we young

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[im4rmy]

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nct dream idol AU index (drabbles/short scenarios/headcanons fic)

nct dream soulmate AU index (full set of fics, 2 books of 5 out)

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[im4rmy]

10: i can hear you

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

After sleeping a couple of hours, Mark had briefed Haechan and Jaemin on the Velvet House situation. Jeno was nowhere to be found, strangely enough. But neither was Rachel, so the boys put two and two together. They were still talking it over in Mark's room — Jaemin sprawled across that ridiculous little bed and Haechan on the chair in front of the desk where the Leader was sitting — when the office door swung open without warning, making all three of them jump.

"Halo!!" Jisung yelled with a big, childlike grin.

A small silence filled the room as the boys stared at him in surprise. Then Jaemin yelled chaotically and launched himself off the bed to reach the youngest and pull him into a hug.

Mark stood up from his chair too. "Jisung!" he exclaimed, stunned.

Jisung accepted the welcome cuddles with a warm smile and let himself be hugged by Haechan and Mark as well.

"I thought you were coming back next week," Jaemin remarked, eyeing him up and down as if in three weeks he might have somehow gotten even taller.

"Sohyun's dad had a work emergency so we had to come back early. I wanted to surprise you," he explained with a hint of obvious disappointment.

Mark ruffled his hair. "Did you have fun?"

Jisung nodded, beaming. "I went scuba diving, did some hiking, drank Piña Coladas on the beach like in the movies. And I had a lot of sex too," he reported with a smug grin.

The Leader burst out laughing and gave him a pat on the shoulder, while Jaemin and Haechan immediately started teasing him.

"Um... knock knock?"

The boys turned toward the open door of Mark's office and noticed Giselle standing there, the evidence of the previous night's attack hidden beneath flawless makeup.

"Oh, hey!" the older one greeted her, waving her in and closing the door behind her. "We were just welcoming Jisung home — he wanted to brag about having fucked his way through his entire trip."

The girl made an amused face and looked at the youngest. "Zero to a hundred. Huh, little guy?"

Jisung turned red and looked away, while his teammates settled back into their spots to resume the meeting.

"You can stay if you want," the Leader told him, "but we'll go over everything again together once we know what to do about the Velvet House situation. Go say hi to the others if you want."

The youngest agreed and left them to their deliberations. He'd been briefly updated by text on what was happening at the strip club, but hadn't managed to get a real sense of what was going on.

He came back downstairs to the living room, where he found his teammates and his soulmate deep in what was possibly the most intense gossip session Jisung had ever witnessed. When he and Sohyun had made their triumphant entrance into the NCT D house, the ones who had rushed to greet them were Renjun and Chenle, in the middle of having breakfast with Jaeni — yes, obviously Rachel had kept Jisung updated on EVERYTHING that had happened in his absence, and obviously she had also sent him photos of the newest addition to the family. He had introduced himself to the girl and then dashed upstairs — partly, if he was honest, because he didn't want to find out whether she and Sohyun would actually hate each other. But now the two of them both seemed so caught up in what Renjun and Chenle were spilling at top speed that he figured it hadn't gone that badly.

He walked over to the gathering and sat down beside his girlfriend, who didn't spare him a glance.

"Legends say they had a threesome," Renjun said with stars in his eyes.

Jaeni's eyes went wide, while Sohyun made no effort to hide her enthusiasm.

Chenle elbowed the older one. "Don't exaggerate! But what's for sure is that she was Haechan's first time," he said, almost proud to be in possession of that information.

Jaeni had watched that gorgeous, sensual woman — who apparently went by Giselle, yes, like the model — walk into the house in her high-heeled leather boots and ask for Mark and Haechan. Jaeni had asked Renjun and Chenle who she was, and they had started saying a whole lot of things that had not sat well with her at all.

A dancer and a stripper and God knows what else, a friend of Haechan's — no, apparently, much more than a friend.

She wasn't happy to admit that jealousy was boiling her blood, along with a primal urge to mark her territory. She could probably pee on Haechan and he'd be fine with it, even thrilled.

Sohyun suddenly turned toward her boyfriend, who flinched. "Have you ever touched that woman?"

A flash of terror crossed Jisung's eyes and he hurried to shake his head. "No, I swear! I always said no," he said, wide-eyed with innocence.

The girl shot to her feet. "What the fuck do you mean always?! How many times has that slut asked you to fuck?!"

Jisung mentally cursed himself for ever thinking that saying something like that could have been a good idea, and tried to reassure his soulmate — even as he could already see the smoke coming out of her ears — but what came out was only disconnected stammering.

Chenle chuckled at his teammate's pitiful state. He'd missed having him around making a fool of himself, he had to admit.

"Three times, if I'm not mistaken," said that slut herself, coming down the stairs followed by the rest of the squad. "On his eighteenth birthday I thought he'd finally give in, but no luck," she recounted with a theatrical sigh, making her way into the kitchen to join the group.

Sohyun looked at her as if she could set her on fire on the spot, while Giselle chuckled and greeted Mark with a kiss on the cheek.

"Lucky there was someone else who had no trouble caving," she said with a smirk, walking past Haechan and dragging her dark nails slowly across his chest while looking at him the way a cheetah looks at the prey it's set aside for later.

The boy in question gave an amused smile watching her walk away — but a sharp, icy jolt cut right through him a moment later, forcing him to look up at Jaeni, who was staring at him as if she were trying to peel the skin from his chest with her mind alone.

For a moment the boy thought it might be working.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

🔧Phrases written in «italics» are spoken in sign language🔧

"Sooooo," Haechan said, breaking the silence that was about to make his eardrums burst, "you're quiet."

Jaeni pulled her gaze away from the view outside the passenger window and looked at her soulmate behind the wheel as if he had just said the single dumbest thing she'd ever heard. Which he had.

Haechan huffed, amused. "That joke would have had you in stitches if you weren't clearly furious with me."

Jaeni sighed. "You're right, it would have," she signed.

The boy ran out of things to say because he could feel her irritation even through her gestures. So he kept driving toward her neighborhood.

Okay — he knew the little scene with Giselle could have been avoided. But in his defense, Haechan had never had a girlfriend. He wasn't used to having someone not to make jealous.

The boy pulled up in front of her building and yanked the handbrake. He sighed and said nothing.

Jaeni turned to look at him, annoyed, pulling his attention toward her. "So?" she asked.

"So what?"

The girl seemed to grow even more furious. "What are you doing? Why aren't you turning off the car?"

Haechan raised an eyebrow. "I just drove you home. I have to get back to the others."

Jaeni stared at him, incredulous, and shifted in her seat to face him better. "And you think I'm going to let you go back to her? Are you out of your mind?"

The dark-haired boy's eyes went wide, thrown off in a way he hadn't expected. Jaeni huffed and leaned over to turn off the engine herself, pulling out the key.

"I can't stand the thought that she's had you and I haven't yet."

Haechan's brain short-circuited because she was looking at him like she wanted to devour him right there in the car seat. And he couldn't wait.

"W-Well, that's an easy thing to fix."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Haechan was so turned on that he hadn't been able to think straight from the moment he'd walked into Jaeni's apartment. She had thrown herself at him and he had given himself over to her completely, in a single second, without hesitation. His skin felt electric and waves of anticipation ran through his entire body every time Jaeni touched him. And they were still both fully dressed. When Jaeni finally pulled off her shirt they were still in the living room, her against the wall, Haechan had pinned her there with his knee between her thighs, as if she could have even thought about going anywhere. The boy moved to kiss her neck but didn't linger — he kept going down, imprecise, reluctantly skipping over a few centimeters of skin to get to the point. Oh, he couldn't wait to get to the point.

When he dropped to his knees in front of her, Jaeni held back a shiver. Seeing him like that felt like one of those dreams that had been a little too real these past few days, while she wound her fingers through his dark locks and while he removed her shorts and he breathed fast and his fucking hands traced her bare thighs and she felt her damp — drenched panties, and she didn't even care because she couldn't wait him taking those off her and once he did —

"Maybe we should slow down?" the boy said breathlessly, looking up at her, conviction the last among the emotions cycling through his beautiful dark eyes.

For her answer, Jaeni closed her fist in his hair at the back of his neck and pulled his face where it was needed. Haechan didn't waste time and started licking, kissing and going as deep as he could reach, holding her by her thighs and preventing her from choking him at every spasm of pleasure (even if that seemed a more than wonderful death).

Jaeni, for her part, was floating on a cloud. If his hands on her body were already like being hit by a truck, his tongue was shattering her, it was a strange, elusive kind of ecstasy — almost too intense to bear. And, oh my God, the sounds that came out of him every time she massaged his scalp or scratched the back of his neck were their own kind of drug. Jaeni arched her back and rested her head against the wall with a sigh, while Haechan showed no sign of wanting to stop or slow down.

Was it this good for him too? Even though he was only giving without receiving? She wanted to return the favor and find out immediately.

It was one of those rare moments in her life when she felt the sting of not being able to use her voice. She would have wanted to tell him he was perfect, that he was beautiful, that she wanted him on his knees for her for the rest of his life. Instead she could only hold him and smile and kiss him and hope that he could feel everything she wanted to say.

Jaeni pulled him away from her and made him stand, catching him in her arms when he had to lean against the wall to keep from swaying. His expression was dazed, as if he'd been lost in an oasis of bliss, a crooked smile on his wet lips — swept away by his soulmate's mouth as she started kissing and touching him everywhere.

"I can hear you," he panted, trying to catch his breath between kisses, while Jaeni took the opportunity to pull off his t-shirt.

She looked at him confused, too busy finding her way back to his mouth to really process his words. She wanted more, she wanted more right now, even more.

Haechan slipped his hand into her hair and tilted her head back gently, forcing her to listen. "I can hear you in my head. I — I can hear what you're saying."

Jaeni's eyes went wide and she looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

What?

And as if Haechan had truly heard even that, he let go of her hair and brought his hand to her cheek, drawing closer until his lips barely grazed hers. "I can hear your voice," he whispered with a small smile.

Jaeni's heart climbed into her throat and began beating directly in her brain. But she didn't let the rush of it steal that moment from her.

He's perfect. You are perfect.

Haechan held her gaze and savored those words. "Keep going," he breathed. "I want to hear you more," he pleaded, tracing her face and neck with his lips and the tip of his nose.

I want you in a way no one ever has. I want what you've never given anyone else.

The boy let a small sound escape while he kept kissing her everywhere he could reach, but he needed to truly feel her now. He hooked his hands behind the back of her thighs and lifted her into his arms, while she kept covering his face in kisses and whispering all her thoughts to him through that extraordinary bond of theirs. Haechan moved quickly to the girl's bedroom and set her down on the bed. Jaeni used the moment he was taking to take off his pants and boxers to unclip her bra — no more clothes between them. The boy was on her in a second and, once again, the skin-on-skin contact disoriented him in the best possible way.

He had been told that sex with your soulmate was devastating — his hyungs talked about it like an otherworldly experience. Taeyong, Johnny, Jaehyun, and Shaw described it as the most powerful sensation a person could ever feel. Haechan had refused to listen and build up expectations, because... what if he never met his other half? He would have spent his whole life wondering what he was missing.

Now, though, he couldn't care less about expectations. His own instinct was telling him it was going to be extraordinary. So he listened to it.

Massaging her thigh, he put it on his hip and he looked into her eyes. "Are you ready?"

His voice was trembling.

Jaeni smiled and nodded, and that by-now-so-familiar expression injected pure serenity straight into his nervous system, which lit up with sparks when he was finally inside her. 

Time stopped and both of them went still for a few seconds, gazes locked, stunned. Jaeni was the first to recover — she brought her palm to her mouth and burst into silent laughter. Her eyes were glistening, and her soulmate broke into a smile — genuine, wide, open — one Jaeni had never seen on him before.

What a wonder.

Those words, barely even formed, hit their mark and swept away the shock of their first union. Their bodies started to move together, with a liquid, incandescent synergy. Their breathing merged together, and Haechan's sighs and moans fell like streams of liquid honey onto Jaeni's skin, amplifying the excitement and the pleasure waves that ran over her nerves at every thrust. 

It could be even better, though.

The girl grabbed her soulmate by the shoulders and pushed him onto his back. Haechan held his breath as Jaeni climbed on him reconnecting their cores immediately. A curse slipped from his lips as his eyes took in the sight that new position gifted him. Jaeni's body moved sinuously on him — every curve of her called for his hands and demanded to be worshipped. His head was spinning.

From up there, Jaeni could watch the boy's face twist and fall apart, desperate, completely lost in that exceeding pleasure. Even if she tried, the girl couldn't had stopped her own hips, dancing on his pelvis — and he didn't even knew where he was anymore, actually. 

They both felt the orgasm making its sweet way along the edges of their electrifying bubble of warmth. Haechan pushed himself up to sitting so he could pull her into his arms while their bodies reached that ectasy at the same time. The girl held him against her while the pleasure shook her chest and her legs and her heart. 

Only after a few seconds of stillness — in which the two of them tried to find the courage to pull apart and look each other in the eyes — did Haechan take a deep breath and turn to look at the girl's soft face, tracing her temple and the hairline of her brown hair. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then smiled — a little crooked, almost drowsy.

"I've fallen in love with you, Jaeni."

The girl brought a hand to her still-bare chest and let out a dramatic, relieved sigh. "Thank God!" she signed.

Haechan burst out laughing and fell back against the mattress, and Jaeni confirmed to herself once again...

...what a wonder he was.

When the girl climbed off her comfortable armchair, the two lay down side by side. The light from the large window and the warmth they had built between them had turned that space into a perfect nest — where only the two of them existed, curled up naked and almost fused together.

They held each other in silence for a few seconds, savoring that bubble of idyllic happiness completely. Then Haechan decided to speak.

"My mother died when I was 8," he began, staring at the ceiling and continuing to stroke her hair to anchor himself to something.

Jaeni barely held back a flinch, but didn't move — she didn't want him to stop talking.

"She was... wonderful," he breathed, doing his best not to get emotional.

It was rare that he talked about her — that he dared to think about her. But he needed her to know, even though she had never asked, that she held something he had never given anyone else.

His story.

"She was a ray of sunshine. She was the one who named me Haechan — she said I was her full sun, her light. She had taught me to find the beauty in everything, to be happy and spread joy and optimism at every opportunity. Then she died, and my father did everything he could to destroy the vision of the world she had built in me," he sighed.

She lifted her head from his chest to look at his face. "How did she die?" she asked in sign language.

"Acute leukemia. She was gone in less than a week," he murmured.

Jaeni felt her heart cry and couldn't tell whether it was her own grief or Haechan's pain radiating through the bond. She pulled away from her comfortable resting place only to open her arms to him. He didn't need to be asked twice, letting himself be wrapped in her warmth and resting his head between her collarbones.

"She was a little like you — affectionate and bright. She was always laughing. At first it scared me — I mean, you... you reminded me so much of her. And I spent my whole life trying to forget her and prove she was wrong, that everything she'd taught me was just lies. I was terrified of what it would mean to have someone like you at my side. But you are... extraordinary."

Jaeni's heart started beating faster, and Haechan must have noticed because his ear was resting not too far from the center of her chest. The boy lifted his head to look at her.

"You reminded me how beautiful it can be... to be alive. And now I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without all of this," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Jaeni's eyes were wet, because —

She had only known Haechan a few days, and yet the thought of having brought even a little relief into his life filled her with pride. That instinctive, overwhelming desire to protect him and hold him and make sure he had everything he needed came rushing back over her senses.

She traced his temple, then his cheek, then ran the tip of her finger down his nose. She mouthed something, but Haechan didn't catch it. She let out a small laugh and shook her head, the tears still balanced on the edge of her eyes.

He rested back against her chest and she went back to stroking him. Then a question bloomed in her mind. She reached toward the nightstand beside the bed and picked up one of the notepads she had scattered throughout the apartment since meeting him.

"Haechan isn't your real name?"

She held it up to him and he made an amused face. "No, but I can't tell you the real one."

Jaeni furrowed her brows and mouthed a "Why?"

"Because you're a gossip — you'd get me in trouble."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Sohyun frowned, confused. "Sorry, but how is that even possible?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the small brush between her fingers.

Rachel sighed dreamily. "Trust me, that was my reaction too. But at this point nothing surprises me when it comes to Jeno bending the laws of physics to give me a good orgasm."

The girl painting her nails black burst out laughing. "I'll suggest it to Jisung and let you know."

The brunette made a disgusted face and waved her already-painted hand in front of her. "God, please — I don't want to know anything about Jisung's sex life. In my head he's still a child."

Sohyun focused back on the older girl's fingers. She had come to the NCT D house to take Jisung out for something to eat, but the moment she'd walked in Rachel had ambushed her and forced her to do her nails. She had to admit she wasn't much of a talker, but a girl talk session every now and then was practically healthy. And besides, Rachel had launched straight into a blow-by-blow account of the acrobatic fuck from the night before — now that was interesting.

"When did you join the squad?"

"Six years ago. I was sixteen," she answered.

"Did you run away from home?"

Rachel went quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on her almost-finished nails. The younger girl glanced at her sideways and caught the blankness in her expression.

"I'm sorry — you don't have to answer," she reassured her, finishing the last nail.

The other girl shifted in her chair, trying to shake off the feeling that came over her every time she thought about her before. "It's not a pretty story."

Sohyun closed the nail polish bottle and rested her cheek in her palm to look at her. "Okay," she said simply.

Rachel met her gaze and a small, grateful smile found its way to her lips, catching no trace of judgment or criticism. "Okay," she confirmed.

"Hey, why didn't you tell me you were here?" Jisung asked, walking into the kitchen.

His soulmate rolled her eyes. "You're not exactly the center of my world."

Jisung frowned and wrapped an arm around her neck. "I thought I was."

The girl looked up and pretended to think it over. "Mm — that's very delusional of you."

Rachel felt her heart skip a beat watching those soft eyes and all that love passing between two soulmates...

All three of them jumped in fright when the front door flew open and an overexcited Haechan came in singing at the top of his lungs. He danced his way across the living room to whatever melody he'd invented, reached the kitchen table, took Rachel's hand — who was staring at him in shock — and pulled her out of her chair. He swept her into a spin while continuing to belt out God knows what, then danced with her all across the kitchen as she laughed in bewilderment.

When the Anchor dipped her into a deep casqué, Rachel shrieked with delight.

"Hyung, have you been smoking?" Jisung asked, watching the scene in disbelief.

Haechan set his sister back on her feet and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm in love!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on top of her head. "And yes, I also smoked. Jaeni's friend brought weed," he explained with a childlike smile, clearly foggy from the chemistry.

"But didn't you have the car?" Rachel asked, remembering that he'd left that morning to drive Jaeni home and never come back.

Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin had been forced to walk to the 127 house.

"Tsk! You think this is the first time I've driven while not sober?" he answered, very loudly.

That giddy, hazy atmosphere was broken by the arrival of three long faces: Mark, Jaemin, and Jeno came in through the door Haechan had left wide open, dragging a dark cloud of bad mood behind them.

Jisung pulled slightly away from Sohyun, his expression turning serious. "What's going on?"

The Leader ran a hand through his hair — he looked thrown off, frustrated. "The situation at the Velvet is worse than we thought and we need to—"

His uncertain explanation was cut off by a growl.

"We don't need to do anything. It's not happening," Jeno stated, sending a chill through everyone present.

Mark looked at him and sighed. "We haven't decided yet — but it depends on what you think, Rachel."

The girl very nearly flinched, holding tighter to Haechan's arms, which still hadn't let go of her. "Me?" she asked, searching for Jeno's eyes — which avoided meeting hers.

Jaemin stepped forward and looked at her as if his own life depended on what he was about to ask her to do. "We need you and Shaw to go undercover to figure out who's been hurting the dancers."

Rachel let those words ferment in her head. And when they took on meaning, her heart dropped into her stomach. "That means..."

Jeno finished the sentence for her, with the fury of a wary German shepherd. "It means they want you to go back to the Velvet House."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

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[im4rmy]

OKAY HERE I AM

idk what went wrong with the upload yesterday, maybe i didn't save the draft properly ?

anyway let me know if you can see it well now and if you enjoyed this book!!

WORDLESS IS OFICIALLY (for real i hope, lmao) COMPLETED

[im4rmy]

10: i can hear you

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

After sleeping a couple of hours, Mark had briefed Haechan and Jaemin on the Velvet House situation. Jeno was nowhere to be found, strangely enough. But neither was Rachel, so the boys put two and two together. They were still talking it over in Mark's room — Jaemin sprawled across that ridiculous little bed and Haechan on the chair in front of the desk where the Leader was sitting — when the office door swung open without warning, making all three of them jump.

"Halo!!" Jisung yelled with a big, childlike grin.

A small silence filled the room as the boys stared at him in surprise. Then Jaemin yelled chaotically and launched himself off the bed to reach the youngest and pull him into a hug.

Mark stood up from his chair too. "Jisung!" he exclaimed, stunned.

Jisung accepted the welcome cuddles with a warm smile and let himself be hugged by Haechan and Mark as well.

"I thought you were coming back next week," Jaemin remarked, eyeing him up and down as if in three weeks he might have somehow gotten even taller.

"Sohyun's dad had a work emergency so we had to come back early. I wanted to surprise you," he explained with a hint of obvious disappointment.

