jaemin!”

“Hi,” Jaemin replies, eyes flickering between you and Yangyang. It’s at that moment he clocks that the two of you are matching, both in flushed cheeks and attire. Suddenly, Jaemin feels underdressed in his grey hoodie and light-washed jeans. “Uh, you guys look nice.”

“Oh, thanks!” says Yangyang. Then he scans the other people in the apartment. “Wait, what the hell? I thought Lia said to dress formally!”

He gives neither you nor Jaemin time to reply. He’s already off, mingling with others as he hunts Lia down, presumably to question her about the dress code, leaving you and Jaemin in the dust.

You don’t say anything in Yangyang’s absence, so Jaemin decides he’ll bite.

“Why did he have your wallet?”

Your mood has changed. You scratch your neck nervously and give him a smile he can’t quite decipher. This one is different than the usual ones you give him. Is it— tinted with shame?

“Oh,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. Slowly but surely, the tension that was once in Jaemin’s body enters yours. “Funny story.”

Jaemin tries his best to sound lighthearted. “From the way you look it doesn’t seem like a funny story.”

“Got me there,” you chuckle, devoid of hilarity. “It’s— well, I was on a date—”

Oh. That’s why you never responded to him.

Yangyang, always impeccable with his timing, appears in Jaemin’s line of sight again. He isn’t quite sure what Yangyang says — something about the dress code, he assumes. But what he is sure of is Yangyang’s hand around your wrist, dragging you deep into the crevices of the apartment, away from Jaemin.

It all makes sense now. Yangyang dropping by your apartment, Yangyang’s arm over your shoulder, Yangyang arriving the same time as you at a gathering Jaemin didn’t even want to be at.

Any and all hope flies out the window, dissolving in the acidity of his heartbreak.

He pulls out his phone, texts you again, only this one is more formal than the rest.

To: Y/N

Had to go. Sorry we couldn’t talk more. I’ll see you.

He waits a couple minutes but never receives a reply.

Ignition.

Everything in him begins to burn.

one.

It rains on Sunday.

Jaemin finds himself sitting just under the lip of the roof, watching as rainfall creates puddles in the miniature pits in the backyard. The humidity allows for sweat to adhere his clothes to his skin; it’s an unpleasant feeling, one he’s too lazy to fix by getting up and going back inside, so he’s grateful for the sudden breeze that causes him to shiver.

A jacket is suddenly draped over his shoulders. A figure takes a seat beside him.

“What are you doing out here?”

Your presence only adds to the warmth he’s already feeling.

“Oh, you know…” Jaemin murmurs as you make yourself comfortable on the porch, “wallowing.”

“Ah,” you hum. “As one does.”

“As one does,” he repeats.

You let a few raindrops land on your shoes before you ask, “Am I allowed to ask why?”

He kicks a pebble under his feet. “I don’t know. I just feel weird, I guess? I can’t explain it.”

Lie. He knows exactly why he feels under the weather, and from the way your eyes don’t leave his face, you know he’s lying, too.

“Do you feel better than you did yesterday?”

“Hm?”

“Renjun let me in,” you explain, “I asked him what happened to you last night and he said you just weren’t feeling it, so…”

He nods slowly. “Oh! Uh — yeah. Yeah.”

He clears his throat awkwardly. In the corner of his eye, he sees you raise an eyebrow and turn your head towards the backyard, watching as the rain becomes more aggressive, rapidly pattering against any surface it finds, staining the trees and the ground and the wood of the porch.

Inside, he can hear soft murmurs between his frat brothers. There is the occasional laugh and loud outburst, and it tugs on his heartstrings. It’s much happier inside than it is out here — here, Jaemin’s sulking and brokenhearted and you’re next to him, hiding under the blanket of his heartache.

“How’s Yangyang?” he questions before he can stop himself.

You try your best to hide your surprise. “Uh, he’s fine? I haven’t spoken to him at all today.”

