Pairings: Roommate!Jaemin x Haeyi (fem oc/ named reader)
Warning: Makeout around the beginning (ikik), angsty, scared lil mfs
They’d been roommates for almost five years—long enough that their lives blurred into one quiet routine. Jaemin made her coffee in the mornings without asking. Haeyi folded his laundry when she did hers. They knew each other’s bad days by the way doors closed, by the silence that lingered too long.
Jaemin had always been affectionate. Casual touches. An arm around her shoulders when she was tired. His chin resting on her head while she cooked. It was normal. It was them.
So when he changed, she noticed immediately.
It started after she mentioned the guy at work. Just once. A throwaway comment about someone who flirted too much and smiled like he knew he was charming. Jaemin had laughed it off—too easily. Since then, his smiles didn’t reach his eyes. His touch lingered a second less. His voice stayed careful, measured.
Weird.
The breaking point came on a random evening.
Haeyi was laughing outside the building, bag slung over her shoulder, when Jaemin pulled up. He froze in the driver’s seat.
The guy from work stood too close. His hand brushed her arm. He leaned in, said something that made her smile—polite, harmless.
Jaemin’s jaw tightened.
The ride home was silent.
Inside the apartment, Jaemin moved like a stranger. Shoes off. Keys down. Tie loosened but not removed. His face was blank, unreadable.
“Jaemin?” Haeyi asked softly. “Are you okay?”
He turned slowly, eyes cold in a way she’d never seen aimed at her.
“Is he,” he asked, voice low, “better than me?”
Her breath caught.
“What—?” Her ears burned instantly. “N-No— I mean— you’re better. Obviously.”
He took a step closer.
“Then why the fuck do you keep talking to him,” he snapped, “and about him?”
Her heart started pounding. “He’s just— I don’t— Jaemin—”
He reached up, yanked his tie loose, and tossed it aside like it meant nothing. His glasses followed, clattering onto the table. He walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps.
“Who am I to you, Haeyi?”
She backed up without meaning to until the wall met her spine.
“Y-You’re my roommate,” she said weakly. “And my best friend.”
Something dark flickered in his eyes.
He shrugged off his blazer, unbuttoned his shirt as he closed the remaining distance, one hand bracing beside her head, trapping her there without touching her anywhere else.
“I’m yours,” he said, voice rough. “I’m fucking yours.”
Her breath hitched.
“You better say that I’m yours,” he continued, forehead resting against hers, “before I make you say it myself.”
She barely had time to gasp before his mouth found hers—heated, desperate, nothing like his usual gentle kisses. It was jealousy, pure and unfiltered, pouring into the way he kissed her like he’d been holding back for years.
When he finally pulled away, his forehead stayed against hers, breath uneven.
He was definitely jealous.
He cups her cheek then—slow, deliberate, like he’s afraid she might disappear if he lets go.
His thumb brushes over her skin, warm, grounding, and his other hand slides to her waist, pulling her closer until there’s no space left to misunderstand. Haeyi’s breath stutters, fingers curling into his half-unbuttoned shirt.
“Jaemin…” she whispers, unsure if it’s a warning or a plea.
He kisses her again.
This time it’s deeper—desperate in a way that feels like longing that’s been sitting in his chest for years. There’s no anger in it now, just need. Just mine, written into every press of his lips against hers. He kisses her like he’s been holding himself back, like he’s been watching from the sidelines of his own life.
Her hands come up on their own, gripping his shoulders as he leans in, forehead brushing hers between kisses, breath uneven.
“I hate the way he looks at you,” he murmurs against her lips. “Like he thinks he has a chance.”
She exhales shakily. “You always did.”
That makes him pause—just for a second.
Then his hand tightens at her waist, grounding her, anchoring himself.
“Say it,” he says quietly now, no threat in his voice anymore. Just vulnerability.
“Say I’m yours.”
Her heart feels like it might burst out of her chest. She swallows, nerves and warmth flooding her all at once.
“Y-You’re mine,” she says, barely above a whisper.
That’s all it takes.
Something in him snaps—softens—and he kisses her again, slower this time but just as intense, like he’s savoring the words, like he’s claiming the truth of them. His hand stays on her cheek, protective now instead of demanding.
When he finally pulls away, he rests his forehead against hers, breathing hard.
“…Good,” he murmurs quietly.
He was definitely jealous.
But more than that—he wanted to belong to her just as badly as he wanted her to belong to him.
They didn’t really talk about it the next morning.
Jaemin was quieter than usual, but he was everywhere at once—moving around the kitchen, making breakfast like it was muscle memory. He slid a plate toward her without a word, brushed past her to grab a mug, then paused just long enough to reach up and fix a strand of hair that had fallen into her face. It was absentminded. Intimate. Like he’d done it a thousand times before and only now realized what it meant.
He stood a little too close whenever she moved. Not touching—just there.
Haeyi barely tasted her food. Her mind kept replaying the night before. The way he’d looked at her. The way his voice had dropped when he’d told her to say he was hers. The words echoed in her chest all day, warm and terrifying all at once.
Neither of them knew how to cross the line from roommates to whatever this had become.
So they didn’t.
Not with words.
After that day, nothing was labeled—but everything shifted.
It started in the middle of the night.
She’d been half asleep when her door creaked open. Jaemin stood there, hair messy, eyes dark and unfocused, hoodie hanging off him like he hadn’t bothered fixing it.
“I can’t sleep,” he’d said quietly. After a beat, softer, “I had a nightmare.”
She’d sat up immediately.
He hesitated in the doorway, shoulders tense in a way she rarely saw. “Can I… sleep here?”
She said yes before he could finish the sentence.
He climbed into bed beside her, turning his back to her almost instantly, curling in on himself. For once, he didn’t try to play it cool.
“Can you…?” he murmured, barely audible. “Big spoon?”
Her heart had clenched.
She wrapped herself around him, her arm slipping under his shirt, palm settling against his bare torso and chest. His breathing slowed as she patted him gently, rubbed slow, soothing circles into his skin until the tension eased out of him completely.