Mark ruffled his hair. "Did you have fun?"

Jisung nodded, beaming. "I went scuba diving, did some hiking, drank Piña Coladas on the beach like in the movies. And I had a lot of sex too," he reported with a smug grin.

The Leader burst out laughing and gave him a pat on the shoulder, while Jaemin and Haechan immediately started teasing him.

"Um... knock knock?"

The boys turned toward the open door of Mark's office and noticed Giselle standing there, the evidence of the previous night's attack hidden beneath flawless makeup.

"Oh, hey!" the older one greeted her, waving her in and closing the door behind her. "We were just welcoming Jisung home — he wanted to brag about having fucked his way through his entire trip."

The girl made an amused face and looked at the youngest. "Zero to a hundred. Huh, little guy?"

Jisung turned red and looked away, while his teammates settled back into their spots to resume the meeting.

"You can stay if you want," the Leader told him, "but we'll go over everything again together once we know what to do about the Velvet House situation. Go say hi to the others if you want."

The youngest agreed and left them to their deliberations. He'd been briefly updated by text on what was happening at the strip club, but hadn't managed to get a real sense of what was going on.

He came back downstairs to the living room, where he found his teammates and his soulmate deep in what was possibly the most intense gossip session Jisung had ever witnessed. When he and Sohyun had made their triumphant entrance into the NCT D house, the ones who had rushed to greet them were Renjun and Chenle, in the middle of having breakfast with Jaeni — yes, obviously Rachel had kept Jisung updated on EVERYTHING that had happened in his absence, and obviously she had also sent him photos of the newest addition to the family. He had introduced himself to the girl and then dashed upstairs — partly, if he was honest, because he didn't want to find out whether she and Sohyun would actually hate each other. But now the two of them both seemed so caught up in what Renjun and Chenle were spilling at top speed that he figured it hadn't gone that badly.

He walked over to the gathering and sat down beside his girlfriend, who didn't spare him a glance.

"Legends say they had a threesome," Renjun said with stars in his eyes.

Jaeni's eyes went wide, while Sohyun made no effort to hide her enthusiasm.

Chenle elbowed the older one. "Don't exaggerate! But what's for sure is that she was Haechan's first time," he said, almost proud to be in possession of that information.

Jaeni had watched that gorgeous, sensual woman — who apparently went by Giselle, yes, like the model — walk into the house in her high-heeled leather boots and ask for Mark and Haechan. Jaeni had asked Renjun and Chenle who she was, and they had started saying a whole lot of things that had not sat well with her at all.

A dancer and a stripper and God knows what else, a friend of Haechan's — no, apparently, much more than a friend.

She wasn't happy to admit that jealousy was boiling her blood, along with a primal urge to mark her territory. She could probably pee on Haechan and he'd be fine with it, even thrilled.

Sohyun suddenly turned toward her boyfriend, who flinched. "Have you ever touched that woman?"

A flash of terror crossed Jisung's eyes and he hurried to shake his head. "No, I swear! I always said no," he said, wide-eyed with innocence.

The girl shot to her feet. "What the fuck do you mean always?! How many times has that slut asked you to fuck?!"

Jisung mentally cursed himself for ever thinking that saying something like that could have been a good idea, and tried to reassure his soulmate — even as he could already see the smoke coming out of her ears — but what came out was only disconnected stammering.

Chenle chuckled at his teammate's pitiful state. He'd missed having him around making a fool of himself, he had to admit.

"Three times, if I'm not mistaken," said that slut herself, coming down the stairs followed by the rest of the squad. "On his eighteenth birthday I thought he'd finally give in, but no luck," she recounted with a theatrical sigh, making her way into the kitchen to join the group.

Sohyun looked at her as if she could set her on fire on the spot, while Giselle chuckled and greeted Mark with a kiss on the cheek.

"Lucky there was someone else who had no trouble caving," she said with a smirk, walking past Haechan and dragging her dark nails slowly across his chest while looking at him the way a cheetah looks at the prey it's set aside for later.

The boy in question gave an amused smile watching her walk away — but a sharp, icy jolt cut right through him a moment later, forcing him to look up at Jaeni, who was staring at him as if she were trying to peel the skin from his chest with her mind alone.

For a moment the boy thought it might be working.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

🔧Phrases written in «italics» are spoken in sign language🔧

"Sooooo," Haechan said, breaking the silence that was about to make his eardrums burst, "you're quiet."

Jaeni pulled her gaze away from the view outside the passenger window and looked at her soulmate behind the wheel as if he had just said the single dumbest thing she'd ever heard. Which he had.

Haechan huffed, amused. "That joke would have had you in stitches if you weren't clearly furious with me."

Jaeni sighed. "You're right, it would have," she signed.

The boy ran out of things to say because he could feel her irritation even through her gestures. So he kept driving toward her neighborhood.

Okay — he knew the little scene with Giselle could have been avoided. But in his defense, Haechan had never had a girlfriend. He wasn't used to having someone not to make jealous.

The boy pulled up in front of her building and yanked the handbrake. He sighed and said nothing.

Jaeni turned to look at him, annoyed, pulling his attention toward her. "So?" she asked.

"So what?"

The girl seemed to grow even more furious. "What are you doing? Why aren't you turning off the car?"

Haechan raised an eyebrow. "I just drove you home. I have to get back to the others."

Jaeni stared at him, incredulous, and shifted in her seat to face him better. "And you think I'm going to let you go back to her? Are you out of your mind?"

The dark-haired boy's eyes went wide, thrown off in a way he hadn't expected. Jaeni huffed and leaned over to turn off the engine herself, pulling out the key.

"I can't stand the thought that she's had you and I haven't yet."

Haechan's brain short-circuited because she was looking at him like she wanted to devour him right there in the car seat. And he couldn't wait.

"W-Well, that's an easy thing to fix."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Haechan was so turned on that he hadn't been able to think straight from the moment he'd walked into Jaeni's apartment. She had thrown herself at him and he had given himself over to her completely, in a single second, without hesitation. His skin felt electric and waves of anticipation ran through his entire body every time Jaeni touched him. And they were still both fully dressed. When Jaeni finally pulled off her shirt they were still in the living room, her against the wall, Haechan had pinned her there with his knee between her thighs, as if she could have even thought about going anywhere. The boy moved to kiss her neck but didn't linger — he kept going down, imprecise, reluctantly skipping over a few centimeters of skin to get to the point. Oh, he couldn't wait to get to the point.

When he dropped to his knees in front of her, Jaeni held back a shiver. Seeing him like that felt like one of those dreams that had been a little too real these past few days, while she wound her fingers through his dark locks and while he removed her shorts and he breathed fast and his fucking hands traced her bare thighs and she felt her damp — drenched panties, and she didn't even care because she couldn't wait him taking those off her and once he did —

"Maybe we should slow down?" the boy said breathlessly, looking up at her, conviction the last among the emotions cycling through his beautiful dark eyes.

For her answer, Jaeni closed her fist in his hair at the back of his neck and pulled his face where it was needed. Haechan didn't waste time and started licking, kissing and going as deep as he could reach, holding her by her thighs and preventing her from choking him at every spasm of pleasure (even if that seemed a more than wonderful death).

Jaeni, for her part, was floating on a cloud. If his hands on her body were already like being hit by a truck, his tongue was shattering her, it was a strange, elusive kind of ecstasy — almost too intense to bear. And, oh my God, the sounds that came out of him every time she massaged his scalp or scratched the back of his neck were their own kind of drug. Jaeni arched her back and rested her head against the wall with a sigh, while Haechan showed no sign of wanting to stop or slow down.

Was it this good for him too? Even though he was only giving without receiving? She wanted to return the favor and find out immediately.

It was one of those rare moments in her life when she felt the sting of not being able to use her voice. She would have wanted to tell him he was perfect, that he was beautiful, that she wanted him on his knees for her for the rest of his life. Instead she could only hold him and smile and kiss him and hope that he could feel everything she wanted to say.

Jaeni pulled him away from her and made him stand, catching him in her arms when he had to lean against the wall to keep from swaying. His expression was dazed, as if he'd been lost in an oasis of bliss, a crooked smile on his wet lips — swept away by his soulmate's mouth as she started kissing and touching him everywhere.

"I can hear you," he panted, trying to catch his breath between kisses, while Jaeni took the opportunity to pull off his t-shirt.

She looked at him confused, too busy finding her way back to his mouth to really process his words. She wanted more, she wanted more right now, even more.

Haechan slipped his hand into her hair and tilted her head back gently, forcing her to listen. "I can hear you in my head. I — I can hear what you're saying."

Jaeni's eyes went wide and she looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

What?

And as if Haechan had truly heard even that, he let go of her hair and brought his hand to her cheek, drawing closer until his lips barely grazed hers. "I can hear your voice," he whispered with a small smile.

Jaeni's heart climbed into her throat and began beating directly in her brain. But she didn't let the rush of it steal that moment from her.

He's perfect. You are perfect.

Haechan held her gaze and savored those words. "Keep going," he breathed. "I want to hear you more," he pleaded, tracing her face and neck with his lips and the tip of his nose.

I want you in a way no one ever has. I want what you've never given anyone else.

The boy let a small sound escape while he kept kissing her everywhere he could reach, but he needed to truly feel her now. He hooked his hands behind the back of her thighs and lifted her into his arms, while she kept covering his face in kisses and whispering all her thoughts to him through that extraordinary bond of theirs. Haechan moved quickly to the girl's bedroom and set her down on the bed. Jaeni used the moment he was taking to take off his pants and boxers to unclip her bra — no more clothes between them. The boy was on her in a second and, once again, the skin-on-skin contact disoriented him in the best possible way.

He had been told that sex with your soulmate was devastating — his hyungs talked about it like an otherworldly experience. Taeyong, Johnny, Jaehyun, and Shaw described it as the most powerful sensation a person could ever feel. Haechan had refused to listen and build up expectations, because... what if he never met his other half? He would have spent his whole life wondering what he was missing.

Now, though, he couldn't care less about expectations. His own instinct was telling him it was going to be extraordinary. So he listened to it.

Massaging her thigh, he put it on his hip and he looked into her eyes. "Are you ready?"

His voice was trembling.

Jaeni smiled and nodded, and that by-now-so-familiar expression injected pure serenity straight into his nervous system, which lit up with sparks when he was finally inside her. 

Time stopped and both of them went still for a few seconds, gazes locked, stunned. Jaeni was the first to recover — she brought her palm to her mouth and burst into silent laughter. Her eyes were glistening, and her soulmate broke into a smile — genuine, wide, open — one Jaeni had never seen on him before.

What a wonder.

Those words, barely even formed, hit their mark and swept away the shock of their first union. Their bodies started to move together, with a liquid, incandescent synergy. Their breathing merged together, and Haechan's sighs and moans fell like streams of liquid honey onto Jaeni's skin, amplifying the excitement and the pleasure waves that ran over her nerves at every thrust. 

It could be even better, though.

The girl grabbed her soulmate by the shoulders and pushed him onto his back. Haechan held his breath as Jaeni climbed on him reconnecting their cores immediately. A curse slipped from his lips as his eyes took in the sight that new position gifted him. Jaeni's body moved sinuously on him — every curve of her called for his hands and demanded to be worshipped. His head was spinning.

From up there, Jaeni could watch the boy's face twist and fall apart, desperate, completely lost in that exceeding pleasure. Even if she tried, the girl couldn't had stopped her own hips, dancing on his pelvis — and he didn't even knew where he was anymore, actually. 

They both felt the orgasm making its sweet way along the edges of their electrifying bubble of warmth. Haechan pushed himself up to sitting so he could pull her into his arms while their bodies reached that ectasy at the same time. The girl held him against her while the pleasure shook her chest and her legs and her heart. 

Only after a few seconds of stillness — in which the two of them tried to find the courage to pull apart and look each other in the eyes — did Haechan take a deep breath and turn to look at the girl's soft face, tracing her temple and the hairline of her brown hair. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then smiled — a little crooked, almost drowsy.

"I've fallen in love with you, Jaeni."

The girl brought a hand to her still-bare chest and let out a dramatic, relieved sigh. "Thank God!" she signed.

Haechan burst out laughing and fell back against the mattress, and Jaeni confirmed to herself once again...

...what a wonder he was.

When the girl climbed off her comfortable armchair, the two lay down side by side. The light from the large window and the warmth they had built between them had turned that space into a perfect nest — where only the two of them existed, curled up naked and almost fused together.

They held each other in silence for a few seconds, savoring that bubble of idyllic happiness completely. Then Haechan decided to speak.

"My mother died when I was 8," he began, staring at the ceiling and continuing to stroke her hair to anchor himself to something.

Jaeni barely held back a flinch, but didn't move — she didn't want him to stop talking.

"She was... wonderful," he breathed, doing his best not to get emotional.

It was rare that he talked about her — that he dared to think about her. But he needed her to know, even though she had never asked, that she held something he had never given anyone else.

His story.

"She was a ray of sunshine. She was the one who named me Haechan — she said I was her full sun, her light. She had taught me to find the beauty in everything, to be happy and spread joy and optimism at every opportunity. Then she died, and my father did everything he could to destroy the vision of the world she had built in me," he sighed.

She lifted her head from his chest to look at his face. "How did she die?" she asked in sign language.

"Acute leukemia. She was gone in less than a week," he murmured.

Jaeni felt her heart cry and couldn't tell whether it was her own grief or Haechan's pain radiating through the bond. She pulled away from her comfortable resting place only to open her arms to him. He didn't need to be asked twice, letting himself be wrapped in her warmth and resting his head between her collarbones.

"She was a little like you — affectionate and bright. She was always laughing. At first it scared me — I mean, you... you reminded me so much of her. And I spent my whole life trying to forget her and prove she was wrong, that everything she'd taught me was just lies. I was terrified of what it would mean to have someone like you at my side. But you are... extraordinary."

Jaeni's heart started beating faster, and Haechan must have noticed because his ear was resting not too far from the center of her chest. The boy lifted his head to look at her.

"You reminded me how beautiful it can be... to be alive. And now I can't imagine spending the rest of my life without all of this," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion.

Jaeni's eyes were wet, because —

She had only known Haechan a few days, and yet the thought of having brought even a little relief into his life filled her with pride. That instinctive, overwhelming desire to protect him and hold him and make sure he had everything he needed came rushing back over her senses.

She traced his temple, then his cheek, then ran the tip of her finger down his nose. She mouthed something, but Haechan didn't catch it. She let out a small laugh and shook her head, the tears still balanced on the edge of her eyes.

He rested back against her chest and she went back to stroking him. Then a question bloomed in her mind. She reached toward the nightstand beside the bed and picked up one of the notepads she had scattered throughout the apartment since meeting him.

"Haechan isn't your real name?"

She held it up to him and he made an amused face. "No, but I can't tell you the real one."

Jaeni furrowed her brows and mouthed a "Why?"

"Because you're a gossip — you'd get me in trouble."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Sohyun frowned, confused. "Sorry, but how is that even possible?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the small brush between her fingers.

Rachel sighed dreamily. "Trust me, that was my reaction too. But at this point nothing surprises me when it comes to Jeno bending the laws of physics to give me a good orgasm."

The girl painting her nails black burst out laughing. "I'll suggest it to Jisung and let you know."

The brunette made a disgusted face and waved her already-painted hand in front of her. "God, please — I don't want to know anything about Jisung's sex life. In my head he's still a child."

Sohyun focused back on the older girl's fingers. She had come to the NCT D house to take Jisung out for something to eat, but the moment she'd walked in Rachel had ambushed her and forced her to do her nails. She had to admit she wasn't much of a talker, but a girl talk session every now and then was practically healthy. And besides, Rachel had launched straight into a blow-by-blow account of the acrobatic fuck from the night before — now that was interesting.

"When did you join the squad?"

"Six years ago. I was sixteen," she answered.

"Did you run away from home?"

Rachel went quiet for a moment, her gaze fixed on her almost-finished nails. The younger girl glanced at her sideways and caught the blankness in her expression.

"I'm sorry — you don't have to answer," she reassured her, finishing the last nail.

The other girl shifted in her chair, trying to shake off the feeling that came over her every time she thought about her before. "It's not a pretty story."

Sohyun closed the nail polish bottle and rested her cheek in her palm to look at her. "Okay," she said simply.

Rachel met her gaze and a small, grateful smile found its way to her lips, catching no trace of judgment or criticism. "Okay," she confirmed.

"Hey, why didn't you tell me you were here?" Jisung asked, walking into the kitchen.

His soulmate rolled her eyes. "You're not exactly the center of my world."

Jisung frowned and wrapped an arm around her neck. "I thought I was."

The girl looked up and pretended to think it over. "Mm — that's very delusional of you."

Rachel felt her heart skip a beat watching those soft eyes and all that love passing between two soulmates...

All three of them jumped in fright when the front door flew open and an overexcited Haechan came in singing at the top of his lungs. He danced his way across the living room to whatever melody he'd invented, reached the kitchen table, took Rachel's hand — who was staring at him in shock — and pulled her out of her chair. He swept her into a spin while continuing to belt out God knows what, then danced with her all across the kitchen as she laughed in bewilderment.

When the Anchor dipped her into a deep casqué, Rachel shrieked with delight.

"Hyung, have you been smoking?" Jisung asked, watching the scene in disbelief.

Haechan set his sister back on her feet and planted a kiss on her cheek. "I'm in love!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on top of her head. "And yes, I also smoked. Jaeni's friend brought weed," he explained with a childlike smile, clearly foggy from the chemistry.

"But didn't you have the car?" Rachel asked, remembering that he'd left that morning to drive Jaeni home and never come back.

Mark, Jeno, and Jaemin had been forced to walk to the 127 house.

"Tsk! You think this is the first time I've driven while not sober?" he answered, very loudly.

That giddy, hazy atmosphere was broken by the arrival of three long faces: Mark, Jaemin, and Jeno came in through the door Haechan had left wide open, dragging a dark cloud of bad mood behind them.

Jisung pulled slightly away from Sohyun, his expression turning serious. "What's going on?"

The Leader ran a hand through his hair — he looked thrown off, frustrated. "The situation at the Velvet is worse than we thought and we need to—"

His uncertain explanation was cut off by a growl.

"We don't need to do anything. It's not happening," Jeno stated, sending a chill through everyone present.

Mark looked at him and sighed. "We haven't decided yet — but it depends on what you think, Rachel."

The girl very nearly flinched, holding tighter to Haechan's arms, which still hadn't let go of her. "Me?" she asked, searching for Jeno's eyes — which avoided meeting hers.

Jaemin stepped forward and looked at her as if his own life depended on what he was about to ask her to do. "We need you and Shaw to go undercover to figure out who's been hurting the dancers."

Rachel let those words ferment in her head. And when they took on meaning, her heart dropped into her stomach. "That means..."

Jeno finished the sentence for her, with the fury of a wary German shepherd. "It means they want you to go back to the Velvet House."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

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[im4rmy]

☆9: is it my fault?

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

May 15, 2012

Dear Ms. Taejin,

My name is Haechan, I'm almost 12 and I want to be part of your squad, please. I've heard about you and done my research — this should be the right address and I think I'm right for you. I know I'm still young, but you need someone like me, and I really need you. I can do whatever you need, I run fast and I'm smart. You can use me wherever you need me.

They say you save kids off the street, so save me too, I'm begging you.

Also my father is very rich and I know most of his passwords — I wouldn't have any problem giving them to you if you get me out of here.

I'll wait for a reply within a month. I'm sure you'll find a way to reach me somehow.

— Haechan

P.S. this isn't my real name but I know I can choose whatever I want, right?

Taejin set the letter down on her desk and sank back in her chair with a sigh.

Nothing like this had ever happened to her. An unknown boy had sent her a letter. She had no idea how he'd managed to find their address, to know her name, to know what they did… either this kid was some kind of espionage prodigy, or someone was setting a trap.

"You okay?"

The girl looked up sharply at the sound of her soulmate's voice filling their office. Every time Taeyong walked into a room, Taejin felt the light fill the space and peace wash over her senses. And the fact that he gave her the most beautiful smiles in the world every time he looked at her only made every moment spent together better.

Taejin savored for a few seconds the feeling of her partner's hands slipping almost instinctively into her hair to massage her scalp, then sighed. She picked up the letter with two fingers and passed it to the boy standing beside her, who took it with one hand without removing the other from Taejin's neck.

After reading the short handwritten text, Taeyong made an uncertain face.

"Yeah," she murmured.

"You think it's a joke?"

Taejin shrugged. "There's a return address. I'll ask Doyoung to look into it."

Taeyong nodded and went back to stroking her hair in silence, until she tilted her head to look up at him. He smiled, something mischievous in it, and leaned down to kiss her. Taejin's lips welcomed his as if they were part of them — as if the natural state of their mouths was that, and being apart was a kind of heresy.

Carving out those small moments of intimacy was nearly impossible in that damned house, full of kids to raise, brimming with unstoppable energy and chaotic tendencies. Even so, their young bond was fierce and so difficult to ignore…

"Hyung — oh! Sorry."

The two pulled apart reluctantly and turned toward the door they had unfortunately left open, behind which the youngest of the house was trying not to look at the couple he'd just interrupted, half his face hidden behind the wooden doorframe.

