“Remind me again how I got stuck carving this pumpkin,” dad!Jaemin sighs, lifting his eyes from the orange gourd.
Across from the table you sit watching him with focused eyes and a less than focused mini version of the two of you settled into your lap.
“‘s yucky, Appa,” the girl responds casually, not even tearing her eyes away from the screen. The classic Halloween movies you’d insisted on playing all month long had successfully caught and maintained the toddler’s attention every evening. This, Jaemin didn’t mind. Movies were much better than finding her watching toy unboxing videos in languages she didn’t even speak.
You laugh softly, brushing her hair out of her eyes as you keep watching your husband with a warm smile. Jaemin just sighs dramatically and gets back to carving the pumpkin.
“This wasn’t even my idea,” Jaemin huffs under his breath.
You roll your eyes, “well, you didn’t exactly try to say no, now did you?”
Jaemin playfully glares, “well, now I know to say no.”
“Good luck with that,” you reply sarcastically.
And really, you were right. Jaemin had never been good at saying no to his little girl. Especially not a few days ago when she’d come home from preschool excitedly recounting how her friend had gone to the pumpkin patch and gotten the biggest pumpkin ever! He just wanted his baby girl to experience the same happiness so, at the end of the week you all found yourselves at the pumpkin patch.
Neither you nor Jaemin had expected your four year old to be picky. It was her first time at a pumpkin patch, you wanted her to have a good time, pick a pumpkin, snap a few cute pictures and go home. Boy, were you both wrong. Your daughter was picky. Some pumpkins were ugly, others too dirty, more were too small, and— thankfully, Jaemin was able to find a pumpkin big enough to meet the toddler’s standards.
The pumpkin which was nearly double her size and both heavy and expensive. She had been so smug and proud as Jaemin wheeled the pumpkin out to the car in a little red wagon.
The very same pumpkin which she was very excited to carve. She excitedly danced around the kitchen with her hair tied back and a tiny apron to cover her clothes. She practically vibrated with excitement as Jaemin carved a circle into the top and exposed the innards of the pumpkin.
Except that when she stuck her tiny hand inside the pumpkin to help clean it, she screamed and began to cry. “Yuck! I don’t like it!” She’d cried with tears shining in her eyes.
That’s how she’d ended up in your lap with a lollipop in her mouth and less than interested in the pumpkin at all. Though, she was still quite particular about the face that was being carved. It still had to meet her impossibly high standards, after all.
The movie was just finishing up when Jaemin finally wiped his hands clean of pumpkin. You were busy looking for a candle to stick in the Jack-o-lantern while your daughter still focused on the movie.
Just a few minutes later you all found yourselves outside as you lit the candle and put the top back on the pumpkin. Jaemin bounced the toddler in his arms lightly, “do you like it, baby?”
She clapped her hands, “I love it! I want to make more!”
“Yeah, right,” Jaemin snorts, “I actually think it’s time for someone to start getting ready for bed.”
She whines and you tickle her side, “what do you say to Appa?”
“I don’t want to go to sleep!” She huffs which you quickly correct with a stern look, “thank you, Appa. I love it.”
“And I love you, my baby,” he smiles, pressing a kiss to her chubby cheek.
[💌] vocês piscaram e o perv!jaemin voltou… e dessa vez com companhia
꒰♡꒱ avisos: exibicionismo, gagging com calcinha, tudo é consentido, humilhação, fingering, edging (?), sexo sem proteção, cockwarming, sugestivo, curtinho e duvidoso
perv!jaemin que quer muito conversar com os amigos dele, mas não consegue porque seus gemidos não param enquanto ele soca dos dedos na sua buceta então ele tira a sua calcinha e bota na sua boca pra abafar os sons um pouquinho.
perv!jaemin que para os movimentos dele quando percebe que jeon e donghyuck estão prestando mais atenção em você do que no assunto.
perv!jaemin que vê a sua frustração e sorri.
perv!jaemin que te puxa pro colo dele e acaricia seu cabelo inocentemente depois de te fazer sentar no pau dele.
perv!jaemin que fica extremamente tentado em te virar de frente pros dois amigos, mas decide guardar sua carinha de cadela burra dessa vez.
perv!jaemin que brinca com seus peitos e nem tenta mais segurar uma conversa com os outros.
perv!jaemin que segura a sua cintura com força pra você não se mexer.
perv!jaemin que fica com pena dos seus olhinhos molhados e deixa você quicar no pau dele.
perv!jaemin que retoma a conversa como se nada tivesse acontecendo.
perv!jaemin que não consegue segurar o sorriso de cafajeste enquanto uma mão aperta seu pescoço.
perv!jaemin que espera você gozar e esporra dentro de você na frente dos melhores amigos.
perv!jaemin que te mantém no colo dele até você se levantar toda molinha e ele vai atrás.
perv!jaemin que definitivamente viu os amigos ajustando as calças desconfortavelmente enquanto ia até o banheiro com você.
you always left the curtains just slightly open. maybe it was on purpose, maybe not. either way, jaemin’s kitchen light flicked off every time you disappeared into your room for the night. he stood at his sink, staring through his own window, watching the way you slid your shorts off like it was nothing. like you didn’t know someone was watching you.
you always faced the window. always laid back on your soft, dusty pink sheets, one hand between your thighs and the other squeezing at your own tits. you touched yourself slowly, lazily, like you had all the time in the world. and jaemin watched. jaw slack, and fist clenched. his cock hard in his sweats, breathing uneven as he imagined what you sounded like. what you tasted like.
he wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t stop. and tonight was worse.
because tonight, you were spread out completely bare from head to toe, fingers circling your clit in slow, perfect little shapes. your legs shifted, back arching off the bed, and your eyes flickered toward the window. right into his own eyes.
you barely had time to blink before your doorbell rang.
you scrambled to pull a shirt on, slipping your damp panties back on, heartbeat wild. you opened the door with your breath caught in your throat and there he was. your oh, so hot neighbor, na jaemin. handsome, flushed, and leaning against your doorframe like he hadn’t just walked over with his cock hard and his self-control long gone.
“hi,” he said, eyes flicking down your body. “need a hand?”
he barely waited for you to answer and stepped in anyway. “you wanted me to see, didn’t you?” he murmured, fingers already brushing your hip, voice low and amused. “you put on that little show for me every night.”
your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. you knew it was true and it was all on purpose.
“then let me help,” he whispered, guiding you backwards. “you’ve been touching yourself all wrong anyway.”
his fingers were warm when they slid under your big t-shirt, his touch far too calm for how worked up he was. his palm settled on your lower stomach, holding you still as he nudged your thighs apart with his knee.