He fell asleep like that.
After that, it became natural.
Shared showers after long, exhausting days—no rush, no heat, just standing together under the water. Sometimes they didn’t even speak. Sometimes they hugged, foreheads touching, letting the sound of the shower drown everything else out.
And the kisses.
Jaemin kissed her forehead all the time.
Before work. Before sleep. As a quiet thank you. When she handed him something. When she laughed. When he passed her in the hallway and couldn’t help himself.
They were gentle, careful kisses—like he was afraid of pushing too far, like he was trying to say I’m here without forcing her to say anything back.
It wasn’t a relationship.
But it wasn’t nothing.
And eventually, the space between those two truths started to hurt.
—
The joke shouldn’t have mattered.
It was said lightly, tossed into the air like nothing.
One of Haeyi’s coworkers had laughed and nudged her.
“Five years as roommates and you’re still not sick of each other? That’s impressive.”
Haeyi had smiled. Laughed it off easily.
“Yeah. We’re good roommates.”
Jaemin had been standing right there.
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. Just smiled faintly and nodded like the word didn’t sink straight into his chest. The rest of the evening, he was quieter than usual—still polite, still gentle—but distant. Like he’d taken a step back she hadn’t noticed.
Later, when they were alone, she finally asked.
“Did I do something wrong?”
He hadn’t looked at her when he answered.
“No,” he said calmly. Too calmly. “I’m just your roommate.”
The word landed harder than anything else could have.
The next day was the weekend.
Movie night—something they’d done a hundred times before. Same couch. Same blanket. Same comfort that suddenly felt unfamiliar.
Jaemin apologized first.
“For yesterday,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
She smiled, a little too quickly. “It’s fine.”
But it wasn’t.
They sat closer than usual, shoulders brushing. The movie played, forgotten. The room was quiet except for the low hum of sound and the space between them tightening.
Jaemin turned to look at her.
She was already looking at him.
They held eye contact longer than necessary. Long enough that her breath caught. Long enough that he leaned in slowly, carefully—giving her time to pull away if she wanted to.
His lips were so close she could feel his breath.
And she hesitated.
Just for a second.
Not because she didn’t want it.
But because five years of friendship flashed through her mind all at once—late nights, shared meals, laughter, comfort. The fear that one wrong move could shatter everything they’d built.
She leaned back slightly. Barely.
Jaemin noticed immediately.
He stilled.
To him, it looked like rejection.
He pulled away completely, jaw tightening, eyes clouding over as he leaned back against the couch.
“Oh,” he said quietly. “Okay.”
The room felt colder instantly.
“That’s not—” she started, panic rising. “Jaemin, I just—”
He stood up.
“I get it,” he said, voice controlled but brittle. “I shouldn’t have tried. I forgot what I am to you.”
Her chest hurt.
“What are you talking about?”
He turned back to her then, frustration finally cracking through the calm.
“I’m your roommate,” he said again. “Right?”
The silence that followed felt heavier than shouting ever could have.
“You don’t get to be mad,” Haeyi said, her voice shaking despite her effort to keep it steady. “We never said we were anything.”
Jaemin stiffened.
What he heard wasn’t the logic behind her words—it was something else entirely. You don’t matter enough to claim.
“Then what are we doing?” he asked quietly, disbelief threading through his voice. “Because I can’t keep doing this if it doesn’t mean anything.”
Her chest tightened painfully.
To her, it sounded like something crueler. You’re a problem. You’re too much.
“So I’m just supposed to pretend this is normal?” she snapped. “That you can come into my bed, hold me,-—and then act like it’s nothing?”
He let out a short, humorless laugh. “You’re the one who pulled away.”
“Because I was scared,” she shot back. “Not because I didn’t want you.”
“But you did,” he said, frustration finally slipping through. “You always do.”
The words hung between them, sharp and cutting.
Her breath hitched, eyes burning. “Maybe… maybe this was a mistake.”
Jaemin froze.
Something in his expression collapsed, like the last support giving out.
“Yeah,” he said softly, too softly. “Maybe I was stupid for thinking you felt the same.”
That was it.
He didn’t yell. Didn’t argue back. He just looked away, jaw clenched, hands curling into fists at his sides before he turned and walked down the hallway.
The bedroom door closed quietly.
The sound was deafening.
Haeyi stood there, breathing unevenly, tears finally spilling over as she stared at the door he’d disappeared behind. Her chest ached with every breath, the apartment suddenly feeling too small, too empty.
She wiped her cheeks roughly, angry at herself for crying, for hesitating, for everything.
Without looking back, she grabbed her jacket and her phone, hands shaking as she shoved her feet into her shoes.
Then she stormed out, the door slamming behind her—leaving five years of friendship and unspoken love, and everything unsaid echoing in the silence.
Jaemin slid down the door the moment it closed.
He sat there on the floor, back pressed to the wood, knees drawn up as he tried—and failed—to steady his breathing. One hand came up to cover his eyes, fingers digging into his hair like he could physically hold himself together.
He hadn’t meant to say that.
He hadn’t meant to let it get that far.
His chest felt tight, lungs burning as he dragged in uneven breaths. The apartment was painfully quiet without her—no footsteps, no soft humming, no presence on the other side of the wall. Just the echo of her words and the sound of the front door slamming shut.
Maybe this was a mistake.
He squeezed his eyes shut harder, jaw trembling.
—
Haeyi barely remembered getting there.
She wiped at her eyes as she walked, but it was useless—tears kept spilling, blurring the streetlights, soaking into her sleeves. Her chest hurt like she’d been running for miles, breaths coming out shaky and broken.
She went to the only place she knew she wouldn’t have to explain herself right away.
She knocked on the door of her cousin’s apartment, hands shaking so badly she almost missed the second knock.
There was shuffling inside. Voices. A muffled laugh cut off abruptly.
The door swung open.
“Who the fu—”
She didn’t let him finish.