Taeyong sighed, straightening up and stepping back from the desk. "What is it, Mark?"

The boy looked at him with those wide eyes full of curiosity and unease at the same time. "Sorry," he mumbled with a small guilty pout.

The older one laughed and ruffled his dark hair. "It's fine. What's going on?"

Mark glanced quickly toward Taejin, who was watching him with one eyebrow raised and those permanently impassive eyes. To young Mark, Taejin was the most beautiful girl who had ever existed on the face of the earth — she had that aura of a cold, impartial goddess to whom the final judgment on your entire life belonged—

"Mark?"

Taeyong's voice pulled him back to reality, and he realized he'd been standing there staring at Taejin like a fool. He flushed when he caught her small, amused smile and looked away, staring at his feet.

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to train with me," he murmured, feeling like a little kid. "Everyone else is busy with each other."

Taeyong glanced sideways at his soulmate, who immediately met his gaze, then nodded at the younger one. "Sure, let's go. We'll see if you can finally manage to take me down."

Mark's eyes lit up like two light bulbs switching on — the embarrassment and uncertainty swept away in the blink of an eye, forgotten in an instant. The older one gestured for him to head toward the stairs down to the basement, and the thirteen-year-old began rattling off every move he'd seen Yuta and Shaw pull off that he wanted to try with him.

Taejin stayed looking at the spot where the two had disappeared together, then let her eyes fall back to the letter left on the desk.

That Haechan — if he'd told the truth — could be a good friend for Mark, couldn't he?

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

NCT 127 house, Seoul, 2018

Haechan's tongue in his ear was scrambling his mind like nothing else could, and his hand inside his boxers was giving him a heart attack.

Mark threw his head back and closed his eyes, completely intoxicated by him. There was only him. They were no longer hiding in the cramped armory in the basement at three in the morning, no longer two kids trying not to be heard by their siblings — they were just Mark and Haechan, lost in each other, in the nowhere and the never.

Haechan pulled back to straddle him and pulled off his shirt, so that only skin and flesh separated their hearts when they came together to kiss. Their mouths met in a chaotic, frantic tangle — the mess of breath and closeness only making everything more exciting, more electric.

The youngest's hips started to look for more friction — sliding back and forth slowly, while Mark's hands scratched his bare back. Their pajama shorts' fabric rubbed painfully against their sensitive skin, but Haechan was too deep in that raw pleasure to bother with undressing completely. Mark, on the other hand, had every nerve on edge — he felt overwhelmed, his stomach churning with excitement, his heart beating so hard he was afraid it might give out from the strain. Haechan picked up his pace and it became a mess of moans and shameless whimpers. He couldn't even keep on with the kiss — too much ardor, too much of everything. The older one didn't know whether to focus on his honey voice, on their cores rubbing against each other or on his face so close to his, or on the fact that they were hiding, or on the fact that Haechan was making too much noise and they could be found out — and it all felt wrong somehow, maybe too good and too satisfying not to be forbidden, not to be a mistake.

And yet his body followed Haechan's as if under a spell, his hips chased the youngest's thrusts, his hands gripping his burning skin, wanting more of him — it was too much and at the same time not nearly enough.

He couldn't make sense of any of it.

Haechan swore, his teeth tight, before delivering the final blow and making Mark cum in his shorts. The younger one exhaled heavily and collapsed against him, breathless.

And everything became real again — the dimly lit armory, the shameful hiding spot of two hormonal teenagers.

"We need to go or they'll find us," Mark whispered, letting his arms fall to his sides.

Haechan lifted his torso to look at his face and the expression of discomfort he found painted there broke his heart. Again. Like it always did.

He stayed still, looking at him, but all he could read in his eyes was distress and mortification — while inside his own chest he felt the opposite: butterflies, and passion, and the warmth of the moment they'd just shared.

"Didn't you like it?"

Mark's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah, I — I liked it."

Haechan grunted in frustration and pushed himself to his feet. "Then what's the problem?" he asked, with an edge, as he retrieved his t-shirt from the floor.

The other one swallowed and drew his knees to his chest, visibly anxious and embarrassed — probably to hide the evidence of what they'd done that had stained his shorts. "I just… you know, I'm not—"

Before he could stammer again, Haechan burst out laughing — a laugh that tasted of pure liquorice. "Right. You're not gay, I forgot. My mistake," he nodded, straightening his shirt and shorts.

He didn't wait for an answer and hurried out of the small room packed with pistols, rifles, and knives.

Mark let himself fall back against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

What a mess.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Velvet House, Seoul, 2020

"Where are you going? No, Chae — don't leave," Rachel whined, trying to hold back the girl who couldn't wait to make the most of the evening.

"That's why we came… don't be a killjoy!" the younger one shouted over the loud music before leaving Rachel standing at the entrance and running headlong into the colorful, noisy chaos of the night.

The Velvet House looked very different now from the way Rachel had known it — the walls no longer gave off that stench of captivity she remembered, and the faces spinning around her weren't as frightening anymore.

But the chandeliers were still the same. The gleaming floor was the same. The feeling of panic and revulsion was the same.

Then that intoxicating scent wrapped around her from behind and the girl let herself go limp in the arms of her favorite person. "You're here," she breathed, inhaling deeply.

Jeno pressed an affectionate kiss to her head. "Mm-hm," he murmured. "I figured you'd need me to get through tonight with your sanity intact."

Rachel sighed. "And you were absolutely right. Chae's already abandoned me."

The boy chuckled right behind her ear, sending a shiver through her. "Figured that too."

Having him at her side made it easier to bear being in there. It still wasn't easy, though.

The years she'd spent in that place had been the worst of her life — when she'd had to sell herself to survive, to make it to the next day.

Back then the sign at the entrance didn't glow, and it didn't draw in only people hoping to have a good time and get some attention from a pretty dancer. Just a year earlier, the Velvet Club had been nothing more than a den of disgusting, venomous snakes — intent on exploiting human beings in the most demeaning and degrading ways imaginable.

Even thinking back on it now, she could still feel the greasy film of self-revulsion she'd carried on her skin.

"Haechan doesn't waste any time," Jeno said with an amused look, nodding toward a corner of the venue where Giselle was making herself comfortable on the lap of said person, who was placidly seated on one of the small couches near the stage.

"When does he ever," Rachel whispered with a small smile.

Haechan needed to stop thinking, for one night.

And who better than Giselle to turn his brain off?

"Let's go to one of the rooms," the dancer whispered, running her tongue along his ear.

The boy smiled, half dazed, and followed her without hesitation, letting himself be led toward the private rooms corridor. Once inside one of the rooms, in the blink of an eye the young man found himself sitting on the bed with the girl's hands already at the waistband of his pants.

The powerful, sensual music from the dance floor persisted even through the walls, the dancer's heavy perfume already soaking into his clothes… but Haechan's brain showed no sign of turning down even the volume.

"What would you think if Karina said she was straight?"

Giselle — kneeling on the floor between his thighs, pink-painted nails on the zipper of his dark jeans — looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Haechan held her gaze and raised his own eyebrows as if to say "so?"

The girl hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants. "I was about to blow you off — do you really want me to answer that?"

The boy exhaled loudly and fell back, sprawling spread-eagle on the cheap bedspread, while the dancer began peeling off his fitted jeans.

"I can't stand it. How can you cum on my face and then tell me you're not gay?" he vented, giving voice to his recent grievances.

Giselle let out a frustrated sound and pulled his dark boxers — which she'd just started tugging down — back up, stood up, and lay down beside Haechan, joining him in staring at the ceiling.

"Mark doesn't like losing control," she said thoughtfully.

The straight Leader of NCT D seemed uncomfortable even in bed with a woman — let alone with a man.

"I don't understand what's so earth-shattering about… us. I didn't ask him to marry me. I just wish that when we're — together, he didn't always look like he was on the verge of throwing up," the boy said, with a edge of resentment he couldn't suppress.

"Not everyone is as comfortable with their own sexuality as the two of us," his friend pointed out.

He huffed. "So it's my fault? I'm asking him to be something he's not?"

Giselle made a disgruntled face and turned to look at his profile. "Absolutely not. You're a special person and he has no right to make you feel like shit just because he feels like shit himself."

Haechan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, filling his chest with patience.

It took a great deal of it, loving someone like Mark.

"I know it's not easy to keep your heart in one piece, but don't let him make you doubt yourself. There's someone out there who will love you the way you deserve — all of you, no exceptions. I'm sure of it," she went on softly, as if those words came from a part of her that couldn't exist anywhere outside that room.

The dark-haired boy turned his head to look at her and allowed himself a small smile. "Thanks, Gi," he whispered.

The girl gave him a little wink, then let herself be folded into her friend's embrace as he held her warmly, letting the bittersweet atmosphere fade for a few quiet seconds.

"So… no blow job?"

"If you can't get it up that's definitely not my fault."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

in my country it's STILL haechan's birthday so hereeee

TOMORROW I'LL UPLOAD THE LAST CHAPTER WHATTTTT

TOMORROW. LAST CHAPTER.

ENJOYYYYYY

-im4rmy

[im4rmy]

☆9: is it my fault?

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

May 15, 2012

Dear Ms. Taejin,

My name is Haechan, I'm almost 12 and I want to be part of your squad, please. I've heard about you and done my research — this should be the right address and I think I'm right for you. I know I'm still young, but you need someone like me, and I really need you. I can do whatever you need, I run fast and I'm smart. You can use me wherever you need me.

They say you save kids off the street, so save me too, I'm begging you.

Also my father is very rich and I know most of his passwords — I wouldn't have any problem giving them to you if you get me out of here.

I'll wait for a reply within a month. I'm sure you'll find a way to reach me somehow.

— Haechan

P.S. this isn't my real name but I know I can choose whatever I want, right?

Taejin set the letter down on her desk and sank back in her chair with a sigh.

Nothing like this had ever happened to her. An unknown boy had sent her a letter. She had no idea how he'd managed to find their address, to know her name, to know what they did… either this kid was some kind of espionage prodigy, or someone was setting a trap.

"You okay?"

The girl looked up sharply at the sound of her soulmate's voice filling their office. Every time Taeyong walked into a room, Taejin felt the light fill the space and peace wash over her senses. And the fact that he gave her the most beautiful smiles in the world every time he looked at her only made every moment spent together better.

Taejin savored for a few seconds the feeling of her partner's hands slipping almost instinctively into her hair to massage her scalp, then sighed. She picked up the letter with two fingers and passed it to the boy standing beside her, who took it with one hand without removing the other from Taejin's neck.

After reading the short handwritten text, Taeyong made an uncertain face.

"Yeah," she murmured.

"You think it's a joke?"

Taejin shrugged. "There's a return address. I'll ask Doyoung to look into it."

Taeyong nodded and went back to stroking her hair in silence, until she tilted her head to look up at him. He smiled, something mischievous in it, and leaned down to kiss her. Taejin's lips welcomed his as if they were part of them — as if the natural state of their mouths was that, and being apart was a kind of heresy.

Carving out those small moments of intimacy was nearly impossible in that damned house, full of kids to raise, brimming with unstoppable energy and chaotic tendencies. Even so, their young bond was fierce and so difficult to ignore…

"Hyung — oh! Sorry."

The two pulled apart reluctantly and turned toward the door they had unfortunately left open, behind which the youngest of the house was trying not to look at the couple he'd just interrupted, half his face hidden behind the wooden doorframe.

Taeyong sighed, straightening up and stepping back from the desk. "What is it, Mark?"

The boy looked at him with those wide eyes full of curiosity and unease at the same time. "Sorry," he mumbled with a small guilty pout.

The older one laughed and ruffled his dark hair. "It's fine. What's going on?"

Mark glanced quickly toward Taejin, who was watching him with one eyebrow raised and those permanently impassive eyes. To young Mark, Taejin was the most beautiful girl who had ever existed on the face of the earth — she had that aura of a cold, impartial goddess to whom the final judgment on your entire life belonged—

"Mark?"

Taeyong's voice pulled him back to reality, and he realized he'd been standing there staring at Taejin like a fool. He flushed when he caught her small, amused smile and looked away, staring at his feet.

"I wanted to ask if you wanted to train with me," he murmured, feeling like a little kid. "Everyone else is busy with each other."

Taeyong glanced sideways at his soulmate, who immediately met his gaze, then nodded at the younger one. "Sure, let's go. We'll see if you can finally manage to take me down."

Mark's eyes lit up like two light bulbs switching on — the embarrassment and uncertainty swept away in the blink of an eye, forgotten in an instant. The older one gestured for him to head toward the stairs down to the basement, and the thirteen-year-old began rattling off every move he'd seen Yuta and Shaw pull off that he wanted to try with him.

Taejin stayed looking at the spot where the two had disappeared together, then let her eyes fall back to the letter left on the desk.

That Haechan — if he'd told the truth — could be a good friend for Mark, couldn't he?

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

NCT 127 house, Seoul, 2018

Haechan's tongue in his ear was scrambling his mind like nothing else could, and his hand inside his boxers was giving him a heart attack.

Mark threw his head back and closed his eyes, completely intoxicated by him. There was only him. They were no longer hiding in the cramped armory in the basement at three in the morning, no longer two kids trying not to be heard by their siblings — they were just Mark and Haechan, lost in each other, in the nowhere and the never.

Haechan pulled back to straddle him and pulled off his shirt, so that only skin and flesh separated their hearts when they came together to kiss. Their mouths met in a chaotic, frantic tangle — the mess of breath and closeness only making everything more exciting, more electric.

The youngest's hips started to look for more friction — sliding back and forth slowly, while Mark's hands scratched his bare back. Their pajama shorts' fabric rubbed painfully against their sensitive skin, but Haechan was too deep in that raw pleasure to bother with undressing completely. Mark, on the other hand, had every nerve on edge — he felt overwhelmed, his stomach churning with excitement, his heart beating so hard he was afraid it might give out from the strain. Haechan picked up his pace and it became a mess of moans and shameless whimpers. He couldn't even keep on with the kiss — too much ardor, too much of everything. The older one didn't know whether to focus on his honey voice, on their cores rubbing against each other or on his face so close to his, or on the fact that they were hiding, or on the fact that Haechan was making too much noise and they could be found out — and it all felt wrong somehow, maybe too good and too satisfying not to be forbidden, not to be a mistake.

And yet his body followed Haechan's as if under a spell, his hips chased the youngest's thrusts, his hands gripping his burning skin, wanting more of him — it was too much and at the same time not nearly enough.

He couldn't make sense of any of it.

Haechan swore, his teeth tight, before delivering the final blow and making Mark cum in his shorts. The younger one exhaled heavily and collapsed against him, breathless.

And everything became real again — the dimly lit armory, the shameful hiding spot of two hormonal teenagers.

"We need to go or they'll find us," Mark whispered, letting his arms fall to his sides.

Haechan lifted his torso to look at his face and the expression of discomfort he found painted there broke his heart. Again. Like it always did.

He stayed still, looking at him, but all he could read in his eyes was distress and mortification — while inside his own chest he felt the opposite: butterflies, and passion, and the warmth of the moment they'd just shared.

"Didn't you like it?"

Mark's eyes widened slightly. "Yeah, I — I liked it."

Haechan grunted in frustration and pushed himself to his feet. "Then what's the problem?" he asked, with an edge, as he retrieved his t-shirt from the floor.

The other one swallowed and drew his knees to his chest, visibly anxious and embarrassed — probably to hide the evidence of what they'd done that had stained his shorts. "I just… you know, I'm not—"

Before he could stammer again, Haechan burst out laughing — a laugh that tasted of pure liquorice. "Right. You're not gay, I forgot. My mistake," he nodded, straightening his shirt and shorts.

He didn't wait for an answer and hurried out of the small room packed with pistols, rifles, and knives.

Mark let himself fall back against the wall and buried his face in his hands.

What a mess.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Velvet House, Seoul, 2020

"Where are you going? No, Chae — don't leave," Rachel whined, trying to hold back the girl who couldn't wait to make the most of the evening.

"That's why we came… don't be a killjoy!" the younger one shouted over the loud music before leaving Rachel standing at the entrance and running headlong into the colorful, noisy chaos of the night.

The Velvet House looked very different now from the way Rachel had known it — the walls no longer gave off that stench of captivity she remembered, and the faces spinning around her weren't as frightening anymore.

But the chandeliers were still the same. The gleaming floor was the same. The feeling of panic and revulsion was the same.

Then that intoxicating scent wrapped around her from behind and the girl let herself go limp in the arms of her favorite person. "You're here," she breathed, inhaling deeply.

Jeno pressed an affectionate kiss to her head. "Mm-hm," he murmured. "I figured you'd need me to get through tonight with your sanity intact."

Rachel sighed. "And you were absolutely right. Chae's already abandoned me."

The boy chuckled right behind her ear, sending a shiver through her. "Figured that too."

Having him at her side made it easier to bear being in there. It still wasn't easy, though.

The years she'd spent in that place had been the worst of her life — when she'd had to sell herself to survive, to make it to the next day.

Back then the sign at the entrance didn't glow, and it didn't draw in only people hoping to have a good time and get some attention from a pretty dancer. Just a year earlier, the Velvet Club had been nothing more than a den of disgusting, venomous snakes — intent on exploiting human beings in the most demeaning and degrading ways imaginable.

Even thinking back on it now, she could still feel the greasy film of self-revulsion she'd carried on her skin.

"Haechan doesn't waste any time," Jeno said with an amused look, nodding toward a corner of the venue where Giselle was making herself comfortable on the lap of said person, who was placidly seated on one of the small couches near the stage.

"When does he ever," Rachel whispered with a small smile.

Haechan needed to stop thinking, for one night.

And who better than Giselle to turn his brain off?

"Let's go to one of the rooms," the dancer whispered, running her tongue along his ear.

The boy smiled, half dazed, and followed her without hesitation, letting himself be led toward the private rooms corridor. Once inside one of the rooms, in the blink of an eye the young man found himself sitting on the bed with the girl's hands already at the waistband of his pants.

The powerful, sensual music from the dance floor persisted even through the walls, the dancer's heavy perfume already soaking into his clothes… but Haechan's brain showed no sign of turning down even the volume.

"What would you think if Karina said she was straight?"

Giselle — kneeling on the floor between his thighs, pink-painted nails on the zipper of his dark jeans — looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Haechan held her gaze and raised his own eyebrows as if to say "so?"

The girl hooked her fingers in the waistband of his pants. "I was about to blow you off — do you really want me to answer that?"

The boy exhaled loudly and fell back, sprawling spread-eagle on the cheap bedspread, while the dancer began peeling off his fitted jeans.

"I can't stand it. How can you cum on my face and then tell me you're not gay?" he vented, giving voice to his recent grievances.

Giselle let out a frustrated sound and pulled his dark boxers — which she'd just started tugging down — back up, stood up, and lay down beside Haechan, joining him in staring at the ceiling.

"Mark doesn't like losing control," she said thoughtfully.

The straight Leader of NCT D seemed uncomfortable even in bed with a woman — let alone with a man.

"I don't understand what's so earth-shattering about… us. I didn't ask him to marry me. I just wish that when we're — together, he didn't always look like he was on the verge of throwing up," the boy said, with a edge of resentment he couldn't suppress.

"Not everyone is as comfortable with their own sexuality as the two of us," his friend pointed out.

He huffed. "So it's my fault? I'm asking him to be something he's not?"

Giselle made a disgruntled face and turned to look at his profile. "Absolutely not. You're a special person and he has no right to make you feel like shit just because he feels like shit himself."

Haechan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, filling his chest with patience.

It took a great deal of it, loving someone like Mark.

"I know it's not easy to keep your heart in one piece, but don't let him make you doubt yourself. There's someone out there who will love you the way you deserve — all of you, no exceptions. I'm sure of it," she went on softly, as if those words came from a part of her that couldn't exist anywhere outside that room.

The dark-haired boy turned his head to look at her and allowed himself a small smile. "Thanks, Gi," he whispered.

The girl gave him a little wink, then let herself be folded into her friend's embrace as he held her warmly, letting the bittersweet atmosphere fade for a few quiet seconds.

"So… no blow job?"

"If you can't get it up that's definitely not my fault."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

You’re finally back😩😩😩😩😩

i'm sorry if i'm not that consistent🫠 i just came back to my parents house to finish off my last two uni exams and my life is (literally, physically) all over the place😅

i'm trying to keep writing the next book tho! and i want to write something short for tumblr too!!

if you have any request i'm open💜

you're adorableeee

-im4rmy

[im4rmy]

08: that's what I thought

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Jaeni found Haechan sitting on the hood of the squad's black car, which somehow still started. She made her way over and tried to climb up and sit beside him, failing entirely to look as cool and nonchalant as she'd pictured. Haechan looked at her with a small, amused smile, then reached out a hand and helped her up. The girl settled in close to him, making sure their thighs were touching.

That suburban street was fairly isolated — no sidewalk, houses spaced far apart, nothing around them but patches of rough, barren land. It was quiet and poorly lit. Streetlamps lined the paved road, but they were off — broken, or not worth the public money to keep on for a street like that. So the sky was full of stars. Jaeni had never seen so many from her apartment.

"I imagine you must be pretty confused right now," Haechan murmured, still looking up.

Jaeni brought her thumb and index finger close together — a little — and Haechan sighed.