“been watching you make yourself come for weeks,” he murmured, dragging a finger through your folds with maddening slowness. “you’re so messy with it, baby.”
“fuck—” your hips twitched, pussy already throbbing, and clenching around nothing. but he just smiled down at you, two fingers slipping in so easily you gasped.
“see that?” he cooed, curling them right on the first thrust. “pretty little pussy just lets me in.”
you moaned, loud and shameless, hips rocking forward against his hand like it was instinct. he angled his fingers perfectly, pressing against your sweet spot over and over until you were a shaking mess, your head thrown back, hands gripping his shirt.
“th-this is better,” you panted. “so much better—”
“i know,” he said, lips brushing your cheekbone. “told you i’d show you how to do it right.”
his fingers sped up the pace, the wet sound of your cunt obscene in the quiet house. and when your moans turned into breathless little whimpers, when your walls fluttered around him like you were ready to let go, jaemin pulled his hand away.
“wha—jaemin,” you gasped, aching, and frantically. “don’t stop—”
“m’not,” he said, bringing his soaked fingers to his mouth. he licked them clean with a deep groan, like he’d been dreaming about this. “fuck. i knew you’d taste sweet.”
you stared at him, all flushed, and your legs still open like an invitation he didn’t need to be offered twice.
he took your hand, and pulled you with him. “c’mon,” he said, voice a lot rougher now. “back to your bed.”
you barely made it through the doorway before he was all over you again. kissing you hard and deeply because he couldn’t hold back anymore. he’d already been fucking you in his head for weeks. your shirt came off, panties were pushed down, and then he was sinking into you in one perfect thrust, both of you moaning at the stretch, the way you took him so well.
“you feel that?” jaemin grunted, hips rolling deep against yours. “that’s what you needed, baby. not your fingers. me.”
you wrapped your legs around his middle, nails digging into his shoulders.
“been thinking about this every night,” you whispered, voice shaky. “wanted you to come over so bad.”
he laughed softly against your neck, breath hot. “next time, just ask.”
his thrusts suddenly got sharper. your back arches high, body trembling as your orgasm hits, overwhelmingly so, and jaemin’s right there with you. thrusting deeper, harder, chasing the tight throb of your pussy around him.
“fuuck—baby—yeah, just like that,” he pants against your mouth, his grip almost bruising on your waist. “you’re so fucking perfect.”
you cry out his name, fingers digging into his shoulders and biceps. and when you pulse around him again, he moans loud and rough, burying himself balls deep as he spills deep inside you.
jaemin’s body shudders against yours, cock twitching with every wave of release he feels, and all he can do is hold you close, kiss your throat, whispering, “been waiting to cum in you since the first night you touched yourself for me.”
both of you were a mess. a sheen layer of sweat on your bodies, flushed skin, and he’s still inside you when he looks down and smiles.
“window’s still open,” he murmurs, kissing your lips, warm and slow and sweet. “guess we put on a show this time.”
you walk out of the bathroom and into jaemin's room after your shower to see him showering his cat, luna, in kisses.
"look at my princess luna," he says in a high pitched voice while kissing her forehead. "such a pretty girl."
you clear your throat, making him immediately snap his head up, probably fast enough to cause whiplash. "ready for bed?" he says with that sickening smile, petting luna's furry head.
seeing him behave this way really shouldn't flip any switches in your brain, but for some reason it does. you nod and walk over to his bed, scooting close to him. you place your hand over his that's on luna's head, tapping the back of his hand rhythmically.
"sometimes i feel like you love her more than me.." you say through a giggle. jaemin chuckles and grabs your hand, bringing it to your cheek while his fingers intertwine with yours.
"baby, i practically raised her, i just have dad impulses i promise," he says, pressing a kiss to your lips. you nod and turn to see one of his other cats, lucy, jump on the bed. she b-lines for jaemin, stepping around luna so she can get her own pets.
he smiles adoringly at her and scratches her head. "you're such a girl dad... maybe we need actual kids so you can use those skills to their fullest potential."
he gives you a look, "not happening. luna, lucy, and luke are annoying enough."
haechan. it was the worst place to treat a wound. the pulsing throb in your arm was a cruel reminder of the gash hidden beneath the thick knit of your sweater. the cramped closet was absolute grimy but options were… limited. it's not like you were expecting them to make you fall on purpose in front of the whole party.
panic nipped at the edges of your composure. infection was a far greater threat than social awkwardness. all you could do was wait for a scab to form and get the hell out of there, at once.
the last thing you'd expect is for someone to find your hiding place. and that someone was him. haechan lee. he's supposed to have a line of girls following him around, and seeing him without a trace of any makes you feel nervous. because you are alone with him.
“did i take your place for casual sex, sweetheart?” you pronounce as you watch from below his imposing silhouette cutting off the light. but you see him smile, above it all, before he takes a look at the wound.
he kneels, and by reaction, you move out of his way. “want me to treat it for you?” he asks with an inviting tone, putting a small first aid kit on the floor.
and just because you feel that agreeing is a better punishment than asking him to leave, you nod, “please.” a perverse sense of self-punishment warred with the throbbing pain.
that is until you realize that while treating your wound he can hurt you even more. that is until he begins to work on cleaning it and see that he does it carefully. brown doe eyes and big pupils focused on the strokes with alcohol around it and not on the exposed flesh. stripped of cruelty, softened with care.
your lips press together, in disbelief. maybe this is what he's scheming, making you look dumb for a kind act. that's his punishment. “you're doing great, sweetheart. i'm almost done,” his voice stays calm and soft, and as he pronounces it, you don't know what to believe.
his gaze remains tending your wound, and you feel relieved; because yours, yours always ends on him.
jeno. it felt worse than it looked. or so you thought since your eyes stays closely shut as you bite your fist. the pain comes in waves and you're gritting your teeth and seeing stars from the impact, still disoriented and on the ground. and you haven't opened your eyes for a few long minutes, trying to muster up the strength to see the wound that was surely bleeding badly because it hurt badly.
it's been a terrible week for you, you admit it. much worse than last week and the week before that. your back was marked with an X from the moment the famous lacrosse player, lee jeno, started taking an interest in you.
no matter how hard you tried to avoid him, deny it, and not run into him so as not to make things worse or make enemies, they always ended up finding you.
you tried to put up with it, but the abuse escalated as jeno began to pry into your bruises or why you were hiding in the lunch breaks.
