#na jaemin fanfic

[hannie-dul-set]

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this. 

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is. 

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn. WORD COUNT. 9k.

NOTE. my goal for this fic is to make as many male characters either detestable or unesttling, and make you like them against your will. in other words, meet mark and doyoung HAHAHAHAH. this is mostly still exposition!!! establishing facts and relationships and dynamics and whatnot. more jaemin next chapter. too much jaemin, even. anyway, enjoy! CHAPTER TWO.

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR OFF DAY TODAY. You’re on sick leave— that is, sick and tired of drafting legal papers, meeting clients, reading piles and piles of documents every single damn week, so you decided to use your once-a-month get out of jail free card to stay in bed playing Stardew Valley. It’s pre-planned. You’ve already faked sneezes and coughing fits at the office yesterday. You’ve already called your Division Chief this morning. Kim Doyoung can’t do shit when you’re allegedly bedridden and downtrodden with a fever. He can eat his own ass and suck it.

“You have a new case,” he informs you over the phone. “It’s from Nalkkeutta.” 

Or so you thought.

“Hah,” a weak wheeze squirms out of your throat. “Sure. Okay. Got it.”

Motherfucking son of a bitch. Those two lines spring you out of bed immediately as though your bones have just been tased. God dammit. You’ve just managed to snag Sebastian into wedlock. How dare he throw another job at you right now? How dare he ruin your sweet, sweet honeymoon with the emotionally constipated 2D man of your dreams? 

Still. It doesn’t matter if you just got married or have a collapsing lung right now. You haul your ass, get dressed, get out, and get into your car to drive to your district’s police station in a hissy fit, as per your boss, Kim Doyoung’s, instructions. This damned firm is working you like a dog, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. And neither can Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way. Are the files ready? Can you send them to me?”

This case came from Nalkkeutta. NCT. Nal. Day. Kkeut. End. Ta. To burn. The day ends in flames. It’s a name that haunts the streets of Yeongdeungpo. It’s a name that’s synonymous with loan sharking, weapons dealing, and coughing up protection fees unless you want to get your shit rocked on an unfortunate walk home— under the guise of an honest to goodness security company to service your protective needs. 

In the early 90’s, the government had a massive crackdown on gang activity and organized crime, subsequently snuffing out any emerging organized crime presence by officially criminalizing the mere act of joining a gang under the Revised Penal Code. But Nalkkeutta is relatively new. That scorching sunset symbol suddenly emerged in the district one day, around eight to nine years ago, and it’s marred the district of Yeongdeungpo with burn marks ever since.

And your life. You haven’t been lucky enough to be spared from that damned gang’s mess. In fact, you’re currently entangled with one of their messes right now.

The glass doors of the Yeongdeungpo Police Station shut behind you. You’re smacked hard in the face far too artificial lighting and sickly white walls and the words Patriotism, Justice, Honor mocking you in embossed silver. You grimace, cross your arms, divert your eyes with an impatient tap of the foot— and your arrival doesn’t exactly come unrecognized by the front desk and the others scattered around the lobby. One officer takes immediate initiative upon seeing your familiar sour expression, rustling out of a conversation to attend to you. 

“Hey, attorney. How may we help you?”

You eye the man. You’ve come to know him by name— Jung Jaehyun— even without needing to take a peek at his uniform’s name tag. You spare him and yourself the small talk and jump straight to business. “I’m here to see my client,” you inform, followed by under-the-breath swears as you fumble through your phone for the e-file Doyoung had just sent because Nalkkeutt had the gall to demand you to run and fetch the bone they left behind here without even giving you the chance to look at it. Seriously. If they want you to do a good job, they should be more punctual than this. “His name is—”

Huh. You read the top line of the document. A lump forms in your throat. You read it again. Once more. And the letters neither shift nor fold, confirming with absolute certainty that you read the name of your client correctly.

It’s a name you haven’t heard of in a while. It’s name that stalked the corridors of the place you’d bid good riddance to eight years ago with a spit on the concrete ground. 

“Na Jaemin.” There’s a bitter taste on your tongue when you pronounce his name— like your very digestive system can’t stomach it, rejects it, and wants to vomit it right back out. “His name is Na Jaemin.”

A nod from Jung Jaehyun. He turns his heels and leads you further into the station.

Empty footsteps echo against the slowly dimming hall leading to the private visiting rooms. The silence pricks at your memories— an uncomfortable sound you’ve grown accustomed to in the two years you’ve spent at Ganghak High School. It’s been eight damn years since you’ve graduated, yet one mention of a name reels you back into the past with a vividness that’s still as clear as the present.

In your memories, Na Jaemin was the guy who carried with him a pungent air of animosity and violence in his wake. On paper, he is your client, a member of the power-drunk gang that you’re tied by the noose with, and someone you have to defend. At present, he is sits right before you— tight-browed, tight-lipped underneath the singular light bulb hovering above the center of the table, looking as though he’s one clock tick away from flipping the table over (the only thing maintaining a safe distance between the both of you), and leaving on his own accord.

Your eyes meet. Your head snaps down to avoid his gaze.

“Good day, Na Jaemin-ssi,” you manage to choke out. “I will be your lawyer for the case against Yoon Naksung and company.”

You’re not sure how you feel when there isn’t even a click of recognition on his part when you introduce yourself and mention your name. You realize that what you’re feeling is a mixture of fear, relief, and absolute revulsion when he responds with, “So, when the fuck am I getting out?”

There’s a ring in your ears.

It’s the sound of your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You inhale sharply. Fuck. You’re not sure if you have the willpower to push through this, and you can’t even ease your nerves or melt your frozen bloodstream with a sigh because he’s staring right at you— impatient, as though he’s counting down the seconds in his head after a one-sided declaration that you have a limited time to willingly answer before he forces it out of you by the throat.

That fucking looking in his eyes. That damned stare that instinctively triggers you to look down, look away, look anywhere else but directly at him. It’s a habit that everyone in Ganghak used to have. It’s a habit that’s still deeply instilled in your psyche, in your muscles, in your instincts to the point that despite being the person in authority at the moment, you have your head down, throat dry, and doing your damn best to read his case file despite the letters looking all wobbly from your anxiety.

Disturbing the peace. Three counts of physical injury. Less serious. Thank fuck. That makes things a little bit more hopeful, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from hell. Hell is sitting right in front of you, handcuffed because the cops have deemed his very existence a threat to public order and safety. You muster up a bit more confidence knowing he can’t reach over the table to sock you in the face.

“You’re an alleged offender, Na Jaemin-ssi. You’d have to be detained until the trial.”

Na Jaemin sneers, a kick against the table leg with a grunt. “Fucking useless,” he spits. His chair is tipped back, head turned away. You firmly press your lips together. You wish he’d just completely tip over and crash his skull and die.

For someone currently detained for a possible criminal offense, Na Jaemin sure seems very much unbothered yet annoyed at the same time. He sits relaxed on the foldable chair, shoulders slumped as if he owns the place, and he stifles out a lazy yawn— drawing attention to his busted lips and handful of scratches littered all over his cheekbone, temple, and forehead— a stark contrast to the vibrant purple splotch painting over his right jaw. You make a mental note to schedule a physical examination on his ass to record his injuries. 

“But…I can make sure you don’t get arrested” You proceed with caution. His evident annoyance is flecked with momentary interest. You suck in a deep breath. “Were there any other people involved besides you and the three witnesses? Was anyone else there?”

You’re not sure what you were expecting as a response. Whatever it’d be, you just hope you get some useful information. Any sort of information. However, it seems like you just asked the wrong question.

“The fuck? Hell, if I know.”

All that interest is eradicated by a sharp glare. Na Jaemin lets out a huff and a sneer. You’re stressed. You’re beyond stressed. This is impossible. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Back then, you’d always had a feeling that he was part of something sketchy, whether it be some ragtag juvenile group or whatever the fuck. You didn’t care enough to find out. But, christ jesus, he just had to be in fucking Nalkkeut. 

That sun tattoo sprawled on the back of his impatient hand— the gang’s symbol, sun rays etched into the bumps of his veins and calloused skin— tap, tap, tapping on the table with the clunk of his handcuffs tells you that he isn’t just some disposable grunt either. The urgency in Kim Doyoung’s tone when he called earlier confirms that dreadful conjecture as well. He’s up there. Way up there, and you have no choice but to fight back the urge to swallow your own tongue.

“I—I understand. That’s fine. Then…can I ask what events led to the incident?” you tentatively try to prod, taking a peek at his expression to see if you’re greenlit to ask this. His face brightens up. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing a sliver of teeth. You flinch. He looks deranged.

“That bucket wearing dumbass looked me in the eye,” he starts, smiling. “So I punched him right in the socket. Then his friends decided that they wanted a beating too.” 

Na Jaemin is leaning back on the flimsy plastic chair as if he’s reminiscing a happy memory. Jesus christ. He’s always been like this, but it never fails to scare you shitless. You’ve always wondered why he was so insane, but the fact that he currently is and has been in Nalkeutta explains a lot of the things you’ve seen in high school. No high schooler had any business pulling up the gate with a BMW, nor was it reasonable for anyone at your age at the time to afford at least five Cartier watches considering the neighborhood you were in. Yet Na Jaemin and his lackey’s always showed up in the days that he thought was convenient in some sort of Chanel tracksuit and dozens of gold and silver accessories.

You were lucky enough to have never gotten punched in the nose with the absurd amount of rings on his fingers— a taste which he seems to carry until today, you notice while keeping your eyes down and trained on the table. They aren’t allowed to keep any personal belongings in the holding cells, jewelry included, fucking obviously. How this guy managed to keep his is beyond your imagination. 

“So, it wasn’t one-sided,” you try to confirm, try to get a good enough testimony to help his and your sorry ass in court. “Can you testify their participation during the trial?”

Wrong move. Very wrong move.

You jump in your seat when he suddenly lurches forward, chained palms slamming against the rocky table with a loud thump and a clink. “Hey, Little Miss Attorney. Listen very carefully,” he rasps. He’s leaned in closer now, making it a hundred times more difficult to keep your head down and not look him in the eye. “I beat all three of them half to death, and that’s all that matters. This question and answer bullshit is pissing me off. Are we done here? Can you fucking leave now?”

You’re scared shitless. You really are. It’s two years worth of trauma suddenly jumping you from behind a wall and throttling the air out of your lungs— of course you’re fucking terrified, and Na Jaemin can smell it like the rabid dog he is.

The problem is, he isn’t the worst of your fears. This mutt is leashed to an owner that would have your head as a dinner treat if you don’t manage to get him out of this stupid cage. So you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Damned to hell if you do, damned to an even deeper hell if you don’t.

“Na Jaemin-ssi,” you start. Your jaw is tight. It takes everything in your power to force it open and speak. “I need you to cooperate with me so I can get you out of here. Help me help you, alright?”

You’ve really been trying your best to phrase your sentences in a way that doesn’t sound demanding, that you’re leaving it hp to him because you know this bastard doesn’t like being told what to do. But your careful attempts don’t matter against a volatile son of a bitch. “Why’d you even need my help? Ain’t that shit your job?“ he barbs, a slight scoff hanging off at the end. “Seems like Mark hired a useless fucking lawyer.”

Twice. He just called you useless twice. The sheer level of offense you feel momentarily overpowers your nerves— a biting tick near the side of your temple, and you dig your fingers into the clothed skin of your thigh. 

The Mark he’s referencing did not hire you because you’re useless. In fact, that guy regularly asks for you specifically whenever his gang is caught in any civil or criminal trouble because you’re the only damned attorney willing to get her hands dirty to find an out— and competent enough to pull it off in exchange for an extra zero on your commission. 

Meaning, this bastard is at your mercy. And he has the audacity to piss you the fuck off.

“Strike a nerve?”

Apparently, you failed to hide the scowl polluting your expression. When you sneak a glance at Na Jaemin, he appears to be amused at his successful non-attempt to get under your skin, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. 

You get it together. Mark Lee, that fucking bastard. It had been fine for the past few months when all you’ve had to mediate were petty settlements and bails and lesser criminal offenses, but you’ve never had to deal with one of his executives directly before— who just so happened to be your high school bully, at that. You close your eyes shut, press your lips together, and release a deep breath from out of your nose as you stand up.

“I’ll handle it. There’s nothing for you to worry about, but I will need to arrange a meeting with you again before the trial.”

Na Jaemin simply shrugs and waives you off. Your tight lips force themselves into a smile as you nod and stomp your way out.

Fucking bastard, fucking piece of shit, fucking, god damn it—

You leave the station with a jumbled up head and with all your five senses screaming themselves into oblivion. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Had Kim Doyoing emailed you the file a lot earlier, you wouldn’t have gone here and welcomed yourself directly into hell. You could try to settle with the victims, but in case they won’t agree to a compromise, you’d have to pull a defense out of your ass considering that your client is the most uncooperative asshole you’ve ever been cursed to deal with.

It doesn’t help that spending two years in high school with Na Jaemin is reopening pages and pages of trauma that you thought you’d successfully managed to file away— stored in a safety vault in a little corner of your head that need not be reopened. But just meeting him— talking to him directly when you’ve never even dared to before— brought a rusty crowbar to that vault, mercilessly ripping it apart.

Having cancelled your off day, the car ride to your office building is spent thinking about how to scrape up a case to defend the bastard you thought you’d finally been freed from eight years ago. The bastard who’d made the last two years of high school a literal level hell of dread and desperation.

Even for Nalkkeutta, this has got to be the worst kind of torture anyone could ask for.

*‎

The next morning, Nalkkeutta’s boss is gracious enough to answer your request for a meeting. 

Mark Lee shows up to the conference room of JSS’s Criminal Division, accompanied by a polite knock on the already open door, a humming smile, and a Kim Doyoung— who you very clearly don’t remember inviting to this meeting. Mark enters the room with a good morning. You nod and your eyes skip over him, flitting over to meet your boss’s gaze by the door instead. “You must be very busy, sir. What are you doing here?”

The wrinkle that forms between Doyoung’s eyebrows signifies that he very much understood your polite version of a fuck off. “I just wanted to escort our client,” he replies, adjusting his glasses. 

You smile at him. “The escorting usually ends when the client has arrived at their destination.” 

Doyoung’s jaw stiffens. Mark seems to be sufficiently entertained by the exchange, attention hopping back and forth between you and your boss. The latter surrenders and ends the episode with a sigh and a nod, completely glossing over you to speak to Mark instead. “Mr. Lee, please let me know if you need anything.”

You hear Mark respond in a pleasant tone, “Don’t worry, I know I’m in good hands,” but you don’t look at him yet. You force the gravity of your gaze onto Doyoung— an unwavering smile that creeps him out just enough to finally give up and leave the room, shutting the door behind him with a click, and finally allowing you to relax your shoulders and sink into the glossy, wooden table.

“Ugh.”

Stuck-up prick. The bane of your fucking existence, had it not been for the reappearance of Na Jaemin, the other capricious asshole in your life. Your head cocks up, hearing the scratching noise of a chair being pulled out. Mark sits right in front of you, maintaining a smile. “Bad morning?” And you finally speak your first words to him, in the form of a raging rant about his hot mess of an executive.

“Hey, be honest, do you want me fired? Do you want me to make my first ever loss? Your employee, Na Jaemin, told me he got into this mess because Yoon Naksung and his friends were looking at him for too long. Does that make sense to you? Is that how a sane man operates? How the hell am I supposed to defend that in court? How the hell am I supposed to defend his ass when he gives me fucking nothing to work with, and all while having the balls to call me useless?”

You’re out of breath by the end of it. Whew. That felt so freaking good. 

“Sorry.” You eject yourself out of your tantrum upon hearing Mark’s not-so-apologetic apology. You leer at him from across the table, watching the stillness of his apparent pleasant expression. “Jaemin can be kind of rude sometimes.”

This guy is Nalkkeutta’s boss, you remind yourself. He’s the source of your fattened up bank account and worsened sense of justice and morality for the past five months—

“Rude is an understatement. He’s a fucking piece of shit.”

—and he’s also somewhat your friend.

“I’ve never seen you this angry.” Mark laughs, relaxing into his seat. “Was he that bad?”

Nalkeutta and JSS Law firm’s partnership has existed prior to your employment here. However, you’ve know Nalkkeutta’s boss even before you’ve entered law school, much less started working here. Kim Doyoung doesn’t know this, obviously. Their background check on you did not go as far as finding out your regular patrons throughout the four years you spent working at a run-down cafe-bar downtown throughout the entirety of your undergrad.

The cafe’s name was The Hangman. Pirate-themed, which was used as a frequent justification by your boss to never fix the broken chair legs, unkempt storage boxes, and occasional leaky ceilings. They add to the aesthetic, he says. 

Anyhow, it was then that you first met Mark Lee, around three weeks into your first shift. He’d usually come in at around 10 p.m., order an old fashioned at the counter, flash you a pretty and boyish smile, then quietly read on the same spot until one in the morning before thanking you and leaving. Each time, you clock the hardbound cover titles. The Laws of Human Nature. Man’s Search for Meaning. Leviathan. Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. 

Frankly, the crap he regularly reads worked better to make him look more daunting than his overall appearance. Mark Lee wore the visage of a cute, college literature major— covered in knit beanies and warm cardigans and all— but carried books and ordered drinks that made him seem like he was fifty-seven years old. The only time you found an opening was the time he finally brought a long something other than self-help or pretentious nonfiction. Kafka on the Shore. “I didn’t peg you as a Murakami guy.” 

Mark Lee was taken aback when you first talked to him. He asked what made you say that. 

You referenced the previous books he’d been carrying along. He blinked, laughed, then said that he actually preferred reading fiction. He’d only been reading all that obnoxious bullshit (your words) because he was fascinated with the mental gymnastics (his words) some people were capable of, and he was just compelled to read more. You’re still not sure how much of that defense was true, but that doesn’t really matter because your conversations gradually strayed away from books to your daily life instead— your classes and readings and the annoying customers you’d regularly had to deal with at work. It’s mostly you doing the talking, and it’s mostly because you otherwise had no one else to talk to to kill time during your night shifts at The Hangman.

“Was he that bad?” you parrot, sarcastically. “He said that you did a shit job picking a lawyer. You tell me, Mark Lee. Do you think your executive is a stellar guy?”

Mark only laughs. You grunt and slump in your seat, arms crossed as you observe Mark’s expression from across the table. It seems like he doesn’t mind you talking shit about his people this much. His lips are pressed in a perpetual, easygoing smile as he eyes the set of folders and documents on your side. You bite the inside of your cheek. From his appearance alone, you wouldn’t have guessed him to be the head of the most notorious gang in the underbelly of Yeongdeungpo. In fact, you would never have guessed it if you didn’t take an extra shift one day at The Hangman. 

You ended up staying later than your usual 2 a.m. to cover for a co-worker. It was a weekend, so you didn’t mind much. Mark Lee hadn’t shown up that night. That is until you saw him come in at the store thirty minutes after two— deviating from his usual routine in more ways than one when he didn’t stop to order a drink, when he was with someone else who you were frankly too intimidated to look at for too long. When he went in and up the staircase at the back of the bar that was otherwise off limits because it led to your boss’s office in the upper area— and none of your supervisors came to stop him nor even attempt to look at him when he came back out with his big, scary companion walking three steps behind him while carrying a large and heavy looking black bag.

This happened a few more times. And Mark Lee would always smile at you when he’d pass by the bar counter. That’s when you knew something was up. But you knew better than to dig your nose into that kind of business. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t have the ability to see the future back then.

You look at the guy sitting in front of you right now. Mark Lee’s eyes flit up from your documents to look at you again, hands clasped together and resting gingerly on the conference table. “I’d sincerely like to apologize on his behalf,” he starts. You feel a thump in your chest.  “But I hope his uncooperativeness isn’t making it impossible for you to win the case, attorney.”

Yup. That was a threat. Get my errand dog out of jail— even if he bites you in the process, is what he’s trying to say. Mark Lee may have been your bar regular and friend at some point, but right now he is your client— the most important client your firm has ever had the pleasure of receiving. He is not your friend right now. He is your high school bully’s boss. He is the head of the biggest organized crime group in the district. And your law firm is just one of the many cogs running his criminal machinery. One slip up, and he could just wrench you out without a second thought.

“Of course it’s not impossible. What do you think of me?”

You slide the first file you have down the table. Even if Na Jaemin is fucking useless, you’re not letting him ruin your flawless performance record. You’re not letting him give Mark Lee a reason to throw you away.

“What’s this?”

“The witness list. Yoon Naksung, Hong Hyunjae, and Ma Gildong,” you start. “Your dog fucked them up really badly. I already met their lawyer. He was being dodgy about it, but I doubt they’d let him off with a simple settlement.”

A glint flickers in Mark Lee’s eyes are your introduction.

“I already have another meeting scheduled with him this week. I’d like to talk to the three victims personally, but you know I’m not allowed to do that.”

He hums, glossing over your file before setting it back down on the table, fingers pressed firmly on the page as he looks up with a pleasant smile. “When should I take care of them?”

A shiver crawls down your spine. “I’ll let you know depending on how the second meeting goes,” you answer. “Even if the three of them testify, there won’t be enough evidence to prove his guilt beyond reasonable doubt based on what the prosecution has so far. I don’t know why the fuck their counsel is even bothering with this. Na Jaemin would effectively be acquitted from his criminal charges.”

Your client appears to be satisfied, but you’re not done yet.

“However, that won’t absolve him from civil liability.”

No way in hell.

“Yoon Naksung’s party can still sue for damages. And they have enough evidence to guarantee a win. Na Jaemin would be fined at most, and I’m sure it’d be very easy for you to cough up a couple thousand for him. But that’s still a loss for me. And I can’t have that stain on my record.”

Your brows wrinkle. You release a breath.

“Talk to Yoon Naksung. Or Hong Hyunjae. or Ma Gildong, or whatever. It doesn’t matter. It might be hard to get through Yoon since he’s the one fighting the most for this, but the other two would be pretty easy. I hear Ma Gildong’s business isn’t in good shape lately. The address is on the file.” You rise up, leaning forward to reach an arm over. You drop an index finger on the exact spot on the document you were referencing, landing a firm thump on the table. “If the court hears that all of them were all equally beating the shit out of each other in a drunken episode, not remembering who started what, instead of it being a one-sided beating from your exec just because they looked at him wrong—”

Your eyes flit up. You meet Mark’s gaze— unblinking and dilated. You clear your throat and look away.

“Then—then, their case won’t be merited. The court would dismiss it in pari delicto.”

Mark Lee seems pretty fucking happy to hear that. He’s all smiles and applause and it stresses you the fuck out. “I knew I could count on you, attorney.”