"What's between me and Mark is a very complicated story," he breathed quietly, as if he hadn't yet decided what to say or how to say it.

Jaeni pulled her phone from the back pocket of her jeans and opened the notes app. Haechan waited for her to finish typing.

"You don't have to explain if you don't want to."

Haechan didn't answer and brought his gaze back to the sky. He was relieved — he had no desire whatsoever to have that conversation, partly because he didn't know what to say. He had come out of that outburst deeply hurt and bitter, but it was as if a weight had been lifted from his chest by saying everything he'd been thinking to his best friend's face. He felt like he had nothing left to hide — not from him, not from the rest of his squad. Why should he? He had a sudden urge to disarm himself completely in front of all of them and see who would stay by his side regardless, even if finding out scared him a little.

Would Mark stay?

The boy lowered his gaze to Jaeni when she rested her head against his shoulder and took his hand, turning it slowly between her own as if she were studying it — the two of them wrapped in the complete silence of that starlit night.

And her? Would she stay?

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Rachel sealed the last tupperware container and put it in the fridge, which had never looked so full. She looked around and let out a sigh. Dinner hadn't ended quite the way she'd pictured. But at least the cake Jaeni and Chenle had made was good. She turned toward the sink and watched the Captain for a moment, focused on washing the dishes that hadn't fit in the dishwasher. She walked over and sat up on the kitchen counter a short distance from him. Jeno gave her a small smile and went back to work while she watched him.

"The dish gloves suit you," she teased.

"They definitely suit me better than they'd suit you," he shot back, making her laugh.

Rachel was hopeless at housework: the last time she'd done the dishes she'd broken two of them, and the time she'd tried to vacuum, Jaemin had had to buy a new one the next day.

After a few seconds of silence, Jeno glanced over and caught her staring at the floor, lost in thought.

"Everything okay?"

Rachel sighed. "I don't know what to think about all of this."

"Mark and Haechan, or the shooting?"

The girl let out a frustrated sound and hopped off the counter to stretch. "Everything, honestly. I know those two will make up but..."

Hearing her hesitate, Jeno set down the dishes and pulled off the gloves to give her his full attention, leaning back against the sink with his arms crossed.

"What if Haechan decides to go live with Jaeni? It's honestly the most logical choice, and I like her, but I don't want her to take him away," she murmured, a knot forming in her throat.

"I really don't think he's thinking about leaving."

"Mark is making it awfully tempting."

"Haechan's not going anywhere," the dark-haired boy repeated, more firmly this time, as if he were giving an order.

(Besides, seeing her this shaken — there was no way in hell he was letting Haechan leave.)

Rachel looked at him. He was just standing there, calm, watching her with those eyes of his — gentle but steady, sure, reassuring — his body relaxed and leaning back, arms on full display beneath that dark sleeveless shirt.

She couldn't even remember the last time she'd kissed him or touched him with anything other than innocent intent. She'd have had to rewind all the way back to the night before Chae died to find their last time together.

When she realized she had closed the distance between them, her hand was already on his chest and their faces were so close that Rachel could feel the warmth of his focused, burning gaze on her skin. She looked up into his eyes — he was still, too disillusioned to make the first move.

"I'm sorry," the girl whispered, losing herself in his gaze.

Did you think I'd wait for you my whole life? That I'd keep waiting for someone who's ashamed to love me?

The words Haechan had spoken a little while ago had carved themselves into her brain. She wasn't ashamed of loving Jeno — but she was afraid of letting him into her heart only to have to push him aside to make room for her soulmate. But maybe she'd never meet her other half... right?

That thought terrified her even more.

"I really don't know what to do with you," she whispered against his lips.

The hand she held against his chest caught the quickened beat of his heart, and something warmed low in her belly.

After all this time, Jeno still gave her butterflies. Without even opening his mouth.

Her other hand moved up, slipping into the short hair at the back of his neck. She closed her fingers around it and pulled him toward her, shutting her eyes the moment their mouths came together.

Jeno's hands responded on instinct, finding her soft hips.

How long had it been since he'd touched her like this? How long since he'd breathed in her scent from this close?

Their tongues found each other immediately, and that feeling — liquid, electric — hit him from head to toe. It was different from what he felt when Jaemin squeezed his hand or looked at him in that way of his, different from the deep, astral connection he felt with him. What ran through his veins when Rachel touched him was something rawer and more frightening. Uncontrollable. It was simply different.

It was a different kind of instinct that told him to take her right there in the kitchen and make her pay for those months of agony and deprivation, of jealousy and uncertainty.

"Were you planning on going out with anyone tonight?" he asked in a voice that raised the hair on her arms.

Rachel could only shake her head.

"That's what I thought," he growled, just before pulling her back into a kiss.

They did go out, actually. Right away.

To the old train.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

When Mark walked into the kitchen he immediately recognized the smell of sex that hung in the air. It had been a while since he'd noticed that in there. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he couldn't say.

He opened the fridge and looked around for some cold water. No luck. He'd go for a beer, then.

Just as he closed the door, the Leader realized he wasn't alone. The house was quiet — it was almost midnight, and he'd assumed everyone was in their rooms or wandering the city — but Jaemin was on the couch, a beer on the coffee table and Renjun's laptop on his knees.

Mark went over without a word and sat beside him, taking a sip of his ice-cold drink. His teammate was watching the footage of the Velvet House shooting for what must have been the hundredth time. No one had reported to him, for that matter — but after what had happened at dinner he certainly didn't expect anyone to come disturbing him in his office. He'd be briefed tomorrow.

Jaemin huffed and pressed his hands over his face.

"I'm sorry about the scene earlier," the older one said. "It can't have been a pleasant exper—"

"Hyung, I honestly couldn't care less about you and your scenes right now. Think less about apologizing and more about doing your job. Do us that one favor," Jaemin snapped, with a venom that rarely accompanied his words.

He pushed himself to his feet, snapped the laptop shut with a sharp click, and walked off — leaving the Leader alone. Again.

Mark waited until he heard his teammate's footsteps fade at the top of the stairs before letting himself sink back against the couch cushions with a small sigh, staring at the wall across from him. Above the television were three bullet holes in a row — remnants of the burst of gunfire Choi Kuro's men had sprayed across their living room to threaten Jisung and Sohyun. What had he done to handle that situation? Nothing. Jisung had sorted it out on his own — Mark hadn't had to lift a finger. After the Carnival tail job had failed, how had he made up for it? He hadn't. Jeno and Haechan had tracked the target down themselves. After Chae's death, who had taken care of the body? Haechan. Who had dealt with Yeonjun? Jaemin. Who had looked after Jisung? Sohyun. Him — again, not a finger raised.

Mark turned toward the entrance, near the door, where their family photo hung with the glass shattered by another one of those bullets and the frame chipped. He set his condensation-wet bottle beside the one Jaemin had left and stood, then walked over to the frame. He took it in his hands and studied each person captured in it. Until not long ago he would have given his life for every one of them — he still would, he was sure of it. And yet he wondered whether they knew that. Whether they still trusted him.

All at once, every thought went quiet and his body went rigid. There was someone on the other side of the door. He stood still and waited — expecting one of his people to walk in, for Rachel to stumble through drunk, or for Renjun to return from one of his secret outings — but all he kept hearing were strange, hurried movements. He set the photo down on the small cabinet where they left the car keys and reached for the gun hidden just under its shelf. He gripped it with practiced ease and put his left hand on the doorknob, ready to find out who was on the other side. He yanked the door open and raised the weapon straight ahead, drawing a yelp from whoever had been lurking on their doorstep in the middle of the night.

The hooded figure brought a hand to their chest in fright, and Mark was ready to demonstrate what happened to strangers who tried to walk into their home uninvited.

But then the shadowy figure swore and told him to go fucking himself.

"Holy fucking shit, put that thing down, Jesus Christ."

Mark raised an eyebrow and lowered the gun. "Gi?"

"Incredible that in less than eight hours I've had a gun pointed at me twice."

The boy tucked the weapon into his waistband and glanced around quickly. "Is this any way to go around? You look like the Grim Reaper—"

Mark couldn't finish the sentence because Giselle pulled back her oversized black hood, revealing her face to her friend — who held his breath for a few seconds, stunned at the sight of it, bruised and swollen.

The two stood looking at each other for another moment, then the girl swallowed. "I'm not the first and I won't be the last. Irene is too proud to ask for help."

The boy began putting the puzzle together, even if he was missing quite a few pieces.

"Please, Mark. Help us."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

🔧Phrases written in «italics» are spoken in sign language🔧

It was unbearably hot — Jaeni was struggling just to breathe. Haechan had played the gentleman and changed the sheets on Rachel's bed, all for her. And then he'd climbed into his own, less than a meter away.

Idiot.

Jaeni had taken off the pajama shorts Haechan had stolen from his sister's wardrobe. He'd also given her one of his own t-shirts — black and plain like all the others she'd seen him wear — which was comfortable and cool, but there were realistically thirty-five degrees in that house.

The girl turned toward her soulmate's back and wrinkled her nose. Too far away. Jaeni left her warm — scorching — nest and crossed to Haechan's, who was apparently sleeping deeply. He wasn't snoring, but his breathing was slow and steady. She settled in behind him, squeezing into the little space available... and stared at his back.

How was he sleeping in this heat?

Her hand came to rest on his muscles and traced their lines with her fingertips through the thin fabric of his shirt. A shiver ran through the boy's body, but he kept sleeping. So Jaeni's fingers traveled down his spine, all the way to that narrow strip of warm skin left exposed between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his basketball shorts. That was when Haechan woke up.

The boy stirred with a drowsy sound and took a moment to register that there was someone in his bed. He turned with a startled look and found his soulmate's face two centimeters from his, watching him with an expression that said "hi!"

Haechan blinked a couple of times and rolled over to face her, making a little more room for her.

"What's going on?"

Jaeni fanned a hand in front of her face and the boy sighed, mortified.

"I know, I'm sorry. We can go to your place if you want," he offered.

The girl shook her head. "I'm too tired."

Haechan breathed out an "okay" and lay there watching her. Jaeni smiled — making his stomach do a full somersault — and inched even closer with a mischievous look.

The boy gave her a suspicious glance. "Did you think climbing into my bed would make you feel cooler?" he asked, seeing right through her.

His soulmate's face was now so close he could smell her hair, loose and free on his pillow.

"It doesn't work that way, you know. And we can't even take clothes off to help the situation because skin-to-skin contact would only make us hotter."

Jaeni raised an eyebrow, implying a silent "oh really?" Haechan nodded, unable to hold back a small smile when the girl rubbed her nose against his in an Eskimo kiss.

Before he could say anything else, she kissed him — slowly, but with that intensity that only a bond like theirs could allow. Haechan's hand immediately found her soft jaw to keep her from pulling away as their tongues reacquainted themselves with each other, unhurried this time. The girl's overheated body responded on instinct and pressed into his, while her hand found the hem of his shirt and slipped under it uninvited. Feeling the electric jolt that contact sent shooting up his abdomen and through his chest, Haechan shivered and groaned against her lips.

The boy was aware that this wasn't the right moment to let himself be swept away by the bond — not when his emotions were so tangled up they were giving him a headache, not when his squad was sleeping just a wall away, not on that tiny bed, and not in that suffocating heat.

But... dear God.

He told himself he could let himself be kissed senseless for a little while longer, and his hand slid down to grip her thigh and pull her closer. Discovering she was in her underwear changed everything entirely. He didn't move his hand from her bare, soft, inviting skin — but he pulled back from her face to catch his breath and recover some degree of clarity. Jaeni, however, had no interest in doing the same, and set to work on his neck — lips and teeth laying claim to his skin. Haechan closed his eyes in bliss, but forced himself to hold it together and speak.

"Wait... we shouldn't — not now," he whispered, making himself take his own advice.

God, the effort it took.

Jaeni surfaced and looked at him with a small, disgruntled pout.

Haechan chuckled and brushed her hair back from her temple. "These walls are paper-thin, this really isn't the place," he explained, taking a steadying breath.

The girl sighed and nodded, but didn't move away from him. She agreed, anyway. This really wasn't the place. Jaeni had never been the kind of girl who was in love with the idea of a soulmate — she'd never dreamed of the star-crossed fairy tale, though she didn't mind the concept, to be clear. Still, she'd sometimes found herself wondering just how extraordinary sex with your soulmate was supposed to be. She'd heard stories from a few friends and acquaintances, and everyone described it as something otherworldly — the most intense and incredible pleasure a human being could experience, literally. Nothing like sleeping with any ordinary person. So, against her better judgment, she had developed certain expectations.

And as exciting and tempting as Haechan was in that moment, her expectations did not include any part of that situation — not the unbearable heat, not the two centimeters of mattress each, not what she'd understood to be his ex lying within earshot on the same floor. Absolutely not.

"But you can sleep here," the boy whispered, drawing her attention back to him.

Cuddles it was, then.

Jaeni nestled against his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist and pressing her face into the curve of his neck, leaving an affectionate kiss there first.

It had been quite a while since Haechan had slept holding a woman — some time ago he and Rachel had fallen asleep together dead drunk, but he didn't think that counted.

He had definitely forgotten how good it could feel. He held her close and breathed in her scent, resting his cheek against her head and doing everything in his power to ignore the exhilarating sensation of their bare legs tangled together. The boy gave himself a few minutes to breathe and settle into a situation that was completely disorienting for his poor heart. Then he felt Jaeni's breathing grow quieter and understood she had fallen asleep, curled up in his arms.

He felt like crying.

It baffled him — how someone like her, sweet and lovely, affectionate, practically a teddy bear with long hair, could trust someone like him so openly and want so badly to make him feel okay. Because he could feel it in his gut, what Jaeni felt for him. He could sense that when she looked at him, the girl felt an irresistible urge to take care of him. And that was something he simply couldn't wrap his head around.

Haechan had spent a long time learning to get by on his own. Since his mother had died he had learned to pull away bricks one by one from the castle of love and hope she had built around him when he was small. He had resented her for a while when he'd come to understand that it had all been fantasy — he had told himself she would have been a better mother if she'd prepared him for the real world, the cruel and merciless one he'd come to know after she left. But he had also come to realize that hating her was too painful, that it was easier to hate the world instead — to hate it for taking away the only person who had ever loved him with their whole heart.

Then he had met Mark. And Jeno and Rachel and Jisung and Chae and Chenle and Renjun and Jaemin. And things had gotten a little better.

And now Jaeni — who hugged him at every possible opportunity, who couldn't wait to kiss him and come at him every time she so much as brushed against him (yes, he felt that too, somewhere low in his belly). It was all so new and unexpected and it scared him — knowing that now he had to reckon with this magical creature for the rest of his life, a life that put him face to face every day with obstacles and armed people and life-or-death missions. It would be a new challenge, one more to add to the list.

At least this challenge smelled like cookies and had a breathtaking ass, he told himself.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Mark was exhausted. He had spent the night talking with Giselle and Karina at the Velvet House, all without Irene's knowledge. And he was only getting home now, at five in the morning. Apparently, some of the clients who paid for the dancers' extra services in the private rooms would wait until they were alone with them to lay their hands on them. It had happened three times already, the last time to Giselle. From what the girls had told him, these weren't regulars — different people each time, not always the same one — and whoever had done the shooting was probably yet another person entirely. Mark had thought it over at length and had even asked around with employees at other similar venues in the slums, but it was only happening at the Velvet. He would need to dig further, but maybe... it looked like a group of people had coordinated to cause trouble at the strip club. A rival venue trying to shut it down? A personal score to settle with one of the employees, or with Irene or Seulgi.

What he knew for certain was that he would do something about it — friends worked in there. This time, however, Mark decided he would consult Taeyong and Taejin, even if the thought of facing his mentor after everything that had happened... made him uneasy. To say the least.

But it was time to act.

"What are you doing here?"

Jaeni jumped, spinning around and pressing a hand to her chest.

Had she realized she'd walked not into the bathroom but into one of Haechan's teammates' rooms? Yes.

Had she then minded her own business and left? Not exactly.

But on the desk of what looked like an empty office there was a photograph of a young Haechan and Mark, and she had very nearly started crying from how sweet it was.

The problem was that Mark had now come home and was staring at her from the doorway, puzzled. And she wanted to dig a hole in the floor and let the ground swallow her whole.

Jaeni pressed her palms together and gave a mortified bow.

Mark cleared his throat lightly. "It's fine... the bathroom is the door right outside Haechan's room," he said, getting ahead of any attempt at an explanation.

The girl let out a relieved sigh, nodding, and bowed again to thank him before heading toward the exit. The Leader stepped aside to let her pass. But before she could actually leave the room, he called her back. Jaeni looked at him curiously and waited.

"Um... I'm sorry about dinner. I didn't mean to insult you — I apologize."

Jaeni broke into a pleased smile and nodded as if accepting his apology, the unstable bun she'd thrown her hair into before leaving Haechan to go peeing swaying with the motion. She would have liked to say something, but she didn't have her phone with her — so she mouthed a "bye" and gave a little wave and headed off toward the bathroom. Hopefully.

Once she was halfway down the corridor, Mark spoke again.

"I had some of your cake, by the way. It was fantastic."

The girl chuckled and gave a short bow of thanks. It was the first time she'd ever felt warmly toward an ex.

Mark sighed and finally went into his room to get some sleep, but his attention was caught by the photograph Jaeni had been looking at before she'd been caught. It was a selfie Haechan had forced him to take, almost ten years ago. They were so young — traumatized by life and grown up far too soon, but so sweet, still carrying a few hopes of making some dreams come true here and there. It wasn't the only photo he kept on his desk. There was one he'd taken himself of the other eight, and one where the twins had forced him to pose. Apparently Mark always had to be coerced into taking a photo. The Leader picked it up and brought it close to his face to examine the details. Jisung had a black eye — God knows who had given it to him, he really couldn't remember — while he himself, in the photo, looked like he wanted to add to it, and Chae with her untameable mane of hair was grabbing him from behind in a forced embrace. Her face wore that thirty-two-tooth smile she always had when she was playing around, whether with Jisung or Rachel or anyone else.

How much he missed her.

The boy set the frame down and sniffled, then his heart nudged him toward something that few had had the courage to do in those past months. He left his room and made his way to Chae and Jisung's, just past the stairs. He put his hand on the knob and closed his eyes. He hadn't been in there in what felt like a lifetime. He took a deep breath and stopped holding back the urge to cry, letting his face relax. It was right to cry for her — it was his right to grieve her loss. So he let the tears run slowly down his cheeks and crossed the threshold of that sanctuary, turning on the light and stopping in the doorway. The twins' room was tidy — Jaemin had cleaned it one last time before Jisung decided he couldn't sleep in there anymore. It smelled of stale air, and a thin layer of dust covered the nightstands and the wardrobe. The double bed was made perfectly, the spring duvet still in place. Through the window came the first colors of dawn. Mark took a few steps toward the side of the bed where Chae had always slept and reached the nightstand — just seeing the girl's phone charger made a sob catch in his throat. The Leader changed course and found himself in front of the wardrobe the two had shared. He opened it and wasn't surprised to find it only half full, since Jisung had moved his clothes out long ago. He could understand how devastating it must be for him to open those doors every day and see her things. He reached in and pulled out one of Chae's favorite hoodies — absurdly oversized, a bright, vivid purple. He took a moment to feel the fabric between his hands, then sat at the foot of the bed and stared at it. When he felt ready enough, he brought the hoodie to his face and breathed in her scent.

His heart broke cleanly in two, and the sobs slipped past his meager control. The boy buried his face in Chae's purple hoodie and cried as quietly as he could, letting the grief fill his stomach.

Her scent was something he had never paid attention to — he hadn't even thought he'd be able to pick it out from among others — but smelling it again this vividly had brought back so many unconscious memories that he realized it was one more thing he'd been missing without knowing it.

Mark didn't flinch when he looked up and found Haechan watching him, expression serious, leaning against the doorframe. Because he had heard him coming. And he hadn't stopped crying — even if he'd wanted to, he couldn't have. He held his gaze for a moment through wet lashes, then looked back down at what he held in his hands, the fabric now damp with his tears.

Haechan came into the room and sat beside him on the bed. They stayed in silence, broken only by the older one's short, uneven breaths.

"I don't know how to m-move forward," the older one confessed in a murmur.

The younger one kept his silence.

"I don't know how to accept that you — that we..." he exhaled sharply and closed his eyes. "I don't know how to get through the grief. I don't know how to help you. I don't know how to reassure any of you. But I want to — you guys are my family, and I want us to be okay again, all of us together. I just don't know how."

Haechan looked at his profile and took his hand — still anchored to the purple fabric. Mark's eyes flew open and he turned to look at him. Haechan was watching him with that usual calm, apparently emotionless expression of his, but his thumb was tracing slow circles on the back of his hand — and that was enough to undo Mark. Fresh tears ran down his face.

"Forgive me — f-for what I said," he panted, trying to navigate that flood. "I've been an asshole and you don't deserve any of what I've put you through."

Haechan sighed, looking at their joined hands, but still didn't speak.

"I need you, Hyuck," he whispered, sniffling.

The younger one's eyes widened slightly at the nickname — it had been so long since he'd heard it.

"Whatever way you want — I just need you close. I can't do this without you," he pleaded, looking straight into his dark eyes.