he couldn't understand that it was because of him. because of him, this was happening to you. because of him, now your whole body hurts like hell and nothing but laughter comforts you. until all shut up.
that is why it is in contrast and you get startled, when you feel his hands gently pass under your legs and take you in his arms. jeno's touch on the injured leg causes you to choke a groan, feeling like he squeezes you a little against his chest. “shh, it's alright...”
you keep your eyes closed as you feel him take you with him, and little by little it feels less aching, the way he holds you is soft, just like his calm and deep voice soothes you. “i'll take care of it.”
jisung. you get startled again, a small, involuntary jump that made his cheeks flush a deeper shade of pink. “sorry. sorry,” he mumbles, tumbling words out as he continues to clean the wound with surprisingly delicate hands.
he seems oblivious to the fact that his long hand, resting against the inside of your calf, was the real reason for your flustered reaction. it’s warm, loose, and… comforting in a way that made your breath ragged. “i could've taken care of it alone,” you manage to say, trying to ignore the distracting warmth against your skin and the way your heart had suddenly decided to pick up its pace.
you catch when he smiles, a boyish, disarming grin that forms two crescents of his eyes . “sure you could, pretty,” he replies, nonchalant even though you sense amusement dancing in his brown gaze. “but,” he looks at you, meeting your attentive eyes. “i just wanted to do it myself.”
if only he knew… you thought. the reason you flinched wasn't from the sting of the antiseptic, but because it was him, jisung. jisung in his leather jacket and a cigarette tucked behind his ear. the epitome of cool nonchalance. so different from the kind, gentle projection tending to your injury with such focused care.
“why?” you ask, genuinely curious.
the question hangs in the air for some time where you weigh on who was the real him, hoping it meant something. that his expression open and sincere, were real, just like his words, “i don't like to see you hurt,” he says, his voice quiet.
his attention was focused on your face, his brow furrowed in concern. he seemed completely unaware that his thumb, while he spoke, was tracing lazy, distracting patterns on your skin, each touch sending tiny electric shocks through you. he was so close, you could see the faint stubble along his jawline, the way his lashes framed his eyes.
you startle when his touch falters. “sorry, love,” he murmurs once again, returning to your wound, all while you get lost in your thoughts.
jisung is used to have little nicknames like that all the time; it shouldn't have affected you. you'd heard him call other girls that, and it had never bothered you before. but coming from him, directed at you… it was different. it made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn't quite explain. and maybe… maybe he did know his hand was on your leg, and that every so often you startled because his thumb caressed you absentmindedly. maybe he wasn't as oblivious as he seemed. he was certainly good at playing it off, just like he was with all the girls.
jaemin. your hand drowns out the panting you're trying to suppress when he places the cotton ball to stop the bleeding. nevertheless, your face gives you away “i know, i know.” he's gentle, and calm, even though every so often you take your hand out of his reach when it's too unbearable. his voice always comes softly to you. “i know it hurts.” he looks at you, and for a second you forget that it does, because his brown eyes convey tranquility, and more important, don't reveal resentment.
you snort, stressed. “i said horrible things to you.”
he seems pretty unfazed, “you did.”
“then why are you being gentle?” you inquire, troubled and dismayed. “i've never been good to you.”
“should i leave you here? shouldn’t i check on you?” his voice is tint with layers and layers of emotions, emotions you're not able to pick up faster than you'd like.
“the right thing to do would be for you to be mean to me.”
the latter generates a reaction from him. he looks up as if he was slapped, but then soon returns to a calm ocean. “i would never be mean to you.” so deep and complex, he does their job so well, that it is almost imperceptible that he's also good for hiding things.
“take off your jacket.”
he blinks, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but he complies without a word, shrugging it off to reveal the long-sleeved shirt he wore beneath. that’s when you see it. in his arm, in his chest, the space that extends to reach his wrists, the visible part that you'd seen and ignored in your stupidity.
your breath hitches. reaching out, his eyes flickers to yours, a mixture of resignation tint his cheeks, yet he doesn't pull away, he lets you touch it. the cut on his side was slightly deeper than yours, the edges rough and uneven.
it was true that jaemin had gotten into worse fights. he was always hooking up with ramen girls; he was the perfect definition of treacherous, self-centered, and a compulsive liar. you hadn't taken his silence as anything more than pretentiousness. no one was as good as the girls he hooked up with and discarded, but now he comes along, saves you, and gets hurt in the process.
“you're patching me up for a scratch, and you've got this…”
he shrugged, almost sheepishly. “it's nothing,” he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.
“jaemin,” you says with disbelief. “when were you going to tell me?”
all this time you thought that's how he wins them over, how he has planned to take you to bed (the only girl who has rejected him).
but maybe all this time you've been misinterpreting it. you've been judging him wrongly.
your grip on his hand tightens, your fingers hurt but what he says hurts more. “once i finished making sure you were okay.”
chenle. the silence somehow hurt more than the puncture wound on your lip, or your cheekbone, or your broken nose. and having him this close doesn't help at all, it just made you feel more distant. you wanted him to say something, but you were afraid that what he had to say wasn't going to do any good. so you bit your tongue, and it burned less.
he's angry, of course, and maybe a little at you, especially. you've hidden in the bathroom to treat your wounds, and somehow he's come here with you and started doing it himself. the boy who supposedly hates you, who can't stand being this close to you, and who has cared so little about your existence that he has been ignoring you all night. suddenly, he starts to worry about whether you're okay while everyone else laughs at you? it's nothing more than another way to humiliate you.
you wanted to tell him that you weren't forcing him to do anything. yet your eyes tend to linger and follow his gaze until he finally looks at you.
a smile spreads across his lips, and you would find it attractive if it weren't for the fact that he's clearly making fun of you, right to your face, just as he had surely planned all along.