You sigh, slumping back down in your seat. “I already have Na Jaemin’s medical report. If you could get at least two of the witnesses to cooperate, that would be great.” Mark responds with a nod and a hum. You sigh again. “We have so many competent lawyers here. Why do you keep specifically asking for me? Next time, go ask Doyoung, or something. I’m tired.” You’d give up this illegal but lucrative money machine just to see Kim Doyoung experience the life-or-death stress you’ve been experiencing these past five months. You really would.

“Because you’re good,” he responds lightly— genuinely. A little too genuine for your liking. Mark shoots you a smile as he tucks his abandoned seat back under the conference table. Uh oh. Here he goes again. “How about officially joining Nalkkeutta as the head of our legal department?”

“Hah,” you snort. “My hands may have gotten dirty, but I can still wash them, Mark Lee.” The look on his face tells you that he isn’t taking you seriously. You leer your eyes. You’re serious. You don’t intend on being Nalkkeut’s clean-up dog forever. Five months ago, you just happened to have shit luck with the desperation to match. Both bad luck and desperation are bound to run out at some point. You just hope they manage to burn out before this guy could burn you alive. “I’ll get back to you once I’ve met with their lawyer again. For the meantime, just keep an eye on the witnesses. Let me know if you find anything of importance.”

His eyes linger on you for a while, still smiling. You know where his head is at. Your grimace— even harder when he asks again to confirm, “So, is that a no?”

“Hell no.”

Mark clicks his tongue. “Worth a shot.” At this point, he’s already halfway out of the conference. “See you again, attorney,” he bids farewell

“God, please, no,” you respond with a grunt. He laughs. The door clicks shut. You groan and become one with the almond table.

How many times has he tried to recruit you already? You’ve lost count. You’re already being regularly run through the wringer at JSS, how much more under Nalkkeut? Jesus, you don’t even want to entertain the thought. So, you busy your head with your  current main stressor: the Na Jaemin case. You force your face off the table with a grunt and pull out your ipad to double check the trial schedule. Two weeks from now. Thursday. Fuck all. How did you end up here?

In retrospect, maybe it was actually all your fault. Three months ago— two months into working at JSS Law Firm— you decided that you were sick and tired of being trapped in Kim Doyoung’s legal counsel team as an associate, without being granted any personal recognition or accolades. You wanted to prove your worth. You wanted to get your credit. This time, you’re going to get  your first fucking big girl case. Even if it meant discourteously bulldozing into Kim Doyoung’s office like a chihuahua looking for a fight.

Which you did, only to be shell-shocked and surprised to see the face of your old bar counter friend— who might also be a gang leader— in the middle of a very…confidential conversation with your supervisor.

“Attorney, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Too late. You’ve already overheard their conversation. They were discussing a case much like your current one— one of Mark Lee’s executives got caught in the middle of an illegal firearms deal, and Doyoung was having trouble looking for a lawyer stupid enough to take the case. 

He shooed you out, but you stayed. You simply had no choice. You had to bite the bullet. This was a spring-loaded opportunity, and you didn’t intend on feeling from it.

“I’ll do it. I can handle it.”

You did get your big girl case, alright. You won. But you also had to book a full body spa session after your first time shaking hands with a criminal— just to feel somewhat cleaner. Obviously, you’ve become a lot more jaded now. Your boss has decided to dump all of Nalkkeuta’s major cases onto your desk since then, and Mark Lee has been trying to poach you ever since.

JSS. Jinsilseong. Integrity. What a load of bullshit. Where’s the integrity in working as criminal clean up dogs? There’s neither integrity nor justice here. Yet you’re able to afford a decent apartment because of that tarnished integrity. Dirty money. You make yourself sick, but drive home and back to work again for the next few days with the car that money bought you, because there’s no way in hell integrity can give you a comfortable life.

*‎

“How’s your Nalkkeuta case going?”

Kim Jungwoo comes over to greet you at the division breakroom while you’re in the middle of making yourself a cup of instant coffee after three fucking hours of being hunched over your cubicle the whole day. You jolt upon hearing his voice, flitting your head over to the direction of his voice, and you’re greeted by a face that clearly has gotten his eight hours in.

Unlike you. Jungwoo and you joined the firm at about the same time, yet somehow you look as though you’ve been trapped here for a good ten decades. He bats his eyes at you with a pretty boy smile while waiting for your response. You grunt. 

“Dreadful. Horrible. Do you want to take it from me and liberate me from this misery?”

The laugh he gives you in response probably means a no. You click your tongue, grunting as you set aside to give him space on the counter. “Is it that bad?” he asks, rustling through the cabinets for a coffee stick somewhere. Kim Doyoung should restock and feed his poor laborers better.

“Yoon’s party won’t settle. They’re dead set on pursuing a cIass action.” Jungwoo manages to fish one stick out. “Not to mention my own fucking client refused my visit. I miss the days where all I had to do was summarize court transcripts and deliver correspondences for Doyoung. You never really know what you’re missing until you lose it.”

That was a lie, but you’re miserable. You were able to meet all three of the witnesses last week, in the presence of their lawyer, obviously and unfortunately. Yoon Naksung seems to be their leader, because the moment you uttered the words ‘settlement’ and ‘compromise,’ he nearly jumped off his seat to full-on throttle you. You’d ask why the hell he’s so hostile, but you read their written testimony on the day of the incident. He recounted all the heinous crap Na Jaemin spewed out while he beat the shit out of them. Things you’d rather not repeat out loud. The other two witnesses didn’t seem as passionate as Naksung, like they just wanted it to be over with and forget how much Na Jaemin humiliated their asses by wiping their faces on the ground and proceeding to call them a bunch of bitch babies.

Anyhow, you have your last attempt of negotiation this afternoon with their lawyer. Honestly, it doesn’t even matter at this point. You just want to let the court know that you’ve done your due diligence of attempting to reach an amicable settlement. You’ve got other cards up your sleeve— you’ve always had.

Which is why Kim Doyoung doesn’t buy your whining and complaining when overhears it in the breakroom.

“Get a grip.”

You flinch. Doyoung makes an appearance by shoveling in between you and Jungwoo to the coffee storage. You two step aside. He releases a silent swear upon realizing there’s no more instant coffee left. So, he decides to release his pissy attitude onto the innocent cupboard door by slamming it shut with a loud bam!

You and Jungwoo look at each other. Bad executive meeting. Very bad, you two mentally agree, sharing a look and a nod. JSS has been dealing with negative press lately. Director must have dumped the burden of fixing it onto him. Poor guy. He deserves it.

Doyoung manages to compose himself in a matter of seconds. He inhales, chest rising, then adjusts his crooked glasses with a huff from lips, finishing it up by giving you a lowered stare. “I’m not really worried about your performance,” he carefully pronounces. “Nalkkeut always asks for you for a reason. Mark Lee gets along well with you, too. So, quit being dramatic.”

He gets along with you because you both like Haruki Murakami, never dug your nose into his business, and always cleaned up his messes. You doubt you’d get the same grace if you fucked this one up, especially considering it concerns one of his executives. Sure, you’ve managed to weasel your way out of your previous cases without much trouble besides your inherent workload. The problem this time is your client.

Ugh. Na Jaemin. That bastard. How dare he decline your visitation request when his freedom is on the line here? You need to brief him for the trial, make sure he doesn’t do anything fucking stupid that would jeopardize your case and fuck not only himself, but you over as well. His freedom isn’t the only thing on the line. Your record is. Your freaking license is. As much as you really don’t want to see his face again, you have to. And the only comfort you can find at the prospect of meeting him again is the very clear evidence that he does not remember you— whereas your bones are already shaking at the mere thought of having to face him again.

It sucks. This sucks. But even if it does, you force yourself out of the office later in the afternoon to meet the witnesses’ lawyer at a cafe downtown. 

His name is Jung Sungchan from the District Prosecutor’s Office. He’s baby-faced. He still has the light in his eyes. You’ve never even heard of him before this case. Meaning, he’s far too irrelevant to have the gall to strut into the cafe, say his piece, then leave without even buying a freaking coffee.

“See you in court, attorney.”

Of course this meeting ends the same way as your other meetings have had: no settlement, no compromise, no nothing. You release a scoff once he sees himself out with a cocky ass grin and a pep in his step. Hah. Fucker thinks he’s winning. This bitch is a toddler in the field compared to you. You’re gonna show him just how ruthless the law could be in the hands of someone that could bend it. He has no idea what’s coming for him.

You pull out your phone. You text Mark a go signal. [Give me an update tonight]. You stare at your string of texts you’d just sent, squint, contemplate for a second, then bring up your phone to your face. [Also, please send a message to your locked up exec that I really have to meet him soon. Tell him to stop rejecting my visitation requests. Please. For the love of god]. You hit send again. You exhale. That does it. You fix up your things and prepare to start leaving.

While you make your way to the cafe’s exit, you unfortunately overhear a conversation. Not that you’d even tried to overhear. There are two girls sitting next to the counter— one with straight black hair and blunt bangs, the other one with a very bad bleach job— and they’re both just talking really, really loudly. 

“That’s what you get for fucking my man, you tramp,” sneers the fake blonde.

“I’m telling you, I really didn’t know he was taken!” straight hair screeches back.

Oh, fuck. You didn’t want to hear this drama. You try your best to maneuver past them quickly, quietly, but you end up hearing more information as you walk by. “I already broke it off and apologized! Please just take down the post already—”

“There’s no way you didn’t know, and there’s no way in hell I’m taking your disgusting texts down. All your friends and family deserve to know how much of a dirty, manipulative skank you are. So that they’d know to keep their boyfriends away from you!”

“Look, I’d get down on my knees to apologize, but you posted not only my private texts, but my fucking nudes were in them, you bitch! I’m not fucking proud of hooking up with a man I didn’t know was taken, but you’re going too far! I—I could sue you for this!”

“Hah! As if! If anyone, I’m the victim in this situation! Not you! You’re the affair partner who seduced my man!”

Goddammit. You jerk back after a sudden stop six feet away from the exit. You shit your eyes, mutter a silent breath as you continue to listen to the high-strung argument behind you. Normally, you’re not one to butt into these things. It’s none of your business, and quite frankly, you could give less of a fuck. But maybe it’s because you’ve yet again been subject to do something that desecrates the very principles of your occupation— the very notions of what is just and lawful and good— that you find yourself spinning your heels and stomping back into the opposite direction before you could even reconsider.

“Excuse me. I apologize for interrupting without consent, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation.”

You just want to balance out the scales of your negative karma— even by just a little bit. You’re doing this for no one’s good but your own. The two girls snap their heads at you, one visibly more annoyed than the other. You gloss over it.

“The right to privacy of communication is heavily protected by our laws and Constitution,” you begin. Blondie furrows her brows at you, a loading symbol practically spinning above her head. Straight hair looks at you, confused. You keep a straight face, digging into your bag. “Prying into the privacy of another’s conversation is a civil offense and a cause of action for damages. That’s one thing. Posting someone else’s sensitive and explicit conversations is another story.”

You pull out a card. “Who the hell are you? Why the hell are you butting in?” she snaps, the sound of her chair scratching the ground as she stands up in a huff to level you. You set your business card down onto the table, the words ATTORNEY AT LAW, all caps, facing right side up. 

Blondie’s eyes look down. Her face pales. Then she looks up to meet yours. You almost snort.

“It is a criminal offense punishable by three to seven years imprisonment, or a fine not exceeding twelve million won. Or both.” You could very well be jumping the wrong ship here, but you got a fair sense that Blunt Bangs was telling the truth from how desperate she looks, and that Fake Blonde is simply high on a vengeful power trip over the wrong person. “And, considering the fact that you publicized it online through a post, if I heard correctly, it would also be considered a cybercrime. Meaning, you could be charged for both.”

You didn’t think she could get any paler. You’re proven wrong.

“Wow. That’s an impressive feat considering you had no idea you were committing those crimes. Amazing.”

It doesn’t take much longer for her to sputter out something incoherent and stomp out in a panicked frenzy while mashing something onto her phone, most likely trying to delete the post. Sometimes witnessing firsthand the dredges of humanity gives you a little bit of comfort that you’re not the shittiest person in the world. You release a breath, readying yourself to leave once more, only to be stopped by a quiet excuse me from the same table.

You look down. You’re met by the way too happy smile of Blunt Bangs. She looks cheerful. Oh, god. You’re not used to this kind of positivity. You feel a shudder down your spine and force down a lump in your throat.

“Hi,” she starts. “Thanks for helping me. Jeez. What a psycho.”

The girl asks if she can buy you a drink as a thank you. You have not known kindness ever since you started working at JSS, and, by proxy, Nalkkeutta, so you were possessed with the inclination to say yes even though you’ve just had an americano with three shots. You settle with a warm jasmine tea to spare your stomach lining. The girl introduces herself as Natty, and starts giving you an unsolicited rundown of how Fake Blonde just suddenly started sending her swears and death threats the other day alongside the revelation that she was apparently her fling’s girlfriend.

She came here all the way from Mapo just to apologize again and beg her to take down the post. And then you witnessed how that went down. “I really had no idea,” she huffs in complaint for the nth time. You take a sip from your half-empty cup, glancing at the time. It’s 4 p.m. Sweet. Doyoung still thinks you’re having the meeting right now. One more hour before you have to clock out. You decide to pay a bit more attention to Natty as a thank you for allowing you to slack off on the job. “Oh, by the way. Can I ask something?”

You set down the cup on the saucer. “Sure.”

“Did you maybe go to Ganghak High School? Around eight to nine years ago?” 

And then you nearly choke on your own fucking spit. What the hell? You stare at her, wide-eyed in both surprise and innate fear. “Why...why do you ask?” Natty takes that a yes and immediately lets out a squeal, followed by the squeal of your name, followed by a very slow process of recollection on your part of a girl with similar blunt bangs in your repressed high school memories— then it clicks.

“I recognized your name on your business card, but wasn’t sure if you were the same person! Whoa! You’re a lawyer now! That’s amazing!”

Blunt bangs. Dark hair. Sharp eyes. Pretty smile. You remember being classmates with a girl with that same description. You think they both have the same name. You don’t get the chance to second guess yourself because she starts talking about more people you vaguely remember in Ganghak— the class president who’s apparently on his third try at taking the Civil Service Exam, that one couple who apparently recently got married just two months ago in Jeju, that one kid who had once gotten his head dunked into the trash can on the first day of senior year because he came in without knowing the rules of the school.

He didn’t know who ran it. You did. Natty did. And that confirms the fact that you two had indeed been in the same hell once. 

“Hey, do you have any idea what happened to Na Jaemin? I haven’t heard a single thing about him since we graduated and I moved towns.” 

You look at her, a stiff smile on your face. She was your classmate. She was his classmate. If she can remember all those other people and what their roles were back in Ganghak, she’d very clearly remember yours as well. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard about him either.”

Natty gets the realization and immediately flinches out an apology. “O—oh, haha. Sorry. I didn’t mean to bring him up.”

“No, it’s alright,” you hum, smile softening. “I haven’t heard of him, either.” 

Christ. This man really haunts you everywhere you go. Natty is great at conversation, and manages to smooth over that one bump as quickly as she can and proceeds to ask about any new hot places at Yeongdeungpo, ask about your job, you asking about what she’s up to in turn under it hits five in the afternoon and you have to return to the firm to clock out.

The both of you exchange numbers. You look at Natty’s saved contact on your phone with conflicted feelings.

Now that you’ve managed to slot the memories into place, you do in fact remember her. She was your classmate throughout the two short years you spent at Ganghak. On your first day, she was the first person who’d come up to talk to you— the only time she’d ever talked to you and vice versa. It took nine years for the both of you to have a conversation again. And there’s really only one person to blame.

*‎

(“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—!”

It’s Monday. You race down the now emptied hallways, eyes quickly scanning each door label that you zoom past in the off chance that you got carried away running and missed your room. To think this is how your year starts. You were looking forward to using the opportunity before homeroom to introduce yourself and make some new friends, but no— you just had to doze off because you spent the entire yesterday unpacking. 

It’s a new neighborhood, new school. You’ve heard that most of Ganghak High School’s students came from Ganghak Middle, meaning almost everyone already knows each other here. They’ve already formed their respective cliques and cohorts and groups. You’re currently an outsider, and you need to put in the effort to change that. You need to make a good impression to get some god damned friends and not spend the rest of your two years here as a loner.

Which is why you feel a splashing wave of relief drenching your bones the moment you make it to your assigned class for the rest of the year— slamming a palm against the door, just in time for the bell to ring.

“Whoo! Safe!” 

At least fifteen sets of eyes immediately zero in on you. You stand there by the door. You smile and nod.

“Hi, good morning.”

No one responds. They all look at you— some stares lingering longer than the others— but they all eventually divert their eyes before five seconds, releasing what you could only assume were sighs of relief, and then proceed to drown the classroom in a silence that’s so, so unnatural for a large group of fifteen to sixteen year olds. 

That should have been your first sign that this school was far from normal.

What a great start, you mentally huff, scanning the classroom the seat you’ll be stuck with for the next two years, and you eventually clock a pair of empty desks in the middle of the back row. You walk over to the available seat, waiting to see if anyone calls out saying it’s theirs, and after a few moments of no objections, you sit yourself down on the wooden chair.

The moment you hook your bag on the left side of your new desk, you swore that the heavy silence pervading the classroom just got heavier. 

You look up. You see someone from the center row, peeking over her shoulder at who you assume is you with a somewhat nervous jitter— as if she’s having an argument with herself in her own head and for some reason, you’re involved. That should’ve been your second sign, but despite your confusion and frustration, you sit still. You sit still until one side eventually wins the girl’s mental argument and she rises up from her seat, tentatively stalks up to you as the class’s eyes follow her short walk with anticipation, including yours.

“Hi, uhm,” she practically squeaks out, hesitant, eyes quickly flickering over to the classroom door before looking back at you. She inhales and smiles. Her bangs are covering her eyebrows. “I’m Natty.”

You greet back and introduce yourself. This is a really fucking weird first interaction, but you take what you can get. “Hi.”

The expectation would be that she’d ask you if you’re new here, if you’re a transferee, if you’d like to join her and her friends for lunch, but no.

Natty completely diverts your expectations by saying, point blank, “This may sound weird, but…you should maybe pick another seat.”

You blink. What the hell? “Why?”

The answer comes in the form of the sound of the classroom door violently swinging open, followed by a series of hushed exclamations, and Natty’s suddenly paled face snapping away from you within the same moment, scampering to return back to her seat at the center, without even giving you the grace of a response. 

You didn’t think the room could get any quieter, but it does, even with the sound of graveled footsteps marching their way over to you— the only thing you can see of the late student’s arrival because for some damn reason, everyone has their head down, and you felt compelled to follow and shut up and catch up to your confused and bated breaths as you listen to the chair next to you screech against the tiled floor, and feel the presence of someone plop themselves down with a rattle and grunt, and at that moment, you feel like you were given the subconscious permission to look up again.

So, you do. 

And when you do, you immediately lock eyes with Natty. Sorry, she mouths with a hand up her cheek, then just as quickly turns back to the front, leaving you to think— what the hell just happened?

Hesitantly, you crane your head to the right, sneaking a glance at the person who just yanked the atmosphere down into hell with just his arrival, the person who you’d be stuck with for the rest of the year by virtue of your seating arrangement. 

Much to your surprise, you’re not met by a face. You’re met with someone hunched over, a mop of messy hair with his face buried into crossed arms over the desk with an aura that immediately repels you from prodding even an inch closer. You nudge your seat away to the left, making sure not to cross the invisible mark marked by the gap between your two desks. The only sign of life you glean is the rhythmic rise and fall of his shoulders— invisible to anyone but you solely because of proximity— which leads you to the conclusion that he’s sleeping.

Sleeping. Something tells you that it’s better that he stays this way. That something is the sigh of relief from the person sitting right in front of you as your homeroom teacher finally walks in.

At this point, you still haven’t seen your seatmate’s face. The only time you know of his name is during attendance, when your teacher calls out a hesitant, “Na— Na Jaemin…?” after double-taking at her class list, answered by nothing but a heavy silence despite having all seats in the classroom filled. She quickly nods in acknowledgement and moves forward after that. Just who the hell is sitting right next to you?)

*‎

Beyond your control, memories from that time of your life continuously flash behind your eyes as you drive back to the firm. A buzz from your phone momentarily interrupts you. It’s from Mark Lee.

[Thanks, attorney. We’ll take care of Ma Gildong first tonight. You can see Jaemin on Monday, next week 🧑‍🎓].

Na Jaemin on a Monday. You grimace. What a load of crappy poetic irony. You reply with a thanks and a middle finger. Mark Lee beeps back with a bright grin in emoji form.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[haeivie]

THE HOT TUB EFFECT ──── N. JAEMIN

on a trip with your friends, you find yourself feeling the heat of the hot tub… or na jaemin.

PAIRING ; na jaemin x fem!reader WORD COUNT ; 1.2k CONTENTS ; friends? to ? , tension , flirty!jaemin , suggestive / mature.

──── © HAEIVIE , 2025. /

the cabin trip had been chaos from the start. too many people, too many bags, too many voices all talking over each other. but it was fun. loud, messy, and full of warmth despite the winter air seeping in from outside.

you hadn’t really talked to jaemin much before. he was always around, part of the same friend group, but somehow the two of you had never really hung out. just passing conversation, shared laughter over someone else’s joke, a nod in greeting.

but now, sitting in the bubbling hot tub under a sky full of stars, he was the only other person with you.

“surprised you’re not inside with the others,” you murmur, watching the way the steam curls up into the cold night air.

jaemin shifts, stretching an muscled arm along the edge of the tub. “surprised you’re out here alone,” he counters, voice lazy, smooth.

you glance at him, half-smiling. “maybe i like the quiet.”

his lips twitch. “or maybe you were waiting for me.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes, but there’s a flicker of something in his gaze, something playful and dangerous at the same time. and something about it drew you in.

“i didn’t even know you were coming out here.”

he hums, tilting his head slightly. “exactly. makes it even more suspicious.”

you shake your head, but the water shifts as he moves closer, the space between you growing smaller.

“so,” he says, voice dropping just a bit, “how come we never really talk?”

you raise a brow at him. “i don’t know. maybe because we run in the same circles but never in the same direction.”

he smirks at that. “poetic.”

“it’s the hot tub. makes me reflective.”

he chuckles, the sound low and silky, and you’re suddenly very aware of how warm it is, how the heat clings to your skin, how the water ripples when he moves again.

“or maybe,” he says, voice taking on that teasing edge again, “you’ve been avoiding me.”

you scoff, but he catches the way your fingers twitch under the surface of the water. “why would i do that?”

he leans in just slightly, and the air between you shifts, charged with something unspoken.