Haeyi stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Haechan tightly, burying her face into his shoulder as a fresh wave of tears broke free. Her body shook as she clung to him, like if she let go she’d fall apart completely.
Haechan stiffened in surprise for half a second—then his arms came up around her instinctively, pulling her in.
“Hey,” he said immediately, tone softening. “Hey, hey… what happened?”
Her voice cracked as she tried to speak, words tumbling out between sobs.
“We fought,” she managed, gripping his hoodie like it was the only solid thing left. “We— we fought.”
Haechan’s jaw tightened as he held her closer, shooting a look over her head toward his friend inside the apartment—don’t ask written clearly in his eyes.
“Okay,” he murmured, rubbing her back slowly. “You’re here now. You’re okay.”
But even as she stood there in her cousin’s arms, crying until her chest ached, Haeyi couldn’t stop thinking about Jaemin—alone on the other side of a closed door, hurting just as badly.
And that thought hurt the most.
By the time her sobs finally slowed, her chest felt raw and exhausted.
Haeyi sat curled up on the couch, knees pulled close, eyes swollen and red as she sniffled quietly. Renjun sat beside her and gently held out a tissue. She took it with a shaky “thanks,” dabbing at her cheeks and nose.
Haechan returned from the kitchen a moment later and handed her a mug of warm green tea. “Careful,” he said softly. “It’s hot.”
She nodded, wrapping both hands around it like she needed the warmth to keep herself together.
For a while, no one pushed her to talk.
Then she broke the silence herself.
“It was my fault,” she said hoarsely.
Haechan frowned immediately. “Hey—”
“No,” she insisted, voice trembling. “It really was. I was scared and I handled it so badly.” She swallowed hard, eyes dropping to the mug in her hands. “I said things I shouldn’t have. I was mean to him.”
Renjun stayed quiet, just listening, his expression gentle but serious.
“He looked so hurt,” Haeyi continued, her voice cracking. “I can’t stop seeing his face. The way he just… shut down.” Her grip tightened around the mug. “I didn’t mean any of it. I was just afraid of ruining everything and I ended up doing exactly that.”
Her eyes burned again, tears gathering despite her trying to blink them away.
“I think it’s already too late,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have said that. And now I don’t know how to fix it.”
Haechan crouched in front of her, resting his arms on his knees. “Then go back and talk to him.”
She shook her head quickly, fresh tears spilling over.
“I can’t,” she said, voice small. “I’m scared to go back.”
Renjun leaned forward slightly. “Scared of what?”
“Of seeing him,” she admitted. “Of realizing I really broke something we can’t fix. Of him looking at me like I’m just… someone who hurt him.”
Her shoulders trembled as she wiped at her eyes again.
“I love him,” she said quietly, like confessing it out loud made it heavier. “And I think that’s what scares me the most.”
The room fell silent again—heavy, but safe—as Haechan and Renjun exchanged a look.
This wasn’t just a fight.
This was something that mattered.
Haechan let out a quiet breath and stood up.
“You can stay here,” he said simply, like it wasn’t even a question. “However long you need.”
She looked up at him, eyes glassy. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he replied immediately. “Renjun and I will room together for now. You take my bed—or the couch. Whatever makes you feel safer.”
Renjun nodded in agreement. “You don’t have to rush anything.”
Haeyi swallowed hard and nodded, sniffing as she wiped at her cheeks again. “Okay… thank you.”
That night, she barely slept.
The bed was unfamiliar. The apartment smelled different. Every little sound made her think of Jaemin—of his quiet presence, of the way he used to tuck the blanket around her without waking her. She stared at the ceiling until her eyes burned, phone heavy in her hand, unread messages sitting there like unanswered questions.
One night became two.
Two nights became a week.
A week became two.
She stopped checking the time before bed. Stopped reaching for her phone automatically when something funny happened. She learned the rhythm of Haechan and Renjun’s place instead—Renjun’s quiet mornings, Haechan’s late-night snacks, the low hum of a space that wasn’t hers.
And still… she didn’t feel like going back.
Every time she thought about it, her chest tightened. The memory of Jaemin sitting there, hurt written all over his face, made her stomach twist. She told herself she needed more time. That space was good. That maybe this was better for both of them.
But some nights, when the apartment was quiet and the lights were off, she hugged a pillow to her chest and wondered if Jaemin was still sleeping alone in that room—if he’d stopped waiting for her footsteps outside his door.
A few days after she left, everything else seemed to fall apart too.
Haeyi had already been fired—something she hadn’t even had the energy to process properly. It made the days blur together. She stayed mostly in bed, curled up under blankets in Haechan’s room, the space slowly starting to feel like it belonged to her. The room smelled faintly like his detergent and her shampoo now, a strange mix of comfort and safety.
She only got up when she had to—for food, for showers, or when Haechan dragged her out to sit with him and Renjun for a while. Sometimes they watched movies. Sometimes they didn’t talk at all. Most days, she just existed.
And no one pushed her.
Haechan didn’t mind. He never had. They’d been close their entire lives—closer than most cousins—because she’d grown up an only child. Every summer, she’d practically lived at his place, stealing his hoodies, sleeping in his room while he complained but never actually made her leave. This felt like that again, just heavier.
So he didn’t force her to get up. Didn’t tell her to be productive. Didn’t tell her to call Jaemin.
He just let her be.
Jaemin, on the other hand, coped the opposite way.
He worked.
Too much.
He stayed late at the office, volunteered for extra projects, filled every quiet moment with noise so he wouldn’t have to think about how empty the apartment felt without her. At night, he came home exhausted, hoping sleep would take him before the thoughts did.
It rarely worked.
He’d been worried when she hadn’t come back the first night—terrified, really—but he hadn’t gone after her. He didn’t want to make things worse. A few days later, he ran into Renjun by chance.
Renjun had told him gently that Haeyi was staying with them for a while.
“She needed somewhere safe,” he’d said.
Then, after a pause, he added, “She didn’t stop crying the first night she came.”
That sentence stayed with Jaemin.