“you’re happy?” you fight so that humiliation does not cloud your gaze, and it’s probably the hardest thing you’ve done after trying so hard to not fall in love with him and still failing.
his fingers brush your chin and his eyes fall on your lips, but you're sure it's nothing to do with the wound. “mmm.” not when his gaze baches you with something that makes you think maybe he wasn't angry with you, maybe he was worried... maybe he does care about you. “nice punch,” he praises you, looking at you before finishing his work and heading for the door.
not leaving without first saying something so quietly that you think you imagined it. “that’s my girl.”
without saying anything, you lean feeling less helpless; cause even though he'd probably keep ignoring you after this, his eyes will always tell you what you need to know.
he's not mad. and he cares.
renjun. your lips tighten in a fine line as the burning in your hand spreads and hurt like hell before your eyes shoot at him, looking like it was on purpose. “you're good?”
you glare at him. it had been just a silly cut that could've been rinsed with water, but renjun saw it first —of course he sees everything first, and alerted the professor. it turned out that the shot had backfired, and he wasn't going to get rid of you that easily, so now you're here being taken care of by him, giving you some victory in your defeat.
the know-it-all renjun wasn't going to get away with it after drawing everyone's attention and making you look like a crybaby. especially not now that you've scared off every girl he's tried to pick up over the last week by asking if he would mind taking care of your wound, like some kind of silent battle that he started.
you had foolishly lost when you realized that now he was revealing himself, making you suffer because he couldn't stop hurting you while he healed you. you weren't going to give him the satisfaction so easily by begging him to be gentler until he filled your cup of patience and tolerance for pain.
“what?”
he must've felt the long, deadly look on him to pronounce “mhm, i don't know let me think,” you say, shrugging, “there's a hole in my hand and i think you want to fill it with alcohol.”
you see him genuinely out of place, before snorting. “you should've told me,” he says, “i thought i was being careful enough.” he takes your hand and brings it to his mouth to blow into the wound so that it burns less, and the most horrible, worst thing, is that you believe him.
mark. you often wonder why everyone wants to be friends with mark lee.
until it hits you.
you and mark get along with each other. it's a coincidence that he's always where you are, stuck headfirst in his notebook, and staring at his phone from time to time, as if expecting to receive a message that never arrives. when he's not alone at the next table, he's always surrounded by people. they can't help it; he has become a sun.
“i’m almost done.” he's focused on the scratch on your knee; the pe teacher has asked someone to take you to the nurse's office even though you could have walked there yourself, and mark has volunteered. not only that, he's taken you piggyback all the way there.
so, yes, you think you know why everyone wants to be his friend.
“does it sting?” he asks, pulling apart from you to read the precautions of the bottle with his mouth slightly half-open in concentration when your senses mess up and you gasp accidently.
“uh…”
the worst part was over, of course. it had hurt at first, with alcohol, now that it was done, it shouldn't hurt..., you should have told him that you were feeling better and that you'd had enough alcohol for one year, but you think you got a little carried away, and stopping now would be embarrassing… right?
“you must still have a concussion, because of the fall. here.” you let him help you get off the infirmary chair but along the way, and because you’re nervous all of a sudden by the way his eyebrows gather in concern, and his tongue poke the inside of his cheeks, you end up giving each other a forehead bump.
your head spins and so does his laughter, in your mind. and you're not sure about what you said before. not everyone wants to be his friend. when he smiles like that, maybe some people want to be something more.
tags. cheating involved (yn cheated), mention of mark as bf, semi public sex, fingering, pet names, degradation (whore, slut, etc.) slight dacryphilia, jaemin's a mean guy at the end, ass smacking, etc
request.
your relationship with mark has always felt like the purest thing in your life. you promised yourself to keep everything simple, no unnecessary worries, no doubts, because honestly, mark is the best boyfriend you’ve ever had. he treats you with kindness, always making you feel loved and secure. he’s thoughtful, caring, and everything you’ve ever wished for and more.
but lately, things have started to feel... different.
it wasn’t something you could easily point out at first, but the feeling lingered. it stuck to you like an itch you couldn’t scratch. especially after mark introduced you to jaemin, one of his old friends. you never really minded meeting his friends before, chenle, jisung, renjun. they were all kind and welcoming. but this time, something felt off.
something you couldn’t quite ignore.
you were at a small party in someone’s cramped apartment, probably another one of mark’s friends. music hummed through the room, and people were scattered across the space, chatting, laughing, drinking. the smell of alcohol and snacks mixed in the air. mark held your hand as he guided you through the crowd, stopping when he spotted someone.
“this is jaemin,” mark said, his voice light. “we’ve been friends since high school. he’s kinda been around since, well, forever.” he chuckled, moving to stand beside the guy.
your gaze flicked to jaemin, taking him in. he was undeniably good-looking, with sharp features and a smile that almost felt too perfect. he wore a simple white shirt, but it didn’t hide how well-built he was. his shoulders were broad, his posture relaxed but confident. the way he held himself made him seem effortlessly charismatic.
your stare broke when he smiled, a bright, radiant grin that felt like it could disarm anyone.
“hi, y/n, right?” he extended his hand toward you, voice smooth.
for a second, you didn’t move. you just looked at him, caught in something you didn’t understand. it wasn’t attraction — not exactly. more like... curiosity. or maybe a strange sense of unease.
mark didn’t notice the pause, just watching you with his usual gentle expression, assuming you were just shy around new people.
slowly, you reached out and shook jaemin’s hand, but the handshake lingered longer than necessary. the warmth of his palm pressed against yours, and his grip was firm but not too tight. his eyes stayed locked on yours, studying your face as if he were trying to read every thought running through your head. it made your stomach twist, and you looked away, pulling your hand back quickly.
mark cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “so, uh... i hope you guys get along,” he said, voice carrying a hint of awkwardness.
jaemin didn’t break eye contact right away. he glanced at you from head to toe, the look subtle but noticeable. like he was assessing you. or maybe... checking you out.
“of course, we will,” jaemin muttered, but there was something in his tone that made you tense. something mark didn’t catch — but you did. it wasn’t the words themselves, but the way he said them. like there was a hidden meaning buried beneath them. maybe you were overthinking it. or maybe you weren’t.
then, without another word, jaemin turned and walked away, slipping into the crowd to join his other friends.
mark squeezed your hand, offering a reassuring smile. “don’t worry, he’s a nice guy. he just got back from busan, so he’s probably tired. usually, he’s super loud and funny. you’ll get along with him, i’m sure.”
you tried to smile back, but it felt forced. because even after mark’s reassurance, the weird feeling in your chest didn’t fade. if anything, it grew stronger.
days passed by slowly, filled with gatherings and parties. being around mark and his friends didn’t feel as exhausting as before — maybe because something felt different now. maybe because you felt different.
jaemin sat at the same table as you, laughing and talking with the others. his eyes crinkled as he chuckled at a joke, nodding along. he seemed relaxed, leaning back in his chair, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the table.
but every now and then, you felt his gaze. the weight of it lingered, enough to make your skin prickle. and every time you turned to check, he was already looking away, acting like nothing happened. like he wasn’t watching you.
it felt like a silent game. a chase with no end.
you didn’t know why you were so caught up in it. maybe it was the excitement? the danger of getting caught? or maybe it was something else entirely — something about him that made it impossible to pull away.