“i don’t know,” he murmurs, “but i think you have your reasons.”

you hold his gaze, refusing to look away first.

“you think i’m that obvious?” you ask, tilting your head.

he grins. “i think you don’t hide it as well as you think.”

the tension stretches further, thick and heavy, the steam curling around both of you.

“so what now?” you ask, voice quieter now, but still laced with something daring.

jaemin doesn’t answer right away. instead, he moves closer, the space between you vanishing in an instant.

his hands find your hips under the water, fingers pressing into your skin, and before you can react, he’s pulling you onto his lap.

you gasp, hands landing on his shoulders, but he only smirks, his grip firm, his body solid beneath you.

“now,” he murmurs, voice low, “i think we stop pretending.”

his hands roam, fingers tracing over slick skin, and the heat of the water is nothing compared to the fire licking up your spine as he leans in, breath ghosting over your lips.

“tell me to stop,” he says, teasing but serious underneath it.

you don’t.

instead, you curl your fingers into his hair, tugging just slightly, and watch the way his eyes darken in response.

“thought so,” he mutters before closing the last bit of distance between you.

the first kiss is slow, almost testing, but it doesn’t stay that way.

because the moment you respond by tilting your head, pressing closer, fingers tangling in his hair, it turns into something else entirely.

jaemin’s grip tightens, pulling you flush against him, and his hands move, trailing down your spine, over your hips, touching wherever he can.

the water moves around you, gentle ripples lapping against the edge of the tub, but neither of you pay it any mind.

his lips are insistent, teasing and demanding all at once, and when he nips at your bottom lip, a quiet gasp escapes you before you can stop it.

he grins against your mouth. “cute.”

you huff, about to retort, but he kisses you again, effectively shutting you up.

his hands are everywhere, tracing, memorizing, and you let him. you let yourself melt into his touch, into the warmth of him against you.

the night was bitterly cold, but here, in the burning heat of the water, you didn’t even feel it.

there’s only his hands, his mouth, his body, the way he’s holding you like he has no plans of letting go anytime soon.

and you don’t mind one bit.

the kiss deepens even more, all heat and slow-burning hunger, and jaemin’s fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of your waist before slipping further.

he finds the string at your hip, teasing it between his fingers, pulling just enough to make your breath hitch.

“this in the way?” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and knowing.

your fingers tighten in his hair, but you don’t answer. not yet.

he pulls again just a little, just enough for the knot to loosen slightly before his other hand slides up your back, pressing you even closer.

“you’re not stopping me,” he muses, his grin brushing against your skin as his lips trail along your jaw.

“why should i?” you shoot back, but the words are breathless, almost lost in the steam around both of you.

jaemin chuckles, the sound vibrating against your throat, and then he rolls his hips up.

the friction is sudden, sharp, sending a bolt of heat through your body, and your fingers dig into his hair, a quiet moan escaping you before you can stop it.

his grip tightens at your waist, like he’s holding himself back, but then he does it again. slower this time, making sure you feel everything.

“fuck,” he mutters, head tipping back against the edge of the tub, eyes dark and half-lidded as he watches you. “you feel so good.”

your stomach tightens at his words, heat pooling low, and you don’t even realize you’re rocking forward slightly, chasing the feeling, until his fingers press into your hips, guiding your movements.

he exhales sharply, a quiet groan slipping from his lips.

“you have no idea how bad i want you right now,” he says, voice rougher now, edged with lust.

you swallow, trying to catch your breath, trying to think past the way his hands feel on you, past the way he’s looking at you like he’s one second away from dragging you under completely.

he shifts again, leaning forward, mouth ghosting over your collarbone. his hands still playing at the strings of your swimsuit.

“just say the word, angel,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin. “we can go upstairs.”

you exhale shakily, your fingers slipping from his hair to his shoulder then chest, feeling the way his heart beats just as fast as yours.

you should probably think this through. should probably take a second.

but then he tilts his head, presses an open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.

“okay,” you breathe, voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

jaemin stills for a second, like he’s making sure he heard you right.

then he grins.

“good,” he murmurs, before pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips, his hands finally untying the strings he’d been toying with all night.

and before you knew it he was pulling you out of the water and straight back inside.

[kiszjuli]

・── spot me .ᐟ (N.JM)

(재민) ; fem!reader x na jaemin

──in which you start going to the gym, determined to try something new-even if it meant wrestling with difficult machines. seeing you struggle, along comes na jaemin, who offers to help with a bit of his experience. and somehow he keeps popping up.

genre. fluff, slightly suggestive, non!idol au ; tags. flirt!jaemin, jaemin is annoyingly shameless, gym au. ; w.c. 3.1k

!! not proofread !!

you had barely stepped foot into the gym when you started questioning all of your life choices. at least you had a cute workout set?

the air was thick with the scent of sweat and rubber, the sound of weights clanking against metal echoing in your ears. everyone here seemed to know exactly what they were doing. adjusting machines with ease, moving through sets like it was second nature. meanwhile, you stood there, clutching your water bottle like a lost child in a supermarket.

still, you weren’t about to back down. you set your sights on a machine that seemed harmless enough and made your way over, trying to act like you belonged. but as soon as you sat down and attempted to adjust the settings, you realized you had absolutely no idea what you were doing.

“okay, no big deal,” you muttered to yourself, tugging at one of the levers. it didn’t budge. you tried again. still nothing. “seriously? why is this thing built like a medieval torture device?” you grumbled to yourself.

“need some help?”

the voice came from beside you, smooth and effortlessly amused. you turned your head, already prepared to politely refuse, only to freeze when you took in the sight before you.

a guy, probably around your age, maybe a little older, stood there, watching you with an easy smile. black hair, strong frame, gym bag slung over one shoulder like he walked straight out of a sportswear ad.

and he was looking at you like he had just found his new favorite thing.

you blinked. “uh—”

“jaemin,” he introduced himself before you could even process a response, he leaned on the machine—which you had at least discovered to be called a leg press.

you eyed his frame, then looked back at his eyes. “is this the part where i say my name and suddenly my gym struggles are over?”

his grin widened. “could be. or it’s the part where i help you before you embarrass yourself further.”

you scoffed. “bold of you to assume i’m embarrassed.”

“oh, my bad,” he said, leaning in slightly. “you’re totally owning the whole ‘fighting for my life against a leg press’ thing.”

you narrowed your eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. still, you crossed your arms. “i was doing just fine, actually.”

“right,” he nodded, clearly humoring you. “so, if i walk away right now, you’ll definitely figure out that you need to pull this knob first before adjusting anything?”

you glanced at the machine, then back at him. “…obviously.”

jaemin let out a soft laugh before reaching past you, fingers brushing yours as he effortlessly adjusted the settings. “there. now you won’t accidentally crush yourself.”

you exhaled through your nose, trying to ignore the way your skin tingled from the brief contact. “wow. thanks, random gym hero.”

“anytime,” he said easily, before flashing you a smile that was just a little too charming for his own good. “but if you really want to thank me, let me know when you need a spotter. i’d hate for your gym journey to end in tragedy.”

you rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

unironically, maybe you wouldn’t mind fighting with more gym machines if it meant talking to him again.

—

one day, after weeks of playful banter and his relentless presence at the gym, you finally give in.

“jaemin,” you call out, catching his attention as he fills his water bottle.

he turns instantly, eyebrows lifting in surprise—probably because you’re actually asking for him instead of trying to shake him off. “yeah?”

you hesitate for a second, then sigh. “can you spot me?”

his grin is immediate, almost smug, but there’s something warm in it too. “you finally trust me, huh?”

“don’t make me regret this,” you warn, but he’s already heading over.

standing behind you as you position yourself under the barbell, jaemin is different than usual. no teasing, no cocky remarks. just focused. and it’s… weirdly attractive.

“all right,” he says, voice even and steady. “you got this. unrack it slow, control your breathing.”

you do as he says, gripping the bar and easing it off the rack. as you lower into the first rep, you feel the weight immediately. heavier than you thought, but not unmanageable. still, it’s reassuring knowing he’s there—hands hovering just under the bar, ready to step in if needed.

“good, keep it steady,” he murmurs, eyes sharp. “breathe in on the way down, out on the way up.”

you push through the first few reps, his voice calm and guiding. when you hesitate on the last one, struggling slightly, his hands shift just enough to support you without taking over.

“c’mon,” he encourages, his voice lower now, right by your ear. “push through it. you got it.”

you grit your teeth, putting everything into the final rep, and with his steadying hands just beneath yours, you manage to rack the weight back up with a small, breathless laugh.

“see? easy,” he says, nudging your shoulder lightly as you sit up.

“easy for you to say,” you mutter, wiping the sweat from your brow.

he crouches beside you, eyes glinting. “you did good.”

for once, there’s no teasing in his tone, just genuine pride. and it does something to your stomach that you’d rather not acknowledge.

“thanks,” you say, meeting his gaze.

he grins, leaning just a little closer. “anytime. but you know… if you need help with anything else, i offer full-time training services. very exclusive.”

you roll your eyes, shoving him away lightly, but the warmth in your chest lingers.

—

the second time jaemin spots you, he actually does his job—for the most part.

you’re pushing through a set of squats, trying to focus on your form, when his voice comes from just behind you, steady and low.

“slow and controlled,” he says. “yeah, just like that.”

his hands hover close to your waist, not touching but near enough that you can feel his presence, his warmth. it shouldn’t be distracting. but then he murmurs, “perfect,” and something about the way he says it. soft, almost like praise, throws you off completely.

your balance wobbles mid-rep.

“shit—” you exhale, adjusting your footing before you tip over entirely.

jaemin is already there, steadying you with a hand at your hip, his fingers pressing firm through the fabric of your leggings. his grip is warm, sure, and the brief contact sends a zip of something unidentifiable up your spine.

“you good?” he asks, amusement flickering in his tone.

“yeah.” you clear your throat, regaining your focus. “just—distracted.”

he hums, far too entertained by this. “happens. but if i’m too distracting, i can always—”

“don’t.” you shoot him a look, and he grins, unrepentant.

“got it.”

you finish the set without any more mishaps, though you swear jaemin is closer than necessary for the rest of it, his presence a constant weight in the back of your mind.

when you straighten, breathless, he tilts his head. “so? will you admit i’m good at this?”

you roll your eyes, grabbing your water bottle. “for once, i’ll admit it you’re useful.”

“wow.” he presses a hand to his chest. “the highest compliment i’ve ever received.”

“don’t get used to it.”

his smirk lingers, eyes flickering over you in a way that makes it clear he’s already gotten used to being this close.

—

the next time you see jaemin, it’s not at the gym. and it’s not exactly planned either.

you’re standing at the counter of your favorite café, waiting for the barista to ring up your order when you notice the guy behind the register giving you a little extra attention.

“you come here a lot, right?” he asks, punching your total into the screen. “i feel like i’d remember someone like you.”

you blink at him, caught off guard by the obvious attempt at flirting. “uh, yeah. something like that.”

before he can say anything else, an arm drapes over your shoulder like it belongs there.

“she does,” jaemin’s voice cuts in smoothly, and your entire body tenses. “i should know. we come here together all the time.”

he says it so casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and before you can even process his presence, his warmth, his scent, the fact that he’s touching you. he reaches into his pocket and slides his card across the counter.

“put both on me,” he adds with a grin that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

the barista’s expression flickers, just slightly. “right. okay.”

you don’t even get a chance to protest before the receipt prints, the transaction complete. jaemin thanks the guy with a polite nod, then leans down a little, voice dropping just enough for only you to hear.

“should i start getting jealous, or was that just a customer service voice?”

you elbow him lightly, heat creeping up your neck. “you are so—”

“charming? thoughtful? boyfriend material?”

you roll your eyes. “ridiculous.”

“same thing.”

your drinks arrive, and jaemin grabs them both before you can. he hands you yours, fingers brushing yours just enough to make you aware of the space (or lack thereof) between you.

as you step outside, you side-eye him. “you didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“i know.” he takes a sip of his drink, then glances at you with a smug little tilt of his lips. “but it was fun, wasn’t it?”

you scoff. “what, throwing your wallet around to intimidate some guy?”

“no,” he says, bumping his shoulder into yours. “having coffee with me.”

you don’t answer right away, but he catches the way your lips twitch like you’re fighting a smile.

jaemin hums. “i’ll take that as a yes.”

you shake your head, exhaling through your nose. “you are something else.”

“and yet, you keep talking to me,” he points out, grin widening.

you hate that he’s right. you hate even more that you don’t actually hate it at all.

—

following the day you met jaemin outside of the gym, you end up right back in the gym, deciding against better judgement to attempt deadlifts.

you’ve watched enough videos, seen people do it effortlessly, and it doesn’t look that hard. at least, that’s what you tell yourself. but after setting up the barbell and bracing yourself, you realize very quickly that maybe you’ve overestimated your abilities.

your grip keeps slipping, your back doesn’t feel quite right, and when you try to pull the weight up, it barely budges.

“need a hand, angel?”

you don’t even have to turn to know it’s jaemin. you exhale sharply, shaking your head. “i got it.”

“mm,” he hums, unconvinced. “that’s cute.”

before you can bite back a sarcastic remark, he steps behind you, far too close for your brain to function properly. his hands find your waist, adjusting you effortlessly, like he’s done this a million times.

“you’re all tense,” he murmurs, voice low near your ear. “relax a little.”

you swallow hard, hyperaware of the heat of his palms. “hard to relax when someone’s all up in my space.”

jaemin chuckles, his breath warm against your skin. “you’re welcome to tell me to move.”

you don’t.

instead, you let him guide you, let him adjust your stance by nudging your foot with his, let him drag his hand along your arm to reposition your grip. when you attempt another lift, he follows the movement, hands skimming down your sides in encouragement.

“just like that,” he says, voice smoother than it has any right to be.

you manage to get the bar up, but it’s not the weight making you feel breathless. it’s him.

the second you drop the bar back down, you realize how close you still are, his chest brushing your back as he leans in slightly. “better, right?”

you exhale shakily, nodding. “yeah. better.”

jaemin tilts his head, watching you. his lips curl just slightly, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“you sure?” he teases, voice dipping.

you turn your head just enough to meet his gaze, only now realizing how close your faces are. his eyes flicker to your lips for a second, too fast to be certain, but enough to make your stomach flip.

you wet your lips, your breath still uneven. “positive.”

his smile deepens, and just when you think he might say something else, he steps back, leaving behind nothing but warmth and the frustrating ghost of his touch.

“good,” he says simply, picking up his water bottle. “same time tomorrow?”

you roll your shoulders, trying to shake off the tension he left behind. “yeah. sure.”

jaemin grins, tossing you a wink as he walks off. “can’t wait.”

you don’t realize how long you stand there, gripping your water bottle like it might bring your heart rate back to normal.

you were struggling to lift weight, so why does it feel like he’s the one who completely knocked the air out of you?

—

after the deadlift incident, you found yourself avoiding jaemin. not because you disliked him, but because you weren’t sure how to handle the way he made you feel. his easy confidence, the way he got under your skin without even trying—it was distracting, and the last thing you needed was more distractions.

so, you started going to the gym at night, hoping for some quiet time to focus on your workouts. fewer people, fewer chances of running into him. it seemed like a solid plan.

until you walked in and saw him already there.

jaemin was standing near the squat rack, adjusting weights like he had all the time in the world. he noticed you immediately, a slow grin spreading across his face as he rested his hands on his hips.

“well, well,” he drawled, tilting his head. “didn’t expect to see you here at this hour.”

you sighed, already bracing for whatever he was about to say. “i could say the same to you.”

he shrugged, picking up a towel and tossing it over his shoulder. “what can i say? some of us are just dedicated.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “right.”

jaemin stepped closer, his gaze flicking over you with something unreadable but undeniably amused. “and what about you? didn’t think i’d see you sneaking in for a late-night session. trying to avoid someone?”

your stomach twisted at how easily he caught on. “just thought it’d be quieter,” you said, keeping your voice light. “easier to focus.”

“ah,” he nodded, feigning understanding before smirking. “and yet, here i am. ruining your peaceful gym night.”

you exhaled, shaking your head. “not ruining. just… unexpected.”

jaemin stepped even closer, lowering his voice just enough to make the air between you feel heavier. “unexpected, huh? i’ll take that as a compliment.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, he leaned slightly to the side, as if assessing you. “so… what’s the plan for tonight? need another spotter? maybe a personal trainer?”

there was no stopping the laugh that escaped you. “you just don’t quit, do you?”

“not when i see something worth my time,” he shot back smoothly, his grin widening.

the tension was there, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was easy, playful, charged in a way that made you more aware of him than you wanted to be.

you sighed, shaking your head. “let’s just work out, alright?”

jaemin raised his hands in mock surrender, though his eyes still held that teasing glint. “whatever you say.”

and with that, he turned back toward his weights, leaving you standing there, already feeling like you’d lost some unspoken game.

—

the workout should’ve been simple. just you, the machines, and an hour of sweat and focus. but with jaemin there, throwing glances, flashing smirks, making casual comments that left your stomach flipping, it was anything but.

you were halfway through your set when he appeared beside you again, towel draped around his neck, arms crossed as he watched you with an amused expression.

“you sure you don’t need my help?” he asked, voice low, teasing.

you exhaled sharply, adjusting your grip on the bar. “pretty sure i can handle it.”

“mm,” he hummed, stepping just a little closer, enough that you could feel the warmth of him. “i don’t doubt you. but you did come here at night to avoid distractions, right? doesn’t seem like it’s working.”

you shot him a look, only for him to grin like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“you’re talking a lot for someone who’s supposed to be working out,” you muttered, refocusing on your reps.

jaemin didn’t move, just watched as you powered through the set, eyes flickering between your face and the way your body tensed with each movement. when you finally finished, you let out a breath, shaking out your arms.

“see?” you said, lifting your chin. “didn’t need you.”

he laughed under his breath. “sure. you looked good doing it though.”

you turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “you flirt with every girl at the gym, or am i just special?”

jaemin leaned in, lowering his voice just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “oh, you’re definitely special.”

your breath hitched, but before you could say anything, he grabbed his water bottle and walked off, leaving you standing there, heart pounding.

damn him.

—

the gym was supposed to be a place of focus, of self-improvement—not whatever this was. not standing here, watching na jaemin wipe the sweat off his forehead, chest still rising and falling from his last set, looking every bit like he belonged on the cover of a sports magazine.

you should’ve walked away the second he caught you staring. but of course, he had to notice.

“see something you like?” his voice was still a little breathless, but that didn’t stop the teasing lilt in his tone.

you scoff, crossing your arms. “just shocked you’re finally breaking a sweat. thought you were invincible for a second.”

he grins, stepping closer. “cute. but you know what’s actually shocking? how long it’s taken me to ask you out.”

your stomach flips, but you mask it with a raise of your brow. “is that so?”

he nods, resting his hands on his hips. “yep. been waiting for the perfect moment, but you keep distracting me.”

“me?” you let out a short laugh. “right, because i’m the one shamelessly flirting while pretending to teach proper form.”

he smirks. “see? you do pay attention.”

you roll your eyes, turning to grab your bag, but he shifts, blocking your path. “just one date,” he says, voice softer now, but still playful. “somewhere nice. no gym memberships required.”

you pause, weighing your options, not that there was ever much of a debate. with a sigh, you shake your head. “fine. one date. but if you show up in a muscle tee, i’m walking out.”

his grin stretches wide. “noted. though i can’t promise you won’t get distracted again.”

you push past him with a groan, but he just laughs, calling after you. “don’t be late, princess. i’ve been waiting long enough.”

—

▸ j.note ; i am hyper fixated on jaemin’s arms sorry not sorry

[from-izzy]

it's so nice to be loved by you | nct na jaemin

And this is one of the moments when Na Jaemin feels like the luckiest person in the world once again.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, college au!, non-idol au!

genre » fluffy and comforting love for both you and jaemin, you show jaemin that you love him, boyfriend na jaemin who loves to give you back hugs, a ton of kissing, again my horrible attempt at comedy

word count, estimated reading time » 1064, ~4 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin implied to be taller, not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

it took me way too long to decide on a banner that i had to post this for later like 🤠 genuinely didn't think this was going to see the light of day before jaemin's bday ended 😭 anyway! so...y'all would think that i'm jaemin biased but i'm not 😗 in saying that! he needs to stop wrecking my bias list aye-

happy birthday to our nana!

Na Jaemin is a hard worker. 

When he sets his mind on something, he will see it through the end even if the whole world turns against him.

Or maybe he continues working hard because he knows you won’t turn against him, no matter the result. Because he believes you will always hear him, let him explain his thoughts even if the whole world doesn’t crumble down on him. These little things made him realise that he’s deeply in love with you, and these same acts reassure him that you feel the same.

For you, the small things like the little hugs he gives whenever he sees you. Despite your complaints of these back hugs that would make you stumble forward and sometimes spill a bit of your beverage on your hand, you would never want him to stop surprising you with this little act of love he gives. You’ve always wanted him to be on the receiving side of this—not the whole spilling drinks part—but the moving emotions that you feel whenever he wraps his arms around you and whispers sweet nothings that would immediately heat your cheeks in a matter of milliseconds. 

It’s currently the perfect opportunity for that. You have failed in your previous attempts because you’re not as stealthy in your steps as you think you were and Jaemin would always say that he has his special radar for you but you’ve always tried your attempts whenever Jaemin isn’t too preoccupied with something else, whether it be writing his final notes on the board or how he’s walking down the hallway at the start of the day. 

Right now, you observe sneakily as Jaemin scored the final goal with his friend group from high school. You were thankful that they all decided to go to the same institution for further study. You felt lonely sometimes with your friends in a different college, but Jaemin is here and everything seems to be breathable once more as you continue your academic journey. Jaemin just finished his soccer game before they all needed to go to their tutorial, sparing a good ten to fifteen minutes to walk through this enormous campus.

Though tired and out of breath, he still saves his last energy to playfully bicker with his friends, resonating laughs in the summer light as the losing team promises that they’ll win next time. You make eye contact with Jeno briefly, who along with everyone else but Jaemin has already decided to prepare for the next part of their day. You hold your index finger to your lips at your boyfriend’s best friend and he responds with an ‘o’ shape to his lips, knowing exactly what you’re planning.

You dashed right away, your steps thankfully masked by the chaotic sounds of his friends. You slump right to Jaemin’s back, arms loosely around his neck and chin resting on his shoulder. The fact that Jaemin responds with a surprised gasp is what made the grin on your face grow. 

“Hello there,” he greets after recognising the bracelet he recently gifted you, chuckling at how pretty it looks on the hands that he loves to hold.