That night, he broke.
He lay down on her bed, the side she used to sleep on still untouched, and pulled her pillow into his arms. It smelled like her—faint, familiar, devastating. He pressed his face into it and cried harder than he had in years, shoulders shaking as all the regret finally caught up to him.
He replayed every word. Every look. Every moment he could’ve chosen better.
He wanted to see her. God, he wanted to talk to her—to tell her he was sorry, to tell her he never meant to hurt her, to tell her he loved her without fear this time.
But he didn’t want to force her.
Didn’t want to corner her.
So he waited.
And carried the weight of every stupid thing he wished he could take back.
It was the weekend.
A full month had passed since the fight.
Haechan and Renjun had come by the apartment a few times already to pick up clothes and things she needed—nothing dramatic, nothing tense. Jaemin let them in every time. They talked like normal. About work. About random things. About nothing that mattered and everything that did.
Haechan didn’t glare at him.
Didn’t accuse him.
Didn’t demand answers.
Neither did Renjun.
Today was supposed to be the same.
They were about to leave when Haechan paused by the door.
“Jaemin.”
Jaemin looked up.
Haechan turned fully toward him, expression calm but serious. “It’s not your fault.”
Jaemin shook his head immediately. “It is.”
Haechan sighed quietly. “You and Haeyi are exactly the same when it comes to the self blame game. You take everything on yourselves.” He crossed his arms loosely. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You both panicked. There was too much tension, too much pressure, and you both reacted badly in the moment.”
Jaemin’s jaw tightened, eyes fixed on the floor.
“She loves you,” Haechan said gently. “And I know you love her just as much.”
Jaemin swallowed hard.
“You’re both torturing yourselves by staying apart like this,” Haechan continued. “End it. Just talk it out.”
“I don’t want to corner her,” Jaemin said quietly. “I don’t want to force her into anything.”
Haechan shook his head. “That’s not cornering. That’s wanting. That’s longing.” His voice softened. “And I know you both miss each other.”
He stepped closer, hand briefly squeezing Jaemin’s shoulder. “So talk. No running away this time.”
Renjun, who had been quiet until then, spoke up. “She said she was going to the convenience store near our apartment. To get snacks.”
Jaemin looked up sharply.
Renjun met his gaze, calm but encouraging. “Just so you know.”
Jaemin’s eyes glistened.
He didn’t say a word. He just grabbed his keys and was out the door before either of them could add anything else.
Haeyi was walking back slowly, plastic bags rustling softly in her hands. Her thoughts were somewhere else—always somewhere else—when her foot caught on a small rock.
“Ah—” she muttered.
One of the soda cans slipped free, rolling down the pavement. She cursed under her breath and hurried after it, reaching out—
It stopped.
Hit a shoe.
A shoe she knew.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
A hand reached down and picked up the can.
She froze.
Slowly, she looked up.
Jaemin stood there.
He held the can loosely, staring at her like he couldn’t quite believe she was real. Like if he blinked, she might disappear.
Fear and guilt rushed through her all at once.
She turned around instinctively.
“Haeyi.”
Her name stopped her cold.
She stood there with her back to him, bags clenched in her hands, chest tight, breath shallow.
She didn’t turn around.
But she didn’t walk away either.
Jaemin gulped hard.
For a second, he just stood there, frozen—like if he moved too fast, she’d disappear again. Then he took a step forward. And another. Until he was right behind her, close enough to feel her warmth, close enough that his hands trembled when he lifted them.
He placed them gently on her shoulders.
“Haeyi…” His voice broke.
Before she could pull away, he drew her back against his chest, slow and careful, like he was giving her time to stop him. When she didn’t, his arms slid fully around her, wrapping tight around her shoulders, holding her like he’d been afraid to for an entire month.
She stiffened for half a second.
Then she melted.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, the words tumbling out rough and desperate. “I’m so, so sorry. I never should’ve let it get this bad.” His grip tightened slightly, like he was afraid she’d slip through his fingers. He bowed his head into the crook of her neck, breath uneven. “God… I miss you. I miss you so much. I’m sorry for everything.”
Her eyes burned instantly.
She reached up slowly, hands shaking as they came to rest over his arms—grounding him, grounding herself.
“I’m sorry too,” she said softly, voice cracking. “I said things that were uncalled for.” She swallowed hard, tears slipping free. “I swear… I didn’t mean any of the things I said.”
Jaemin shook his head against her neck. “I should’ve known. I should’ve listened. I shouldn’t have walked away.”
“I shouldn’t have left,” she whispered back. “I was scared… and I hurt you instead.”
They stood there like that in the middle of the pavement, holding each other as if the past month hadn’t happened, as if the space and silence hadn’t nearly broken them. Her breathing slowly matched his. His arms loosened just enough to feel safe instead of desperate.
For the first time in weeks, neither of them ran.
They just stayed.
She shook her head slowly, still pressed back against him, like she needed to make him understand—really understand.
“I swear,” she whispered again, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean any of it. Not a single word.”
Her hands came up fully now, gripping his arms as she held him tighter, anchoring herself to him. Like if she let go, all the fear would rush back in.
“I was scared,” she continued softly. “I thought if I crossed that line, I’d lose you completely. I thought… if I didn’t stop myself, everything would change and I wouldn’t get you back.” Her breath hitched. “So I said the worst things instead.”
Jaemin’s hold tightened in response, arms firm and protective around her.
“I never meant that you didn’t matter,” she whispered. “You matter more than anyone. You always have.”
He let out a shaky breath against her neck, fingers curling into her sleeves.
“I know,” he murmured, though his voice still sounded fragile. “I just—hearing it then… it hurt.”
“I know,” she said quickly. “I know it did. And I hate myself for it.” She pressed her forehead briefly against his arm before settling back into his chest again. “I swear, Jaemin. I didn’t mean it.”
They stood there wrapped around each other, her words sinking in slowly, the apology repeating not because it wasn’t heard—but because it needed to be felt.
And this time, he stayed long enough to feel it.