"i'll smoke," jaemin suddenly said, standing up and patting a friend's shoulder before walking off.
you watched as he disappeared through the crowd. he smokes? since when?
without thinking, the words left your mouth. "i'll just go to the bathroom." you mumbled, already rising to your feet.
mark briefly glanced your way, brows slightly furrowed, but quickly turned back when someone called his name.
you pushed through the crowd, scanning faces, searching. you knew who you were looking for. and you hated yourself for it.
why were you like this? you already had mark — the best guy you could ask for. but no matter how hard you tried to stay still, your heart was already moving in another direction.
towards jaemin.
you found him outside, standing in the yard. he wasn’t smoking. instead, he was on a call, phone pressed to his ear. one hand rested in his pocket, the other lazily holding the phone.
he noticed you immediately. his eyes flicked towards the backdoor, catching your figure.
"yeah, i'll go later," he said into the phone before hanging up. he slipped the device into his pocket, then turned fully to face you.
he scanned the area briefly, making sure no one else was around.
"found your way again, huh?" he muttered, voice low as he looked at you, amusement lacing his words.
you shifted on your feet, rubbing your arm. "i was just... trying to get some air," you lied, though you were sure he could see right through you.
jaemin tilted his head slightly. "am i part of that air?" he asked, half-teasing, half-serious.
you bit your lip, heart thudding in your chest.
"it's cold out here. let's head inside," he said, already turning to leave, but you stepped forward, stopping him.
"can you drive me home?" the words tumbled out before you could stop them. you didn’t even know why you said it. maybe you wanted more time with him. maybe you just wanted him.
jaemin stilled, glancing back at you. "drive you home?" he repeated, eyes narrowing. "where’s your boyfriend?"
"he's drinking," you answered, scratching the back of your neck, feeling small under his gaze. the tension made your skin prickle, and you immediately regretted being this bold.
he stared at you for a moment, eyes unreadable. then he nodded. "alright."
he turned and walked towards the street, hands in his pockets, leading you to where his car was parked. you trailed behind him, your heart hammering louder with each step.
when he reached the car, he pulled the door open for you. but before you could step in, he spoke again.
"does he know?" his voice was quiet but sharp, cutting through the cold night air like a knife.
you blinked, confused. "a-about?"
jaemin let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "about me driving you home. or are there... other things he should know about?" he raised a brow, watching your reaction closely.
your throat went dry, and you shook your head quickly. "no, i-i'll just tell him later," you stammered before slipping into the passenger seat, your face burning.
he shut the door gently and made his way to the driver’s side, slipping in and starting the engine. the car smelled faintly of something clean, but not overpowering. the dim lights of the dashboard cast a soft glow, illuminating his face as he tapped on his phone to pull up directions.
"where do you live?" he asked, voice low and steady.
"second ave," you whispered, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. you glanced around the car, trying to distract yourself. it was tidy — no sign of anyone else being in here. no perfume scent lingering. no stray hair ties or lip gloss.
just him.
the drive was quiet. the silence hung heavy between you, and with every passing second, guilt started to seep in. it clawed at your chest, making it hard to breathe.
you felt ashamed. you felt wrong.
you had a boyfriend. you loved mark. but here you were, sitting in jaemin's car, chasing after something you couldn’t even name.
this wasn’t who you thought you’d become. this wasn’t what you pictured for yourself.
but the truth was, it didn’t matter anymore.
because you were already here.
and that thrill, the endless chase, the lingering glances, the unspoken tension — you never thought it would lead to this. all those moments, all those excuses, you weren’t doing it just for the rush. you were doing it because you wanted something. something you couldn’t name, or maybe something you were too scared to admit.
guilt. longing. fear. excitement.
this wasn’t just a harmless game anymore.
you wanted him.
and that terrified you more than anything else.
you couldn't help but hold onto the wall, his one arm over your neck and the other hanging around your body. "you want this, don't you?" he breathes into your ear.
you felt disgusted, yet you couldn't stop feeling the dampness on your panties. you closed your eyes, praying that no one outside the room would hear anything.
you are in the middle of a party with other people, including mark, who is hanging around outside this room. and you're here.
he slammed his palm over your mouth while removing your shorts with his other hand, "be fucking quiet, whore." his voice deep, not bothering to drop them any farther as he dragged you to the couch and pushed you to sit there.
"let's be quick so your boyfriend doesn't suspect a thing, hm?" he smiled as he tugged strands of your hair, causing you to whirl around and collapse against the couch, your hands immediately seeking the armrest for support as you were pushed deeper into the mattress.
"be a good girl and keep your mouth shut, yeah?" he murmured beside your ears, pulling your panties down—smacking your ass with his enormous hands, making a sound that echoed throughout the room.
you attempted to bite your bottom lip to muffle the sound of your own cries, tears welling up in your eyes.
as he slides his hand down between your thighs, you can feel his other hand drawing you closer to the couch's mattress, causing your back to arch.
he gently caressed your folds, his fingers finding their way to your most sensitive spot. rubbing your clit.
"you're so wet.. what would your boyfriend think, letting his best friend fuck you?" he chuckled deeply.
"…in the same house too," he trailed off, his laughter deep and wide. as he inserted two fingers within you, you felt their depth and moaned in response. you closed your eyes and gasped for air. he started thrusting it while circling your clit with his thumb without even warning you.
as he licked the back of your ear, goosebumps and shivers ran down your spine.
you were confused about your emotions; was it lust? disgust and embarrassment?
you know you love mark so much, but fuck. you also love how jaemin's destroying you right now.
your ass arched slightly, and your thighs flinched as his fingers curled precisely. "you like that? what a fucking slut." jaemin asks as his other hand smacks your thigh.
whispering softly, he curls his knuckles together. "you felt… that?" he says, his voice filled with anticipation.
suddenly, he thrusts his fingers too deep, curling them as well.you tightly grip onto any support you can find, you bite your lip, and you close your eyes. "i'm... i'm cumming."