“And your date?”

Your eyes light up. Game over, Jaemin thinks as you turn your body to face him, excitement making the rain falter. “Oh, yeah, I was gonna tell you about it last night!” Jaemin sucks in a breath, “It was awful.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“Yeah, remind me to never listen to Yangyang ever again,” you snicker with a shake of your head. “He’d been bothering me for months about how I’m, apparently, chronically single. And he thought the only way to fix that was to set me up with a stranger from his Microbio class.”

Jaemin’s moved to look at you dead in the eye now, lips parted and eyebrows furrowed as he tries to process all the information you’ve just spewed out. “Wait, I’m sorry, what?”

You misinterpret his confusion for incredulity. “Right! But I went along with it, which I really shouldn’t have — I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you about it before I went, but it completely slipped my mind. I guess karma got me back, though, ‘cause the guy was terrible — he was so boring, Jaem. So I went to the bathroom to text Yangyang to pick me up, but I was stupid enough to leave my bag at the table. The guy stole my fucking wallet, so I had to—”

“Wait,” Jaemin interrupts, jaw slack. “So you weren’t on a date with Yangyang?”

You scrunch your nose up in disgust. “No. What?”

Jaemin doesn’t reply.

“Jaemin—”

“Never mind.”

You stare at him as he repositions himself to face the backyard again. The both of you hear more clamor in the kitchen, but it’s all drowned out by the laugh that escapes your mouth.

He lasts about ten seconds avoiding your eye contact — at the sound of your amusement, Jaemin whips his head to look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, covering your mouth with a hand. “I’m so sorry. That’s not — okay, well, it’s a little funny.”

“Alright, I get it,” Jaemin grumbles, though he softens when you lean on his shoulder for support.

“Why the hell would you think that?”

Jaemin shrugs the shoulder you’re not leaning against. “You two were always together, and then you guys showed up at the party at the same time wearing matching outfits, so my mind was like—”

“‘Yangyang and Y/N are dating. Only explanation,’” you finish for him with a snort. “That was just a coincidence. Yangyang and I are friends, Jaemin. I thought you, of all people, would assume that.”

He nudges you. “What’s that mean?”

You nudge him back. “I mean, I thought it was already established that I like you.”

At his silence, you click your tongue.

“I wouldn’t have said yes to a date with you if I didn’t like you, Jaemin.”

“Yeah, but…” he huffs, eyeing the clouds as the raindrops become infrequent and the sky turns a little brighter. “I thought you would’ve given up on me.”

You place a hand over your heart, frowning. “Wow. You think that low of me?”

“No, absolutely not—!”

You squeeze his shoulder with a gentle smile. “Jaemin, I was joking.”

Jaemin sighs in relief, leaning into your touch. “I’m gonna make up for that date, you know.”

Resting your chin on his shoulder, you assure him, “You already have.”

“No, not with flowers and stolen shoes — with dinner,” he pauses, turning his face to meet your eyes. As the sky grows lighter, the red on his cheeks becomes more evident, “if you’ll let me.”

“Will you actually show up this time?” you ask, teasing.

He laughs with a roll of his eyes. “I’ll be there before you even show up.”

When you leave the frat house that night, swollen lips and sweat prickling at your skin, you bump into Lia on her way to class. She asks suspiciously why you’re grinning like a madman — there is no reason for anybody to be smiling this much when it’s this humid outside.

At the mention of Jaemin’s name, Lia softens in understanding. She pats your cheek the same way a mother would nurture her child before saying, “I swear that boy is gonna be the death of you.”

You shrug. You can’t bring yourself to care.

#na jaemin #jaemin #nct #nct dream #na jaemin x reader #jaemin x reader #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #na jaemin scenarios #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #jaemin angst #jaemin fluff #nct dream angst #nct dream fluff #jaemin imagines #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #fic: forgiveness (i would redo it all if i could)

989 notes · View notes