A kiss to the cheek is what you greet him back with and Jaemin turns his head to your side, bopping his nose to yours. “Good game?” 

He just responds with a nod. “Don’t think you should be hugging me though. I’m all sweaty,” to which you just shrug your shoulders, not minding it at all.

And this is one of the moments when Na Jaemin feels like the luckiest person in the world once again. 

It’s such a simple gesture but to him it’s everything. He doesn’t ask for a lot of things, only genuine love and that’s what you show him all the time, again and again. You watch as he flutters his eyelashes down, closing his eyes to feel your embrace in the cooling wind. He leans his forehead into yours and you feel his calming breathing on your lips. You shortly followed his actions, just enjoying being in his presence whilst initiating a swaying motion to your hug. 

“It’s so nice to be loved by you.” 

And when you open your eyes, you’re met with a pair of eyes that show his entire universe: you. The realisation of his words sinks in and you are about to answer if it wasn’t for him titling his head, diving to press a quick peck to your lips. Just when you thought he was done, he would go for another one, relishing your flustered state.

“Nana!” His hands on your forearm to make sure you don’t escape.

Jaemin does eventually stop kissing you though a pout stays on his lips and it’s only when you mirror his expression back that the corner of his lips rises. You both continue in this atmosphere for a bit more before Jaemin continues his thought.

“It’s nice,” he whispers, “to know that I can always go to someone even if I don’t have an exact reason to. To be able to give my all to someone, knowing that they’ll appreciate it.”

And this time, you were the one to envelop his lips. It’s longer than the ones he gave you. Your lips hug his, moving slowly and delicately to which he reciprocates. He thinks it’s beautiful, just like your whole being to him. You pull away and Jaemin looks at you thoughtfully, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

“Doubt that it will be but go ahead.”

“You’re right,” nodding to the fact, “It really isn’t a secret that I love you so much, Na Jaemin.”

“Told you,” teasing but delightful at the confession, “And I hope that it’s not a secret to you too that I love you more.”

“No. I love you more than you love me.” 

“Nope,” dramatically shaking his hair that’s now even messier. “I love you more than you think that I love you more than you think you love me more.”

Like on cue, a flying bird caws after shooting his argument. “Jaemin, I don’t think that makes sense.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to.”

It didn’t matter anyway. The only thing that does is your love for each other.

“Seriously, what do I do with you?”

“Kiss me again.”

How could you deny him when you wanted to just as much? 

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

tags: @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @starlit-network 🌌⭐

please consider leaving feedback!! thank you for your time!!

[technologyculturedneo]

Cosmic Nightmare | Na Jaemin

"The devil on my shoulder is telling me I'll die soon. But I don't want that to impact you."

Pairing. Jaemin!boyfriend x reader!lover

Word count. 4k

Genre. Romance horror

Synopsis. Reliving the fond and bittersweet memories you've had with your boyfriend, you're faced with the overwhelming weight of reality. The warmth of his touch, the laughter you shared, and the quiet moments of comfort seem so distant now, overshadowed by the haunting images from your dreams. Each memory, once a source of joy, now feels like a reminder of a love lost—trapped in the past. The contrast between the vibrant moments you once shared and the emptiness of the present leaves you questioning everything. Is it possible to move on, or are these memories destined to remain locked in time, haunting you forever?

Trigger warning. Mentions of spirituality. Nightmares. Death.

Inspo. Wansee horror

The night was quiet, soft moonlight casting a gentle glow over the room. You were lying side by side, the warmth of the bed and the peaceful atmosphere making everything feel so easy. Suddenly, Jaemin’s voice broke the silence, low but steady.

“I love you.”

You turned toward him, eyes wide in surprise, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “I love you too,” you giggled. “Where’s this coming from?”

Jaemin shrugged, his gaze distant, yet filled with a kind of bittersweet emotion. “I don’t know... I just wanted you to know. I love you. So much. So much that... I’d do anything, anything just to see you smile. I want you to have everything you deserve, to be happy... even if it means I’m not there with you.”

There was a pause, a subtle shift in the atmosphere, before he spoke again, his voice quieter, almost fragile. “The devil on my shoulder is telling me I won’t be around for much longer... and I don’t want that to weigh on you. But maybe I’m just being paranoid.” He trailed off, his words faltering as if unsure of how much he should say. “I just... I just want you to have the best of everything.”

You felt a tightness in your chest, a pang of concern creeping up. You moved, gently shifting so that you sat on his lap, your hands finding their place on his shoulders. “Hey, what’s wrong? What did you do?”

Jaemin’s eyes locked onto yours, full of fear and vulnerability. His throat tightened, and for a moment, it seemed like he was going to confess something. But he didn’t. Instead, his voice was soft but firm. “I love you.”

Your heart ached, and you gave him a reassuring smile, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I love you too. I’ll always love you.”

And in that moment, you both understood—there were things unsaid, but that didn’t change the certainty of the love between you. He would tell you when he was ready. For now, this quiet, fragile moment of understanding was enough.

Memories like that, cloud your head, from time to time when you think of your boyfriend.

“Mummy?” The soft voice of your little girl breaks through the quiet, and you look down at her when she walks into the kitchen. Her big eyes, the same shade of brown as her father's, stare up at you, full of curiosity.

“Yes, my sweet pea?” you reply, kneeling to her level.

She fidgets with the hem of her dress, looking up at you with innocence. “What happened to Daddy?” Her words are simple, yet they hit you like a wave. “The teacher asked everyone to talk about their dads, but… I don’t know about dad.”

You swallow the lump in your throat, struggling to find the right words. She looks so much like him, it’s hard to breathe sometimes. You stare at her for a long moment, your heart heavy, but no words come. Instead, you gently lift her up into your arms, holding her close.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, okay?” you murmur, trying to distract her from the weight of the question. You focus on helping her out of her preschool uniform, trying to push away the emotions rising in your chest.

Later, as she sits at the table, coloring quietly, you help her with her homework. She asks you little questions now and then, all innocent, all unaware of the storm inside you. When she finally curls up in bed, her tiny body already halfway to sleep, you kiss her forehead softly, tucking her in.

Sitting beside her, you brush a lock of hair from her face, but the weight of her question lingers in the quiet of the room. You hold back your own tears, unwilling to let her see. If only there were a way to explain.

But for tonight, all you can do is watch her sleep, and hold onto the little moments of peace, even as your heart aches for all the things you can never say.

It's during the night, that you lay back on your bed... hand gently over the other side of the mattress as you gently cradle it.

Lately, your daughter has been asking a lot about what happened to her father, and you had no way of responding to her. Not at this age at least... she was still too young.

Heck, you don't even know how to begin to explain...

Na Jaemin, her dad, your boyfriend.

He... was the best thing you could ever wish for.

Years ago, this happened to your boyfriend, Na Jaemin. Looking back on it, you can still picture the warmth of your relationship with him—an effortless, joyful love that seemed to exist in its own little world. With Jaemin, everything felt lighter, like cotton candy: soft, sweet, and always just a little bit magical. He treated you with a kindness that made you feel seen and cherished, as though you were the only person in the room, even in the busiest of moments. His affection was constant, the kind of love that felt like a steady, reassuring presence.

But there was more to him than that. Beneath the sweetness, Jaemin was fiercely strong, the type of person who could stare down any challenge without flinching. You’d seen it firsthand—how he could face a storm with unshakable courage. You'd even witnessed him stand toe-to-toe with a lion (an actual lion, no exaggeration), and though the situation had been far from ordinary, it was a testament to the strength that ran through him, both physically and emotionally.

It wasn’t just the lion incident, though. It was in the quiet moments too—when his courage showed in the way he supported you, the way he fought for your happiness, even if it meant sacrificing his own. With Jaemin, you felt the depth of a love that was both delicate and indestructible. It wasn’t just the sweetness of his gestures that made your heart swell; it was knowing he would go to any lengths to protect the bond you shared, a bond that had weathered everything life had thrown your way.

When you found out you were pregnant, you were so excited to tell him. You wanted to make it a surprise. Because you know he's always wanted to be a dad.

...

However, you don't remember when it began but... he began wasting away.

Every night he woke up screaming! asking you if this was a dream, almost every 10 minutes.

And before he fell asleep he'd shout out: "Oh God! Please Jesus, protect me!" Even though he had no religion.

One day when you asked him what's wrong with him. He whispered in your ear, after looking around with a frightened face. "For the last few days, the same man has been chasing me in my dreams." His voice was trembling.

You told him. "Hey Mr Tough guy, it's just a dream. What's so scary about it."

Suddenly his eyes got hugely dilated and he got out of breath, and he stammered. "You know the guy next door? Donghyuck? He died the other day in his sleep because of a heartache right? Well... the night before he died, I was chased in my dream by that man and... I ran to Donghyuck's house... and that man... the man who's been chasing me... I saw him enter Donghyuck's room."

"What do you mean babe?" You asked tilting your head.

And before your very eyes, he began sobbing like a child. "Donghyuck was killed by that man..."

A few days later while waking up screaming again, he fell out of the bed and rushed out of the room. You shouted running after him. "Baby you're at home! You're safe!"

But Jaemin shouted back in speed and slurring out. "Fuck you! No! This is a dream! You are not my girlfriend you devil- I'm jumping out of this apartment and going back to the real world!" And he ran to the window and put his foot over the window-

You ran to him at full speed - slapped him so hard in the face and yanked him back and away from the open window. "Are you crazy!"

Then, as if being back to reality, with a worried smile over his face he said, he hugged you deeply. "Oh yes... you are... you are real."

"This has been going on for the past 2 weeks. Jaemin you're scaring me. What's going on?" You asked, then slowly pushed him away. "What's really happening?"

He replied, almost horrified. "The man chased me this time... here... to our house..."

With no clue of what he meant, you urged him to go back and sleep while holding onto him. But still he woke up screeching.

Because of this, he took some days off from work and you stayed with him to look after his health.

One day, you asked him to explain this dream to you, because you couldn't handle the lack of sleep anymore. Every night? It was getting exhausting. You also had to go to work and you felt that while it was important for him to get better, it was unfair for you, because you also had to sleep.

"I'm sorry." He said, and you accepted it, because there's nothing he could do about it. For now.

"Tell me about this man," You say, sitting next to him on the dining table while holding his hand, after managing to calm him down and get him some tea. "Firstly, what does he look like?"

Instantly... Jaemin's hands begin to tremble underneath yours. "What does he look like? This man is... tall. Incredibly tall in height. Almost like a giant. I'd say 10ft12." You nod, encouraging him to go on. "Half of his height is taken up by his head. It's huge. He's got... 3 pupils in each eyes... blood red, emerald green and... pitch black. His skin is... shriveled... and it's violet. He looks like he's rotting and old."

Jaemin gulps, while you're eyebrows furrow by the description.

"He's got horns, upside down looking. And he always has a suit. Faded black.... he's also got legs that look like a goats legs. And his mouth... when the man opens his mouth, there's like hundreds of teeth in there. Black slimy teeth."

For the next few minutes... you sit in horror listening to Jaemin talk about this 'man', who sounded a lot more like a 'demon looking entity monster' then a man.

That night laying in bed... you ponder over the description that Jaemin gave you.

According to Jaemin, the man in his dream was 10 feet 12 and his head took up half of the height, his huge head had upside horns, he had 3 pupils each and his skin was shriveled and violet. When the man would open his mouth, Jaemin saw hundred 's of disgusting black teeth. He always had a black suit on, and his legs looked like goats.

In his dream, he finally took up courage and shouted to the man. "You're just a nightmare."

You didn't get to sleep long as Jaemin shouted and jolted you up again. You couldn't go to work at this point. "Jaemin... what happened?" You asked him tiredly. He just went into the bathroom and cried again. You muttered, but still got up to be by his side. "Babe, please open up. What happened?"

After a while he opened the door, and you made out the darkness underneath his eyes from sleeping bags.

And even though frantically looking terrified, Jaemin tried as best as he could to involve you in his dream.

"A nightmare? That's not me. I am not." Laughing shrilly, the man responded. "I am Death."

However, Jaemin said the man was laughing with a crying face which made him look creepy. While laughing the hundreds of teeth made an ear piecing sound like metal scraping and scratching against each other - and Jaemin said he felt that his ears felt like they were going to be torn because of how painful the sound was.

Frightened, Jaemin started to run away as fast as his legs could carry him. The man also started running after Jaemin shouting: "Death! Oh death! Death is beautiful. Beautiful death!" In this monstrous voice.

It made Jaemin extremely paralyzed by fear. His legs were wobbly turning to jelly, he kept falling down but kept trying to run and run as if his life completely depended on it. Finally the man came up to him right under his nose and opened his mouth shouting: "Death is beautiful!"

At that moment Jaemin bit his tongue and luckily woke up from the dream...

It's when you noticed that his tongue was terribly bleeding all over inside his mouth. "Oh my god, Jaemin. Your tongue." You took him to the hospital, and even took the liberty of explaining the situation to the doctor of what's been happening to him.

But as as soon as she saw Jaemin, she looked horrified, yet baffled. "Y-you... you met him." Instantly she shouted. "Get out!"

"Nightmares?" But even the doctor didn't understand what was wrong with him.

After long hesitation you visited a, spiritual doctor.

You cried on your knees and begged for help. "Please, they won't help us in the hospital, and I know you can help. You've helped my family before, so please help my boyfriend."

Clicking her tongue she closed her eyes - after thinking for a while she opened her mouth to speak. "Listen. This is what you must do from tonight:

Sleep elsewhere, in a place unknown,

A secret spot where you've never grown.

Don't tell a soul, not family, not friends,

Not even your love, this silence must never end.

Put on the makeup, a clown's disguise,

So he can't recognize your pleading eyes.

If he chases you down in your dream’s dark night,

Run, don’t look back, escape from his sight.

Avoid the homes of others, stay far away,

Innocent lives are at risk if you stray.

Run until you find the river or sea,

For he cannot swim, he can't follow thee.

But never climb high, don’t take to the stairs,

He's quicker than you, with no time to spare.

"Now leave!"

After saying that, she kicked both of you out. "Don't worry Jaemin, we'll figure something out."

That night, Jaemin went to a motel far away and slept with makeup on. Clowns makeup.

But, he was so sure that he had to follow the rules given. "I have to try. I can't... I can't keep seeing that thing. I'm scared." His eyes screamed for help.

You felt sorry, and just hugged him.

Surprised that you had a good night's sleep, Jaemin phoned in the morning and told you that the man didn't appear in the dream that night. He even took a photo of the makeup he put... You laughed.

But you did feel bad, because it's through the pictures with geo-tagging that you saw his location. But you made sure to say nothing, and you deleted the photo, just in case something sinister, really was happening.

Jaemin, nonetheless was relived. He sent you some flowers, and you felt assured that everything would be back to normal, very soon. And you'd finally be able to tell him about your pregnancy. The bump had already started to show.

Just to make sure that all was well, Jaemin slept in the motel again.

...

However that night, Jaemin had a dream of the man.

You woke up frantically in the middle of the night when there was a loud continuous banning. You opened the door to a scared and tear-filled Jaemin - he couldn't breath, legs sore and he collapsed but refused to sleep.

Then all of a sudden the man shouted: "There you are!" And started running at full speed.

According to Jaemin... in the dream the motel door opened and in entered the man. He walked into the room but he didn't recognize Jaemin in the clown makeup. Jaemin clearly explained the confusion of the entity. For a few hours, the entity stared at Jaemin and Jaemin moved around the hotel room pretending not to see it. He said the man kept staring. Jaemin slowly got out of there and kept walking away. He said the man followed him for hours being confused. Jaemin walked for a long time... With the thing behind him. Jaemin found it strange how no one else was on the streets. He was alone. And the anxiety grew. It's when he looked at the man behind him, that he made eye contact with him.

You felt so bad, your boyfriend had to run away again all night long, even when he did wake up he just ran. There was no way to stop the nightmare- even when biting his tongue, slapping his face, falling.

You stayed up with him, washed his face, gave him some coffee, massaged his legs and soothed him down, you even tried to watch comedy, but it was quiet. Jaemin looked paranoid looking around the house. But in the morning, he was unable to walk on his own and was taken to the hospital.

"Geez." The doctor, Dr Jaehyun who had taken Jaemin's patient file was in shock to see him again. "First your tongue and now this? How long did you run? Your muscles and joints are broken, literally."

You were shocked. "Could this really be because of the dream?" You asked the doctor once you were alone and out of earshot from Jaemin.

Dr Jaehyun shock his head. He struggling to understand how Jaemin's vitals were all fine but he was sleep deprived. "That's highly unlikely. There must be an underlying medical issue. We'll conduct further tests before I can confirm whether it's safe for him to leave. I should have the results by the end of the day."

Unfortunately, the results came up negative and cleared Jaemin of every possible problem. Jaemin was released, but the Dr Jaehyun assured you to come by if you encounter any more problems. It was the afternoon when Jaemin was discharged in a wheelchair.

Jaemin had to run on a wheelchair for his life in the dream and when he woke up he became unable to move his arms at all! because his arm muscles where broken... that same night you went to the hospital.

But after you got Jaemin on the bed to sleep, the same thing happened at night... You awakened in fright because of how yelled from the pits of his stomach.

Apparently, in his dream he was also on a wheelchair.

There was no option but to be hospitalized.

"Are you certain that there are no other underlying issues, such as an allergic reaction or a possible fall?" Dr Jaehyun asked, being completely perplexed.

"No. I try to make sure that he eats 3 times per day, and that he bathes well. But... I don't know what's going on."

"Alright, let's keep him in the hospital for the night. You should go home and get some rest."

Resting at home was tough. You couldn't even sleep because you were so worried for Jaemin. You held onto your stomach, wondering what could be the problem. That night, you did something so unthinkable... you prayed.

"Dear God... I don't know what to say, but please protect my husband. I don't know what's going on but I'm scared."

That night you fell asleep.

But it's not long before you woke up by a violent shake of the whole house. With a huge crash, just like an earthquake, you got out of bed and ran out of bed when hearing Jaemin scream. You knew he wasn't in the house, but you've heard him scream so many times that you couldn't tell if it was a dream or reality anymore. And in the living room.. you saw... an enormous being standing in front of Jaemin. It was not human, and it did not fit the description of which he had given of 'that man'. Instead this being was like a stone, dark and the only visible thing were it's red eyes. It was hunched in your tiny living room. You stepped back, but you were paralyzed on the spot. It looked like it would break through the ceiling, and Jaemin was absolutely overwhelmed with by that horrifying ambiance.

The creature spoke.

"In 2 days, you will be dragged to hell." The voice sounds like rocks scraping against each other.

"Please no," Jaemin sobbed and cried desperately on his knees. "I'm begging you, please don't do this. I've got a kid on the way."

You were stunned by Jaemin's sudden confession about him knowing you were pregnant, but you couldn't say anything as the creature bellowed and blustered.

"You committed the unforgivable sin. You will burn in hell."

And then it disappeared.

And you woke up. You were grim in expression the whole day and trembling unknowingly. When you got to the hospital to check up on Jaemin, you were pale of color when Dr Jaehyun informed you that Jaemin had not fallen asleep at night. That Jaemin kept asking for coffee. He even advised you to try and tell Jaemin to try and get some rest as he wouldn't allow any Doctor or nurse near him.

"Jae baby, you must sleep." You begged.

But it was no use. He refused to speak as he moved back and forth on the bed avoiding you. You couldn't even speak to him regarding the dream you had because of his behavior. You felt like crying.

The same thing happened on the second day. You were frustrated. But you went home and tried to sleep. Although you were met with the same dream again. But instead of the horrible creature telling Jaemin he would be dragged to hell in 2 days, the creature spoke:

"In 1 day, your soul will be dragged to hell."

"Please no," Jaemin sobbed and cried desperately on his knees. "I'm begging you,"

When you woke up, you wondered maybe if this was the creature that Jaemin spoke about... even though the being was much different, you decided that you'd speak to Jaemin. Maybe this dream only came because you prayed and asked for clarification... After all in your dream, he wasn't running, but instead begging.

But already having been 3 days in the hospital and 2 nights with no sleep, Jaemin's health looked far worse when you saw him.

"Your husband hasn't slept in two days. He's been experiencing 'nightmares' in the morning and has consumed an excessive amount of coffee."

"Doctor you don't get it!" Jaemin yelled and fell to his knees, you rushed to his side but his eyes were bloodshot with tears. "I'm begging you! I can't dream!" The mucus and tears of pain ran down his face.

"And he's been repeating this all morning." Dr Jaehyun mutters to you. After the nurses helped Jaemin to the bed and tried to calm him down, the Dr Jaehyun got back to the room and injected a tranquilizer in Jaemin's system.

"Fuck! What did you just do!?" Jaemin holds onto his arm looking at the doctor horrified.

"This will put you in a deep sleep without dreaming Mr Na." Dr Jaehyun states. "Don't worry."

Jaemin screamed, surprising you. "Fuck! If I sleep I'm going to die!" he yelled out, while drifting off to sleep.

Looking at him asleep your whole heart caved. "Ma'am your husband is deranged mentality, he will receive treatment in the psych ward tomorrow." And then he left the room, as if being exhausted by Jaemin's antics.

You went home and expected to have the same dream as the previous night, yet when no dream came you were worried.

Dead.

The next day when you went to the hospital, the unbelievable thing happened.

In the morning, Jaemin was found on the floor right next to his bed.

His body was already ice cold, he was curled up as if he ask attacked hard by something, and you found thousands of red spots all over his body, along with all his joints in his arms and legs terribly broken. His tongue was cut off-

Jaemin was healthy and din't have any illness, even you had no idea what killed him. One thing you thought of... was that dream. The dream he kept telling you about with the man who had goat legs, a big head with horns and large eyes with 3 pupils inside. The man who always wore a suit and had velvet skin and looked old and rotting.

The doctor was embarrassed because he couldn't find a single clue resulting to Jaemin's death.

Until now. 7 years have gone by and you still had so many questions - that you couldn't solve. The only thing that remains is the dream he had, and the one you had. While you're convinced that the man demon in his dream killed him, you don't know if you can fully believe it, because the chances of something like that happening is slim. He died because he was killed by a demon in his dream?

That night as you sleep, you're surprised to dream a dream so... daunting.

You cover your mouth, muffling your cries, just at the thoughts of Jaemin's body all over again. The way he looked. He left you alone... And the only solid reminder you have of him, is your daughter who looks like him. And she's also asking where her daddy is. Mourning Jaemin all over again. Your pray. "Dear God." You sniff. "Please... I miss him so much. Even if he can't come back to me... just once... may I see him... I will be fine."