The Anchor's shoulders relaxed. "I'm here," he whispered, squeezing his hand.

Mark closed his eyes to let those words settle, and let himself rest his head on his shoulder as he tried to steady his breathing and recover from that devastating inner earthquake.

After a few minutes of quiet comfort, the Leader pulled back slightly.

"You should go back to Jaeni," he said softly.

"She's the one who sent me here."

Mark looked at him, confused, and the other one shrugged.

"She woke me up and made me come make peace with you," he revealed, amused.

The older one made an amused face and shook his head. "She's sweet, by the way," he said, and meant it.

"Yeah," Haechan sighed. "She is."

"It's not platonic, is it."

"No," he admitted, looking at the floor.

"I hope she makes you happy. Truly."

The dark-haired boy looked at him and smiled — grateful that those words had come from the person who, for a long time, had been the most important in his life.

"I hope so too."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

07: you're drooling on the cake

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

It was strange to see the Velvet House so empty: no bartender behind the counter, no dancer on the floor, no music to go with the colored lights.

A shooting was, admittedly, far more effective than a "closed for vacation" sign at keeping customers away — even the regulars of the most beloved strip club in the slums. Only one bouncer was on duty that evening.

"Hold it. Tonight we're cl—"

"Get out of my way," Jaemin hissed through his teeth, shouldering past him and walking into the venue, his teammates following close behind.

The big man puffed up his chest and reached out to grab whoever he could get his hands on, but a woman barely taller than a Pringles can froze him in place with a single sharp look.

"Don't touch them," she ordered him, then turned to NCT D. "Thank you for coming. Follow me."

The four of them followed her at a quick pace through the backstage. The woman turned the keys she was holding nervously between her fingers, then unlocked a door at the far end of the largest dressing room in the corridor. For once, Jaemin paid absolutely no attention to the sweet scent of glitter and women's perfume soaked into those familiar walls.

He turned to Jeno and held out his hand. "The bag."

His soulmate tossed him the duffel and let him enter the makeshift infirmary first. The air was heavy — almost unbearable from the moment they walked in. Jaemin didn't spare anyone a glance, assessing the wound before he'd even reached Karina, who lay on her back, breathing in shallow gasps. Seeing the calm, focused boy approach, the girl felt such a wave of relief that warm tears began running down her cheeks. She hadn't allowed herself to cry until that moment.

"Anyone who's not needed — out. Now," Jaemin ordered, without taking his eyes off his patient.

The girls who had stayed by her side until then filed out with worried murmurs. Jeno gave Irene a nod, and she followed him and Renjun out the door, leaving only Rachel and Jaemin to take care of the girl.

The moment they were alone, Renjun crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. "What happened?"

The woman let out a frustrated sound and pressed a hand to her forehead. "We hadn't even opened yet... the dancers were warming up, the bartenders were cleaning the counter, the door was open. A man with a black hood pulled over his face — like he was about to rob a bank!" she exclaimed, still shaken. "He didn't say a word. He just started shooting everywhere, at random."

Jeno looked around: several mirrors hung throughout the venue were shattered, and some of the girls had started cleaning up, picking bullet casings out of every corner.

"He wasn't aiming at anyone specific?" Renjun asked.

Irene shook her head. "And then he just left... Seulgi went after him but lost him almost immediately."

"Was it a handgun?" the Captain asked.

"Maybe... I didn't see it, everything went to chaos, but from the sound — maybe he had two, but it seemed more like something semi-automatic."

Her phone started ringing, but before she could answer, Jeno stopped her. "Can I take a few casings?"

Irene waved him off with a tired gesture and stepped away to take the call. Jeno took that as a yes. Renjun helped him collect a few pieces of evidence, then flinched when he heard Karina cry out from inside the infirmary.

"Give her more morphine," Jaemin said, before pushing his gloved finger back into the wound.

Karina nodded, looking at Rachel, who was holding her hand from the other side of the cot. "Y-Yes, please."

Rachel obeyed, slipping the morphine vial into the fast-drip IV Jaemin had set up moments before, then returned to her side, dabbing the sweat from her forehead with a damp cloth. "Hold on..." she whispered, meeting the girl's eyes.

The girl on the cot felt the wave of relief from the painkiller and let her head fall back against the rolled-up towel serving as a pillow.

"It missed the femoral," the Medic murmured to himself, his index finger almost entirely inside the stripper's thigh. "But, fuck, this must hurt like hell."

"I think she's about to pass out," Rachel noted, watching the girl with concern.

"I... think so too," Karina slurred, her eyes fluttering.

"Good," Jaemin said, continuing to search for the bullet lodged in the flesh. "When you wake up you'll be all cleaned up and stitched back together."

Karina gave a small, dazed smile and lost consciousness the moment the boy sent another wave of unbearable pain through her.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

"Giselle!"

The girl with the long brown hair spun around and stood up to go to Haechan, who crossed to her in two quick strides and pulled her into his arms.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling back just enough to take her face in his hands.

Her makeup was smeared, dark mascara streaked all the way down to her chin, her loose hair was disheveled, and her skin was a mix of sweat, glitter, and cigarette smoke. But she wasn't hurt, Haechan noted.

"He just — out of nowhere, he started shooting at random! And Karina... God, I've never been so scared in my life," she said, sniffling and shaking her head as she took another drag of her cigarette.

Haechan looked through the back window of the Velvet House and caught a glimpse of some of his teammates. So Jaemin was already at work. "How is she?"

"He managed to get the bullet out, but she passed out. I think he's stitching her up now," the girl explained, sitting back down on the plastic chair in the small, run-down back patio.

She stared at the concrete for a few seconds, brought the cigarette back to her lips, then let the smoke out slowly.

Haechan sat down beside her. "Did you see him?"

Giselle kept looking at the ground. "Yes, but he had something covering his face, up to his nose. You could only see his eyes — I didn't recognize him."

Karina was her best friend, and a lot of other things besides. And now she was lying on a cot, unconscious, with a hole in her leg. Haechan knew how that felt — he'd been in that position more times than he could count.

He rested a hand on her bare knee. "She'll bounce back fast. Karina's not someone you get rid of easily."

Giselle let out a bitter laugh. "Damn right."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Mark didn't know how to cook. When Taeyong and Taejin had taken him in, the older ones had always fed him, and when he and his squad had moved into their own place, Jaemin had taken on the responsibility more than willingly. Which was why, at twenty-three, Mark didn't even know how to make scrambled eggs.

Let alone dinner for seven people.

"What's burning?" Chenle asked, walking into the kitchen.

Mark looked up, pained, from the cutting board on which he had massacred a carrot. "No idea — I haven't turned on the stove or the oven yet."

The younger one raised an eyebrow. "Then I'm seeing the future. What are you trying to make?" he asked, approaching the crime scene.

"Jaemin's still going to take a while. I wanted to have dinner ready."

Chenle sighed. "Alright. What recipe are you following?"

The Leader looked at him with pure bewilderment on his face.

The younger one answered with pure resignation.

Half an hour later, a pot of pasta bubbled away undisturbed, three steaks sizzled on the griddle, and Chenle's kimchi was jumping beautifully in the pan, fragrant and golden. Even Mark's two eggs had turned out decently.

Mark let out a sound of genuine surprise, looking around. "I didn't know you could cook."

Chenle glanced at him sideways for a second, then went back to working his pan. "It's... something I used to do with Chae, last year," he said quietly.

The older one fell silent.

"It was fun, I think. I did all the work and she just made a mess everywhere, but she seemed to love it so much. Then she stopped asking me. She stopped sending me the recipes she wanted to try. And I never said anything."

Mark had never heard that kind of emotion in Chenle's voice before. He kept quiet — partly because hearing Chae's name was making his throat close up.

"Since she's been gone I've thought about... starting again. It feels like a good way to honor her memory."

The boy moved away to flip the steaks, while his Leader blinked to push back the tears that had gathered in his eyes against his will.

Honor her memory.

What was he doing to honor Chae's memory?

Mark stared at his plate of (demolished) scrambled eggs and brooded over his recent life choices, until the quiet of the two brothers in the kitchen was broken by a sound neither of them had ever heard in that house.

Knock knock.

Chenle turned toward the door. "Was that — did someone just knock?"

Mark honestly didn't know what to say. So he did what he supposed you did when someone knocked on your door: he went to open it.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

🔧Phrases written in «italics» are spoken in sign language🔧

Jaeni had texted Rachel asking for their address because she had made lasagna. So there she was, standing in front of that rickety little house with no gate and no doorbell, the sunset at her back, a baking dish of lasagna in her arms. Because Haechan had rushed off and it seemed like something serious had happened to someone he knew, and she wanted to take care of him.

When the front door opened and she found herself face to face with a boy whose expression was serious and commanding, she nearly startled — but he was wearing a lime green kitchen apron, so she tried to stay positive.

The dark-haired boy raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

Jaeni felt her cheeks go warm and tried one of her smiles, nodding toward the food in her hands.

Mark was about to ask who she was, but Chenle's cheerful voice beat him to it. "Jaeni!"

The girl looked past the shoulder of the man in front of her and recognized one of Haechan's friends she'd offered bubble tea to. She greeted him with a wide, toothy smile.

"Uh — Jaeni?" Mark's eyes went wide.

The moment had arrived. Here was Haechan's soulmate, standing right in front of him.

"Hyung, let her in," Chenle urged, appearing at his side and putting a hand on his shoulder.

The older one shook himself. "Uh — yes, sorry," he whispered, stepping aside in the doorway. "Come on in."

Jaeni looked at him a little hesitantly, but stepped inside with a small bow and handed the lasagna dish to Chenle, who commented enthusiastically and thanked her as he invited her into the kitchen. Mark took a long, deep breath and closed the door.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Jaemin was trembling, and it looked like smoke might start coming out of his ears at any moment. Once the adrenaline rush that had carried him through doing his best to patch up Karina had passed, the anger had taken over. He was a regular at the Velvet House.

Well — he had literally helped building it. And Karina was a close friend of his. So the thought of a man walking in there and opening fire to hurt the people who worked there was making him seethe. Not even the comfort of Jeno's hand on his thigh was enough to calm him down. Jeno kept stealing glances at him as he drove them home, but knew there was nothing he could say to help.

An angry Jaemin needed silence and time to stew and work his way to a solution on his own.

"No, you can't see anything," Haechan sighed from the back seat of the car he had driven back to the Velvet from Jaeni's apartment, watching the footage of the shooting on Renjun's phone — the feed from the venue's security cameras.

Cameras that Renjun himself had installed, actually.

The Hacker let out a frustrated sound and kept going over the footage until his eyes ached, switching from angle to angle, but Giselle had seen right: the man's face was covered and he didn't look like anyone they'd dealt with before. Rachel, sitting beside the two of them, glanced briefly at the screen, then shifted her gaze to the window, where the darkness of evening was beginning to replace the beautiful colors of the sunset.

The Velvet House had been her home for a while — back when she thought she couldn't aspire to anything better, when it wasn't yet the safe haven it had become (well, up until that morning, evidently), when the dancers weren't called that and didn't really dance, when it wasn't run by Irene and Seulgi but by a man with as many enemies as allies. She had always hated going in there, even after the renovation and the fresh start, even after getting to know the girls and boys who worked there now — pulled off the streets or away from violent parents or out of orphanages. Kids like her, like all of them. And she was certain this mess wasn't the work of some escaped mental patient who'd stumbled across a weapon and lost a few screws along the way. No — there was definitely something bigger behind it, and Rachel had absolutely no desire to find out what, not if it meant spending more time at the Velvet.

When her beloved crumbling little house came into view, Rachel climbed out of the car the moment Jeno parked and hurried to the front door, her teammates following in silence behind her.

"What the fuck—"

They all turned toward Haechan, who had frozen a few steps back, staring at the front door.

"What is it?" the girl asked, looking at him.

Haechan swallowed and tilted his head to one side, as if he were listening to a strange conversation through the door. Or maybe inside his own head — who could say. Still wearing that puzzled expression, the Anchor stepped past Rachel and the others and walked into the house, stopping dead in the doorway. The girl rose up on her tiptoes to see past his shoulder and felt a wave of pure joy wash warmly through her.

Jaeni was there.

Rachel dodged around Haechan and spilled into the house calling the girl's name. Jaeni had been watching her soulmate with a small, uncertain smile, but at the sound of Rachel's voice she gave her her full attention. She waved with a happy smile while continuing to decorate a slightly lopsided cake with fruit. Rachel immediately appeared at her side behind the kitchen table — which now looked more like a pastry workshop — but flinched at Chenle's sharp voice to her right.

"Touch a single thing and I will cut your hands off, you absolute disaster," he threatened, waving the ladle he was holding over yet another side dish.

Maybe he had gotten a little carried away... they'd be eating for at least a week with all that food.

Rachel rolled her eyes but clasped her hands behind her back to avoid making a mess and actually getting the ladle in the face — because it was coming, she was certain of it.

"What are you doing here?" Haechan's soft tone made both women look up at the boy, who had sat down in the chair across from the girl on the other side of the table.

Jaeni started to say something in sign language, but Chenle beat her to it from his post at the stove. "She brought food. Apparently that's what decent people do in the nicer parts of the city."

Jaeni chuckled and was about to respond or add something, but two boys she had never seen before walked into the kitchen. The first, slightly taller and broad-shouldered, had disheveled brown hair and a pensive expression on a spectacularly perfect face — soft, clean features, gentle eyes that now seemed to be somewhere far away. The second radiated a different energy, more masculine and dangerous with that black hair and the muscles of his arms on full display, but his face looked kind, and maybe even a little shy.

They were wonderful.

Rachel elbowed the shorter girl. "I know they have that effect, but you're drooling on the cake."

Jaeni blinked a couple of times and turned scarlet, tearing her gaze away from the two of them, earning a mocking laugh from the girl beside her, who proceeded to introduce the two boys.

Jaemin and Jeno... now she understood every bit of Seonwoo's excitement about that five-person date.

Jaeni felt a bitter little pang shoot straight into her stomach and brought her eyes to her soulmate. Because that was jealousy, and it hadn't come from her. Haechan felt her gaze on him and looked back at her.

"What?" he asked, playing dumb and doing his absolute best not to sound irritated.

Jaeni shook her head and shrugged, but gave him a small smile that told Haechan she'd felt his jealousy.

"How are the girls doing?"

Haechan stiffened the instant he heard Mark's voice. The older one had come downstairs and was now doing everything in his power to avoid looking at him.

Jaemin answered flatly. "Karina won't be walking for a while, but she'll be alright."

"No one else was hurt," Jeno added.

Mark nodded, relieved.

At some point he'd had to leave the two cooks to fend for themselves, because Jaeni's presence had become unbearable. She was adorable and seemed genuinely nicer than Sohyun, but the thought that she would be the one spending the rest of her life at Haechan's side made him sick. And it was even worse knowing she was a far more appealing choice for him — she was beautiful, smart, she could cook, she was a decent person, and she even had her own apartment, her own job, a legal job. Anyone would choose that over what Mark had to offer.

Which was nothing.

He hated himself — the Leader hated himself so deeply for having let the love of his life slip through his fingers because of his own insecurities. He had waited, put it off, and in the end lost everything. Haechan had been his, for a long time. Mark knew it, Haechan himself knew it, but the older one had refused to accept it. And now that he truly couldn't have him anymore, he couldn't accept that either. He had tried, but he just couldn't do it — it hurt too much, and he was so tired of suffering. He had come to understand that his resentment wasn't getting him anywhere, that it was only making things worse, but all he wanted was for everyone to disappear — especially Jaeni — and for it to be just him and Haechan left in the world. Or maybe no one at all, neither him nor anyone else, for the world to simply go dark so that no one would ever die because of him again and no one would ever suffer or cry or scream in pain.

"Report," Jeno said, giving Haechan a nod. Haechan nodded back and stood up from his chair, ready to head upstairs with the Captain to fill the Leader in on what they knew about the shooting.

But Mark stopped them. "N-No. Let's eat first, it's late," he said, waving for everyone to start clearing the table and setting it for dinner.

Jaeni looked at her soulmate and made a mental note of the endless questions swirling through her head since she'd met the Leader a few hours earlier. What was there — or what had there been — between him and Haechan? And what was happening now? Why did Haechan's stomach twist every time the older one opened his mouth? And why couldn't Mark look him in the eyes?

She didn't know if she would ever actually ask Haechan those questions, but for now she filed them away, just for herself.

Ten minutes later, Chenle started serving dinner for everyone. Jaemin was quieter than usual, but the table felt calm and peaceful — like a family dinner. The only one missing was Jisung, who would be back from his trip the following week. Jaeni was being bombarded with questions, and even Jeno was joining in the conversation.

"Who's Sohyun?" Jaeni signed, after hearing the name a couple of times.

"She's Jisung's girlfriend — the youngest," Haechan explained before taking another eager bite of his steak.

It had been a while since he'd been this hungry. Mark noticed.

"I can't wait for you two to meet — you'll definitely hate each other," Renjun laughed, piquing Jaeni's curiosity.

"Let's just say Sohyun is a little... grumpy," Chenle offered.

"Grumpier than him?" Jaeni asked, surprised, then pointed at her soulmate sitting beside her at the table.

Chenle laughed and translated for the rest of the table, who joined in the laughter, while Haechan kept chewing his meat and shot her a look.

"There's a reason he's grumpy, you know," Mark cut in. He wasn't laughing.

The table went quiet and every pair of eyes flew in his direction.

"Not everyone is lucky enough to have a nice childhood and grow up happy and carefree. Some of us turn out grumpy," the Leader continued, looking at her with what seemed like resentment.

Jaeni dropped her gaze, mortified, and stared at her plate, genuinely not knowing what to say.

"Hyung, it was just a joke," Chenle stepped in, trying to ease the tension.

"No. She doesn't know anything. She doesn't know anything about Haechan or Sohyun or any of us," he replied, frustrated.

"What the fuck is your problem?"

Mark turned to Haechan, who was looking at him with the same hateful stare Mark had grown used to receiving from his best friend. He held it for a few seconds, letting it sink into his bones, letting it hurt as much as it possibly could.

"You are my problem," he hissed, making someone at the table flinch.

Haechan sharpened his gaze and felt his heart begin to beat harder. "Oh, trust me, you've made that more than clear these past months — the moment Chae died out of nowhere I became the villain, for reasons I can't quite figure out," he growled.

Mark's eyes went wide and he shot up from his chair. "How can you talk about her like that?! How can you say her name so casually, like it doesn't affect you at all?!" the older one shouted, eyes glistening with rage.

Haechan stood up too, pushing back his chair. "It does affect me!" he exclaimed, catching his teammates off guard — they had rarely heard him raise his voice. "It kills me! It kills me every time I think about it, every time I remember — but she's gone! You're not the only one who lost her, Mark. Jisung lost her. Everyone lost her. I lost her. Stop playing the victim and pull yourself together, for fuck's sake! We're all drowning and you're supposed to be the one who gets us out, and instead you're dragging us all down with you," he went on, tears now running down his cheeks.

Jaeni watched her soulmate's face, trying to hold back her own tears — she had no right to cry for someone she had never known, but she could feel every bit of the pain Haechan was carrying in that moment, deep in her gut.

Mark took a step toward him and pointed a finger at him. "You like to think you're the hero just because you managed to keep a cool head that day? Please — you always keep a cool head. You don't feel anything for anyone. Ever. And I'm supposed to believe you suffered as much as me and Jisung over Chae? Give me a break. Look at you — happy as can be because now there's someone else giving you a little attention."

Jaeni flinched at the sharp pang that shot through her soulmate at those words. Not in the stomach — a little closer to the heart.

Haechan sniffled and held the Leader's gaze. "Oh, so that's what this is about," he said quietly, taking a step toward him with a contemptuous air. "What's the matter? Did you think I'd wait for you my whole life? That I'd keep waiting for someone who's ashamed to love me?"

Mark's eyes went wide the instant the truth he had hidden for years — even from himself — was thrown back in his face.

"I don't deserve this," the younger one continued. "I'm not the broken, lonely kid I was when you met me. You should have grown too, but apparently you keep disappointing me," he finished, giving him one last wounded look, then turned and walked toward the entrance.

The boy went out and pulled the door shut behind him. Mark swallowed the nest of thorns lodged in his throat and disappeared up the stairs without a word.

The people left at the table remembered how to breathe: Jeno sank back against his chair with a sigh, Rachel finished her glass of water with a trembling hand, Renjun wiped away the tear that had escaped while he stared at the tablecloth, Chenle turned the words he'd just heard over in his mind, and Jaemin ran a tired hand over his face. Jaeni rose slowly and followed Haechan's footsteps out of the house.

No one stopped her. No one told her it was impossible to comfort the Anchor, that it was pointless to go after him and better to let him deal with it alone. Because in the ten years they had spent together, none of them had ever seen that side of Haechan.

Except for Jaeni, who had been in his life for one week.

So no one stopped her.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

06: it sucks a little

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Haechan woke with a start, his heart racing.

He didn't recognize the curtains, or the walls, or the couch — and why did he feel so groggy?

Had he... slept?

He held still and listened, but heard only silence. Then, small flashes of what had happened the night before surfaced behind his eyes.

He was at Jaeni's place.