"fuck... cum for me." your mind goes blank and your eyes go white as he grunts and smoothly fingers you, massaging your clit with his thumb.
you clench onto his fingers as you orgasmed, earning a small groan from him, your body trembles. planting a gentle kiss on your neck, he withdrew his fingers, leaving you to grip onto nothing but air.
the longest goodbye synopsis: after four beautiful years of jaemin's relationship with you, you found yourself feeling trapped by the end, resulting in you calling it quits. and now, one year later, for the first time ever since your breakup, you're in front of him again at an idol awards after-party, except with a new man on your arm. a spot that once belonged to him.
word count: 3.6k words
genre/warnings: ex-lovers, idol!NCT Dream, reader's moved on while jaemin's a yearner, reader's new bf is NOT an idol btw!!, angst, there's an argument in the beginning, miscommunication from both jaemin and reader, BUT there's closure at the end! yippee!, explicit language, alcohol consumption, partying, crack (unfortunately, the dreamies make this lighthearted), fluff because i forgot this was supposed to stay sad and angsty but didn't have the heart to remove the cute 7dream scenes, 7dream being 7dream, unrealistic interactions with kpop idols (mentally they have fun like this)
a/n: can you tell i had fun with this 😭😭? pls ignore that i left 7dream with their bttf hair colors in the one year later, i was lazy 💔 this small playlist is completely optional to listen to when reading this, but they helped me a lot when writing! 1) role model & laufey's the longest goodbye, the title, and the whole reason why this idea sprouted in the first place! 2) usher's yeah! 3) mike posner & big sean's cooler than me 4) r5's pass me by 5) r5's let's not be alone tonight (ONLY for the fun parts) as always, i appreciate all love and feedback! happy reading!
“What, so that’s it? You’re not even going to try?” Jaemin hears you scoff; he sees tears begin to form in your narrowed eyes, but he knows you won't find a good enough reason to care.
Jaemin's jaw tightens, and his arms stretch straight out as he carries his weight on the marble kitchen counter. The silence and tapping of his pointy finger are the only sounds heard throughout his apartment, and they’re only adding to your growing anger. He can sense it.
“Y/N, you’re the one who feels trapped in this relationship. I’m not going to hold you back if this doesn’t make you happy anymore.” Jaemin tries to remain calm and collected, but he can feel himself slowly losing composure. “Maybe us breaking up right now is a good thing. I mean, for Christ’s sake, I’m about to go on tour. I’m doing what’s best for you, for us—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You ask in disbelief. Your blood’s boiling by the minute, and the fact that he continues to open his mouth doesn’t help your case at all.
Jaemin removes his arms from the counter to cross them instead, one of his defense mechanisms. He watches your eyes glance down at his biceps—just for a split second—and despite your heated conversation, it ignites a light in him that you’re still trying to slip in a moment to ogle him during a time like this.
However, he is genuinely confused about why you are upset, especially since he believes that his actions are justified. You wanted this; you’re the one who suggested breaking up, and when he agrees, you’re now taking it back?
Jaemin lets out a loud, exasperated sigh, a clear indication that he’s grown tired of this. You’ve always hated hearing that sigh. “Y/N, what do you want me to do? Fight for you? This relationship? How can I fight for it when I know you’re right?”
The next thing he hears is you mumble, “God, you don’t get it at all,” before you move away from your place in the living room to meet him in the kitchen, where he’s standing. Jaemin notices how you look up at him with shared irritation and exhaustion; the only difference is that you’re teary-eyed. You’re still trying to look tough in front of him, even though he knows you want to break down at this very moment.
You feel like a ticking time bomb, waiting to explode at any moment. You mentally count down in your head.
Three.
Two.
“What don’t I get? You just opened up that you feel trapped dating me. If I continue to fight for this relationship, it will only cause you more pain. I care about you, Y/N.” For the first time during this argument, he feels tears building up, but he chokes them back down. “Fuck, and because I care about you, I think I should let you go. Isn’t that what you want?”
One.
“No! That’s not what I fucking want! I thought if I opened up to you about this, then maybe we could work it out. We’ve been together for four years, Jaemin; do you know how shocking and heartbreaking it is to hear the only person you’ve ever loved give up on you that easily?” You ramble on, one of your many habits. Jaemin's memorized them all.
Taken aback by your (very reasonable) lash out, Jaemin chooses to stay quiet. He can’t help but scan your features; you were seriously the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. But before he knows it, you’re already slipping out of his hands. You stand at the door with your hand on the handle, your other arm occupied with your jacket hanging from it.
“I had hope for us, Jaem. I really—” You sniffle as you try to wipe your tears away with your hand. “I really did. But clearly, you don’t, and that says enough for me.”
“Y/N, wait—”
And instead of being met with your figure still there, he’s met with a slam of his front door.
With you gone, Jaemin returns to leaning against the kitchen counter, except with his head in his hands. “Shit…”
“So, let me get this straight. She tells you that she feels trapped in your relationship, she suggests breaking up, and when your dumbass chooses not to run after her, she leaves. Did I get it right?”
“Yes, Haechan, thank you for making me relive the whole night again.” Jaemin huffs from his spot on the couch, his body sprawled out as he cuddles with a throw pillow.
Due to NCT Dream’s recent comebacks, BTTF and Chiller, finally released to the public, it meant an even more packed schedule. The said schedule included double the stage promotions, fansigns, photoshoots, dance practices uploaded to YouTube, and new TikToks and Instagram posts coming in from left and right, even squeezing in award shows. It was a lot to handle, which is why Jaemin didn't and still doesn't blame you for leaving. His life is hectic enough, and the possible free time he could provide for you is thin. But his pride wouldn't let him admit that, of course.
As of right now, the boys were sitting around in the dressing room, preparing for another stage promotion, when Jaemin finally opened up to the group about his current relationship status with you—if he could even call it that anymore.
“Clearly, this is your first relationship—” Chenle starts.
“And it is.” Jaemin interrupts, deadpan.
The black-haired male rolls his eyes before he continues, “Which is why I understand she’s upset. Yes, she should’ve communicated it better, but she told you straight out, bro. It was really dumb on your part to drop her entirely without hearing her out.”
Renjun preaches, “Exactly!” from his makeup chair, to which Jaemin only groans.
Four years. Four long years of endless laughter, shared memories, and anniversaries that were celebrated in the most elegant and divine restaurants in town. Four years of happiness that soon rotted sourly by the end of it.
Na Jaemin has always been a romantic at heart. No one could ever doubt that. But he was a romantic who did everything wholeheartedly, even overdid things that he shouldn't have, like always showering you with branded bags and jewelry, or never forgetting to be over the top on dates since the moment he asked you out, or sticking to a diet that had him suffering in moments where he didn't love himself enough, or even overdoing his love for his job as an idol, so much so that it started to suffocate you.
Everything made you realize that months before you called it quits, he slowly stopped seeing you as a top priority and more as "one of his things."
But he never knew that. And when he found out, it was already too late.