The mysterious being that appeared to Jaemin years ago in your dream, is now appearing before you. The exact same one. The stone being who couldn't even fit in the house. It was crouched but looked at you. It looks straight at you, red pits of darkness serving as pupils. It doesn't look as menacing as you last remembered...

It takes your hand, and you follow it.

"Come with me." It speaks. "If you want to see your boyfriend again. Come with me."

You're hesitant, but step out of bed.

As soon as he takes you outside, the world around you changes instantly. The air grows thick with humidity, and you find yourself standing before a large sea of boiling lava, glowing with an ominous, fiery light. The screams of millions of people echo through the air, sharp and agonizing. Your skin begins to burn as the heat surrounds you, and every step feels heavier. The air is thick with heat, pressing down on you, making it impossible to move forward. It feels like the very environment is suffocating you, trapping you in this nightmarish place. Is this... Hell?

His body is barely recognizable, his once vibrant skin now charred and cracked, the remnants of searing heat and torment. His face is hollow, gaunt, eyes wide open in a haunting emptiness. His lips are dry, cracked, as if he hasn’t spoken in ages. His chest heaves, but each breath sounds shallow, ragged, as though the very air is burning him from the inside.

And there,

you see Jaemin standing in the middle of hell.

You call out to him, wailing his name, but he doesn’t respond. No words, no movement, just a hollow gaze that pierces through you, full of endless suffering. His eyes, once full of life, are now pools of agony, reflecting the chaos around him.

You take in his skeletal figure, his limbs thin and frail, as if the heat and pain have drained all life from him. His clothes hang from his body like torn rags, burned away by the relentless fire that surrounds him. Every inch of him tells a story of unimaginable torment, and yet he just stands there, frozen, staring back at you with those broken eyes.

The mysterious being next to you speaks. "Your boyfriend killed an innocent person, just two weeks before you became pregnant. That family, cursed with endless nightmares, had their suffering transferred to Jaemin. Those nightmares wanted to consume his soul. That’s why he’s here… with me." He stares at you.

In his eyes, it's like you see a small vision of Jaemin...

Jaemin’s hands trembled as he scrubbed at them under the running water, but no matter how hard he tried, the blood wouldn't wash away. The fight had been intense, just another illegal street fight for some extra cash, but this time, things went too far. He hadn’t meant to knock the man out for good—it was an accident. One punch, and the man crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

Guilt crashed over him like a wave. He had to get home, to you—his only escape from the darkness already closing in. As he ran home he kept hearing a voice over his shoulder saying he would die for killing a man.

Upon getting in the room, he gets on the bed with you hugging you tightly.

“I love you.”

You turned toward him, eyes wide in surprise, a soft laugh escaping your lips. “I love you too,” you giggled. “Where’s this coming from?”

Jaemin shrugged, his gaze distant, yet filled with a kind of bittersweet emotion. “I don’t know... I just wanted you to know. I love you. So much. So much that... I’d do anything, anything just to see you smile. I want you to have everything you deserve, to be happy... even if it means I’m not there with you.”

Despite the heat- your body runs to Jaemin.

"That's what he did." The mysterious being bends down to whisper in your ear. "And now, he's in hell."

"It was an accident..."

"But he killed a cursed man. And the demon followed him to his death."

But,

At that moment... you wake up from you slumber. You were awake but you still felt the sizzling heat all over your body. And it's pain.

After that dream, when you took your child to school, you quietly told her that her dad was gone. You didn’t say anything else. You stopped searching for Jaemin. You stopped praying.

You were convinced that it wasn't a silly series of dreams. That it was real... and that Jaemin was in hell.

You can't forget that heat.

Those horrifying screams.

And Jaemin's eyes.

All of it, seemed so real.

Definition synopsis. A "cosmic nightmare" typically refers to a terrifying or unsettling experience that involves vast, overwhelming, and often incomprehensible forces or concepts. It can evoke feelings of insignificance or helplessness in the face of something larger than oneself, often linked to existential dread or horror. This might include themes like the vastness of the universe, the fear of the unknown, or the breakdown of reality as we understand it. In stories or dreams, a cosmic nightmare might depict scenarios where characters face impossible or terrifying situations beyond their control, often tied to themes of the unknown or cosmic entities.

[chenlezip]

─★ ˙☕️ !! an annoying customer | a na jaemin smau .

PART 4.5 : drip

warning : #toomuchdrip #okimsorryguys

annas note : AGH i hate the way the app i use stretches out the photos >_<

last | next | masterlist

taglist : @jeonghansshitester @kukkurookkoo @cigsaftersuh @polarisjisung @injvns @kaosuni @sibwol @n0hyuck @ayukas @phototypee @hyckvr @swee7dream @haechology @holyhaech @blondemrk @222low @njmluvr

[susicheng]

   .𖥔 ݁ ˖⌗﹒ the truth we share . . . na jaemin

. . . they're always watching

lights dimmed. microphone on. a shuffle as you flip through the script one last time. a countdown:

“3,

2, 

1”

you’re currently listening to secrets left behind, where the untold and the unseen become part of the narrative we can no longer ignore.

. . .

a case shrouded in mystery: one that is not only close to home, but littered with false evidence and coverups. what you’re here to do, is answer the question: why?

easier said than done. until private messages from user quietchaos start rolling in.

“maybe there’s something deeper going on”

“what was on her person when she died?”

“take a closer look at her necklace.”

“what was in her journal?”

“i might be able to help.”

    .𖥔 ݁ ˖⌗﹒ the truth we share

nosecrets is typing . . .

content warnings. . this work may contain the following [proceed with caution]: mentions of drugs and suicide, murder, detailed investigations of foul play, sexual content, and more

updates: once to twice a week the truth we share . . . . taglist ; open (comment or message to be added)

chapters . . . 1. the girl in the tunnel 2. quietchaos is typing 3. where shadows speak 4. truth beneath lies 5. the weight of secrets tbd...

[ohmygs-blog]

to be dating na jaemin…

❀ boyfriend texts

bf texts.

bf texts ii.

bf texts iii.

bf texts iv.

memes jaemin would send you.

wearing the sweatshirt.

❀ idol! boyfriend texts

idol! bf texts.

idol! bf texts ii.

nct nation.

❀ other messages

fwb / situationship.

fwb / situationship ii.

fwb / situationship iii.

jealously.

angsty texts.

angsty texts ii.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 8: seduction

nct 1.6k words female reader insert Reader x Na Jaemin suggestive/SFW

🖤 warnings: a reader with no game, jaemin turned out a little mean but in a sexy way just trust the process🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

"Oh, you're gonna lose that bet."

You look at Giselle, taking in her unamused face under the weird half-lighting in the corner of the library. She has one side of her over-ear headphones slid off, her phone open in her hand to her messages.

"How d'you figure?"

She raises a brow. "What exactly did Yeri bet you?"

Yeri snitched about the bet. Of course she did.

"That I couldn't seduce one of the guys who always use that study room by the time the library closes." You point across the library floor, to the row of doors along one wall.

"Yeah. At about 12 midnight, you're gonna owe her..."

"A week of meals," you supply helpfully.

Giselle sighs.

"You're doubting my game?" you ask.

"No, I just know-"

"You should be on my side about this, what the hell?"

"Have you ever spoken to any of them?"

The guys who use that study room are a bunch of loud, beautiful performing-arts types. Their hair changes color on the regular, but it's always shitty, like they exclusively do it at home in the bathroom. Usually, you can hear them clear through the walls, but since this floor is almost always empty (hence why you yourself study here), they don't get in trouble. They also seem to know the tall bespectacled student staff who runs the front desk, so you suppose that helps.

"No," you say.

"Then why do you think you'd suddenly be able to pull one?" she asks.

You're resolute. "Don't doubt my game!"

"I'm pretty sure at least two of them are dating each other," Giselle says.

"That's not my fault."

The side-eye is strong. "Sure. But don't blame me when you're starving to death because all of your meal swipes are going to Yeri."

Giselle snaps her headphones back on, and ignores you like she'd been doing all evening.

You have two hours to seduce one of the guys.

Might as well start.

You're thinking maybe the mop-haired one who always wears the Warriors jersey. He's cute, and he's got something desperate about him. Like maybe just the attention would be enough to seal the deal. And if not him, there's the skinny jeans guy who's always hanging around Mark and Jaehyun from the graduate music department.

But when you get to the study room and peer in the tiny window, there's only one guy inside.

It's one of them. But it's the most enigmatic one.

A generic, soft, handsome face, unassuming in a big sweatshirt. You remember seeing him in a tank top earlier in the fall, though, before it got cold, and you know he's got some shoulders and arms under that heavy fabric. You'd watched him for just a little bit too long, that day.

He's not the one you were going to pick, but he might just be the one you secretly wanted most.

You're just kind of staring, and after a moment, he looks up. Suddenly, as if you'd thrown something at him. He furrows a thick brow.

Sheepish, you point, asking wordlessly if you can come in. He nods, still a picture of confusion.

"Hi," you say, as you close the thick wooden door behind you.

These rooms aren't quite soundproof, but they are meant to at least partially muffle the noise from group projects and stuff.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

It's an odd question.

"Nothing," you say. "Um. I just wanted to...say hi."

He tilts his head to one side curiously, kind of puppylike. "Why today?"

You're thoroughly caught off-guard. "I'm sorry?"

"I see you here every day. Why today?"

"Less embarrassing when you're alone," you say, and though that is not the reason, it is true.

He nods once, firm. "Okay."

"What's your name?" you ask.

"Jaemin."

Jaemin is exceptionally off-putting. Usually, you have game. You weren't lying to Giselle about that. But this dude...you already don't understand him at all.

You tell him your name, too, and he just nods.

He's off-putting, but you might as well get started. You've met college guys before. Usually, the bare minimum of concerted attention is enough to catch their interest. They're easy like that, always desperate for some ass. You smile.

"You're really handsome, Jaemin."

He nods again. "I know."

Most of his attention is still on the textbook open in front of him.

"You know," you repeat.

"Yeah. I own a mirror."

He should be infuriating, what with the things he's saying, but he's speaking so matter-of-factly. Not arrogant, just assured. Rather than making you want to leave, his bizarre manner is making you want to pull up a seat.

"Do you mind?" you ask, gesturing to one of the seats across from him.

Another nod. "Doesn't look like you have anything to study, though."

"That's okay," you say. "What's that?"

"Book."

"Obviously. For what?"

"Pre-med."

He's pre-med. Of course he is.

"Cool."

Slowly, so slowly, Jaemin closes the book. He looks across the table at you, gaze even. "What do you actually want?"

He doesn't even seem annoyed, but still, you wilt. "Do you want me to be honest?"

"Sure."

"My friend bet me that I couldn't seduce-"

"Seduce?" he interrupts. "That was you seducing?"

Jaemin smiles. It's incredibly charming, flawless teeth and matching eyesmile, the kind of big childish smile that changes his whole face.

You shrug, helpless. "I mean, kinda."

"No offense, but were you even trying?"

It's hard not to be offended. You scoff. You stand up again, and take a few steps backward toward the door.

"I was trying," you say.

"That's worse, then."

He stands up too. He's taller than he looks seated and slouching. He tilts his head again, looking at you curiously. You could probably duck out right now and then just hope that he never talks to you again, but then he asks you the most ridiculous question.

"Do you want me to show you what it's supposed to be like?"

Your stomach drops. "What?"

Jaemin's smile is so bright and empty, but he has terrifyingly intelligent eyes. Like he's putting on a show, and he knows that it's working.

"Do you need me to show you how to seduce someone?" he asks.

"I...I mean..."

"It's an offer," he says lightly. "You can say no."

You'd be fucking insane to say no.

"Sure. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." You swallow your nerves. "How do you seduce someone, then?"

His smile drops into a pout. "Easy. Someone just has to want you."

Jaemin has his hands in his jeans pockets as he wanders around the big wooden table toward you. He's slouching again, shapeless in terrycloth, but suddenly, visions of his bare arms fill your mind. He stops short just in front of you, making you look upward to meet his eyes. His tongue pokes out between his teeth, daring.

"I think it's already working," he comments.

He leans down a little, forcing you to bend backward to keep a respectable distance between the two of you.

"Do you want me?" he asks.

Skilled, measured, his gaze drops from your face, down your chest, down and down, and snaps back up to your face. You can tell this is formulaic for him, that he really is just showing you the method to his charisma. But you can't help how it's making you feel.

The bloom of butterflies in your stomach from the close attention, the buzzing under your skin as he checks you out so openly. He's gorgeous. He smells pretty. And he's so close to you.

"You can tell the truth," he adds.

You realize you're still bending your spine awkwardly, so you duck away from him, seeking refuge against the table edge, behind his turned back.

He laughs, full and a little shrill. "Come on, now."

The table is solid against the back of your legs as you catch your breath. Jaemin does turn around, though, and he laughs again at whatever expression he finds on your face.

"Oh, you want me," he says.

"I didn't say that," you answer.

Jaemin's smile twists, just a little, taking on an edge of the cold intelligence in his eyes. "Then tell me you don't."

He gets closer, again.

He walks right up to you. Nearly chest to chest. One of his hands is gentle on your side, a little bit of persuasion, until you're sitting on the tabletop. It makes you a good head shorter than him, perched as you are. Jaemin nudges in to stand between your spread knees.

He's not touching anywhere he shouldn't be, not saying anything. He's just looking at you.

It's good that he's not touching you, and good that you're wearing pants today, too, because you can feel yourself fucking throbbing at his careless attention.

"Tell me you don't want me," Jaemin repeats.

He's playing chicken with you, now, as he leans in close again. His eyes are so brown. The ends of his hair are absolutely fried.

His face is inches from yours when you break.

"I want you."

That tongue pokes back out between his teeth. He's way too pleased. "I knew it."

It occurs to you, then, that as much as he accused you of not doing anything to seduce him, he didn't have to do a goddamn thing to seduce you.

You shiver.

"Tell me," Jaemin says. "What were you going to do with me, once you seduced me?"

"I mean..." You blink at him. "I mean...I just...nothing, I guess."

"Hm."

He taps you on the tip of your nose with one pointer finger. It's fond in a way that sends the butterflies into a frenzy.

"Then that's what I'll do with you," he decides.

Like a switch flipping, Jaemin's smile turns bright and sunny again. He pivots on the spot, and goes to open the door again. He gestures you out.

Dumbfounded, you obey, weak legs taking you right out into the library again.

"Try again next time," he tells you, cheerful.

The door shuts.

Giselle is never going to let you live that down.

[gonelike-ach00]

ꜱɪx - jaemin

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summary:

They weren't aware of it but they were beginning to write their future as the days finally welcomed their youth. Now, as the sun begins to rise and the cold days of childhood leave them, they are welcomed into the warm—sometimes too hot—hug of youth.This was their start--the first taste of the warmth of youth.

Jaemin and Naeun have nothing in common except their common friends, until he starts working for her family's restaurant and they shared a lot more things in common than they thought.

genre:

fluff, angst, slice of life, high school romance, recurring anthology

word count : 2.3k

pairing: high school! jaemin x high school! female character

ꜱɪx - jaemin

“Would you like to introduce yourself to the crew?” Jaemin stands in front of an odd group of people. He was sure that two of them were university students, he wasn’t sure but they were older than he was. Not to mention that they oddly remind him of someone. Besides Jaemin was a manager a bit older than a university student, but someone who wasn’t in their 30’s. The family-owned small business had a management team of family members and he predicts that this manager of his is probably fresh out of the military with that buzz cut of his.

“Hi!” He bows his head towards those who are older than him. “I’m Jaemin.”

“I’m Lee Seungho,” the taller one of the university students points to himself and then puts his arm around the other university student next to him, “This is my twin Seungmin.”

“Twins?” Jaemin’s words come out as more of a question.

“They’re fraternal, which is why they don’t look alike.” His manager, who he found out was named Lee Hajoon, answers the question he never fully formed.

It takes him a moment of realization to finally understand why the two of them looked rather familiar. His head doesn’t hide as he compares how the twins, Seungho and Seungmin, looked and how the manager shared the same familiar look as the twins. This was why Jaemin thought they felt a little more familiar than usual. Of course, the family business employed their kids as their employees instead of hiring outside.

“You’re a bit slow, aren’t you?” Hajoon pats Jaemin’s back. “Don’t worry, you’re lucky we’ve dwindled in size over the years.” 

“There’s more of you?” Jaemin had no intention of sounding rude, but his mouth spoke before he could process anything he just said.

Hajoon, Seungho, and Seungmin laugh at his comment. “Imagine this, Jaemin,” Seungho puts his arms around the high schooler, “we can go up against each other in basketball with two full teams.”

The analogy was great, because it was easy to count that there were always five people on a basketball court, but the analogy wasn’t really for someone like Jaemin who had no knowledge about basketball except that you have to throw a boucy ball into a basket that was really high up in the air.

“How many is that exactly?” Jaemin shyly asks.

Seungho doesn’t answer as he drags him over to the cashier where a family portrait sat. Amidst the chaos of plaques, celebrity pictures and signatures, there was a picture that sat on a pretty wooden frame. It stood out as nothing like the laminated signatures and pictures on the wall. There he stood staring at a twelve-person photo. In the middle, there was a couple carrying two small babies in their arms, the smaller child looked like a newborn, while the other could sit upright. Then on their right two boys of the same age stood there with the goofiest smiles on their faces—it was hard to miss that they were the twins, Seungmin and Seungho.

Then on the left stood a boy that looked like a small Hajoon, except he wasn’t entirely sure about it himself. Then behind them were five more boys that varied in age of pre-teen to late teens.

“For the longest time, we were an all-male household. A living nightmare for our mother.” Seungho then points his finger at the newborn in the mother’s arms. “Until the sweaty little angel came along. The first girl—”

“The only girl.” Seungmin corrects Seungho.

Seungho nods his head. “Mom’s pregnancy was risky, aside from only having given birth to Minjae,” he points at the other baby in their father’s arms, “not even a full year before she came along.” 

“Couldn’t exactly tell you how nervous everyone felt—I was a bit too young—but, from their stories.” Seungho shakes his head and takes his arm off of Jaemin. “It was a rough time.”

Seungmin stands there with his arms crossed over his chest and shakes his head. “We should be teaching him about what to do, not the family history.” 

Seungho turns to look at Seungmin and mocks him by pretending to mimic him. His head was bobbing side to side more than usual. After a few more exaggerated movements, Seungho turns his attention back to Jaemin. “Right, we should get you changed into the uniform.”

“We don’t have a uniform,” Hajoon calls out.

Seungho looked at his older brother then down onto the apron he was wearing and then back towards Hajoon, who had long gone into the kitchen. “Then what have I been wearing all along?”

This is where Jaemin finds out that Hajoon didn’t really understand that the apron he was asking the servers to wear was a form of uniform to distinguish themselves from the crowd that ate in their family restaurant. In the midst of the siblings bickering back and forth, he finds himself sitting at the edge of the dinner with the apron over his body. Sitting by the counter, he figured that they didn’t have a lot of customers around 4 p.m. There were barely any customers. ‘Barely’ would even be considered a stretch, the family restaurant was empty.

Until he hears the door of the restaurant finally slide open and he stands up from his seat ready to greet his first customer.

“Welcome!”

She stopped midway and looked up at whoever it was that greeted her. Once she raised her confused expression, Na Jaemin knew exactly who she was. The side braid she was known for and her pastel pink bag that he was sure was larger than her were hard to miss when he walked home and caught a glimpse of her. 

“Jaemin?” Lee Naeun’s voice called out his name as she realized he was standing in the middle of her family restaurant. 

“Jaemin?” Another voice pops out from behind Naeun. His bright eyes greet Jaemin with a sense of familiarity and confusion. “What are you doing here?”

In rare cases, the group has played with a few older boys in the field after lunch. That group of older boys included Lee Minhyun, who Jaemin knew was Naeun’s older brother. Standing in the middle of the empty dinner, he realizes that Minhyun is the youngest son to eight older brothers, and Naeun is the youngest girl of nine brothers.

It smells like a nightmare to the only child Jaemin.

“Right,” Seungmin’s head pops out from the kitchen, “forgot that you all go to the same school.”

“When I heard about the new part-timer, I didn’t think it would be you.” Minhyun walked up to Jaemin to give him a brief side hug. “My brother’s have been raving about getting some time off from the restaurant thing.”

Naeun walked up to Jaemin and Minhyun. “You were looking forward to it too.” 

Minhyun nods his head in embarrassment. He rubs behind his neck and nods his head. “Ever since, Kiyoung left for the military there just aren’t enough hands to go around.” 

Jaemin nodded his head as he was situated between two siblings with Seungho standing by the counter watching them. Sure, he has his group of friends, but this was the first time he was situated between siblings bantering, talking, and interacting. 

He wasn’t exactly sure what he needed to do.

When they all returned to the locker room, he finally had the time to think to himself—to hear his thoughts. Jaemin finds himself sitting down on the chair by the counter as he waits for someone to enter the shop. Until he hears the locker door open and he was preparing himself mentally to hear everyone’s voices interlap with each other’s again.

Jaemin turns his body around to check on who is making their way towards him. Instead of seeing five out of the ten siblings, he sees Naeun walk out first. She changed out of her uniform into something more casual—a white tee and denim pants. Her hair was now placed into a ponytail as she wore the same apron Jaemin was wearing where the print ‘10 siblings’ were now beginning to fade.

“I thought my brother’s just scared you off with how loud they were.” She admits walking up to the counter Jaemin was sitting beside.

Jaemin shakes his head.

“Well, I wouldn’t be so surprised. Only children get a little overwhelmed with my family,” she was checking something on the touch screen computer. “I remember the first time I brought Eunji home—she looked so pale from being so overstimulated by my brothers’ yapping.” 

Jaemin nods his head completely understanding where Eunji is coming from. “I’m friends with people who are the same.”

Naeun snickers at the comment. “Well, that’s great practice for the family.”

“I just—didn’t expect such a large crowd for a family restaurant.”

Naeun stops whatever she is doing and slowly turns towards Jaemin. “You do know, that’s barely half of them.” 

The moment of realization hits Jaemin’s face.

“My older brothers already have families of their own. So, there’s even more of them now.”

Staring at Naeun, he finally understood why she was so eager to become part of the library committee (the only one there). She has been surrounded by a lot of louder people in her life. The thought of living with nine older brothers sort of even overwhelms him—and Jaemin was only thinking about them. He couldn’t imagine living through it himself.

“I should warn you about the dinner rush.” 

“Dinner rush?”

Naeun sighs and turns her attention back to the screen. “Just prepare.”

This was her last warning before he hears the ruckus of the five older guys. Little did Jaemin know that this would be nothing compared to the dinner rush that Naeun had just warned him about.