He let out a small, relieved breath and looked around. The large glass wall was darkened by simple dark gray curtains. His legs were trapped in a lightweight blanket that had twisted itself into a soft tangle around him. The apartment seemed empty — he couldn't even sense his soulmate's presence anywhere.

It felt impossible that he'd spent the night actually sleeping. No dreams, no nightmares. He thought it might be the air conditioning, but it was more honest to admit that Jaeni's comfort had lulled him into a cocoon of safety he hadn't felt in — his whole life. He didn't even remember falling asleep, or how he'd ended up settled on the couch, or anything that had happened after pouring every single one of his traumas and problems onto a poor, half-stranger, half-asleep girl. The boy covered his face with his palms and dedicated a few well-deserved insults to himself.

He huffed and untangled himself from the web that had imprisoned him through that devastating sleep. He got to his feet — with some effort — and stretched like a cat with an indecent yawn. The sun was already fairly high in the sky. What time was it? He looked around and spotted his phone on the coffee table in front of the couch, plugged into a charging cable. His brain couldn't even process a gesture so small and so thoughtful. It was half past ten, and his screen was flooded with curious, worried messages from his people trying to figure out where he'd disappeared to. Jaemin had called five times in the last two hours. Haechan huffed and opened the group chat to let them know he was alive, but a small note next to where his phone had rested through the night caught his eye.

"Good morning! Gone to get groceries, back soon ♡ 

— Jaeni"

The boy let out an amused huff at the little hearts dotting the i's and headed toward the glass wall to pull the curtains open and let the sunlight in. It was a tremendously bright apartment — almost too bright for Haechan's taste — but he had to admit the view from up there was breathtaking. He could see the entire stretch of Seoul he never got to see — the part so far removed and so different from the slums and their neighborhood that it barely seemed to belong to the same city. He sighed and went looking for the bathroom, which he found at the end of the hallway on the left, just past the bedroom — which he didn't allow himself to explore. The bathroom was like the rest of the apartment: white, clean, elegant, and gleaming. He used the toilet and washed his face with cold water to shake off that strange, drowsy fog. When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he stood there looking at himself for a moment. His dark circles were still there, but less deep. His cheeks still hollow, but his skin less drawn, less exhausted. The boy sighed and went back to the living room, folded the little blanket printed with blue strawberries that he'd slept under, and set it neatly back on the couch. He considered whether the right move was to leave before the owner of the apartment got back, then dismissed the idea. He owed her an apology, at least. He owed her that much.

The screen of his phone, still on the coffee table, lit up. Right. Jaemin.

"Hello?"

His teammate's voice came through sharp and furious. "Hello? What do you mean, hello? Are you out of your mind? Where the fuck are you? Are you alive?"

Haechan huffed. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Then why the fuck weren't you picking up?"

"Because I was sleeping, genius."

He heard a rustling, then recognized Jeno's voice. "Do you want to tell us where you are?"

Haechan paused. "At Jaeni's."

The line went quiet on the other end.

"I'll be back soon, don't make a big deal out of it," he said, ending the call just in time to see the front door of the apartment swing open.

Jaeni poked her head inside and broke into a warm smile when she saw him awake. She pushed the door all the way open to come in, revealing the avalanche of grocery bags she had with her. Haechan hurried over to help carry everything inside, receiving a cheerful look in thanks. He set the bags down on the kitchen island while, out of the corner of his eye, he watched his soulmate typing something on her phone.

The girl shoved the screen in front of his face. "Did you sleep well?"

Haechan sighed and started unpacking the grocery bags. "Surprisingly, yes." He let out another sigh, folding up an empty plastic bag. "Listen, I'm so sorry about last night — or rather, this morning, i guess. I just... I don't actually know what to say in my defense."

Jaeni tilted her head with a half-smile and stepped closer to him with an amused expression.

Haechan's eyes went wide when the girl wrapped her arms around his waist and kept looking at him with that mischievous gaze. "W-What are you... another hug?"

Jaeni laughed silently and nodded against his collarbone, typing something else in her phone's notes. "Get used to it."

Haechan laughed and returned the hug, a little awkwardly. Okay — he could probably get used to this. Jaeni was soft and her hair smelled good. The Anchor decided he could let her hug him without having an anxiety attack every time.

The girl suddenly pulled back and looked at him as if she'd just had a brilliant idea. Which she had. Haechan raised a wary eyebrow — too many emotions all at once for his poor introverted heart. Jaeni stepped out of the hug (leaving him with a hollow feeling at the absence) and started rummaging through one of the bags she'd brought home. She was practically vibrating like a child in a candy store. Jaeni's smile stretched even wider, if that was possible, when she turned back to her soulmate holding a jar of... blue paint?

The dark-haired boy blinked a couple of times, baffled. "Okay?"

Jaeni grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him after her down the hallway, stopping in front of the closed door across from her bedroom. She opened it and brought her guest inside with her. Haechan looked around: it was a completely bare room, white like the rest of the apartment, a skylight flooding it with intense natural light that shone on the empty walls, and a solitary little desk abandoned against one wall. Seeing Haechan's questioning expression, Jaeni picked up her phone again.

"Art studio. It'll be my office soon."

Right — because Jaeni was an artist. She worked for a webtoon company. She'd told him that their first evening together. The girl gestured again at the paint jar she was holding by its handle and then pointed at the wall opposite the door. Haechan very nearly flinched at the idea of having to stand there and paint the room with her. Was she joking? Locked in there with her for however long it would take... painting a wall? He had things to do, he had work, he needed to — well, do something that was certainly more important than this.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I really have to go now. It's late," he said with a pathetic apologetic smile, taking a step back toward the hallway.

Jaeni put a hand on her hip and looked at him the way a mother looks at her child lying straight to her face. "What do you have to do?" she asked in sign language.

But Haechan understood, more or less. He'd only had one lesson with Chenle, but he'd caught "what" and "do" — and the expression on her face was perfectly clear. "I have important things to take care of."

"Like?"

He caught that one too. "Like secret, illegal, criminal things."

In reality Haechan had absolutely nothing and no one waiting for him at home — except for his nosy teammates, who couldn't wait to give him the third degree.

Jaeni let out an incredulous huff and started typing on her phone, then turned the screen toward him. "Stop making things up and have a little fun."

The girl pressed the sealed jar of paint against his chest and bent down to grab a large paintbrush from a bucket next to the door that he hadn't even noticed. She handed him that too, with a bright smile, and typed one last thing on her phone before leaving him standing there wondering where his life had gone and what he'd done to deserve this.

"Going to get the drop cloths."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Rachel chuckled, looking up ahead of her. "What's wrong? Are you tired, old man?"

Mark grunted and squinted with the effort. What had he been thinking when he'd challenged Rachel to a plank contest? They'd been holding the position for three minutes and she wasn't even breaking a sweat, while he was shaking and could barely speak. After yet another anti-geriatric jab from the girl, Mark collapsed onto the yoga mat with an exhausted sigh. The younger one let out a little shriek of triumph and sat up gracefully, grinning with satisfaction.

"You've lost your edge, grandpa."

Mark shot her a look. "Shut it, we're only seven months apart," he panted.

"And every single one of them shows," she shot back, flicking him on the forehead before getting up.

Mark watched her walk away, then lay back and stared at the ceiling of the training room. Haechan was still at Jaeni's after slipping out in the middle of the night. He still had that shattered expression printed behind his eyes — those glistening, wide-open eyes looking at him as if he were the cause of all his problems, of his miserable state of mind. Was he the one driving him into that girl's arms? Maybe it was for the best. Haechan deserved to be happy, even if that meant Mark couldn't have him for himself.

"Oh. My. God," Rachel enunciated dramatically, bringing a hand to her mouth and turning toward Mark with her phone in hand.

"What is it?" the Leader asked, looking up at her from the floor.

The girl came closer and sat down beside him to show him her screen. The saliva caught in his throat. It was a photo of Haechan — wearing a transparent garbage bag as a smock, a paint-covered brush in his hand, his nose and a lock of hair falling across his forehead smeared with blue. His face was bored and irritated at whoever was taking the picture, but Mark couldn't miss the glimmer lighting up his eyes. His face and posture said "get that thing out of my face," but his whole aura was content. Relaxed. It had been a long time since he'd seen him like that.

Rachel pulled the phone away from his face. "Everything okay?" she asked carefully.

Mark shook himself out of his thoughts and sat up. "Of course," he managed. "Did she send it to you?"

The girl nodded. "She's adorable, you know? You'd definitely like her," she said, not quite sure what reaction to expect from the older one.

He looked up at his sister's face and found only warmth and understanding there. "It's my fault he's like this."

Rachel sighed and shook her head, resting her temple against his shoulder. "Of course it isn't. He's like this because of Chae."

"I've been an ass to him."

"That part is true."

Mark huffed. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You could try telling him what you just told me," the girl let out a sarcastic little laugh. "But what do I know — I'm even better than you at pushing people away."

"That's also true," he sighed, mimicking her tone.

Rachel shoved him down onto the floor and punched him in the stomach.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Chenle wasn't entirely sure why he was there, but he hadn't had much opportunity to ask questions when Taeyong had called him. He'd only told him to come to the NCT 127 house and not to tell Mark. He had obviously told Mark. Mark was his Leader — not Taeyong.

"How are things at home?"

Chenle looked up at the older one and shrugged. "So-so. Could be worse, I guess. Without Jisung around the air is a little less tense."

The period after Chae's death had been devastating, no question. And even though Jisung didn't seem to be struggling as much as everyone had expected to get through the grief, his teammates walked on eggshells whenever he was around. He was definitely the one who had lost the most, that night in April.

Taeyong nodded and, pretending to be only vaguely interested as he doodled aimlessly in a small notebook, continued his interrogation. "Did you ever track down the guy from the Carnival?"

"Yeah, Jeno and Haechan found out where he lives."

"Good. What about Renjun's situation with the Wave?"

Chenle hesitated before answering. Why was he asking him? Mark was the one who was supposed to report in. Or the Captain, at most. "It's on hold. He hasn't been able to do much for them yet."

"How's Jisung's vacation going?"

"He burned his ass."

The older one let out an amused huff and kept writing whatever he was writing. "And... have Haechan and Mark sorted things out?"

Silence settled over the wooden furniture of the NCT leaders' office, and when Taeyong realized Chenle wasn't answering, he stopped doodling and looked at him — sitting in the chair across from his desk. The younger one was staring at him with furrowed brows. Taeyong raised an eyebrow.

"Hyung, why are you asking me?"

Taeyong looked away. "Because you always know everything."

"Or maybe because you don't have the nerve to talk to Mark directly?"

"You can go now, Chenle, thanks for coming."

The boy let out a bitter tsk and stood up, ready to walk out. There weren't many things that got under his skin, but the attitude Taeyong and Taejin had adopted since Chae's death was definitely one of them. He didn't know what had been said between Taeyong and Mark after the incident, but he knew they had barely spoken since. He still hadn't quite figured out how either of them felt about it — reading human emotions wasn't an art he had mastered yet. Not even close. But what he had figured out was that Taeyong was the adult, the more experienced one, the one with the responsibility to guide the younger Leader. And that was certainly not what he was doing.

"Since you're so interested — Haechan has met his soulmate," he revealed, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

"It sucks."

"Oh, fuck you, it doesn't suck," Renjun snapped, on the verge of punching the Captain.

Jeno laughed as he watched the shorter one sip his homemade matcha latte with nothing but a childish pout on his lips holding back another curse.

"What sucks?" Rachel asked cheerfully, walking into the kitchen with wet hair and sitting down at the table next to the Captain, who didn't go so far as to give her more than a quick sideways glance.

"I made matcha!" Renjun exclaimed, smiling at her proudly.

Rachel's eyes lit up and her gaze landed immediately on the foam-topped cup in front of Jeno. She grabbed it and brought it to her lips for a taste.

After a few seconds of silence, the girl looked at Renjun. "It sucks a little"

"You both suck," he hissed, picking up his cup and retreating to the couch.

Rachel chuckled and shook her head, then noticed Jeno's eyes on her. She turned toward him and gave him an almost shy smile.

"How are you doing?" he asked, careful.

She shrugged. "Okay... I think. I'm starting to miss Jisung."

Jeno chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, who would have thought."

Rachel was about to say something else — anything, just to keep hearing his voice — but was cut off by the heavy thud of Jaemin's footsteps as he came racing down the stairs.

"Everyone up, let's go," he called out, heading quickly toward the entrance to put his shoes on.

Rachel and Jeno stood up, alarmed.

"What's going on?" Renjun asked, setting his cup on the coffee table before getting up from the couch — actually his first attempt at matcha couldn't be called a success, but he would never admit it.

"There's been a shooting at the Velvet," Jaemin told them, finishing lacing up his sneakers. "Karina's been hit."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Haechan could feel the skin on his cheeks pulling — the paint had dried on his face. And on his fingers. He was pretty sure he had some in his socks too. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent a day this... quiet. They'd ordered food and then painted the wall... however they felt like it. He had asked her for directions, guidelines, and she had answered only with "make it as ugly as you want." At first he'd painted his half of the wall carefully, laying down the blue with precision. Then Jaeni had huffed and splattered purple all over his meticulously painted section. He'd looked at her like she'd lost her mind, and she'd burst out laughing before nearly jabbing a paint-covered finger into his eye.

It had been fun. Relaxing. For a few hours Haechan had managed not to think about Chae, or Mark, or even himself, really. He'd only thought about not overloading the brush, about getting back at Jaeni by covering her in orange since apparently she hated that color, about genuinely enjoying his free japchae, and about not being ashamed of what he felt every time Jaeni brushed against him.

He'd kept trying to convince himself that this was a platonic bond, but he'd come to realize he was just terrified of falling for her. Still, he was going to have to come to terms with it — because Jaeni had been wearing her pajama shorts all day and he'd had to wipe the drool from his chin every time she'd bent down to dip her brush in the paint jar.

And now, even though the boy had sipped that glass of Coke as slowly as humanly possible, it really was time to go.

"Thanks for lunch. I had a good time," he started, setting the empty glass in the sink.

Jaeni watched him move through her kitchen with quiet longing, and swallowed, then smiled when the boy turned toward her. Haechan was beautiful. He was tall and strong and one of those quietly gentlemanly types capable of setting off butterflies and dragonflies and hummingbirds and parrots and toucans in her stomach with a single gesture. His face was soft but sharp, and his eyes were so deep and dark that her legs went weak every time he looked at her. She didn't want him to leave. Having him near was frightening and tremendously pleasant at the same time. But as much as she wanted to climb him like a tree, she thought Seonwoo's words made sense too.

"Maybe before you fuck him you should figure out if he's a decent person, just a thought," he had advised her the day before.

He was right, but what a pain.

"I have to go now," Haechan announced, heading toward the front door. "For real," he added with a small, amused smile.

Jaeni chuckled and nodded, walking him to the exit. "Thanks for the help," she signed, not knowing if he'd understand — but it seemed like he did.

Apparently he was really learning it for her.

Haechan looked her straight in the eyes, and short-circuited for a couple of seconds. He didn't want to leave. He was about to answer her and say goodbye when a message came in.

"Shit," he whispered, processing the words Renjun had sent.

Jaeni stepped closer, drawing his attention. "Everything okay?"

Haechan shook his head. "Not really. I have to run... I'll — um, I'll text you, okay?"

The girl nodded and gave him a pathetic, half-hearted little wave. The boy opened the door and stepped out, ready to pull it shut behind him and sprint to the Velvet House to check on Karina.

But —

But, for the love of God. Would it really be so selfish to do something for himself, just once? Being with her had been so good...

Fuck it.

Fuck his childhood traumas, fuck his father, fuck his responsibilities, fuck NCT, fuck everyone.

He pushed the door back open and crossed to her in two strides, took her face in his hands, and breathed in her scent.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered, searching her wide, surprised eyes for a reason to stop himself.

Jaeni took a few seconds to register what was happening, but the moment she realized his face was close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, she nodded without hesitation and closed her eyes as their lips met.

Haechan didn't hold back — he took her mouth without stopping to wonder twice whether it was the right thing to do. But it felt like it was. Jaeni tasted of white, of serenity, of light, of peace. Their tongues met and his heart went wild, the bond sending electricity up his spine, and his body moved toward Jaeni's on instinct. She gave herself over completely to her own sensations and bunched his dark t-shirt in her fists to keep him from pulling away. Haechan broke away just enough to breathe and run his tongue over his lips, his thumbs tracing her temples.

"It's too soon, isn't it?" he whispered, in a tone so low and warm that Jaeni was fairly certain she was about to dissolve right there on the hardwood floor.

The girl managed a small nod, and her stomach flipped when the boy kissed her again as if he hadn't eaten in days and her mouth was the best thing he'd ever tasted. It was.

He took a step forward, pushing her back a step, not daring to break away from her lips by even a millimeter. He kept going until Jaeni was caught between his warm body and the edge of the kitchen island. He couldn't stop — didn't want to, couldn't. A low sound rose in his chest and died against Jaeni's lips. She pulled back to catch her breath.

"Mhh..." he rumbled, going as still as he possibly could.

Jaeni gave a small smile and brushed her nose against his.

"I have to leave — I don't want to leave," he whispered, desperate.

The girl mouthed an "it's okay" and looked him in the eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her breath a little unsteady, her cheeks flushed. She released her grip on his shirt to smooth back that one lock of hair still damp from his attempt to wash off the colored paint, and she could have sworn she saw his dark irises tremble. Knowing that if he didn't leave within thirty seconds she would throw herself at him, Jaeni forced herself to press her hands against his chest and ease him away from her.

Haechan did his best to shake off that daze, but without his soulmate's hands to hold him upright... he was fairly certain he would have collapsed on top of her.

"Okay. I'm going now."

Jaeni let out a little laugh and grabbed the notepad abandoned on the gleaming countertop.

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"You can come back whenever you want."

The boy felt his stomach warm as he read those words. Jaeni wasn't going anywhere. She was his, he belonged to her. Right.

So he stepped back, walked out of the apartment adding her smile to his growing collection, and pulled the door shut behind him to go find his teammates.

And return to his ordinary life.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

yeah, hi

so i took a break. i really needed one.

so double update today! before reading this chapter make sure to read the 5th one!

This book only has 10 chapters so we're halfway!!

enjoyyyy ^^

[im4rmy]

06: it sucks a little

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Haechan woke with a start, his heart racing.

He didn't recognize the curtains, or the walls, or the couch — and why did he feel so groggy?

Had he... slept?

He held still and listened, but heard only silence. Then, small flashes of what had happened the night before surfaced behind his eyes.

He was at Jaeni's place.

He let out a small, relieved breath and looked around. The large glass wall was darkened by simple dark gray curtains. His legs were trapped in a lightweight blanket that had twisted itself into a soft tangle around him. The apartment seemed empty — he couldn't even sense his soulmate's presence anywhere.

It felt impossible that he'd spent the night actually sleeping. No dreams, no nightmares. He thought it might be the air conditioning, but it was more honest to admit that Jaeni's comfort had lulled him into a cocoon of safety he hadn't felt in — his whole life. He didn't even remember falling asleep, or how he'd ended up settled on the couch, or anything that had happened after pouring every single one of his traumas and problems onto a poor, half-stranger, half-asleep girl. The boy covered his face with his palms and dedicated a few well-deserved insults to himself.

He huffed and untangled himself from the web that had imprisoned him through that devastating sleep. He got to his feet — with some effort — and stretched like a cat with an indecent yawn. The sun was already fairly high in the sky. What time was it? He looked around and spotted his phone on the coffee table in front of the couch, plugged into a charging cable. His brain couldn't even process a gesture so small and so thoughtful. It was half past ten, and his screen was flooded with curious, worried messages from his people trying to figure out where he'd disappeared to. Jaemin had called five times in the last two hours. Haechan huffed and opened the group chat to let them know he was alive, but a small note next to where his phone had rested through the night caught his eye.

"Good morning! Gone to get groceries, back soon ♡ 

— Jaeni"

The boy let out an amused huff at the little hearts dotting the i's and headed toward the glass wall to pull the curtains open and let the sunlight in. It was a tremendously bright apartment — almost too bright for Haechan's taste — but he had to admit the view from up there was breathtaking. He could see the entire stretch of Seoul he never got to see — the part so far removed and so different from the slums and their neighborhood that it barely seemed to belong to the same city. He sighed and went looking for the bathroom, which he found at the end of the hallway on the left, just past the bedroom — which he didn't allow himself to explore. The bathroom was like the rest of the apartment: white, clean, elegant, and gleaming. He used the toilet and washed his face with cold water to shake off that strange, drowsy fog. When he caught his reflection in the mirror, he stood there looking at himself for a moment. His dark circles were still there, but less deep. His cheeks still hollow, but his skin less drawn, less exhausted. The boy sighed and went back to the living room, folded the little blanket printed with blue strawberries that he'd slept under, and set it neatly back on the couch. He considered whether the right move was to leave before the owner of the apartment got back, then dismissed the idea. He owed her an apology, at least. He owed her that much.

The screen of his phone, still on the coffee table, lit up. Right. Jaemin.

"Hello?"

His teammate's voice came through sharp and furious. "Hello? What do you mean, hello? Are you out of your mind? Where the fuck are you? Are you alive?"