Jaemin nodded slowly, still holding her, like the movement itself took effort.
“I know,” he said quietly. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
He shifted just enough to rest his forehead against the side of her head, his breath finally steadying. One hand slid up her arm, thumb brushing gently, grounding.
“I believe you,” he added, firmer this time. “So don’t worry. And don’t blame yourself anymore.”
She felt him exhale, long and heavy, like he’d been carrying the weight of those words for weeks and could finally set them down.
“We were both scared,” he murmured. “We both messed up. That doesn’t make you a bad person. It doesn’t mean you hurt me on purpose.”
His arms tightened just slightly, reassuring instead of desperate now.
“I don’t want you carrying this alone,” he said. “Not anymore.”
For the first time in a month, his voice didn’t sound broken.
It sounded certain.
Her sobs came out louder then—almost ridiculous, hiccupping and messy as she clutched his jacket like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
“I thought I was gonna die,” she cried, words tumbling over each other. “They once put sugar instead of salt in the stew.”
Jaemin stiffened for half a second. “They—what?”
“We had to eat everything,” she went on, voice breaking as she sniffled hard. “Because we didn’t want to waste it—and Haechan made a lot. Like—a lot a lot.”
She buried her face into his chest, shoulders shaking, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “I swear it tasted like dessert soup. I’ve never been so betrayed in my life.”
For a moment, Jaemin just stared ahead—then a soft, broken laugh slipped out of him. The kind he hadn’t made in weeks.
“Yeah,” he murmured, tightening his arms around her. “That checks out. He once burned water.”
She let out a wet, breathless sound that might’ve been a laugh.
Jaemin pressed a gentle kiss into her hair, holding her while she cried like the world had finally tipped too far to keep everything in anymore.
“You’re safe now,” he said quietly. “No more sugar stew. I promise.”
And for the first time in a long time, even through tears and ridiculous complaints, she believed him.
—
After that night, everything slowly—quietly—went back to how it was.
And somehow… better.
Haeyi came back to the apartment she shared with Jaemin. Back to familiar walls, familiar smells, familiar comfort. Back to good food—actual food—Jaemin’s cooking fixing something in her she hadn’t realized was so broken. Back to waking up and hearing him move around in the kitchen, humming softly like nothing had ever gone wrong.
Back to him.
Happiness didn’t return all at once. It slipped in gently. In small moments. In shared smiles. In the way neither of them avoided each other anymore.
Jaemin stopped sitting across from her at meals.
At first, he’d tried—setting his plate down like usual. Then he frowned, moved it, and sat beside her instead.
“It’s too far,” he’d said simply.
She’d raised an eyebrow. “Across the table?”
“Yeah,” he replied, dead serious. “Too far.”
So beside her it stayed.
Their shoulders brushed. Knees bumped. Sometimes his thigh pressed into hers and never moved away. He’d lean over to steal food from her plate like he’d always done, but now he lingered—too close, too warm, too intentional.
Suddenly, personal space didn’t exist.
Especially not with Jaemin.
He hovered when she cooked. Wrapped an arm around her waist when she brushed her teeth. Rested his chin on her shoulder while she scrolled through her phone. Sat so close on the couch that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began.
And this time—she didn’t pull away.
If anything, she leaned in.
It felt easy again. Natural. Like coming home after being lost for too long.
They were walking home together when it happened.
The sky was painted in soft oranges and pinks, the sun slowly dipping toward the horizon. The grocery bags rustled gently in Jaemin’s hands, and Haeyi’s fingers were laced through his like they belonged there—easy, natural, unquestioned.
They moved at an unhurried pace, steps in sync, shoulders brushing every now and then.
Jaemin glanced down at her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Without breaking stride, he leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
She slowed, turning to look up at him, brows knitting together in mild confusion. “What was that for?”
He stopped walking.
Still holding her hand, he looked at her with those soft, adoring eyes—the kind that made her chest warm instantly. The city noise faded around them, the moment narrowing until it was just the two of them standing under the sunset.
“I love you,” he said simply.
She blinked at him, heart racing, the world suddenly feeling too quiet and too loud all at once.
“Say… say it again,” she whispered, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right.
Jaemin’s smile softened instantly.
“Haeyi,” he said gently, squeezing her hand, “I love you.”
Her eyes sparkled in the fading light, tears threatening but happy this time. She nodded, a breathless laugh slipping out as the words finally found their way out of her too.
“I love you too,” she said, voice glowing, eyes shining under the sunset.
Jaemin let out a quiet, relieved laugh and pulled her into his arms, grocery bags forgotten as he wrapped her up tight. She chuckled through the rush of emotions, burying her face into his chest as she hugged him back just as tightly.
yn is an avid plushie collector. jaemin is an overly pink enthusiast. what happens when there's ONE pink plushie left on the walmart shelf? it's only downhill from here.
can you write a jaemin x top male reader smut where they fuck in the shower after a long steamy night
round two
b! Jaemin x top m! reader | nsfw (mdni) | wc; 1.1k
desc : after you and Jaemin have sex, you go to enter the shower where your session unexpectedly continues
⚠️ content : shower sex, kinda pwp, unprotected sex (stay safe irl), blowjob, cumming inside, cum swallowing
The shower sounds off as you turn the hot water on. You look over and see Jaemin standing there, a bright smile fills his face. You two just finished having some of the best sex you’ve ever had with each other, still out of breath and sweaty from the session. You walk over to him to hold his muscular, sweaty body in your arms as you capture his mouth with yours in a sloppy kiss. You lean Jaemin into the sink counter as he reaches behind him to grasp the edge to ground himself under the weight of you.
Your lips smack together as the water gets warmer and the room becomes more and more filled with steam. The riding temperature causes your foreheads to coat with sweat as you take his ass into your hands. Jaemin moans into your mouth as your grip gets stronger around him. You move from his mouth to his neck, sucking and licking the salty skin as Jaemin runs his hands down on you.