No one told him that he would not catch a break from the orders to be taken, orders to be delivered, and the tables to be cleaned. After a certain amount of orders taken, orders delivered, and tables cleaned, it was like he was acting on autopilot. There was now way he would think about what he was doing at a certain part in hour two. By the third hour, Jaemin’s feet were beginning to swell from the pain. As his feet began to swell the amount of people were beginning to finally subside.

Jaemin finally sits down on the chair by the counter as he stares at the hall with chairs on top of the tables after cleaning beneath the tables. He sits there blankly staring at the once full-to-the-brim restaurant, which is now empty and cleaned out.

“For someone’s first time, you did a good job.” Naeun appears right behind him and pulls a chair for herself. 

“The warning wasn’t enough.” He complains and shakes his head.

Naeun snickers at the paler Jaemin, who is catching his breath.

There was nothing particular about how Jaemin caught his breath, but something about it was catching hers. He had pushed his hair out of his face earlier in the night and was sitting there with his hair slicked back and his forehead exposed. She caught a glimpse of the face so adored by the rest of their school. His bright eyes, tall nose bridge, and soft kissable lips were always the topic of various female friend groups. He was hard to miss when he walked down the hallways.

She understood exactly why he was always talked about.

“Hope you don’t quit too soon.” Naeun stopped staring at him and turned her attention back to what she was supposed to do, which was to double-check the tabs.

“Aside from the absolute hell hole of work—your brothers are nice.”

Naeun snickers. “Nice to you.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

This comment physically makes her freeze. Then a look of absolute disbelief was all over her face.

“I mean, I have cousins—”

“Brother, Jaemin, brothers. Imagine if your cousins would throw you around just because they can. Oh my god,” she throws her hand in the air, “think of it like this, what do you do when you’re bored?”

“I think of something else to do—”

“You can’t do that. No, because if you’re bored, they’re bored and they would find it fun to bother you instead of looking for something else to do. Bothering you is that something else. Now, normally people only have one other sibling with them, but imagine it multiplied by nine. There is no silence in the house.”

Jaemin sits there as Naeun is now completely facing him with absolute passion. She was even catching her breath by the end of it. She stands there with her passionate residue still calming down with her realization that she just absolutely broke it all off when he didn’t understand what it was like to have siblings. 

“Sorry about that.” Naeun turns around and runs her hand through her messy pony tail.

Jaemin shakes his head with a smile planted on his face. “No, its fine.”

Naeun stands there completely taken aback by his response. There was an air that she wasn’t sure what it was, an air she wasn’t exactly familiar with. Bona was someone she would rely on when it came to matters like this, she was just better at understanding these kinds of things. Yet, she stands here in absolute confusion of the sudden shift in the air with a simple word he said.

Naeun shakes her head. “You tend to flatter people around you, don’t you?”

“What?” Jaemin doesn’t catch on.

“You’re a bit—”

“Alright, that’s a wrap!” Hajoon walks out of the kitchen completely satisfied with his handywork in cleaning the kitchen for the evening.

Naeun didn’t really realize that she was standing a little too close to Jaemin at that moment. Maybe in her monologue, she had taken a step towards him and stood a little too close for comfort. When Hajoon announces his presence, she takes a step back and looks away.

“What just—”

“Nothing.”

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[hannie-dul-set]

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline) — PREVIEW.

SYNOPSIS. having fought tooth and nail out of high school, university, and law school, only to end up working for a law firm that basically serves as a clean up dog after the biggest organized crime group in the district, you thought you couldn’t get any lower than this. 

the bar is in hell, and yet you’ve managed to limbo six feet beneath that. alternatively— na jaemin is the personification of hell, and your very existence just makes him even worse than he already is. 

PAIRING. na jaemin x female! reader. GENRE. gang! au, lawyer! au, office! au, comedy, drama, romance, very light angst, this is a sitcom, hate to love(?), a somewhat questionable power dynamic, asshole! jaemin (my beloved…my kryptonite…) but he’s also an idiot, jaemin has an eye contact thing, inspired by the manhwas “weak hero” and “study group.” WARNINGS. an abundance of criminal activity (including but not limited to organized crime, fraud, blackmail, DUIs, unethical and illegal occupational practices, etc.), blood and violence, suggestive themes, eventual non explicit sex, jaemin with a tattoo, legal inaccuracies because i am not familiar with south korean laws, so i’m just using my own country’s as reference. also because this is just a stupid thirst fic. who gives a damn.

WORD COUNT. preview: 2.8k | this will be a chaptered fic. TAGLIST. open. send me an ask/dm/reply.

NOTE. this is the side effect of having a clinically insane brain that has to make a fic out of everything, including the law readings that i am subjected to every day. i have also been re-reading weak hero and i’ve projected my favorite feral dog (keum seongje/wolf keum) to the sweetest man alive (na jaemin). i’ve also based their org structure to the Union’s, just for full disclosure. meaning, a whole lot of dream 00 line (criminal) shenanigans are underway. 

this intro note has become a mouthful. anyway, hope you enjoy! 

IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE YOUR OFF DAY TODAY. You’re on sick leave— that is, sick and tired of drafting legal papers, meeting clients, reading piles and piles of documents every single damn week, so you decided to use your once-a-month get out of jail free card to stay in bed playing Stardew Valley. It’s pre-planned. You’ve already faked sneezes and coughing fits at the office yesterday. You’ve already called your Division Chief this morning. Kim Doyoung can’t do shit when you’re allegedly bedridden and downtrodden with a fever. He can eat his own ass and suck it.

“You have a new case,” he informs you over the phone. “It’s from Nalkkeutta.” 

Or so you thought.

“Hah,” a weak wheeze squirms out of your throat. “Sure. Okay. Got it.”

Motherfucking son of a bitch. Those two lines spring you out of bed immediately as though your bones have just been tased. God dammit. You’ve just managed to snag Sebastian into wedlock. How dare he throw another job at you right now? How dare he ruin your sweet, sweet honeymoon with the emotionally constipated 2D man of your dreams? 

Still. It doesn’t matter if you just got married or have a collapsing lung right now. You haul your ass, get dressed, get out, and get into your car to drive to your district’s police station in a hissy fit, as per your boss, Kim Doyoung’s, instructions. This damned firm is working you like a dog, but you can’t bite the hand that feeds you. And neither can Kim Doyoung.

“Yes, sir, I’m on my way. Are the files ready? Can you send them to me?”

This case came from Nalkkeutta. NCT. Nal. Day. Kkeut. End. Ta. To burn. The day ends in flames. It’s a name that haunts the streets of Yeongdeungpo. It’s a name that’s synonymous with loan sharking, weapons dealing, and coughing up protection fees unless you want to get your shit rocked on an unfortunate walk home— under the guise of an honest to goodness security company to service your protective needs. 

In the early 90’s, the government had a massive crackdown on gang activity and organized crime, subsequently snuffing out any emerging organized crime presence by officially criminalizing the mere act of joining a gang under the Revised Penal Code. But Nalkkeutta is relatively new. That scorching sunset symbol suddenly emerged in the district one day, around eight to nine years ago, and it’s marred the district of Yeongdeungpo with burn marks ever since.

And your life. You haven’t been lucky enough to be spared from that damned gang’s mess. In fact, you’re currently entangled with one of their messes right now.

The glass doors of the Yeongdeungpo Police Station shut behind you. You’re smacked hard in the face far too artificial lighting and sickly white walls and the words Patriotism, Justice, Honor mocking you in embossed silver. You grimace, cross your arms, divert your eyes with an impatient tap of the foot— and your arrival doesn’t exactly come unrecognized by the front desk and the others scattered around the lobby. One officer takes immediate initiative upon seeing your familiar sour expression, rustling out of a conversation to attend to you. 

“Hey, attorney. How may we help you?”

You eye the man. You’ve come to know him by name— Jung Jaehyun— even without needing to take a peek at his uniform’s name tag. You spare him and yourself the small talk and jump straight to business. “I’m here to see my client,” you inform, followed by under-the-breath swears as you fumble through your phone for the e-file Doyoung had just sent because Nalkkeutt had the gall to demand you to run and fetch the bone they left behind here without even giving you the chance to look at it. Seriously. If they want you to do a good job, they should be more punctual than this. “His name is—”

Huh. You read the top line of the document. A lump forms in your throat. You read it again. Once more. And the letters neither shift nor fold, confirming with absolute certainty that you read the name of your client correctly.

It’s a name you haven’t heard of in a while. It’s name that stalked the corridors of the place you’d bid good riddance to eight years ago with a spit on the concrete ground. 

“Na Jaemin.” There’s a bitter taste on your tongue when you pronounce his name— like your very digestive system can’t stomach it, rejects it, and wants to vomit it right back out. “His name is Na Jaemin.”

A nod from Jung Jaehyun. He turns his heels and leads you further into the station.

Empty footsteps echo against the slowly dimming hall leading to the private visiting rooms. The silence pricks at your memories— an uncomfortable sound you’ve grown accustomed to in the two years you’ve spent at Ganghak High School. It’s been eight damn years since you’ve graduated, yet one mention of a name reels you back into the past with a vividness that’s still as clear as the present.

In your memories, Na Jaemin was the guy who carried with him a pungent air of animosity and violence in his wake. On paper, he is your client, a member of the power-drunk gang that you’re tied by the noose with, and someone you have to defend. At present, he is sits right before you— tight-browed, tight-lipped underneath the singular light bulb hovering above the center of the table, looking as though he’s one clock tick away from flipping the table over (the only thing maintaining a safe distance between the both of you), and leaving on his own accord.

Your eyes meet. Your head snaps down to avoid his gaze.

“Good day, Na Jaemin-ssi,” you manage to choke out. “I will be your lawyer for the case against Yoon Naksung and company.”

You’re not sure how you feel when there isn’t even a click of recognition on his part when you introduce yourself and mention your name. You realize that what you’re feeling is a mixture of fear, relief, and absolute revulsion when he responds with, “So, when the fuck am I getting out?”

There’s a ring in your ears.

It’s the sound of your heart trying to escape from your chest.

You inhale sharply. Fuck. You’re not sure if you have the willpower to push through this, and you can’t even ease your nerves or melt your frozen bloodstream with a sigh because he’s staring right at you— impatient, as though he’s counting down the seconds in his head after a one-sided declaration that you have a limited time to willingly answer before he forces it out of you by the throat.

That fucking looking in his eyes. That damned stare that instinctively triggers you to look down, look away, look anywhere else but directly at him. It’s a habit that everyone in Ganghak used to have. It’s a habit that’s still deeply instilled in your psyche, in your muscles, in your instincts to the point that despite being the person in authority at the moment, you have your head down, throat dry, and doing your damn best to read his case file despite the letters looking all wobbly from your anxiety.

Disturbing the peace. Three counts of physical injury. Less serious. Thank fuck. That makes things a little bit more hopeful, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from hell. Hell is sitting right in front of you, handcuffed because the cops have deemed his very existence a threat to public order and safety. You muster up a bit more confidence knowing he can’t reach over the table to sock you in the face.

“You’re an alleged offender, Na Jaemin-ssi. You’d have to be detained until the trial.”

Na Jaemin sneers, a kick against the table leg with a grunt. “Fucking useless,” he spits. His chair is tipped back, head turned away. You firmly press your lips together. You wish he’d just completely tip over and crash his skull and die.

For someone currently detained for a possible criminal offense, Na Jaemin sure seems very much unbothered yet annoyed at the same time. He sits relaxed on the foldable chair, shoulders slumped as if he owns the place, and he stifles out a lazy yawn— drawing attention to his busted lips and handful of scratches littered all over his cheekbone, temple, and forehead— a stark contrast to the vibrant purple splotch painting over his right jaw. You make a mental note to schedule a physical examination on his ass to record his injuries. 

“But…I can make sure you don’t get arrested” You proceed with caution. His evident annoyance is flecked with momentary interest. You suck in a deep breath. “Were there any other people involved besides you and the three witnesses? Was anyone else there?”

You’re not sure what you were expecting as a response. Whatever it’d be, you just hope you get some useful information. Any sort of information. However, it seems like you just asked the wrong question.

“The fuck? Hell, if I know.”

All that interest is eradicated by a sharp glare. Na Jaemin lets out a huff and a sneer. You’re stressed. You’re beyond stressed. This is impossible. Of all people, why did it have to be him? Back then, you’d always had a feeling that he was part of something sketchy, whether it be some ragtag juvenile group or whatever the fuck. You didn’t care enough to find out. But, christ jesus, he just had to be in fucking Nalkkeut. 

That sun tattoo sprawled on the back of his impatient hand— the gang’s symbol, sun rays etched into the bumps of his veins and calloused skin— tap, tap, tapping on the table with the clunk of his handcuffs tells you that he isn’t just some disposable grunt either. The urgency in Kim Doyoung’s tone when he called earlier confirms that dreadful conjecture as well. He’s up there. Way up there, and you have no choice but to fight back the urge to swallow your own tongue.

“I—I understand. That’s fine. Then…can I ask what events led to the incident?” you tentatively try to prod, taking a peek at his expression to see if you’re greenlit to ask this. His face brightens up. One corner of his mouth twitches upward, revealing a sliver of teeth. You flinch. He looks deranged.

“That bucket wearing dumbass looked me in the eye,” he starts, smiling. “So I punched him right in the socket. Then his friends decided that they wanted a beating too.” 

Na Jaemin is leaning back on the flimsy plastic chair as if he’s reminiscing a happy memory. Jesus christ. He’s always been like this, but it never fails to scare you shitless. You’ve always wondered why he was so insane, but the fact that he currently is and has been in Nalkeutta explains a lot of the things you’ve seen in high school. No high schooler had any business pulling up the gate with a BMW, nor was it reasonable for anyone at your age at the time to afford at least five Cartier watches considering the neighborhood you were in. Yet Na Jaemin and his lackey’s always showed up in the days that he thought was convenient in some sort of Chanel tracksuit and dozens of gold and silver accessories.

You were lucky enough to have never gotten punched in the nose with the absurd amount of rings on his fingers— a taste which he seems to carry until today, you notice while keeping your eyes down and trained on the table. They aren’t allowed to keep any personal belongings in the holding cells, jewelry included, fucking obviously. How this guy managed to keep his is beyond your imagination. 

“So, it wasn’t one-sided,” you try to confirm, try to get a good enough testimony to help his and your sorry ass in court. “Can you testify their participation during the trial?”

Wrong move. Very wrong move.

You jump in your seat when he suddenly lurches forward, chained palms slamming against the rocky table with a loud thump and a clink. “Hey, Little Miss Attorney. Listen very carefully,” he rasps. He’s leaned in closer now, making it a hundred times more difficult to keep your head down and not look him in the eye. “I beat all three of them half to death, and that’s all that matters. This question and answer bullshit is pissing me off. Are we done here? Can you fucking leave now?”

You’re scared shitless. You really are. It’s two years worth of trauma suddenly jumping you from behind a wall and throttling the air out of your lungs— of course you’re fucking terrified, and Na Jaemin can smell it like the rabid dog he is.

The problem is, he isn’t the worst of your fears. This mutt is leashed to an owner that would have your head as a dinner treat if you don’t manage to get him out of this stupid cage. So you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. Damned to hell if you do, damned to an even deeper hell if you don’t.

“Na Jaemin-ssi,” you start. Your jaw is tight. It takes everything in your power to force it open and speak. “I need you to cooperate with me so I can get you out of here. Help me help you, alright?”

You’ve really been trying your best to phrase your sentences in a way that doesn’t sound demanding, that you’re leaving it hp to him because you know this bastard doesn’t like being told what to do. But your careful attempts don’t matter against a volatile son of a bitch. “Why’d you even need my help? Ain’t that shit your job?“ he barbs, a slight scoff hanging off at the end. “Seems like Mark hired a useless fucking lawyer.”

Twice. He just called you useless twice. The sheer level of offense you feel momentarily overpowers your nerves— a biting tick near the side of your temple, and you dig your fingers into the clothed skin of your thigh. 

The Mark he’s referencing did not hire you because you’re useless. In fact, that guy regularly asks for you specifically whenever his gang is caught in any civil or criminal trouble because you’re the only damned attorney willing to get her hands dirty to find an out— and competent enough to pull it off in exchange for an extra zero on your commission. 

Meaning, this bastard is at your mercy. And he has the audacity to piss you the fuck off.

“Strike a nerve?”

Apparently, you failed to hide the scowl polluting your expression. When you sneak a glance at Na Jaemin, he appears to be amused at his successful non-attempt to get under your skin, a lazy, lopsided grin on his face. 

You get it together. Mark Lee, that fucking bastard. It had been fine for the past few months when all you’ve had to mediate were petty settlements and bails and lesser criminal offenses, but you’ve never had to deal with one of his executives directly before— who just so happened to be your high school bully, at that. You close your eyes shut, press your lips together, and release a deep breath from out of your nose as you stand up.

“I’ll handle it. There’s nothing for you to worry about, but I will need to arrange a meeting with you again before the trial.”

Na Jaemin simply shrugs and waives you off. Your tight lips force themselves into a smile as you nod and stomp your way out.

Fucking bastard, fucking piece of shit, fucking, god damn it—

You leave the station with a jumbled up head and with all your five senses screaming themselves into oblivion. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck. Had Kim Doyoing emailed you the file a lot earlier, you wouldn’t have gone here and welcomed yourself directly into hell. You could try to settle with the victims, but in case they won’t agree to a compromise, you’d have to pull a defense out of your ass considering that your client is the most uncooperative asshole you’ve ever been cursed to deal with.

It doesn’t help that spending two years in high school with Na Jaemin is reopening pages and pages of trauma that you thought you’d successfully managed to file away— stored in a safety vault in a little corner of your head that need not be reopened. But just meeting him— talking to him directly when you’ve never even dared to before— brought a rusty crowbar to that vault, mercilessly ripping it apart.

Having cancelled your off day, the car ride to your office building is spent thinking about how to scrape up a case to defend the bastard you thought you’d finally been freed from eight years ago. The bastard who’d made the last two years of high school a literal level hell of dread and desperation.

Even for Nalkkeutta, this has got to be the worst kind of torture anyone could ask for.

fire and brimstone (and you’re a moth made of gasoline). © hannie-dul-set, 2025.

[su11yoon]

a queerplatonic relationship with na jaemin !!

“Queerplatonic relationships and queerplatonic partnerships are committed intimate relationships which are not romantic in nature. They may differ from usual close friendships by having more explicit commitment, validation, status, structure, and norms, similar to a conventional romantic relationship.” Wikipedia

contents: lowercase intentional, gender neutral reader, self indulgent, headcanons, queerplatonic relationship/partnership with jaemin, aromantic character(s), friends to friends who hold hands and kiss, not beta read

⋆ you had been looking for a roommate and through mutual friends met jaemin who had been needing a place to live

⋆ he moves into your apartment and at first you were nervous you wouldn’t get along, but the two of you hit it off pretty well

⋆ you had the same interests and jaemin just seems like he would be so easy to talk to

⋆ now jaemin is very affectionate, so hugs and words of appreciation are abundant once you get closer

⋆ it first starts off with side hugs and compliments but then it turns into asking to hold your hand while out in public and cuddling together while catching movies

⋆ you’re very comfortable around jaemin and he’s very comfortable around you

⋆ one of your friends asks you about all the touching and you simply brush it off

⋆ because it’s just so nice and awesome and sweet :)

⋆ your friend doesn’t really get it and just kind of. assumes you have a crush on him

⋆ but you don’t, and you know you don’t

⋆ but what if jaemin does like you?

⋆ it wouldn’t be jaemin’s fault if he did have a crush on you, but the thought kind of makes you feel uncomfortable

⋆ it’s odd being viewed in a romantic light and you’re not sure you like it the thought of it

⋆ jaemin notices the lack of affection from you and while he does miss your little cheek kisses and good night hugs he doesn’t wanna say anything and make you uncomfortable :(

⋆ after seeing how jaemin steps back from your friendship you begin to feel guilty because you know he’s probably overthinking it

⋆ you decide to be a responsible and reasonable roommate and have a talk about what’s been going on and why you’ve been kind of off

⋆ you tell jaemin you really enjoy the way you two act, but you don’t think you would ever want a romantic relationship

⋆ you would have hated for him to get the wrong idea from your actions

⋆ jaemin only smiles because :) he also really enjoys how you two function and he’s perfectly fine with never involving romance into your relationship

⋆ phew

⋆ what a relief

⋆ you aren’t dating, but you’re also not, not dating

⋆ you’re more than friends but less than lovers

⋆ it’s a little hard for others to understand but it makes perfect sense to you two

⋆ you hold hands, and you kiss, and you share the same bed, and you say i love you all without any sort of romance in your relationship

⋆ jaemin’s favorite part of the day is when he gets to wrap both of his arms around you and squeeze as tight as he can

⋆ and then he gives you a little smooch on the cheek or wherever he feels like

⋆ and then the two of interlock your fingers whenever you’re out and about <3

⋆ and you force out awkward thank yous whenever someone compliments you on how cute your boyfriend is

⋆ but then at night when it’s time for bed you and jaemin lay next to each other and whisper jokes to each other and try not laugh too loud and it’s like you’re having a sleepover every day

⋆ and it doesn’t really make sense to most people, but it makes sense to you and that’s all that matters

©️su11yoon 2023, please do not translate or repost this anywhere else

[blbyena]

100 followers!!! Thank youuu

I started this blog two weeks ago and didn't think I would get readers and followers this quickly 🥺

I will try to post later I'm working on a fic with jaemin inspired by his latest vlog bc he looked so boyfriend omg imagine just waking up with him and he's already vlogging but you're clingy and want the attention of you're boyfriend arfghhhg I'll write about this

[from-izzy]

[01:34] | nct na jaemin

Your ceiling fell.

pairing » nct na jaemin x gn!reader (lmk if i missed anything!)​

trope/au » ​established relationship au!, non-idol au!

genre » boyfriend na jaemin who picks you up even though he's tired, summer is annoying to the reader (sorry, i'm really hating summer rn), fluffy fluff with a tinge of angst, clothes stealer reader!, but you never end up using it because you got too tired and fell asleep, i love na jaemin (can you tell?), reader is the little spoon, jaemin is so caring and cute (i'm in love with him), jaemin brushing his hand through your hair

word count, estimated reading time » 2496, ~9 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » jaemin is taller, outside clothes on the bed (i don't do this but it's cute here 😭 forgive me), oh...it's not proofread 😭

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

recently went back to my wips and found bits and pieces that could work together and meshed them together as best as i can 🤣 just whipped up this little thing whilst i was at it hehe

also, not going to be specific but will you believe if i said that this is based on a (my) true story? 🤠 it's been...messy 🤠 to say the least.

thank you for proofreading (when you're supposed to be focusing on school) @cupidjyu !! 💕

Your ceiling fell.