Haechan huffed. "Yeah, everything's fine."

"Then why the fuck weren't you picking up?"

"Because I was sleeping, genius."

He heard a rustling, then recognized Jeno's voice. "Do you want to tell us where you are?"

Haechan paused. "At Jaeni's."

The line went quiet on the other end.

"I'll be back soon, don't make a big deal out of it," he said, ending the call just in time to see the front door of the apartment swing open.

Jaeni poked her head inside and broke into a warm smile when she saw him awake. She pushed the door all the way open to come in, revealing the avalanche of grocery bags she had with her. Haechan hurried over to help carry everything inside, receiving a cheerful look in thanks. He set the bags down on the kitchen island while, out of the corner of his eye, he watched his soulmate typing something on her phone.

The girl shoved the screen in front of his face. "Did you sleep well?"

Haechan sighed and started unpacking the grocery bags. "Surprisingly, yes." He let out another sigh, folding up an empty plastic bag. "Listen, I'm so sorry about last night — or rather, this morning, i guess. I just... I don't actually know what to say in my defense."

Jaeni tilted her head with a half-smile and stepped closer to him with an amused expression.

Haechan's eyes went wide when the girl wrapped her arms around his waist and kept looking at him with that mischievous gaze. "W-What are you... another hug?"

Jaeni laughed silently and nodded against his collarbone, typing something else in her phone's notes. "Get used to it."

Haechan laughed and returned the hug, a little awkwardly. Okay — he could probably get used to this. Jaeni was soft and her hair smelled good. The Anchor decided he could let her hug him without having an anxiety attack every time.

The girl suddenly pulled back and looked at him as if she'd just had a brilliant idea. Which she had. Haechan raised a wary eyebrow — too many emotions all at once for his poor introverted heart. Jaeni stepped out of the hug (leaving him with a hollow feeling at the absence) and started rummaging through one of the bags she'd brought home. She was practically vibrating like a child in a candy store. Jaeni's smile stretched even wider, if that was possible, when she turned back to her soulmate holding a jar of... blue paint?

The dark-haired boy blinked a couple of times, baffled. "Okay?"

Jaeni grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him after her down the hallway, stopping in front of the closed door across from her bedroom. She opened it and brought her guest inside with her. Haechan looked around: it was a completely bare room, white like the rest of the apartment, a skylight flooding it with intense natural light that shone on the empty walls, and a solitary little desk abandoned against one wall. Seeing Haechan's questioning expression, Jaeni picked up her phone again.

"Art studio. It'll be my office soon."

Right — because Jaeni was an artist. She worked for a webtoon company. She'd told him that their first evening together. The girl gestured again at the paint jar she was holding by its handle and then pointed at the wall opposite the door. Haechan very nearly flinched at the idea of having to stand there and paint the room with her. Was she joking? Locked in there with her for however long it would take... painting a wall? He had things to do, he had work, he needed to — well, do something that was certainly more important than this.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, but I really have to go now. It's late," he said with a pathetic apologetic smile, taking a step back toward the hallway.

Jaeni put a hand on her hip and looked at him the way a mother looks at her child lying straight to her face. "What do you have to do?" she asked in sign language.

But Haechan understood, more or less. He'd only had one lesson with Chenle, but he'd caught "what" and "do" — and the expression on her face was perfectly clear. "I have important things to take care of."

"Like?"

He caught that one too. "Like secret, illegal, criminal things."

In reality Haechan had absolutely nothing and no one waiting for him at home — except for his nosy teammates, who couldn't wait to give him the third degree.

Jaeni let out an incredulous huff and started typing on her phone, then turned the screen toward him. "Stop making things up and have a little fun."

The girl pressed the sealed jar of paint against his chest and bent down to grab a large paintbrush from a bucket next to the door that he hadn't even noticed. She handed him that too, with a bright smile, and typed one last thing on her phone before leaving him standing there wondering where his life had gone and what he'd done to deserve this.

"Going to get the drop cloths."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Rachel chuckled, looking up ahead of her. "What's wrong? Are you tired, old man?"

Mark grunted and squinted with the effort. What had he been thinking when he'd challenged Rachel to a plank contest? They'd been holding the position for three minutes and she wasn't even breaking a sweat, while he was shaking and could barely speak. After yet another anti-geriatric jab from the girl, Mark collapsed onto the yoga mat with an exhausted sigh. The younger one let out a little shriek of triumph and sat up gracefully, grinning with satisfaction.

"You've lost your edge, grandpa."

Mark shot her a look. "Shut it, we're only seven months apart," he panted.

"And every single one of them shows," she shot back, flicking him on the forehead before getting up.

Mark watched her walk away, then lay back and stared at the ceiling of the training room. Haechan was still at Jaeni's after slipping out in the middle of the night. He still had that shattered expression printed behind his eyes — those glistening, wide-open eyes looking at him as if he were the cause of all his problems, of his miserable state of mind. Was he the one driving him into that girl's arms? Maybe it was for the best. Haechan deserved to be happy, even if that meant Mark couldn't have him for himself.

"Oh. My. God," Rachel enunciated dramatically, bringing a hand to her mouth and turning toward Mark with her phone in hand.

"What is it?" the Leader asked, looking up at her from the floor.

The girl came closer and sat down beside him to show him her screen. The saliva caught in his throat. It was a photo of Haechan — wearing a transparent garbage bag as a smock, a paint-covered brush in his hand, his nose and a lock of hair falling across his forehead smeared with blue. His face was bored and irritated at whoever was taking the picture, but Mark couldn't miss the glimmer lighting up his eyes. His face and posture said "get that thing out of my face," but his whole aura was content. Relaxed. It had been a long time since he'd seen him like that.

Rachel pulled the phone away from his face. "Everything okay?" she asked carefully.

Mark shook himself out of his thoughts and sat up. "Of course," he managed. "Did she send it to you?"

The girl nodded. "She's adorable, you know? You'd definitely like her," she said, not quite sure what reaction to expect from the older one.

He looked up at his sister's face and found only warmth and understanding there. "It's my fault he's like this."

Rachel sighed and shook her head, resting her temple against his shoulder. "Of course it isn't. He's like this because of Chae."

"I've been an ass to him."

"That part is true."

Mark huffed. "What am I supposed to do?"

"You could try telling him what you just told me," the girl let out a sarcastic little laugh. "But what do I know — I'm even better than you at pushing people away."

"That's also true," he sighed, mimicking her tone.

Rachel shoved him down onto the floor and punched him in the stomach.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Chenle wasn't entirely sure why he was there, but he hadn't had much opportunity to ask questions when Taeyong had called him. He'd only told him to come to the NCT 127 house and not to tell Mark. He had obviously told Mark. Mark was his Leader — not Taeyong.

"How are things at home?"

Chenle looked up at the older one and shrugged. "So-so. Could be worse, I guess. Without Jisung around the air is a little less tense."

The period after Chae's death had been devastating, no question. And even though Jisung didn't seem to be struggling as much as everyone had expected to get through the grief, his teammates walked on eggshells whenever he was around. He was definitely the one who had lost the most, that night in April.

Taeyong nodded and, pretending to be only vaguely interested as he doodled aimlessly in a small notebook, continued his interrogation. "Did you ever track down the guy from the Carnival?"

"Yeah, Jeno and Haechan found out where he lives."

"Good. What about Renjun's situation with the Wave?"

Chenle hesitated before answering. Why was he asking him? Mark was the one who was supposed to report in. Or the Captain, at most. "It's on hold. He hasn't been able to do much for them yet."

"How's Jisung's vacation going?"

"He burned his ass."

The older one let out an amused huff and kept writing whatever he was writing. "And... have Haechan and Mark sorted things out?"

Silence settled over the wooden furniture of the NCT leaders' office, and when Taeyong realized Chenle wasn't answering, he stopped doodling and looked at him — sitting in the chair across from his desk. The younger one was staring at him with furrowed brows. Taeyong raised an eyebrow.

"Hyung, why are you asking me?"

Taeyong looked away. "Because you always know everything."

"Or maybe because you don't have the nerve to talk to Mark directly?"

"You can go now, Chenle, thanks for coming."

The boy let out a bitter tsk and stood up, ready to walk out. There weren't many things that got under his skin, but the attitude Taeyong and Taejin had adopted since Chae's death was definitely one of them. He didn't know what had been said between Taeyong and Mark after the incident, but he knew they had barely spoken since. He still hadn't quite figured out how either of them felt about it — reading human emotions wasn't an art he had mastered yet. Not even close. But what he had figured out was that Taeyong was the adult, the more experienced one, the one with the responsibility to guide the younger Leader. And that was certainly not what he was doing.

"Since you're so interested — Haechan has met his soulmate," he revealed, and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

"It sucks."

"Oh, fuck you, it doesn't suck," Renjun snapped, on the verge of punching the Captain.

Jeno laughed as he watched the shorter one sip his homemade matcha latte with nothing but a childish pout on his lips holding back another curse.

"What sucks?" Rachel asked cheerfully, walking into the kitchen with wet hair and sitting down at the table next to the Captain, who didn't go so far as to give her more than a quick sideways glance.

"I made matcha!" Renjun exclaimed, smiling at her proudly.

Rachel's eyes lit up and her gaze landed immediately on the foam-topped cup in front of Jeno. She grabbed it and brought it to her lips for a taste.

After a few seconds of silence, the girl looked at Renjun. "It sucks a little"

"You both suck," he hissed, picking up his cup and retreating to the couch.

Rachel chuckled and shook her head, then noticed Jeno's eyes on her. She turned toward him and gave him an almost shy smile.

"How are you doing?" he asked, careful.

She shrugged. "Okay... I think. I'm starting to miss Jisung."

Jeno chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, who would have thought."

Rachel was about to say something else — anything, just to keep hearing his voice — but was cut off by the heavy thud of Jaemin's footsteps as he came racing down the stairs.

"Everyone up, let's go," he called out, heading quickly toward the entrance to put his shoes on.

Rachel and Jeno stood up, alarmed.

"What's going on?" Renjun asked, setting his cup on the coffee table before getting up from the couch — actually his first attempt at matcha couldn't be called a success, but he would never admit it.

"There's been a shooting at the Velvet," Jaemin told them, finishing lacing up his sneakers. "Karina's been hit."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Haechan could feel the skin on his cheeks pulling — the paint had dried on his face. And on his fingers. He was pretty sure he had some in his socks too. He couldn't remember the last time he'd spent a day this... quiet. They'd ordered food and then painted the wall... however they felt like it. He had asked her for directions, guidelines, and she had answered only with "make it as ugly as you want." At first he'd painted his half of the wall carefully, laying down the blue with precision. Then Jaeni had huffed and splattered purple all over his meticulously painted section. He'd looked at her like she'd lost her mind, and she'd burst out laughing before nearly jabbing a paint-covered finger into his eye.

It had been fun. Relaxing. For a few hours Haechan had managed not to think about Chae, or Mark, or even himself, really. He'd only thought about not overloading the brush, about getting back at Jaeni by covering her in orange since apparently she hated that color, about genuinely enjoying his free japchae, and about not being ashamed of what he felt every time Jaeni brushed against him.

He'd kept trying to convince himself that this was a platonic bond, but he'd come to realize he was just terrified of falling for her. Still, he was going to have to come to terms with it — because Jaeni had been wearing her pajama shorts all day and he'd had to wipe the drool from his chin every time she'd bent down to dip her brush in the paint jar.

And now, even though the boy had sipped that glass of Coke as slowly as humanly possible, it really was time to go.

"Thanks for lunch. I had a good time," he started, setting the empty glass in the sink.

Jaeni watched him move through her kitchen with quiet longing, and swallowed, then smiled when the boy turned toward her. Haechan was beautiful. He was tall and strong and one of those quietly gentlemanly types capable of setting off butterflies and dragonflies and hummingbirds and parrots and toucans in her stomach with a single gesture. His face was soft but sharp, and his eyes were so deep and dark that her legs went weak every time he looked at her. She didn't want him to leave. Having him near was frightening and tremendously pleasant at the same time. But as much as she wanted to climb him like a tree, she thought Seonwoo's words made sense too.

"Maybe before you fuck him you should figure out if he's a decent person, just a thought," he had advised her the day before.

He was right, but what a pain.

"I have to go now," Haechan announced, heading toward the front door. "For real," he added with a small, amused smile.

Jaeni chuckled and nodded, walking him to the exit. "Thanks for the help," she signed, not knowing if he'd understand — but it seemed like he did.

Apparently he was really learning it for her.

Haechan looked her straight in the eyes, and short-circuited for a couple of seconds. He didn't want to leave. He was about to answer her and say goodbye when a message came in.

"Shit," he whispered, processing the words Renjun had sent.

Jaeni stepped closer, drawing his attention. "Everything okay?"

Haechan shook his head. "Not really. I have to run... I'll — um, I'll text you, okay?"

The girl nodded and gave him a pathetic, half-hearted little wave. The boy opened the door and stepped out, ready to pull it shut behind him and sprint to the Velvet House to check on Karina.

But —

But, for the love of God. Would it really be so selfish to do something for himself, just once? Being with her had been so good...

Fuck it.

Fuck his childhood traumas, fuck his father, fuck his responsibilities, fuck NCT, fuck everyone.

He pushed the door back open and crossed to her in two strides, took her face in his hands, and breathed in her scent.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered, searching her wide, surprised eyes for a reason to stop himself.

Jaeni took a few seconds to register what was happening, but the moment she realized his face was close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin, she nodded without hesitation and closed her eyes as their lips met.

Haechan didn't hold back — he took her mouth without stopping to wonder twice whether it was the right thing to do. But it felt like it was. Jaeni tasted of white, of serenity, of light, of peace. Their tongues met and his heart went wild, the bond sending electricity up his spine, and his body moved toward Jaeni's on instinct. She gave herself over completely to her own sensations and bunched his dark t-shirt in her fists to keep him from pulling away. Haechan broke away just enough to breathe and run his tongue over his lips, his thumbs tracing her temples.

"It's too soon, isn't it?" he whispered, in a tone so low and warm that Jaeni was fairly certain she was about to dissolve right there on the hardwood floor.

The girl managed a small nod, and her stomach flipped when the boy kissed her again as if he hadn't eaten in days and her mouth was the best thing he'd ever tasted. It was.

He took a step forward, pushing her back a step, not daring to break away from her lips by even a millimeter. He kept going until Jaeni was caught between his warm body and the edge of the kitchen island. He couldn't stop — didn't want to, couldn't. A low sound rose in his chest and died against Jaeni's lips. She pulled back to catch her breath.

"Mhh..." he rumbled, going as still as he possibly could.

Jaeni gave a small smile and brushed her nose against his.

"I have to leave — I don't want to leave," he whispered, desperate.

The girl mouthed an "it's okay" and looked him in the eyes. Her pupils were dilated, her breath a little unsteady, her cheeks flushed. She released her grip on his shirt to smooth back that one lock of hair still damp from his attempt to wash off the colored paint, and she could have sworn she saw his dark irises tremble. Knowing that if he didn't leave within thirty seconds she would throw herself at him, Jaeni forced herself to press her hands against his chest and ease him away from her.

Haechan did his best to shake off that daze, but without his soulmate's hands to hold him upright... he was fairly certain he would have collapsed on top of her.

"Okay. I'm going now."

Jaeni let out a little laugh and grabbed the notepad abandoned on the gleaming countertop.

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"You can come back whenever you want."

The boy felt his stomach warm as he read those words. Jaeni wasn't going anywhere. She was his, he belonged to her. Right.

So he stepped back, walked out of the apartment adding her smile to his growing collection, and pulled the door shut behind him to go find his teammates.

And return to his ordinary life.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

☆05: so, fuck them

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Seoul, 2009

The house was quiet, as usual. Suitcases and boxes were still scattered here and there.

Donghyuck hadn't said a word in three days, because he had nothing left to say. Not anymore. Not after his father had looked at him that way — without a trace of warmth. As if he couldn't care less.

Was that really it? Truly?

Donghyuck loved Jeju Island with everything he had — his mother's island, where his grandparents lived, the kind and gentle ones. And when his father had told him they were moving back to Seoul, he had said no, had complained for two weeks, until the day of the departure when he'd broken down screaming and throwing a fit, and his stepmother had slapped him across the face. Donghyuck had turned to his father with wide, glistening eyes and seen nothing. Total indifference. For the umpteenth time.

He had given him time, after his mother died. He had told himself that losing someone — your wife — couldn't be easy even for an adult, even for an adult made of stone like Mr. Lee. So he had waited, endured the absence, the oblivion, the nothing... to give his father time to heal. He had accepted that horrible, insufferable woman into his home, because if that was what his dad needed to be okay, then he would put up with the slaps and the humiliations.

But Donghyuck's father didn't need to heal, because he had never loved his wife. And he had never loved his son either. And Donghyuck had understood that when he had looked into his eyes three days ago and seen that anguishing cold.

So, fuck them.

Donghyuck was small, scrawny, and not the best at anything. But now he had learned to be selfish — it went against what his mother had taught him, went against his own nature too. And yet... the world wasn't as wonderful and extraordinary as his mother had told him it was. People weren't as good and loving and kind as she had been.

No one had been kind to Donghyuck since, except for his grandparents. And his father had taken them away from him too.

The boy kicked the cardboard box he'd refused to unpack since they'd arrived in the city and watched his soccer ball roll across the floor of his enormous bedroom. They had moved into an absurdly large villa — the floors were so polished that Donghyuck couldn't run without risking slipping and breaking his neck, and it was always empty. Donghyuck was always alone in the house. He had spent the end of summer playing chess with the cleaning lady — a nice woman, but one of few words. She probably kept him company out of pity, he thought. He was glad not to have his dad's girlfriend's voice echoing through the whole house, and yet...

Sometimes days went by without him speaking to a single human being, and when he managed to steal the housekeeper's phone and call his grandparents in Jeju, he'd notice his voice had gone hoarse.

Finally, the first day of school. New elementary school, new friends, new everything.

But Monday didn't go the way he'd hoped. Apparently not everyone liked him the way they had at his school in Jeju. Apparently his enthusiasm and his bright smile rubbed the kids in Seoul the wrong way. Apparently at this private school they had taught the students that being happy was bad for your GPA. So on Monday he got shoved around, on Tuesday he got pranked and humiliated, on Wednesday he got mocked — until he decided they were right and that everything his mother had taught him was simply a load of bullshit.

So when, on Thursday, two of his little bullies grabbed him by the backpack in the courtyard at lunch and threw him to the ground, calling him a "fucking loser," Donghyuck took the pen he kept in his pocket and drove it into one of those pathetic little assholes' arm. When the boy started screaming at the sight of the pen buried up to the humerus, his friend stared at Donghyuck in horror before taking off running. Silence swallowed the entire courtyard — every child struck mute, staring at the new kid standing there watching his victim scream and cry.

Donghyuck slung his backpack over his shoulder and went on his way.

On Friday, nobody bothered him.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

NCT 127 house, Seoul, 2012

The boy still hadn't opened his mouth. He was taking in everything and everyone with wide eyes and not making a sound, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. And yet he didn't seem intimidated — not even with all those curious eyes fixed on him.

"Aren't you hungry, little guy?" Johnny encouraged him, seated at the head of the table, watching the newest addition to the squad with hopeful eyes.

This kid was even younger than Mark, and he was adorable. And sharp, by all accounts. Usually it was Taeyong and Taejin who sought out the kids who needed them. This hadn't been one of those cases — this round-headed kid had gone looking for Taejin and saved himself. Mark didn't know what family situation he'd run from, but he was impressed. Amazed.

The boy turned to look at Johnny but didn't answer him, just kept staring, his plate of rice and meat already going cold in front of him. The older one shifted under the new arrival's piercing gaze.

"Alright, guys, leave it!" Taeyong's voice filled the space as the Leader came down the stairs with an exasperated look. "Leave him alone, scatter," he ordered, waving them off. "Jaehyun, Johnny, Shaw. Downstairs, now."

The three muttered in protest and followed him to the lower floor, bracing themselves for a grueling training session.

Jungwoo sighed and gestured for Yuta to follow him into the next room. "Come on, I'll change your bandaging."

The last one to push back from the table was Doyoung, who headed upstairs to find Taejin and see if she needed help registering the boy in the government servers.

Mark didn't move from his seat, directly across from the unknown twelve-year-old. The boy looked up at him. Mark figured that as long as he stayed, the younger one wouldn't start eating.

Instead, in the silence — with Mark sitting there watching him — Haechan began to eat.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

NCT 127 house, Seoul, 2017

Mark never should have agreed to open the second bottle of that cheap wine — and not because he had a terrible tolerance for alcohol, but because he was alone with Haechan.

That was not good at all. It wasn't good because drunk Haechan had flushed cheeks and a laugh that came easy. And his contented smile was breathtaking.

They were sitting on the ground, backs against the wall behind a convenience store they had never robbed before that evening.

It was Valentine's Day. And the number one rule of NCT? Valentine's night, the house belonged to Taeyong and Taejin. Everyone — veterans and newcomers alike — had to find something to do outside on February 14th. For Yuta and Shaw it was a family tradition to go eat a double cheeseburger at their favorite diner. Johnny and Jaehyun celebrated the latter's birthday with their respective soulmates, all together. Doyoung went off to do God knows what, God knows where, with God knows who. The younger ones had permission to roam the city all night as long as they promised to stay in a group. Mark and Haechan, however, had split off from Jeno, Chenle, Rachel, and the little twins.