He runs his hands down from your muscular chest to your toned abs, stopping at your dick. He gives you teasing rubs as you struggle to kiss his neck, moaning from the feeling of him touching your still sensitive cock. You slowly get harder as the moment continues until your dick stands up completely.
“Seems like someone wants this ass again.”
“I could go for round two if you think you can handle it.”
Jaemin smirks at you as he takes your wrist and drags you into the steaming shower. The water slightly burned you at the sudden contrast in temperature but you didn’t care. Your need for each other clouded your mind from everything. The running water falls on the both of you as you locked lips once again. Your slippery limbs tangled with each other as you pressed Jaemin against the wall. The cool of the tiles causes him to moan into your mouth as you rut your hips into his, rubbing your hard, wet dicks against each other.
Your hands all over each other like a map wanting to be memorized as yours slowly went lower and lower on his body. You stopped at his ass once again, cupping and squeezing it into your hands. He lets out a moan barely heard over the running water as you slap the skin, hard enough you knew it was going to leave a mark.
“Fuck this i can’t wait anymore.”
You quickly flip him around, leaning into him as you leave soft kisses on the back of Jaemin’s neck. You take his erection into his hand, jerking his wet dick sloppily drawing beautiful moans from his mouth. He brings his arm around your shoulder as he turns to face you, pushing your head towards him to kiss each other once again. Jaemin struggles to kiss you back as you pleasure him, causing you to smirk against his mouth.
“Please just fuck me again, I want it again so bad.”
You immediately grab your own erection, lining yourself up with his entrance, already loose from your earlier session. You begin to slowly push yourself into his hole, his hole swallowing you easily as Jaemin erupts with loud moans under your touch. You don’t wait, you immediately shift from a slow pace to pistoning inside of him.
The sound of your hips hitting his fills the small room. Your body leaning over his as your breathy moans hit Jaemin’s ears like music. The feeling of you rutting inside of him and stroking his cock made his knees begin to buckle under him. Jaemin screams your name like it was the only word he remembered as he approached his climax.
You felt his cock twitch in your hand as more and more precum came out from his tip. Both his and your bodies tensed up as you got closer and closer to the edge. Your thrusts become more sloppy as you chase your own high. Your core tightens over him as you thrust into him deeply.
“Fuck Jaemin I’m gonna cum, where do you want it?”
“Anywhere I just need it y/n. Wherever you want to put it is ok.”
With his words your brain fogged as you didn’t even have time to think before you came inside of him. Your thick, white ropes of cum painted the inside of his ass as you halted deeply inside of him. Your moans filled the room as your whole body stilled itself as you rode out your high. Your body slowly begins to relax itself as you begin to remove yourself from Jaemin. His ass gaping from the back to back sessions, your cum leaking out of him as he rests his body against the shower.
You gather yourself enough to turn Jaemin around as you sink to your knees. You took his hard, aching cock into your grasp, his eyes closing as his mouth opened at the sudden pressure around him. You slowly stroke his erection as it looks at you, needy to cum, twitching in your hand. You take your tongue to him as you clean off his tip of his precum. You slowly take his dick into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him.
Jaemin leans his head against the wall, a loud thud is heard as contact is made. You can tell Jaemin is extremely close. The erotic noises coming from his throat were heavenly to you. His core tightens as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm.
“Get off y/n, I-I’m cumming!”
You don’t move at all. You stay around his cock as it twitches inside of your mouth, his own cum spreading throughout your cheeks. You take his ropes of cum down your throat, hearing him moan and feeling him shake around you. Once he finishes, you take a deep swallowing, taking it all down your throat. You stand to your feet, staring him into his eyes. His mouth agape, his face flushed red coming down from his high, as you kiss his lips once again.
He takes your face in his grasp as he tastes himself on your tongue, moaning from the salty taste. You look into each other’s eyes as you move his hair that is stuck on his forehead from the sweat and water from the shower. You smile at each other warmly as the two of you take each other into your arms. Your warm skin touches as the water slowly falls onto you as you stare into each other’s eyes deeply, taking in the beauty of each other.
It was early Saturday morning, and I was sweating buckets in the passenger seat of Jaemin's car. Jaemin glanced at me as we stopped at a red light, his hand finding mine. "It's gonna be fine," he said, squeezing my hand gently. "You're just having your wisdom teeth out, it's not like they're removing your actual wisdom."
I didn't laugh at his joke, which probably scared him a little, but I was too nervous to even smile. I was about to have two wisdom teeth pulled, and the thought of sharp objects in my mouth was not my idea of a fun weekend. Jaemin drove on, his soothing voice trying to calm me down with stories about the latest drama in his gaming guild. I think he even mentioned something about his cat getting stuck in a shoebox, but I was too focused on the upcoming appointment to really pay attention.
The dentist's office was everything you'd expect: sterile, white, and full of equipment that looked like medieval torture devices. Jaemin led me to the front counter, where a cheerful nurse with glasses perched on her nose asked for my name. I squeaked out my name, and she nodded, telling us to take a seat and wait for my name to be called.
I sat down on a hard plastic chair, clutching Jaemin's hand like it was my only lifeline. He caressed my fingers and smiled at me, his grin warm and reassuring. "You're doing great," he said. "Just remember to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth."
It wasn't long before the doctor called my name. Jaemin and I stood up together, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders as we walked into the treatment room. The doctor was a tall man with a big smile. He looked at Jaemin and then at me. "Is he your boyfriend?" he asked, grinning.
"Yes," I replied, my voice trembling.
The doctor chuckled and gestured for me to sit in the dentist's chair. "Don't worry, you're in good hands," he said, motioning for me to lean back. The nurse came in, and they began to prepare for the procedure. There was some kind of mask, a lot of beeping equipment, and a tray full of shiny, terrifying tools. I was having second thoughts about this whole thing, but Jaemin was standing right beside me, holding my hand and rubbing small circles on the back of it with his thumb.