Well...

To be exact, there isn't a hole that lets the spiders and birds able to look down and see the base of your kitchen sink but when the inside surface of the roof fell, so did the insulator that kept the house warm during the frosty winter, and cool in the scorching summer. Because of the unstable roof condition, your whole family was wary of putting the air conditioning system on. The vibration from the machine and the sound waves themselves may be the little push it needs to send other parts of the roof crumbling.

You hate the hot weather so much.

In this period of the summer, when opening the windows was barely an option as it also let the heat through, it has been hard even to do anything remotely productive. With every move of your body, it generates heat and energy, which when mixed with the thirty-five-degree heat, all you want to do is lay on your bed and let the sweat evaporate off your skin with the help of your tower fan. That's how the mornings would go. Sometimes when you're not too tired from the previous day's work, you would go and take shelter in the library, turning confused heads when you would be wearing a jacket as overtime, it became too cold. 

The worst thing is that there has been no word from the insurance company or the people who could help to fix the hole in your ceiling. Unfortunately, it did fall during the peak holiday season but at this point, when it’s no longer the festive season, no one in your family understands what’s going on with the back-and-forth messy conversations to fix the issue. 

The past three months have been full of frustrating calls to your boyfriend but Jaemin has been picking up your phone call at the second time his ringtone rings, greeting you with that emphasising smile of his as he sees the layer of moisture on your face. At first, you tried to give him the best smile you could, but you eventually broke down after the first month, completely done with changing your clothes every day in every hour. Jaemin, though busy with his own responsibilities, never fails to take you out whenever he can, accompanying you in your aimless night time walks or accompanying you to the library where he would start reading a random book while you snooze on his shoulder. 

Today is one of the nights where you can’t handle sleeping in the house, too hot and uncomfortable for your eyes to even think about closing. You guiltily text Jaemin, asking if he’s able to have you over and within a few minutes, the black-haired arrives at your house, air conditioner blasting in his car and a genuine smile greeting you as soon as you step in. He waits outside his car with his oversized shirt and short pants; his usual summer attire. He kisses your frown away as soon as you rush into his arms, dropping your bag of clothes to the floor. His affectionate gaze for you grows, cupping your cheeks in his hands to hush you from the apologies that you would say for going out so late at night even though you insisted that the five-minute walk was fine to do.

“No,” Jaemin juts his lower lip to you adorably. “Not letting you do that!” He presses another quick peck on your lips that makes your cheeks heat up and makes you a stuttering mess. “I’m hungry! Let’s go grab some food first!”

You let out a knowing chuckle, shaking your head at him fondly as you know that just means another movie night that will go on until five am. To Jaemin, this is the best kind of date: the one that is unplanned but is planned at the same time. With the way that you’re literally having the worst summer ever as well, all he wants to do is to make sure that at least when you look back on this summer, you will remember his air conditioner blasting in his room. Bonus, the later you sleep, the more time you’ll have in a cooled, comfortable and private environment. 

But you know deep down, that you will always remember his warm, kind heart first out of all. 

With hands full of takeout from the nearest fast food to his house, Jaemin talks you through his list of movies that he wants to check out before you both fall asleep. He was so excited that he nearly missed the step up to his room, almost waking up the whole house with how his body would tumble down the staircase otherwise. But oh how much he would if it meant that you wouldn’t be crying on the humid, summer night.

"It's perfect, Jaem." 

You comment when Jaemin asks you about the temperature of his room and he gives you a relieved look, smiling in satisfaction to know your thoughts. Jaemin starts to unload the snacks in his arm on his study table, prompting you to do the same. He turns his sleeping laptop on, waiting for his device to start up.

In the meantime, his attention falls on you once more. "You must've been overwhelmed." His arm spreads open, silently asking if you would accept his gesture.

All you gave was a quiet hum and it momentarily worries him before you step to bury your head into his broad chest. You sigh into his perfect body temperature that balances the coolness trapped in the four walls. The corners of Jaemin’s lips rise as he starts shifting his body side to side, giving the hug a little more dynamic and comfort as he starts to sing your favourite tune to your ears. His fingers rake across your hair, not minding the whines and complaints you gave about how your hair is disgusting and oily, even pressing a kiss to your scalp to ease your worries. 

Your arms start to find home around his waist and your palm grips the fabric of the shirt even more, feeling eternally thankful for having a loving person in your life. A mutter, “Thank you for all this.” Your voice trails off, eyelids heavy and honestly, quiet snores could leave your lips at any moment now. 

“Always, bubs,” he muses back. “Maybe we can skip the movie night today?” 

The suggestion pulls your lips into a sour smile but you can’t hide the drowsiness in your system after getting small hours of sleep for the past week. “We have food.” But truly, it’s nothing that food can’t fix.

A raised eyebrow meets you when you slightly pull back to see the reaction on Jaemin’s face. “Food and horror movies.”

The shared favourite genre makes you break out into a genuine smile, excited for the movie marathon cuddled up in his bedsheets and the smell of food as you both expose yourself to the light from the computer until the sun replaces the moon. Jaemin watches you excitedly walk back to the door of his room where your bag slumps over on the wall next to the frame. 

“You don’t want to wear mine?” The suggestion is said with a smirk from him and your hands stopping to unzip your bag halfway. “Guess not!”

“No! I do!” You drag the last syllable out and when you turn to face him once more, Jaemin only lets out a teasing smile. “Let me steal!”

Indeed, Jaemin already has everything prepared for you, tilting his chin to his bed where some of his and your favourite hoodies are spread across the duvet. You spot the emerald green one, immediately jumping from your kneeling position on the floor and making the neat pile topple over at your eagerness. 

Jaemin feigns fake offence and an exaggerated gasp, “All my hard work!” He weeps to which you just roll your eyes as a response, continuing to take out your shower and night necessities to prepare for the night. 

“Alright.” A heavy sigh follows after, “I’m going to sho—”

But before you could take another step towards the bathroom, a pair of arms pulls you backwards, your back colliding with a chest that you know all too well. You can’t see the expression on his face but another thing that you know about Jaemin is when he leans down to press his cheek on yours, humming once more into your embrace, his cheeks are painted with hues of red and pink—his love for you overflowing from the simple back hug gesture.

“What you doing, Nana?” It deepens his blush, melting with how the nickname naturally sounds lovelier coming from you.

“Just go brush your teeth and shower in the morning.” He mumbles against your cheek. “I want to go on this movie marathon with you right now.”

“But you hate it the most when someone lays on your bed without washing up.” 

That’s also true. He does hate that a lot. 

The idea of outside germs reaching the place where he would be closing his eyes and be in another space for hours never fails to bring a scowl to his face and he always makes sure everyone who visits his space is aware of that fact.

But it’s you—and Jaemin loves you more to overlook that fact for a day.

“I’m planning on changing the sheets anyway.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “Plus, I literally get grease and pieces of chocolate on there anyways so I think I may need to change my mindset about that rule now…”

The mention of the substances makes you gasp, a similar one to the one he directed at you before. “Na Jaemin!” The playful slap on his arm only makes his hold against your body tighter, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

Amid the chaos you created, Jaemin makes his point clear with the previous topic, throwing himself still clad in his dirty clothes onto his bed and taking you down with him. You yelp at the sudden fall, throwing everything out of your hands to muffle the sound of your mouth, aware of the sleeping couple not too far away from this room. 

“Oops! Gotta change it tomorrow, I guess!”

“Na Jaemin, stop! I’m still going to shower anyway!”

So begins the shoving and wiggling for you to escape his strong grip on his bulky arms. You know shortly after running out of breath that it’s a better choice to rest your head on his pectoral, giving up on both the shower and possibly the movie night. The laughter dies down, but never the love that Jaemin shows for you. On the back of your head, you can feel his thumping heartbeat, the rhythm making your eyelids fall naturally.

Jaemin carefully slides you over to the mattress on his side, turning his body to face the girl he loves the most in this world. His eyelashes flutter quietly, quieter than the humming of the white rectangular machine stuck high onto his wall. He doesn’t bother waking you up, content with the tiny snores you let out through the small gap between your lips.

“And to think you were scolding me minutes ago.” Bopping your ice-cold nose with the pad of his pointer finger. “Okay, at this point you’re going to freeze.”

Though exhausted and body screaming to just fall asleep then and there, Jaemin pulls himself back to the edge of the bed, standing and stretching his four limbs. He quickly retreated to the connecting bathroom, picking up your discarded items that he made you toss to avoid his parents from waking up and scolding the young couple in love—though he knows they will just scold him given how much his parents adore everything about you.

Scared that you would soon wake up in the very uncomfortable posture that you have right now, more than half your feet dangling off the bed, Jaemin swiftly completes his night routine, skipping the one that would make his dentist question his habits but he pushed the thought aside for now. As quiet as he could, he makes his way over to your still peaceful figure. His knees sink into the bed, eyes observing you while he holds his breath to avoid any more unnecessary movements than the ones he’s making right now.

An arm lifts your upper body, and Jaemin quickly jumps behind you. You did stir a bit in your sleep when Jaemin undoes the noisy metal zipper of your jacket but nonetheless, he succeeded without bringing you back into full consciousness. In his head, he imagines himself doing a little celebratory dance under the shining disco ball, all the fluorescent light on him on the dance floor. Then, the same arm is placed on your upper back once more but now paired with his other arm tucked under the back of your knees. You quickly adjusted to the position, Jaemin raising your body high enough for you to relish in the remnants of his cologne on the crook of his neck. 

“I love you, Nana.” You confess to him earnestly. “I love you so much…”

Jaemin stands on one side of the bed, scanning the curves of your face intently as if he has never noticed the small mole on the slope of your nose. He couldn’t fight off the want to steal another kiss from you, bending his neck down to slot his soft ones to hug your plump ones. A satisfied hum is brought out after, Jaemin mirroring your content heart with another lingering press on your forehead.

Soon enough, your body is finally between his bouncy mattress and his weighted polyester. Immediately, your hands roam over to the other side of the bed where Jaemin would usually be, groaning when all you felt was the crinkles of the cotton that is not his shirt.

“Okay, okay. I’m here.” He assures the dissatisfaction painted on your face first by flicking the light switch off and then by wrapping your smaller frame into his own. 

The muscles of your whole body relax for the first time in a while at the thought of going to dreamland—maybe it’s the Jaemin effect. A hand makes its way to the curve of your head, fingertips half-buried into your strands. A slight gush of wind can be felt on your nose but you don’t mind the proximity, even continuing to scoot even closer, pleased with the hand on your lower back that pushes you in closer. 

“Sleep tight.” His eyes landed on the brown bag across the room and his muted laptop that plays your favourite comfort movie. He lets the movie play, strategically moving his forearm to block the blue light emitted. When he confirms that his shadow falls upon your lids, he places the lightest kiss as a final ‘goodnight’. “I love you.”

So maybe, you don’t hate the hot weather as much as you thought.

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

[illumins]

════ஓ๑ ᴄʜᴘ.5 ๑ஓ════

“Lena!” The Captain's urgent shouts had been chasing after her ever since she set off in pursuit of the haunting sound. His initial surprise had sent him stumbling backward into the water, an audible curse mingling with his call of her name. She had spared him a fleeting glance, offering a hasty apology, but her momentum had carried her on, heedless.

Her fingers clung tenaciously to her damp and heavy trousers, the water’s weight serving as an anchor. Her blouse clung to her skin as the wind bore down on her, ruffling her hair and battering her ears. Her eyes teared up from the force of the wind, her mouth slightly agape as she gasped for precious lungfuls of air. Every fiber of her being ached, her body practically screaming at her to stop, yet her insatiable curiosity ignited a reservoir of courage within her. Lena's decisions had never been guided by logic or rationality, but by the tumultuous currents of emotion. This trait had led her into troubles as a child, inviting scoldings from Mr. Freed. It had propelled her to seek refuge with a captain, to escape her future, and now, to dash headlong into the depths of a jungle forest.

The sensation of sand prickling the soles of her feet was accompanied by a burning ache in her lungs, a silent mantra repeating in her mind—I should stop. But she couldn't yield, not now, not when the melody might vanish again, perhaps forever.

With the sun now set, the sky unfurled in a canvas of deep blues and purples, mirroring the abyssal depths of the sea below. The birds' daylight songs had gradually faded, replaced by the nocturnal chorus of those that ventured out under the cover of darkness. The day's heat had surrendered to a cooling chill, carried on the wings of the night breeze. It was in this altered ambiance that she suddenly came to a jarring halt, her feet brushing against the softness of grass. Gazing upward, she beheld a verdant canopy, a tapestry woven from the foliage of tropical trees. Though the full moon attempted to pierce through the dense foliage, only a smattering of pale streaks managed to break through, casting uneven patches of illumination onto the jungle floor. And just as abruptly as it had begun, the haunting melody ceased, leaving her heart plummeting with a sense of loss—no, no, no.

Just as she was poised to launch herself into another sprint, a sudden and firm tug brought her to a jolting halt. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she found Captain Canary gripping her left arm, his breathing labored, hair damp and disheveled. His free hand rested on his hip as he struggled to draw deep breaths. “Lena—” he began, but before he could continue, she attempted to wrench her arm away from his grasp. He promptly tightened his hold, pulling her arm towards him with a force that unbalanced her. She stumbled, her trajectory halting abruptly against his chest, where he held her ensnared. His gaze was fixed upon her, a mix of exasperation and something more evident in his eyes this time—annoyance.

His gaze averted from her, focusing on the dense expanse of the jungle ahead. As his eyes met hers again, they held a deeper, more palpable anger. "Do you have a death wish? Is that it?" he demanded, his tone edged with frustration.

Confusion swirled within her. No, of course not. “I—” Her words faltered as she realized the unyielding grip he maintained on her arm. In a renewed attempt to break free, she pushed against his hold, but her efforts proved futile. “Let go! Hey!—”

“So you can sprint off again? No. Talk,” he asserted resolutely, both of his arms now encircling her, effectively imprisoning her within his embrace.

A surge of exasperation welled up within her, prompting her to mutter, “Why does it matter to you?” Her complaint was abruptly cut short by a startled yelp as his head collided with hers.

“Quit being dramatic, Lena,” he retorted, his voice carrying a note of impatience.

She battled the impulse to speak, determined to display the stubbornness she was known for, yet his expression mirrored her own. A maddening realization struck her—this standoff could well persist into the night, regardless if it kills him. “There's something that's been gnawing at me,” she forced the words out, her teeth clenched with each syllable, irritated by how effortlessly he had broken through her defenses.

“What?” he urged her.

Summoning every ounce of her willpower, she released a frustrated breath and compressed her lips. Redirecting her gaze away from him, she directed it towards the vacant stretch of beach, where the moonlight fragmented across the ocean's surface. An unsettling notion she had strived to avoid crept back into her thoughts, persistent in its grip—‘What if I'm turning into her? Will I succumb to madness as she did? Did it all start with a mere melody and then spiraled into delusion?’ She felt an overwhelming sense of suffocation, not solely because of his presence, but due to the impending reality of her deepest fear. “I need reassurance that it's real,” she confessed, her voice fracturing with emotion.

“What do you mean?” For the first time, his tone softened to a mere whisper.

Meeting his gaze, she found herself unable to conceal the vulnerability that lay within her. She fought back the urge to pout or the potential for a sob to slip through if she allowed herself to speak too much. “I need to be sure…” She drew in a steadying breath, her inhale audible in the silence that hung between them. “I can't become… like her,”  her voice trembled, her breathing growing increasingly rapid.

His grip around her began to loosen, his fingers trailing from her arm to her shoulders, sensing the tension that gripped her. As her head shook in silent desperation, she managed to speak through the surge of emotion, “I can't…” Another fervent shake of her head, “I can't, Captain.” The dam holding back her pent-up emotions finally burst, and a sob escaped her, punctuating her confession.

In the whirlwind of her thoughts, she couldn't help but imagine the alternate reality where she had departed for Canoga, married as planned. Would the haunting melody have pursued her there relentlessly? Would madness have claimed her in that distant place as it seemed to be doing now? And would her husband, perhaps mirroring her father's actions, have eventually cast her aside, just as her mother had been? Yet, here she was, surrounded by pirates on an isolated island, and the elusive melody had once more slipped through her grasp.

“Alright, okay,” he responded, attempting to offer reassurance. His gaze shifted upwards, fixated on the densely wooded expanse ahead. “We'll search for it,” he conceded, a hint of determination in his tone, “but you'll stay close behind me.”

Lena nodded in agreement and stepped back, allowing the Captain to take the lead. He pushed his hair back from his face, moving forward with a sense of vigilance, acutely aware of their surroundings. He even pointed out the potential dangers of her being barefoot, warning about the possibility of snakes or unnoticed spiders lurking in their path. A shiver rippled through her, goosebumps prickling her skin as she imagined the unsettling possibilities. Her hands trembled with a mixture of disgust and fear before she hurriedly closed the distance between them.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?”

She toyed with various ways to explain it to him, but finding none that conveyed her thoughts clearly. “It's a melody,” she finally admitted, her voice barely more than a hushed confession. “That's what I've been hearing recently, but this time it's stronger.”

The Captain came to an abrupt stop, his expression inscrutable. She wondered what unkind thoughts might be swirling in his mind. Maybe he’ll say them, she pondered anxiously. “You don't have to come,” she added, struggling to maintain a semblance of dignity. “I never asked you to.”

He sighed and shook his head. “I was trying to figure out how to find something we can't see,” he confessed, offering her a moment of insight into his thought process. “We'll head to a place I know is safe. If we find nothing by then, we'll turn back. Alright, Lena?”

Every fiber of her being longed to refuse, to stay behind and unravel the enigma of the haunting melody. But she recognized that he was the one with a crew, a ship, and a way off this island. She doubted that a solitary existence on this island was the path she truly desired. “Fair,” she reluctantly agreed.

He nodded, his gaze sweeping over her before he turned to lead the way to what he considered a safer location. The leaves overhead swayed with each gust of wind, creating a symphony of screeches and calls from the various birds and creatures that inhabited the jungle, lending an eerie weight to the atmosphere. Slivers of light trickled through the dense canopy above, briefly reminding her of how light had pierced the water's surface when she had plunged beneath it. Minutes slipped away, and her ankles throbbed with discomfort, tension coursing up her legs to her knees and lower back. She couldn't help but emit a quiet hiss of pain, which he noticed but chose to ignore. The entrance they had come through had long vanished, replaced by an endless sea of lush greenery.

“When do we set sail for Canoga?” she inquired in a near-whisper.

“In two days,” he replied without looking back, his focus still fixed on the path ahead.

“Oh…” She wanted to bring up the idea she had floated to Mark earlier, about potentially staying aboard until they reached a new land or made it to Pearl Reef. But she couldn't shake off Mark's words and the realization they had prompted. She hadn't earned his trust or respect, nor did she deserve it. She could only imagine how exasperating her antics must have been for him. She had darted about and behaved like a child throughout the journey, and now, for the first time, she glimpsed what Mr. Freed had endured her entire life as her caregiver—a child.

Breaking the silence, he cast a brief glance back at her. “So, may I ask why you left your life of luxuries?”

She hesitated initially but reminded herself that falsehoods wouldn't serve any purpose now. “I wanted my freedom,” she confessed, her voice tinged with determination.

Observing the subtle shake of his head and the disapproving raise of his index finger, she felt a pang of unease. “Everyone wants freedom, Lena,” he chided gently. “What's the real reason?”

“Forced marriage,” she replied curtly, her grip on her clothes tightening until her knuckles turned an almost ghostly white.

He emitted an amused 'ooh,' his tone dripping with curiosity. “To whom?”

“Marquis of Li'Pold,” she stated, her voice carrying a bitter edge.

He turned around, continuing to walk backward as he narrowed his eyes. “And you are…” he pointed at her, awaiting an answer.

She rolled her eyes, a touch of annoyance coloring her tone. “A daughter of a Knight.”

He clicked his tongue in acknowledgment. “So high up you go,” he mused, before turning forward again, resuming their trek through the jungle.

“What about you?” She deemed it only fair to inquire about his life since he had probed into hers.

He responded with a hint of teasing in his voice, drawing out her name, “What do you wish to know, Lena?”

She arched a brow. “How did a child come to be a Captain?”

“Like all men do, force,” he replied succinctly.

In response, she quickened her pace until she was walking beside him once more. For a fleeting moment, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. The moonlight cast a gentle glow on his honeyed skin. His red hair, now slowly drying into a tousled mess, somehow seemed effortlessly stylish. Long lashes brushed against his full cheeks each time he paused to rest his gaze on her. He met her eyes with a sly smirk. “Yes?”

She caught herself and continued, “Fine, how did a child end up with a group of pirates?”

He halted in his tracks, his brows furrowing. “Do you see me as a child, Lena?”

What? Her own question now made her ponder the age difference between them for the first time. She had never really questioned it before; it had seemed absurd to think of anyone as young as a Captain, even among pirates. But as she observed him, she couldn't help but notice his youthful appearance, although he did not look as young as Jisung.

He tilted his head slightly and drew closer than she felt comfortable with. He had done this before, and every time, it left her feeling either with fear or breathlessness. She looked up at him, attempting to take a breath, but the scent of sea that wafted from him, tinged with a hint of citrus, heightened her awareness of how she might smell, drenched in sweat and surrounded by the musk of men.

His hand reached for her face, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “So do you, Lena?”

Flustered, she placed a hand on his chest and gently pushed him away. “No, I don't.”

She didn't quite understand why, but her response elicited a smile from him, and he signaled for her to walk ahead. “So, what did Gus tell you?” he asked.

“How—”

“Your obsession with calling me a 'child.' I like to think I'm older than you,”  he quipped. She rolled her eyes, and he scoffed. “Would you like to know that too, Lena? I was born on June 6th, 1700. How about you?”

“April 18th, 1701,” she mumbled.

“I can see why your father married you off then,” he remarked, attempting a joke.

His comment caught her off guard, and she gasped at his poor attempt at humor. “That should have been a choice.”

“In what world? You're twenty-one. A woman five years younger than you would have had three or four children by now,” he stated matter-of-factly.

For some reason, his words stung more than any of his previous thoughtless remarks. Perhaps it was because, deep down, she believed there was some truth to them. She could have been a wife by now, tending to a brood of children and complaining about them to her husband. She could have had that life with the Marquis, even though none of it would have truly belonged to her.

Fueled by a sudden surge of anger, she retorted, “So what? Do you believe a woman's duty is limited to procreation and entertaining house guests while her husband goes off on important quests?”

He abruptly stopped once more, his expression confused. “I never said that.”