He doesn’t know what goes on in your head anymore. At some point, he did. And that's what pulls at his heart the most: the fact that he used to be able to read you like the palm of his hand; he knew when you were upset, stressed, exhausted, or hopelessly in love. He was an expert in learning you. An emphasis on was.
Now, he’s here. At an idol awards after party. Standing in a crowded room full of other K-pop idols and groups as they converse with one another. It’s loud with chatter, bumping music, and soft clinks of wine glasses exchanged between people. It’s been exactly one year since your breakup. Even though you’re not in the same vicinity as him now, he knows that you’re here somewhere. You’ve been—you were—his girlfriend for years. It’s impossible for you not to be invited when you’ve become mutuals with his friends, and even made some of your own who were in the same profession as him. Someone must’ve invited you or at least told you about this event.
Wait.
Why am I thinking about her?
He has no reason to care or wonder where you are right now. He can’t feel that way anymore—he shouldn’t—he has no right to. You’re not his, nor is he yours. To love, to kiss, to connect with, to—
“Hey, Jaem, you alright, man?” Jeno asks with a nudge to his arm, his voice laced with concern.
Jaemin, not in the mood to explain his current displeasure, puts on a small smile. “Yeah, all good.” Before Jeno can ask for his surety, he changes the subject. “Where are the others? Are they still mingling and dancing?”
Jeno exhales before nodding over in the direction of the dance floor. “Well, Haechan, Mark, and Renjun are over there.”
His eyes follow Jeno's to see the said members to be right where he said they’d be. Haechan's shouting along to the lyrics to the current song that's playing, Bruno Mars’ 24K Magic, Mark's getting down and feeling the groove of the music with his (weird, but very Mark) dance moves, and Renjun's not too far from them, singing and dancing along with a tall glass of fancy wine secured in his right hand. Jaemin smiles at the scene; it's not often that the group gets to go all out and party like this with the schedules that they're given. It was nice.
Jaemin's about to ask his silver-haired group mate about the younger members’ whereabouts when Jeno beats him to it, “And there's Jisung and Chenle.”
He looks over the latter's shoulder and sees Chenle surrounded by K-pop idols from other groups as they chant, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” while Jisung's panicking right beside him, his face having “Manager's going to beat our asses” written all over it. (Jisung chugs moments after, with such ease that it catches the idols off guard. Obviously not aware of his game.)
Jeno and Jaemin chuckle at their youngest members, and while the former thought that was the end of it, Jeno opens up a new topic.
“Don't feel like dancing around tonight, huh? I'm shocked. You and Haechan are usually the first and last people on that dance floor.”
Jaemin stays quiet. He's glad his dark blue bangs cover his eyes, or else he'd have to find a way to prevent Jeno from seeing how deadbeat he feels right now. He carefully swirls the martini glass in his hand to avoid any spills. But unfortunately, to his dismay, Jeno continues.
“You shouldn't be stopping yourself from having fun, man. It's been a year; you should view tonight as an opportunity to let loose and enjoy it.”
“Jeno, I said I'm good,” Jaemin says sharply. So sharp that Jeno gets the memo with a simple nod before walking off to join the others on the dance floor.
The thing is, Jaemin knows that Jeno's only trying to help—all of them are. And he's aware that it's been a year since you broke up with him, since he's seen you, so why is he feeling so low tonight?
He should be doing the activities Jeno talked about—dancing, socializing, following his life motto of living every day to the fullest—but he just can't.
As if Jaemin manifested you, Mark and Haechan see you walk onto the dance floor when a new song begins to blast, with a man they don’t recognize follow right behind you. Luckily, they’re nowhere near your line of vision; people easily hide them away from you. I guess she branched out to dating normal guys after breaking up with Jaemin, Mark thinks.
And by normal, he means guys with lives not like theirs.
They're stuck on debating whether they should alert Jaemin or not, sucking in their breaths and switching between looking at you and your boyfriend, then back to Jaemin. But as they’re about to give up, two light bulbs pop up over their heads and sudden gasps leave their mouths. Almost comically, they suggest in unison, “Let's make Renjun do it!”
Scurrying away from their spot in the crowd, they try their best not to make themselves noticeable (which fails miserably because some partygoers side-eye the duo as they pass by.)
They reach Renjun, slightly panting, who’s sitting comfortably at one of the away tables with the rest of the Dream members.
“Guys, you won’t—” Haechan puffs out, “Believe who we just saw.”
“Yeah, this is crazy,” Mark says, still trying to catch his breath.
Chenle exclaims, impatiently, “Spit it out!”
The two members recite everything they saw leading up to this moment, which ends up being a mistake because after they’re finished, all six of them suck in their breaths, making a chorus of obnoxious sounds and repeatedly looking back and forth at both parties like absolute idiots.
“Do you think he’s gonna come over here?” Jisung whispers while the others continue to watch back and forth intently, clear panic shown in their features.
As if Jaemin heard him, they see him start to look around for them. As a result, Jisung gets a smack to the back of his head from Chenle, which the younger winces at right after. In a hurried panic that the blue-haired male could start walking over to them at any minute, the six guys rush a quick game of rock-paper-scissors. They usually resort to this in the most serious and unserious situations.
“Rock, paper, scissors!” They yell over each other. Thank God the music is still bumping so loud that no one bats an eye at their shenanigans.
“Oh, God, why me! Why!”
The next thing you know, Jisung is internally screaming and looks distraught as the rest of the group giggle and tease him about his loss. After losing, Mark and Haechan push Jisung in Jaemin’s direction. To any unknowing eyes, the duo looks like parents dragging their child into something they don’t want to do. (Which they kind of were.)
Finally, Jisung walks over to the table where his older group mate has comforted himself for the majority of the night. He musters up some courage, fearful of the possible outcomes, but Jaemin just sends him a small smile before looking down at his drink again.
The same drink he’s left untouched for a while now.
The younger rests his elbow on the table, trying to appear nonchalant, like he wasn’t dragged into this moments prior. “I don’t know if you still want to talk to her or not, but Y/N’s here.”
Jaemin pauses. The swirling of his drink stops. He feels like the whole world has.
Jisung becomes uneasy. “You’ve, uh, always talked about wanting closure with her. Maybe tonight is the night you finally get that.”
He’s about to continue when Jaemin curtly nods, not saying anything else but a “thanks, Jisung,” before getting lost in the crowd to find you.
Jisung’s left alone like a deer caught in headlights but lets out a small “phew”, then runs off to tell the guys everything.
After a few minutes, Jaemin catches a glimpse of you amidst the crowd. He squeezes through, throwing around polite excuse me"s as he passes by. And just like that, you’re in front of him again.