The doctor adjusted the mask over my nose and mouth and said, "This is just laughing gas. You'll be asleep for a bit, and when you wake up, it'll all be over." I nodded, trying to stay calm as the gas started to take effect. Jaemin pulled out his phone and started recording, which, looking back, was a little mean, but hey, it's not every day you get to see your significant other on laughing gas.
Everything started to get a little fuzzy, and the last thing I saw before I fell asleep was Jaemin's reassuring smile.
I don't know how long I was out, but when I woke up, I felt like I was on a cloud made of cotton candy. Jaemin was still there, holding my hand and watching me with a smirk on his face. I tried to sit up, but the room spun, and I fell back into the chair.
"Where am I?" I asked, my voice all slurred and groggy.
Jaemin chuckled. "You're at the dentist. You just had your wisdom teeth out, remember?"
I blinked at him, my eyes heavy and unfocused. "You're so handsome," I said, my voice dreamy and totally without a filter.
The doctor and nurse laughed, and Jaemin just shook his head, his cheeks turning a little red. "Thanks," he said, helping me to sit up carefully. "Let's get you to the car, sleepyhead."
He walked me out to the parking lot, his arm around my waist to keep me steady. I was still in a daze, but at least I had my handsome boyfriend to guide me. He helped me into the car, buckled my seatbelt, and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
"See? That wasn't so bad," he said as he started the car.
I groaned, my mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton balls. "I need a smoothie," I mumbled.
Jaemin grinned. "Smoothie it is," he said, and off we went, my wisdom teeth somewhere in a biohazard bag, but my heart firmly in the hands of the sweetest boyfriend ever.
Jaemin drove carefully out of the parking lot, glancing over at me every few moments to make sure I wasn't about to topple over. My head was lolling a bit, and my cheeks were swollen like a chipmunk's. The gauze in my mouth felt weird, and my brain was still foggy from the anesthesia.
As we turned onto the main road, I suddenly had a thought. It seemed important, like one of those random ideas that feels like a breakthrough even though it's completely silly. I turned to Jaemin, my words garbled and slow because of the gauze.
"I want my wisdom tooth back," I mumbled, trying to sound serious, but it came out more like, "Ah wah ma wizum toof bah."
Jaemin looked at me, puzzled at first, then he burst out laughing. "What?" he asked, shaking his head. "What are you going to do with your wisdom tooth?"
I tried to explain, but the gauze and the anesthetic made everything difficult. "I... I just want it... you know, like a trophy," I slurred, feeling oddly proud of the idea.
Jaemin was still laughing, his eyes crinkled at the corners. "I'm pretty sure the dentist keeps those," he said, patting my shoulder. "Trust me, you don't want it back."
I groaned, feeling a bit disappointed. "But... but... it's mine," I insisted, though it sounded more like, "Bah... bah... izz mine."
Jaemin just laughed harder, his hand squeezing my shoulder as he drove. "We'll get you a nice smoothie, how about that? It's way better than a bloody tooth."
I grumbled something unintelligible, but even in my dazed state, I could tell his laughter was infectious. The rest of the drive was filled with Jaemin chuckling at my silly, half-conscious remarks about reclaiming my wisdom tooth, while I occasionally moaned in exaggerated despair.
In the end, I might not have gotten my tooth back, but I definitely got the best care and a whole lot of laughter from the sweetest guy I knew. Maybe I'd settle for a smoothie and some ice cream, as long as Jaemin was there to share them with me.
idol : na jaemin // nct dream
song : you belong with me - taylor swift
warnings : none
word count : 673
you absolutely hated the girl jaemin was talking to, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her. her hair color, her height, even down to the clubs she joined. she was the exact opposite of you which only pissed you off even more.
jaemin and you have been neighbors and friends for so long you just developed this long time crush on him. you were just hoping that he would return that feeling back to you, so when college came around and he realized they give out free condoms he decided he wanted to date.
“stop glaring at them, it's starting to freak me out.” haechan says sitting across from you working on this assignment you two got paired on.
“i can’t help it, how is he okay with her wearing short skirts like that but when i tried he literally called my parents.” you scoff slouching against the chair not caring about the project.
“look if i fail physics because you dont have the balls to tell him you like him, then imma kill you.” haechan reaches out, flicking your forehead.
“hey what the hell.” reaching out to return the flick, you both get interrupted by jaemin.
“hey guys, how's it going?” jaemin smiles, sliding into the chair right next to you.
“fine.” haechan grumbles out gathering his supplies and leaving you both.
“whats his problem?” jaemin watches haechan walking out the door pissed.
shrugging your shoulders knowing damn well what haechans problem was. haechan knew you wouldn’t get any work done with jaemin in looking distance from you. now that he was touching distance, yeah you were useless..
“giselle is having a party tonight if you wanna join.” jaemin says, playing with the ends of your hair, smiling at you. “i hope to see you there. you never go out.”
“not exactly my scene, but yeah. i think i can show up or something.”
“great, ill see you there then, ill text you the address!” he gets up patting your head and walking off.
maybe this was a bad idea. you were in clothes that were too small and too tight, wearing make up that made you look like someone different. but you're gonna enjoy it tonight. reaching the kitchen you start to make yourself a drink when you hear a voice in your ear.
“well i havent seen you around camp-” jaemin begins only to stop when he realized it was you. “what the fuck are you wearing? is that makeup?” jaemin reaches out trying to touch your face. completely dodging him.
“yeah it's a party jaem, i had to get dressed up.” you shrug gulping down your drink.
jaemin scoffs in disbelief pulling off the jacket he was wearing, wrapping it around the back of your skirt. “what the fuck are yo-” you start to say only for jaemin to throw you over his shoulders leading you both up the stairs.
“jaemin put me down, people are staring.” you try to fight out his grip.
“then shut up till we get up the stairs.”
jaemin tosses you onto a bed in a vacant room, turning to lock the door.
“let me out.” you try to reach the door only for him to block your path.
“no. now tell me what this is.” he says waving a hand around your face down to your body.
“why do you care? you never seem to care when the girls you sleep with look like this.” you grumble out.