She bit her tongue, irritated with herself for taking out her frustration on him. “Sorry,” she muttered.

He shrugged and continued, “So, what did my amazing cook tell you about my younger years?”

“That you tricked the previous Captain into believing you were older than you actually were. You did everything I did—”

His arms now rested across his chest as he nodded. “Ah, so all my bad moments, then.”

She smirked. “Were there any good ones?”

He looked at her, surprise dancing in his eyes, but a hint of amusement too. “And she jokes.” Lena inclined her head in acknowledgement, smiling in return. “Well, I'll have you know, yes, I do believe I had great moments before I became Captain.”

Now it was her turn to walk backward as she moved in front of him. “Oh, then do tell, Captain Canary.”

“Haechan,” he stated.

"What?" She was aware that Haechan was his real name, but she couldn't understand why he had suddenly brought it up.

“You can call me Haechan, I’m not your Captain, never was.”

“But aren't names kept for those close to you?”

He remained silent, his gaze fixed on her, and she could see the confusion in her eyes mirrored in his. As if breaking from a trance, he quickly redirected the conversation. “I believe my greatest moment was when I overthrew the old Captain. He was a nasty one, always toying with others' lives, abandoning his crew if he deemed them unfit for the journey. Loyalty wasn't earned but bought with him.”

“Then how did you do it?” 

“I killed him.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and once again, that familiar mix of fear and breathlessness washed over her. This time, it was both at once.

A sudden sound of rushing water enveloped the night, and his face lit up with happiness, a childlike delight. Lena turned around and saw a hint of a waterfall in the distance, resembling an opalescent pool that had captured all the stars from the sky. She gasped in amazement and glanced at him, sharing in his newfound excitement.

“Is this it?” she asked.

He nodded. “I may not know what you're seeking, but I thought you'd at least like the sight of a waterfall.”

Lena agreed, but a pang of disappointment pricked her heart. The melody hadn't returned, or at least she hadn't noticed it.

The Captain took her arm and started hurrying toward the waterfall. “Even if you don't find it today, Lena, there's always a tomorrow.”

As they made their way, she couldn't help but think about his earlier admission. The hands of a killer held her with an unexpected tenderness, and it left her feeling strangely conflicted. She wasn't sure why she was surprised; after all, pirate stories were filled with violence and death, and he was no exception. Yet, a small part of her had hoped that he might be different, that he might be the exception to the dark tales that surrounded his kind.

The waterfall's bed rippled, casting a mesmerizing dance of moonlight on the gently undulating surface. Overhead, the canopy that had concealed their path earlier now opened up, revealing the night sky. In this newfound light, Lena's eyes were drawn to a multitude of birds nesting above them. Some of them took flight, displaying their vibrant, colorful feathers, and she couldn't help but gasp in wonder.

From behind her, there was a sudden shuffling sound followed by a playful splash. She yelped as water splattered her right side. Laughter rang out in the night, and despite her attempt to put on an annoyed expression when she met his gaze, his bright smile and excitement were infectious. Lena found herself laughing as well, a rush of delight and nervous energy coursing through her.

The Captain waded out of the pool, his pants sagging low on his hips, and Lena couldn't help but notice the scars that marked his stomach and sides. Yet, her attention was captured by his extended hand, reaching out to her. She looked at him, water cascading from his hair, down his face, and dripping from his jaw. His gentle smile invited her to join him, and it warmed her from within.

“I promise the water isn't cold,” he reassured her, waving his extended hand softly.

Lena didn't hesitate. She took his hand.

Beside her, he led her into the water until they reached the edge of the rocky floor, which dropped away into a dark abyss below. He mentioned how he had once dived in and discovered a school of colorful fish and, as far as he could tell, perhaps underwater caves. Lena wasn't entirely sure how safe she felt knowing that beneath them lay more than just solid rock. When he noticed the unease on her face, he offered reassuring words, assuring her that it was safe.

He released her hand, and for a moment, panic surged through her as she imagined herself sinking effortlessly. However, he demonstrated deep breaths, and she followed suit, allowing herself to float. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, his voice tinged with remorse. Confused, she encouraged him to explain. “I didn't mean for you to drown, it was a trick that went wrong,” he clarified, regret etched across his features.

She thanked him with a warm smile, and he returned the gesture. The ambient sounds of rushing water and the gentle serenade of silent bird songs provided a backdrop to the thrumming of her heart. He was close, and for reasons she couldn't quite fathom, she longed to hold him again, just as she had done on the beach. Her fingertips tingled with the desire to wipe away every drop of water that clung to his face, delicately tracing her touch along his cheek. The small black moles that adorned his face and neck seemed more pronounced now, and under his gaze, she felt small yet warmly embraced, a stark contrast to the vulnerability he had often evoked in her.

“Lena—”

She caught herself getting too close; hastily clearing her throat, she redirected her attention to a large rock that jutted out beside the waterfall, extending over the pool they were in. She nodded toward it. “Do you think we can get a better view from up there?”

He glanced behind him, and his excitement surged once more. “Oh, absolutely,” he exclaimed, beginning to swim toward the edge of the pool. “Come on!” he called, urging her to follow.

When Lena reached the edge of the pool, he didn't wait for her and dashed towards the rock, immediately beginning his ascent. Lena clung to her clothes, now soaked and weighing her down. They felt like an anchor pulling on her body. However, as her strength gradually returned and her lungs filled with air, she mustered the energy to follow his lead. She copied his movements, scaling the jutting edges of the rock and adhering to his guidance whenever she hesitated.

Upon reaching the top, her legs felt wobbly, and she fought off a wave of embarrassment as he steadied her. Embarrassment tinged her cheeks as he held onto her for support. While her courage could be attributed to some of her more adventurous actions, she couldn't deny that her upbringing had shaped her into a lady of the court, not one accustomed to wandering through jungles at night.

With her in his arms, he brought the two to the edge and she overlooked the pool below and the waterfall still above. Yet, the trees were now at eyesight and she saw the trail of smoke from the campsite they had left. She felt untouched, like the birds she’d seen tonight; the world too small to grab onto her. And when she turned to him to see if he shared the same admiration for it all, she was met with his eyes. Has he been staring at me?

“Do you know what my favorite part about coming up here is?” he asked.

She shook her head, a hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Besides the view?”

“The fall,” he replied, nodding toward the precipice below. Her eyes widened, and she instinctively took a step back.

Her heart raced as memories of her plunge into the ocean flooded back, reigniting her fear of the water. She continued to retreat until he grabbed her hand, halting her and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Come on, Lena,” he urged. “Do you want to be scared forever?”

His words resonated with her, slowly coaxing her forward. Each step felt both dreadful and exhilarating. Where her strength waned, he seemed to infuse her with more. As she neared him, he wrapped his right arm around her left, their fingers entwining. Together, they stood at the precipice, with her feeling more dread and him more excitement. The pool below now appeared darker, and the waterfall's roar echoed the crashing waves from her fall. The rock seemed like a narrow plank, threatening to tip her over, but he steadied her, guiding her through the breathing exercises he had taught her.

Before the fall, before the countdown, he had uttered simple words, “Bravery is faith.” And as the wind tried to snatch her, mistaking her for a bird perhaps, she slipped right through its grasp. Her breath caught in her lungs as the water drew closer with each passing second. The last thing she saw before her feet broke the water's surface was Captain Canary's wide smile gazing down at the water below.

Then came the deafening silence that followed the condensed whoosh. It was the part she hated the most, the one that made her wonder if she had died and was experiencing mere fragments of seconds before life slipped away. Her eyes remained closed, fearing that it was all true. She felt light yet heavy all at once, and the firm hand she had gripped before her fall had also slipped away. Loneliness, darkness, cold, and nothingness enveloped her. Where is he? she begged herself, blindly reaching out, just as she had done so many times in her dreams. Please, she wanted to cry out, her heart racing as her throat constricted, yearning for air. I'm alive, she reassured herself.

Lena continued to search for him, and when an arm encircled her waist, she clung to it, her hands reaching for his face, tracing the features she remembered. She needed to make sure it wasn't a ghost. His hand cupped hers briefly, then it moved to her face, gently brushing her closed eyes. At that moment, Lena understood what he meant. He invited her to see, to trust.

When Lena finally opened her eyes, the world was a blurry, stinging mess. Her instinct was to rub them, but Captain Canary signaled for her to blink, so she did. Slowly, her hazy sight began to clear, and she saw him smiling, giving her a thumbs-up. He pointed below them, revealing partially lit caves and schools of fish gliding past. Giddiness filled her cold body, bringing a semblance of warmth to her.

He then motioned for them to ascend, and he went first. Following closely behind, Lena took big strides upward, heading for the surface. That's when she heard it—the melody. It sounded closer than ever. She looked down toward the depths, ready to dive, but Captain Canary's grip on her arm prevented her.

He pulled her up, and when her head broke through the surface, she gasped heavily, coughing out bits of water that had begun to infiltrate her mouth before she resurfaced.

“What in the world, Lena! You could have drowned!” he scolded her between heavy breaths.

With her legs feeling like jelly, she continued to float, pushing her wet hair away from her face and taking deep gulps of air. She scanned the area, searching for any trace of the elusive melody. “It was right—here,” she gasped and coughed.

“What was?” he asked, still sounding angry.

“The melody!” she exclaimed, her voice filled with exhaustion and frustration. She slapped the water in frustration. "It was right here!"

“Lena—”

She cut him off, her voice resolute. “No! No. You said you would help me, remember?” She rubbed her face, trying to calm herself and wiping away droplets of water. “I'm staying here.”

“I understand, but you need to rest—”

She took a deep gulp of air and dove down, just as he had taught her. Underwater, she felt a sense of being lost, desperately needing to hear the melody again to guide her. Lena closed her eyes, searching for it in the silence, determined to find it. Her fingers began to grow cold, but she clenched them and focused. Come on, she begged, her heart and mind yearning for the peace of knowing.

Amidst the silence, a thought struck her—she hummed. Every note she could remember before the melody's song was abruptly cut short. With each note, she felt her chest tighten as her air supply dwindled. Instinctively, her hands reached for her chest and throat, but there was no air to be found. As she sang the last falling note, she heard it again. The melody sang in harmony with her, like a call meant just for her. Her eyes sprang open, scanning the dimming darkness, until she saw it. A blue glow emanated from the walls, etched into them. From a distance, she couldn't discern its nature, only that it was what had been summoning her.

But as before, she was abruptly pulled away by him, the weight of the water tugging at her limbs as she was hauled to the surface. Coughing and inhaling vigorously, she welcomed the cool air that kissed her skin. This time, he didn't stop, taking her out towards the pool's edge until he forced her to crawl out of the water and onto the grass.

As her lungs filled with air through tired aches, she glared at him, demanding an explanation. “Why!”

He slammed his hand onto the ground in frustration. “Why? Because I'm not letting you die!” he yelled, his outburst startling her.

She didn't know how to respond; she had never seen him like this. He stared at her for a moment, his frustration palpable, before rolling his eyes and sprawling out on his back, exhaling wearily. She sighed inwardly. Fine. Rising to her feet, she extended her hand toward him, offering help. He hesitated for a moment, then grabbed it abruptly. She stumbled as his weight unexpectedly pulled on her, but she managed to steady herself once he was on his feet.

He patted himself down, and she gestured toward the pool. “I saw it.”

“We moved on from hearing?” he mused, his usual charm returning.

Ah, there he is. “Sure,” she quipped. “I saw it. I think it's stuck on the rock walls. Since you're feeling like a savior today, why don't you go get it?”

He stepped back into the pool, splashing some water. “And what is it, may I ask?”

“I couldn't properly see it. It glowed blue, on the left side, slightly further down.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, his bitterness evident. She watched as he swam further and further into the pool until he reached its center. There, he paused for a few moments, taking in deep breaths, before submerging himself completely. His red hair vanished beneath the water's surface, leaving only the occasional glint from the moonlight reflecting on the ripples.

She waited for him by the edge, letting the cool water caress her feet. The waterfall continued its ceaseless descent, and she found herself lost in thoughts about what it would be like to sit beneath it, to feel the weight of the cascading water on her shoulders, only to step away when the pressure became too much.

As seconds turned into minutes, a nervous unease crept over Lena. She absentmindedly stretched and scrunched her fingers as she scanned the water's surface, searching for any sign of him. Is this how he felt when I was underwater? she wondered. Had he been standing here, waiting for her and fearing the worst as she explored beneath the waters? With growing anxiety, she took a step closer to the pool's edge, prepared to jump in. Just as she was about to act on her worry, his head emerged from the water, and she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

Small doses of guilt washed over her as she sprinted towards him. He was tirelessly trying to swim back to the edge. The water had risen to her hips by the time he caught up, and she looped an arm around his torso, guiding his left arm over her shoulder. With every ounce of strength she could muster, she assisted him in walking towards the grassy floor and helped him lie down.

As he rested there, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession, her eyes widened at the sight of a blue vintage pendant hanging around his neck. It glimmered in the moonlight, and her fingers lightly grazed its intricately carved surface.

“What you were looking for…” he said, his voice exasperated, “was a necklace.” He pushed himself up to sit, steadying himself on his elbows.

Lena watched from her kneeling position as he removed the necklace from around his neck and then gestured for her to tilt hers. She obeyed, and felt his hands move over her head, placing a cool metal chain around her neck and collarbone. The pendant hung at the center of her chest, slightly longer than she would have preferred, but she held it delicately.

He flopped back onto the grass and rested one hand on his chest, exhaustion evident in his eyes. “Can we go back now?” he pleaded, looking at her.

She nodded, and out of guilt for how exhausted he looked, she patted his resting hand. “Thank you, Haechan.”

With closed eyes, he offered a faint smile. “You're welcome, Lena.”

𔘓⁩ ᵗⁱᵖʲᵃʳ

[chenlezip]

jaemin, scream ♡

⤷ summary : when y/n receives a mysterious phone call and finds that her friends are being killed, she suspects that a serial killer may be on the prowl, who is also linked to her mother's murder.

warnings : death, swearing, if you've watched scream you'll know :) idk what other warnings to put im so sorry!! not proof read either eek

annas note : sooo.. i wanted to write a lil something about jaemin and scream.. and this is the better idea i had in mind — one thing you guys NEED to know about me is that i am a horror fanatic.. and so pairing this with jaemin was super fun (maybe i’ll make a horror fic series with nct one day..)

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you're in your bedroom, sat at your desk on your computer as you worked on an assignment. you heard glass breaking outside your window and you stood up, walking closer to check it out. maybe it was one of the cats that roamed around your street?

as you peek out your window, you feel a hand grab your shoulder and you scream, pulling back. "hey- it's just me," your boyfriend jaemin says gently.

"jaem, what the- what the hell are you doing here?" you scold him as he makes his way inside of your room from the window, "you sleep in that?" he gestures to your night dress.

you sigh, "yes i sleep in this. what are you doing here though? my dads in the other room, you can't be here!" as soon as those words left your lips, your dad opened the door but it was jammed with your wardrobe door being open.

you walk over, talking to him as jaemin hid down the side of your bed. as your dad left, he got up, holding one of your plushes as you asked again why he was here.

"well, it occured to me that.. i've never snuck through your bedroom window. i was home.. watching television.. the uh.. the exorcist was on." he continues, "it got me thinking of you."

you're a little confused, "it did?" you ask. "all the good stuff was cut out, it was edited for tv and it got me thinking of us.. how two years ago we started off hot and heavy and now things have changed.." you shake your head at his words, knowing what he's getting at.

"oh, so you thought you could climb through my window and we'd have a little raw footage?" you ask and he laughs, "no.. no, i wouldn't dare think of breaking your underwear rule."

it was the next day at school, you were sat on the edge of the fountain with your boyfriend, jeno, yeri and haechan. they were rambling on about the recent murder of someone you all knew - winter.

"hey, jen, didn't you used to date winter?" you ask as jeno looked away from his girlfriend to you, smirking, "yeah for like.. two seconds." haechan butts in, "before she left you for anton~" he teased. yeri moved away from jeno to look at him, "i thought you dumped her for me?"

"i did. he's full of shit," he glared over at haechan again. "and are the police aware you dated the victim?" haechan pushed up his glasses, pretending to act nerdy. "hey- what are you saying? that i killed her?" jeno and yeri both have an argument with him, and you groan to yourself, not again.

you end up leaving them, kissing jaemin goodbye as you left for the bus home. after doing chores, watching the news but immediately turning it off after they showed your mother who got killed, you just decided to take a nap to take your mind off of things.

you soon awoke to your phone ringing, the loud dial tone ringing through your ears. you whined, "who the hell is calling me?" you ask yourself out loud as you lean over from where you were on the couch, grabbing the phone and putting it to your ear. "hello?" you ask with a sigh as you hear your friend, yeri coming through the other line, "practice ran late. i'm on my way, okay?"

you check the time, "it's past seven.." "don't worry~ winter and her boyfriend didn't cut it until after 10, you're fine." yeri says as she continued, "i'm gonna swing by the video store for us, okay?"

"whatever. just hurry, okay?" "see ya, n/n~" yeri hung up the phone. you smile and let out another soft sigh, placing the phone back on the stand but after a couple seconds, it starts ringing again. "yeri, just get in the car-"

it's not yeri. a creepy voice rings through your ears as he says your name in a greeting. you run a hand through your hair, "uh.. hi, who is this?" you ask softly as you sit up on the couch. "you tell me," he says as you scrunch your brows in confusion, "i-i have no idea.."

"scary night, isn't it? with the murders and all it's like something out of a horror movie." you chuckle, "haechan! you gave yourself away.. are you calling from work? because yeri's on her way over." you get up from the couch.

"do you like scary movies, y/n?"

"i like that thing you're doing with your voice, hae, it's sexy," you giggle to yourself as you turn on your lamp. "what's your favourite scary movie?" 'haechan' asked you. you rub your chin, "oh come on, you know i don't like that shit."

"why not? too scared?" the voice asked as you sigh, "no. it's just.. what's the point? they're all the same. some stupid killer stalking some big-chested girl who can't act, who's always running up the stairs when she should be going out the front door. it's insulting." you explain, ranting about the movies that you've seen.

you shouldn't of said that because a tall figure wearing a cloak and a ghost face mask appears and attacks you. you try running out the front door but you're fumbling with the locks so you just run upstairs, screaming. you make it into your room and close the door, locking it and backing away from it. your heart is pumping, your thoughts are clouded and you feel petrified. what the hell just happened?

you hear someone once again at your window and it's your boyfriend, jaemin. "jaemin!" you shout for him as you run toward him, helping him in. "the doors locked. i heard screaming - is everything alright?" jaemin looks at you with a worried and concerned expression. "the killers here.. he's in the house!" you bring him closer to you as you ease into the comfort he gives you, you needed this.

"he's in the house. he's got a knife, he's gonna kill us.." you mumble as you try and cling onto his sweatshirt. "he's gone." he whispers to you, holding you tightly against him. you sob into his shoulder before feeling and hearing a phone drop beside him on the floor. you look down and gasp, pulling away from him.

"what?" jaemin asked as you glared at him, removing his arms from your waist, "n/n, what?"

you shake your head and whimper, creating enough space between the two of you before you unlock your room door and run out of it. "wait! wait wait wait wait! what's going on?" you hear jaemin chasing behind you as you continue to try and escape him. "y/n, come back!" he shouts from the stop of the staircase.

you open your front door and scream, seeing the ghost face mask being held up. jisung, who was at the door holding it up, screams too. "sorry! i found this, come on!" he shouts at the other officers, ushering them inside.

jisung finds jaemin and detains him, shoving him roughly against the hood of his car. "alright come on, keep your hands together."

after a rough couple of days and staying close with yeri ignoring your boyfriend, she takes you to a party that jeno is hosting. you thought about not going but you really needed something to take your mind off of everything that happened so you end up going. you enter the kitchen as yeri places bags down on the kitchen counter, smiling at her boyfriend.

you both end up laying on the couch in the living room, jeno following as he brings yeri to his chest and smiles. you look through the movies that haechan has, "how come jamie lee curtis is in all of these movies?" you ask. haechan smiled, leaning near you, pressing his hands together in a prayer, "she's the scream queen."

"with that set of lungs, she should be.." jeno butts in, someone adding a "yeah.." to agree with him. yeri rolled her eyes, looking at you, "tits, you see?"

after spending a couple hours at the party, the curfew ends and everyone starts leaving. "yeri, come on!" you shout upstairs. you haven't seen her since she left to get drinks for jeno. you're a little worried. you turn to jeno who is seeing the party goers out the front door, smiling.

"do you know where she is?" you ask as jeno shakes his head, "i haven't seen her." and then you hear 'agh!'. you gasp, turning around to the front door and seeing jaemin smiling sheepishly. "oh.. jaemin, hey," you give him a small greeting as he looks at you. jeno seems to act suspicious, rubbing his chin, "jaem, hmm.. i wonder what you're doing here."

"was hoping i could talk to n/n, alone."

and he.. did have the chance to and a little more than that, you both got dressed after having an intimate moment in the bedroom upstairs. "you still don't think it was me, do ya?" jaemin asked you as he glared at you from behind, sitting on the floor tying his laces. you chuckle, turning around and sitting to face him, "no. no. i was just thinking, if it were you, it'd be a very clever way to throw me off track."

as you were talking about things, jaemin leans into you and before you know it, ghostface was behind him. "oh my god- jaemin, watch out!" you scream as he gets 'stabbed' multiple times, "oh.. my god.. jaemin.." you whimper.

after an extreme chase with ghostface and escaping the house, you find yourself back there because you saw a cop car outside. you're searching jisung's knocked out body and find a gun, haechan shouts for you, "i found yeri! i think she's dead i think jeno did it-" he panics as you aim it toward him, "stop right there!" jeno runs and stops beside haechan, "don't listen to him y/n!"

you decide to run inside the house and you see jaemin, he fell down the stairs and groaned, "y/n.." you help him up and lead him to the front door, "we need help.." he shakes his head as he opens the front door and haechan pushes his way inside. "look- i think jenos gone mad!"

"we all go a little mad sometimes," jaemin smirked as he turned toward haechan, a sinister look on his face. "fuck!" haechan whispers loudly to himself before getting shout in the shoulder, shouting out in pain and falling to the floor. "hae!" you shout.

jaemin chuckled, "anthony perkins, psycho.." you run over to haechan, kneeling over him as you stare at your so called boyfriend. "no.." you whisper as you try and run but you bump into jenos chest, staring up at him as you beg for him to help you. he holds a voice changer to his mouth, smirking, "surprise y/n."

tags : @injvns @polarisjisung @mejaemin @ayukas @hyckvr @yizhrt @blondemrk @astrasng