And you’re looking better than ever. Dressed in a short, dark red dress that fits and accentuates your body perfectly. You’re wearing that pretty smile that he’s missed so much—the one that has the power to make others happy when seeing it—except he’s not the reason why you’re smiling.
His smile drops when he sees the culprit behind your happiness. A man. A tall, brody guy, dressed in the classic suit and tie. But before he can stop himself, he’s walking up and tapping you on the shoulder.
You turn around, and it feels like your world has stopped, just like his. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
Your boyfriend, Jun, being the saint he is, senses your growing discomfort and takes it as a sign to cut in. “Hey, man. I’m Jun, Y/N’s boyfriend.”
Jun wraps his right arm around your waist, keeping you close—almost possessively, but for the most part, he seems oblivious to the reason behind the tension—Jaemin takes note of that. Jun offers his left hand for Jaemin to shake, which he does.
“Jaemin.”
“It’s an honor to meet you. I'm a huge fan of your music. You're incredibly talented.”
“Thank you; that means a lot.” Jaemin gives a small smile; it’s a small one, but genuine. But as nice as your boyfriend was, and Jaemin's bitter when he admits that, he really couldn't give two shits about him right now. “Anyway, I know this is sudden, but can I talk to Y/N for a second?”
Taken aback by Jaemin’s request, Jun stutters, “Y-Yeah, of course.” Before you leave, you reassure him that you’ll be back soon.
Jaemin takes you to a random table away from the crowd and unwanted ears. He motions for you to sit down, and you do.
When passing you to sit down as well, he tries his best to ignore how you're wearing your favorite perfume, that slowly became his too.
He sits opposite you, and you sit in silence for a couple of moments. The sounds of the party are background noise at this point.
Jaemin breaks the ice first, “You didn't tell him?”
He doesn't elaborate, and you don't ask him to. You knew what he was talking about; he knew that you did.
“What's there to tell? I'm happy, and there's no need to bring up past relationships.”
It was obvious your words struck a nerve in the blue-haired man sitting across from you. He scoffs, not fully convinced, but decides not to push it. “Right. Well, if you’re happy, then I’m happy.”
“Hm. Thank you.” You both avoid eye contact. “I see the guys haven’t changed.” You look over your shoulder, leading Jaemin to do the same. It’s quiet between you two as you watch the rest of the Dream members on the dance floor, who are currently hyping up Jisung and Mark dancing to Usher’s Yeah!
Jaemin only chuckles in response, mainly because he doesn’t know what else to say, but he supposes his group mates are funny. It’s weird. He thought he was prepared for this moment, for you to be in front of him again and to finally tell you everything that was on his mind. But now that you are, his mind is completely blank.
You face him again, your hand moving to play with the charm of your necklace to ease your nerves. Another habit Jaemin memorized.
You open your mouth to say something, but Jaemin goes first.
“I’m sorry.” When you don’t respond, he continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t fight hard enough for us—for you—I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go. I didn’t want to give up on you so quickly like I did, but I was scared. I was only thinking about myself throughout that whole argument but didn’t realize it until you were already at my door. I should’ve listened to you instead of immediately giving up, and I’m sorry.”
He’s surprised you haven’t said anything yet—no insult, no prepared remark, no interruption. He views it as a good thing and keeps pouring out his feelings, the feelings he’s held in for so long.
“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad or come back to me, nothing like that. I just thought we both deserved closure since we were part of each other’s lives for so long, you know? I was surprised to see that you’ve already moved on, but I think I needed it.”
Now it’s your turn to speak up: “I’m sorry too.” Jaemin looks at you, surprised. The moment where you both finally apologize to each other has finally come, and it’s not a dream this time.
“When I suggested breaking up, I shouldn’t have expected you to read my mind. It was selfish and childish of me. You were just as hurt as I was, and we said some stupid things that night. But I couldn’t keep up with it anymore. The truth is, your life, Jaemin,” You feel like you’re going to break down again, and him staying quiet and actually listening to you makes it harder. “I know you love what you do, and I love that you’re passionate about it. It was one of the many things that made it so easy to fall in love with you. But slowly, it became suffocating for me. I couldn’t be seen with you in public places; I had to pretend to be a staff member every time I joined you on tour. We were dating, but we had to act like we weren’t. It was tiring.”
Jaemin nods, fully taking in your words. “I realized that I didn’t love you anymore, Jaemin. But that night, I was hoping you could change my mind.”
Oh.
He wasn’t expecting that.
“But despite that, I still want to thank you for blessing me with four incredible years. You will and always will be the reason why I believe in true love, because that’s what dating you felt like. And I’m wishing you and the guys nothing but happiness.”
“Thank you. You too. And again, I’m so incredibly sorry, Y/N.”
You smile, and this is the first time since your breakup that Jaemin sees tears forming in your eyes. “Please don’t torture yourself over me, or this, not again. Try to forgive yourself, for me?”
In response to your quivered words, Jaemin gives you a tight-lipped smile. “I’ll try my best.”
“Good.”
Jaemin returns you to Jun shortly after, giving a curt, “Take care of her,” and bless the poor man’s heart, your boyfriend was left confused at his words. Leaving you alone, Jaemin goes back to the guys, who have now moved to the open bar, awaiting the alcoholic beverages they ordered.
They welcome him with drunken excitement and smiles, and Jaemin laughs in delight. Mark, who’s sobered up the most, puts an arm around his neck, and Jaemin’s glad most of the guys are too wasted to hear the former ask, “So, how’d it go? All good?”
Jaemin takes one last look at the dance floor. He finds you smiling. And it only makes him smile. No more sadness. No heartache. No lies behind his eyes. Just the relief in his chest telling him that he can finally let you go.
˙⋆✮ bed chem ✮⋆˙
college student yn x college student jaemin
featuring! mingyu of seventeen, yena, and soojin
summery! when jaemin saw the big red "16%" on his first organic chemistry test, he knew he needed a tutor, fast. enter l/n y/n, a chemical engineering student who is determined to raise his grade. but as study sessions turn into late-night library marathons, jaemin is starting to realize he’s got more than just organic chemistry to worry about.
other! spin off of dream boyfriend but can be read as a stand alone, smau, kys/kms jokes, i failed organic chemistry so ... , tutor yn, will add more as i continue, mentions of the dream boyfriend plot
ˋ°•*⁀➷ ball is life .... mingyu haters club
session 0. sixteen percent (written)
session 1. girlfriends best friends roommates friends friend