“i never slept with any of them.” jaemin says looking away from you, you see the faint blush on his cheeks.
“what?”
“i- ugh you make it so difficult, i like you. i think i always have but i was scared you didn't like me so i tried to date other people hoping these feelings would subside. but clearly they haven't if i can't bear to have other guys see you dressed like this." jaemin huffs out raking his hand through his hair.
you smile at his flustered state, “i like you too jaem.”
before the age of 1, jaemin falls a countless number of times.
while learning how to get up on his own and walk; with the gentle support of his mother’s hands and the push of his father’s strength— he wobbles, and stumbles, and trips a hundred and thousand times before he finally learns to stand on his own two feet.
between the age of 1 to 3, too, jaemin falls down multiple times.
tripping over his own foot, losing balance of his still wobbly, weak legs, for he hadn’t quite mastered the art of walking yet, and running was still a bit far ahead.
he falls a few many times, after getting too excited seeing his momma then attempting to rush to her with his tiny legs and the biggest grin on his face, only to fall flat on it when he’d tried to speed, before he got picked up with careful hands into a warm embrace as his chubby cheeks stained with wet tears from the hit.
at the age of 5, he realizes there are mean friends too.
he falls hard.
turns out preschool kids could be quite rough; he was play-fighting with his new classmates in his new school one moment, and the next, he was on the muddy floor of the playground, next to the slide, with a bruised knee and couple of nasty scratches on his arms.
that day, he went home with tears in his eyes and dried blood on his clothes, and the weight of a feeling he couldn’t understand or name, but it was heavy, and ugly, and undesirable, and jaemin didn’t like it.
later, he grew to know people called it “embarrassment” and “humiliation”.
at the age of 11, he gets into a fight for the first time.
with spiked up hormones that had newly arrived to him, just as to any growing teenager, and irritation that ignited within the blink of an eye, he throws a punch at a guy from the other class for reasons he can no longer remember, and gets one right back, and before he knows it, it keeps going back and forth until his homeroom teacher rushes in and pulls both of them apart before dragging them both to the principal.
he returns back to his house with scoldings written on the front pages of his school diary by his teacher, and anger lowly burning in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind.
at the age of 16, jaemin thinks he falls again, but this time, there’s no pain, or bruise, or blood — there’s only this weird fluttering feeling in his stomach and a fuzzy blur in his mind that makes him stutter and lose words whenever he sees her.
jaemin falls for a girl, he thinks.
she has shiny black hair and pearl eyes, puffy cheeks, and pimples on her forehead too, but he finds them rather cute.
he likes the way she talks to the teachers and the way she laughs with her friends. her handwriting is messy, but she’s smart and scores well. she doodles at the top corner of her notebooks.
and as jaemin admires her from afar, he falls.
but 16-year-old jaemin falls alone.
the pretty girl stays still and indifferent; she looks over at his direction a few times, but her gaze focuses somewhere far behind where he stands, at someone who’s not him. and she smiles, but it’s not for him.
it’s never for him.
he decides he will never fall again.
but, at the age of 18, jaemin falls again — the hardest he’s ever fallen.
he falls on his entire body, trembling and aching, and his leg is stuck under the bike, whose tires still roll on even as the vehicle lays sideways, flat on the road after the crash.
he tugs and tugs until he’s able to get his legs out of the gap, and he crawls over to the body that lays still and unmoving on the harsh ground.
he feels his two hands hanging helplessly against his sides, and he doesn’t know what to do with them.
should he hold them together tightly against his chest and pray, pray, pray for a miracle and for all of it to get better? or should he stretch them out into the open and do– something, anything?
but no one had ever taught him what to do with empty hands.
he reaches out and puts his two hands together, pressing against the deep wound, hoping for something to make it all better – but the bleeding doesn’t stop; it only stains his pale hands a bright vermillion.
and that emptiness that had become a part of him stays embedded within his skin, but it turns red today.
it’s the brightest color he’s ever seen, and he feels dizzy.
who would’ve known that the brightest things could also be such thieves, such horrible, horrible nightmares?
jaemin falls onto his hands and knees, and watches helplessly as his best friend lays on the bed of the earth, eyes blankly staring up at the ceiling of the world, as he gives life back every breath and ounce of love that he had ever been given.
every bit of it.
jaemin feels something drip down his face, and it’s wet, and it makes him want to crawl out of his skin.
he isn’t sure if it’s his own tears or someone else’s life that taints his skin.
it is only when he is 18, that jaemin believes he’s not alone for the first time in life.
he falls like he always has, again, but this time, someone falls with him.
they fall together, down and hard. but he gets up alone.
jaemin wishes he’d fallen on his own.
he wishes he always falls on his own, now. never with someone else.
( ★ )
at 23, jaemin falls again.
it’s been long since the last time, and he’s scared, but one thing he’s realized over the years is that - you can never control when, how and why you fall.
so he falls.
he falls for starry eyes and a sunshine smile, the scent of sandalwood and citrus; for gentle hands and a warm embrace; for cherry-flavored chapsticks and stargazing, and with every bit of the universe—because it held you.
he keeps falling.
but you’re right there with him, and you’re falling too, and this time, he never hits rock-bottom.
he still gets scratches every now and then, and pain and grief grazes past him ever so often, but one look at you, and he realizes that falling was never supposed to be harmless and rainbows, after all.
it would hurt, but it would also give him back a thousand more moments of happiness and bliss.
perhaps, he thinks, he’d never recognize the face of joy if he didn’t drown in something of the complete opposite.
jaemin falls, falls, and falls.
he falls for the dreamy look in your eyes and the way you cackle at his jokes no matter how unfunny they are; he falls for the dates that you prepare for you two in the back of your car, with fairy lights and all things bright, and he falls for the warmth of your body and your words and your presence.
he falls for you and everything that comes with you, and he keeps falling. he believes when told that – all the falls he’d taken till this very moment was all to mount up to you.
and he thinks, one day, he’ll forgive himself and the universe, because you’re here now.