Bad idea. Terrible idea. Catastrophic idea.

Haechan grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close, parting his lips against his. In his head, Mark protested, pulled back. And yet his tongue found the younger one's immediately, and his eyes fell shut on instinct. His brain kept telling him to pull away, but his heart was about to explode in his chest. Haechan made a soft sound against his mouth and Mark felt the low heat in his belly melt and pool.

Mark wasn't gay. And he wasn't bisexual either. And yet kissing Haechan was the only thing he'd thought about, day and night, since the first time it had happened. He couldn't explain it.

Haechan pulled away from his lips to work along the older one's jaw, then down his neck, then behind his ear.

"Don't think," he breathed directly into his ear.

"But... what — what is this — what are we — mm," he stammered, distracted at the end by Haechan's warm tongue tracing his earlobe.

"Not everything needs a name," the younger one whispered, bringing a hand to his cheek to turn his face toward him.

Mark opened his eyes again, finding his teammate's face just centimeters away. From there, even through eyes blurred with alcohol, he could make out the constellation of moles on his face and neck. His skin so soft...

"Whatever this is," Haechan whispered, holding his gaze, "do you like it?"

The older one held his eyes. Nodded. Haechan smiled — a slightly crooked, slightly drunk smile — and Mark swore he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

"Good, then."

Haechan threw himself back into his arms and picked up where they'd left off, and all of Mark's questions were smothered by his warmth, his taste, his scent. The younger one's hand slipped under his t-shirt and Mark's skin broke out in goosebumps. Their bodies pressed closer, until their legs and arms tangled together in a mess of limbs.

They kept kissing, kept touching, like two ordinary anxious teenagers pushing at the edges of what their bodies could feel.

Haechan and Mark were not two ordinary teenagers. No. But there, together, hidden in the dark behind a store, hands and mouths intertwined, they almost seemed happy.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

bf!mark x fem!reader (idol AU) II

IMAGINE: Mark is always exhausted but you're ovulating

TW: fingering, sexual activities, MDNI

When Mark walks into the apartment the two of you share, he isn't surprised to find you already bundled up in your blanket on the couch, watching a film you've seen a thousand times. He pulls the door shut behind him and sighs as he takes off his shoes, then heads straight for you — and you welcome him into your arms and under the blanket without a second thought. Mark lets himself be wrapped up in the familiar warmth of your body and your scent, and hums in contentment as he melts against you.

"Everything okay?"

He sighs against your neck. "Yeah, just tired."

You breathe out an "okay" as you absently run your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. The stretches where Mark gets no relief at work come around often — you're used to it by now. You've learned to communicate as a couple, to meet each other halfway. But that doesn't make it any less hard to feel his absence, his lack of energy, when it happens. Apparently your thoughts are written plainly across your face, because when Mark lifts his head to look at you, his eyes fill with guilt.

"I'm so sorry, I really wish I could do something to—"

You laugh softly, cutting him off. "No, no, baby. Everything's fine, really. Don't worry. I just hate seeing you like this every evening."

Mark looks relieved and tucks himself back against you, holding you a little tighter.

"Although..." you venture to add. The boy looks up at you instantly, and you give a small smile.

You're getting your period in like three days and that edit you watched just two hours ago on tiktok about a Mark's poison fancam-

You couldn't stop thinking about it since then.

"More than anything, what I hate is that you're never in the mood to be touched... or to touch me," you murmur, tracing the side of his face, then his lips.

Something clicks behind Mark's eyes and the worry gives way to something more playful. "Oh... you're right, that is a shame," he says, playing along.

"Mm... yeah."

Mark smiles and tucks his face back against your warm neck, beginning to press a few open-mouthed kisses from your ear along your jaw and down your throat.

While you praise yourself for how easily you got your boyfriend's attentions on you, you almost flinch when you feel his warm hand on your crotch, only shielded by your panties. He waits to feel your body relaxing before inserting his fingers under the thin fabric and starting pleasing you. You close your eyes and let yourself being overwhelmed by the feeling of his rough fingers buried inside you and you arch your back, gluing your chest to Mark's, who trembles in anticipation.

His lips keep on covering your neck and collarbones of wet kisses, but when his hand starts to get serious, Mark can't hold himself anymore, needing to look at your face while you enjoy your well-deserved care.

"You were sooo right baby, it's real shame that i'm not able to see you like this more often, that i cannot have you like this all day long, all for myself..."

His deep and hoarse voice sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your belly together with all the others sensations pooling not afar from your core, and a shameful moan escapes your throat, making the boy smile in pride.

His fingers don't slow down and you start to lose control on your legs. Mark already knows what you like, where you like it and how you like it, so he doesn't wait any longer to make you cum: he finds the right pace and he mantains it until your thighs press together on instinct, risking of breaking his wrist between them. You cover your mouth with the palm of your hand while your hips starts pacing along with his hand, which has no intention of stopping whatsoever.

Mark makes sure you ride your orgasm till the end before letting go of you. You sink back against the couch, finally satisfied. He straightens your underwear and returns to his original position, curling back up against your chest, which is still rising and falling a little frantically.

"Better, my love?"

You nod with a little "mh-mh!" and feel him smile against your skin.

"Happy to fulfill my duties."

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other mark's chapters:

bf!mark scenario

when you first met

your first time together

bf!mark scenario II ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident

when he comes back from tour

etc...

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

⇘ nct dream idol AU -text imagines- index ⇙

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[im4rmy]

idk why sometimes i feel like i have no idea how tumblr works (i, in fact, don't) so i'm reblogging this new scenario because it doesn’t pop up at the top of the page ?

whatever

here, enjoy

yes, one about mark

i started writing it like more than a week ago so it wasn't intentional that the next post was going to be a mark one BUT HERE WE ARE PEOPLE

[im4rmy]

04: relax, big mouth

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

They had been sitting there staring into nothing for two hours. It was almost spiritual. Intimate.

"I want to shoot myself in the mouth," Jeno sighed, sinking deeper into the passenger seat.

"Yeah, running an ambush without Rachel or Renjun is no fun," Haechan agreed from the seat next to him.

After the failure at the Carnival, the squad's Hacker had gotten to work with Mark to find a new lead. All they'd managed to scrape together were a few possible hiding spots for the guy they'd tried to tail. One of the options was this tiny little house just outside the city, with a run-down driveway and grimy gray outer walls. Haechan wanted to make up for his mistake at the Carnival, so he'd dragged Jeno along to avoid being on his own. Not that the Captain was great company, anyway.

"Where's your tattoo? I don't think I've ever seen it," Jeno said, out of nowhere.

"It's between my shoulder blades, it's tiny. A musical note," the other one told him, looking out the window.

The Captain let out an amused huff. "Fate really does have a sense of humor."

Haechan looked at him, questioning.

"Your soulmate tattoo is a musical note and she can't make a sound. It feels like a joke."

It was pretty ironic, actually, now that he thought about it.

"Hey, that doesn't really look like the right guy," said Jeno, leaning forward to get a better look.

Haechan sharpened his gaze and fixed it on the woman — maybe sixty-five years old — who had just gotten out of a car carrying three grocery bags and was making her way up the crumbling concrete path.

The Anchor shook his head with a sigh. "Let's try the other address."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Chenle couldn't figure out how they'd ended up in this situation: they'd been spying on and following a girl, they'd been caught, and now they were at the park with her and her best friend, sitting on the grass, all five of them holding a bubble tea? It made absolutely no logical sense.

And yet, there they were.

"You'd really never had bubble tea before?" asked Jaeni's friend, staring at Rachel in disbelief as she shook her head.

It was Renjun who answered for her. "She's more of a fruit juice and straight vodka kind of person."

Rachel shoved him by the shoulder, sending him tumbling onto the grass. Jaeni laughed silently, delighted to already be getting to know her soulmate's friends. They didn't seem dangerous or mean. And she had offered them bubble tea, so she must have won their hearts by now.

"Jaeni," Chenle called, drawing her attention, "What do you do for work?"

The girl's face lit up and she began speaking in sign language. Seonwoo leaned in, ready to translate, but Chenle beat him to it.

"Oh! That's so cool," he said, nodding before going back to sipping his colorful drink.

Everyone present stared at him in shock — especially his teammates.

"You know sign language?" Renjun asked, stunned.

Chenle gave him an odd look. "Of course," he replied, as if it was obvious.

Jaeni made an amused face, then let a mischievous idea light her up from the inside: she caught Chenle's attention and said something with a wicked smile.

The boy laughed and turned to Renjun and Rachel. "She wants us to tell her something compromising about Haechan."

Rachel lit up like a light bulb. "Sweetheart — I'm not just going to tell you. I'm going to show you," she said with a sly grin, pulling her phone out of her pocket and opening her gallery.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

"I'm hungry."

"Now that's a surprise," Jeno said, taken aback.

Haechan huffed, starting to lose patience. "If he doesn't come out in ten minutes we're going to get food."

"Fine."

After a few minutes of patient silence, an electronic ding broke the stillness. Haechan unlocked his phone and nearly felt sick.

"What the fuck?" he muttered, opening the photo Rachel had just sent him.

Jeno leaned over to look: their teammate had taken a selfie with Jaeni, both of them with the straws of their bubble teas in their mouths, Rachel winking at the camera and Jaeni wearing a bright, cheerful smile.

"Is that her?" Jeno asked, not particularly surprised to spot Renjun and Chenle in the background of the photo.

"Yes — but does it seem normal to you that they couldn't even hold out twenty-four hours before going to bother her?"

Jeno looked at him with a small smirk. "Honestly I'm surprised they waited that long."

Haechan swore under his breath and put his phone away, going back to staring out the window. The feeling was strange: he was jealous of the fact that, right now, his brothers were with her while he was stuck out there for God knows how much longer.

"Everything okay?" his Captain asked.

Haechan sighed. "How did you figure out that your bond with Jaemin was platonic?"

"That was easy — I'm straight."

The other one looked at him. "That's it?"

Jeno shrugged. "What else do you need?"

Haechan thought about it. "Well, Jaemin likes men too — how did he figure it out?"

The Captain opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. How had Jaemin figured out that their bond was platonic? The question had never even grazed Jeno's mind.

"Actually... I don't know."

Haechan looked at him. "Then I'll ask him. Oh — I think we've got something."

A man in an old, dark hoodie stepped out the front door of the semi-detached house halfway down the street, and both boys sat up straight. They watched him lock the front door and start walking — directly toward them.

"Oh, shit —" Jeno swore, turning the key in the ignition.

"Go, go, go," Haechan urged him, ducking down and covering his face with one hand.

Jeno hit the gas and they rolled past the guy without him noticing. Both of them let out a breath of relief.

"McDonald's now, please."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Jaemin barely batted an eye when Rachel burst into his room with a small, distressed cry and threw herself down beside him on the double bed.

"How did it go?"

Rachel sighed. "Well. Too well."

Jaemin closed Netflix on his phone and gave her his full attention. "So why the big sigh?"

The girl moved closer to him, curling up against his chest and letting herself be held. "I miss Chae," she whispered.

Jaemin's heart beat faster, tightening in his chest. But he said nothing, because he knew Rachel wasn't finished.

"Being with Jaeni... it reminded me how wonderful it is to have a sister. Someone you can talk to about things you can't say to you guys. Someone to complain about you guys to."

Jaemin frowned. "There are things you can't even talk to me about?" he asked, wounded.

The girl looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Chae used to do my bikini wax. Want to take her place?"

Jaemin burst out laughing. "Touché... although, if you asked Jeno, I'm pretty sure he'd do it."

Rachel's expression shifted, leaving a bitter aftertaste. "I wouldn't be so sure. Lately all I see when he looks at me is disappointment and disdain."

"Maybe you see that because every time you look at him you're drunk?"

The corvine pulled away from him, propping herself up on her forearms and turning to look at him. "Wow, where's that venom coming from?"

Jaemin sighed. "Sorry, star," he said, opening his arms to draw her back into his embrace. "I've been playing therapist all day — maybe I got too much of a taste for it."

Rachel chuckled, settling back into her best friend's warmth. They stayed like that for a few minutes, then Jaemin spoke again, his tone soft and careful.

"Jeno isn't capable of disdain — certainly not toward you. And what you see isn't disappointment. It's just fear that you're drifting too far away."

The girl was quiet.

Things had never been simple between her and Jeno. They had wanted each other in silence for years, until one day they'd given in and kissed. But Rachel had always been clear: she wanted to find her soulmate. Jeno never showed how much that tormented him, but it wasn't hard to figure out. Rachel knew it — and yet she just couldn't give up what she'd dreamed of since she was a little girl. She hadn't been able to set aside the idea of a soulmate who would love her unconditionally, bound to her life forever by fate itself. In the meantime, she and Jeno weren't together — not officially. Even if the rest of the squad pretended not to notice, everyone knew what they went to do at the old train together.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open.

"Oh, hey," said Jeno, surprised to find the girl on his bed.

"Hey," she replied, soft and fond.

Jeno kicked off his shoes and sent them flying, pulling the door shut behind him. "Haechan and I found the guy."

"Good! Did you eat?" Jaemin asked, still running his fingers through Rachel's hair, while she watched the Captain's every move with quiet anxiety.

"Yeah, we went to McDonald's — but don't tell Chenle."

Jeno dropped onto the bed.

"You went to McDonald's without me?" the girl asked, in mock offense.

The dark-haired boy turned to look at her, lying beside her. "I brought you fries."

Rachel couldn't stop the smile that spread across her face.

Maybe, after all, everything was going to be okay.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

Haechan knocked on the bedroom door right next to his and walked in as soon as he heard a bored "come in." The moment Renjun recognized who had just entered his room, he leapt onto the bed and grabbed the controller like a weapon. Haechan saw the terror in his eyes and grinned with satisfaction.

"We're on neutral ground! You can't touch me!" the boy exclaimed, standing on top of the duvet.

As entertaining as this confrontation promised to be, Haechan had other priorities right now.

"Relax, big mouth. I'm not here for you." He paused. "Not today," he murmured, fixing him with a sharp look.

Renjun felt a chill run down his spine. Haechan shifted his gaze to Chenle, who was reading a book on his bed on the other side of the room.

"Chenle," he called, making him look up. "I need you to teach me sign language."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

In the three days that followed, Haechan slept a grand total of two and a half hours. He was running on fumes. Some nameless anxiety gnawed at his stomach constantly, and every time someone spoke to him he felt like putting a bullet in his own head. And he had no idea how to feel better.

"Has it occurred to you that maybe you could just go see Jaeni?" Jaemin suggested, in an obvious tone, as he stirred the cookie batter.

"The bond isn't why I feel like this."

These weren't the symptoms of distance — they were just the symptoms of being Haechan. Besides, in a normal bond, the distance only started making itself felt after six or seven days. Not three.

"Still, spending a little time with her would help settle your nerves."

Haechan huffed and left it at that. Jaemin was about to say something else — to comfort him or scold him, he still hadn't decided — when a notification lit up the screen of Haechan's phone on the table. Reading the sender's name, the Medic closed his mouth again, hiding a small smile. The other one picked up his phone and his heart did a little somersault just from seeing his other half's name.

Haechan's eyes went wide. He didn't have time to dwell on that last message, though, because Jaemin plucked the phone right out of his hands to read the conversation. His face melted into a tender expression.

"This girl is adorable! Please go see her right now — actually, no! Wait for the cookies to be ready and bring them to her," he said, bouncing with excitement.

Jaemin loved love stories. Even though he'd never experienced anything like one himself.

Haechan took his phone back with a grimace. "No. I'll go tomorrow, as planned."

The other boy rolled his eyes and went back to working on his sweets, while the dark-haired one replied to his soulmate with a dry "thanks but I can't," telling her they'd see each other at the park the next day. Haechan glanced at his teammate across the table, who was shaking his head in resignation.

"The romance in this house is dying."

"I think the photo Sohyun sent us of Jisung with his sunburned ass and the little hearts drawn on with sunscreen more than makes up for it."

Jaemin took a moment to consider this. Then he laughed. "Yeah, you're right. I'll take what I can get."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

It was getting worse. His room had probably hit forty degrees even with both the window and the door open to get a cross-breeze going. His sheets were damp with sweat. Every time he tried to close his eyes, the dread of another nightmare churned through his stomach. His belly growled with hunger, yet the thought of eating anything made him nauseous. He was so frustrated he could cry.

The boy sat up in bed with a groan muffled into his palms. This was too much — he could barely breathe, and he had the urge to punch someone.

Muttering curses under his breath, he got up and pulled on a pair of shorts, swapping out his sweat-soaked shirt. He didn't even wash his face. He went downstairs, ready to set aside both his pride and his better judgment and go to Jaeni. At two in the morning.

"Where are you going?"

Haechan let out a startled yelp that was decidedly not masculine and spun around toward Mark, standing in front of the fridge holding a plate of homemade cookies. The younger one took a deep breath, one hand on his chest, and headed toward the entrance to put his shoes on.

"I need to get out of here."

"Can't sleep? There's chamomile tea."

"I don't want chamomile tea."

Mark stepped closer, setting the cookies down on the table. "Can I do anything to—"

Haechan pulled away sharply the moment he felt his hand on his shoulder. "Don't — don't touch me," he stammered, taking a step back toward the door.

The older one froze and looked at him, confused and stung.

"Sorry, I just... I have to go," Haechan whispered, dropping his gaze and rushing out.

Mark stood there staring at the closed door for a few minutes. Then he went back to stuffing his mouth with cookies, since Rachel had finished the ice cream the night before.

Apparently all of NCT D dealt with their heart troubles in exactly the same way.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Jaeni was dreaming of being rescued by Andrew Garfield in his Spider-Man suit when her doorbell started ringing. Her heart began hammering in her chest as the idyll she'd been nestled in — curled up in her favorite actor's arms — vanished all at once. She sat up in bed after switching on the lamp on her nightstand. Had she dreamed the deafening sound of that wretched bell?

No — there it was again.

Who on earth was ringing at two-thirty in the morning?

Anxiety crept into her stomach as she climbed out of her soft, warm, sweet-smelling nest and made her way to the entrance of her apartment. While the bell kept going, Jaeni turned on the display of the electronic peephole and frowned in confusion at the sight of her soulmate's desperate face. Her anxiety didn't ease, but she opened the door.

It was written plainly across her sleepy face that she was not happy about being woken up so abruptly by someone who was practically a stranger. Haechan cursed himself for not having thought of anything to say on the drive over.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, running a hand through his hair.

Jaeni noticed his eyes — red and swollen — and some of the tension in her stomach shifted toward her heart.

Haechan spoke again, trying in vain to hide the tremor in his voice. "I — I haven't been able to sleep in days..." he confessed, feeling more pathetic than he ever had. "I didn't know where else to go," he finally whispered.

The girl felt her sleep-numbed heart warm just a little at the sight of the state the young man in front of her was in. She moved slightly aside in the doorway, making room for him to come in. Haechan swallowed.

"Really — are you sure?"

Jaeni gave a small smile and nodded, encouraging him inside. Haechan stepped in, slowly, and when he felt the cool wave of the air conditioning wash over his skin... he very nearly started crying. Jaeni closed the door and turned to look at him, curious and worried at the same time.

Haechan decided that... that he didn't care anymore about keeping up the moldy walls of his stone castle. Maybe it was because he'd finally reached his limit. Maybe it was the disappointment of realizing that meeting his soulmate hadn't helped at all — because here he was again, falling apart with no hope of stopping. Or maybe it was this cool, clean space that smelled faintly of vanilla that had convinced him he was somewhere safe. Here, with Jaeni.

The boy let his shoulders cave and looked up at the ceiling, then closed his eyes and let the tears roll down his cheeks.

"I can't take it anymore. I'm exhausted, sad, frustrated, and stressed, and I can't do anything to — to make it stop," he confessed, like a dam breaking.

He couldn't believe he was standing in a nice apartment in the middle of the night, pouring out every single one of his feelings to a girl he'd met exactly once before. He had finally lost his mind.

Jaeni felt the pain it cost the young man to say all of this as if it were her own. Her heart ached. She tried to move closer to him, but Haechan started pacing the living room, as if moving back and forth helped him sort through his thoughts.

"I feel awful — everything is awful. Mark hates me, Rachel and Jeno won't look at each other, I think I caused something between Jaemin and Jeno, Renjun is in trouble with Wave, and I... I can't help anyone. And most of all, I can't help Jisung get through the grief because I can't even get through it myself!" he exclaimed, shoving a hand into his hair.

The girl looked around and reached over to grab the notepad and pen she kept on the kitchen counter, while the dark-haired boy kept pouring out feelings and tears.

"I can't do anything, I don't know how to fix... anything! And everyone expects me to always be okay because I'm always okay. I'm the 'Anchor,'" he said, making air quotes with his fingers. "I'm supposed to be a rock even in the middle of a storm, and instead the rock is sinking and taking the whole ship down with it — crew and all."

Haechan only cut off his rambling when Jaeni stepped in front of him holding a small piece of paper, which she handed to him with a gentle look. The boy sniffled and brought it close to his face to read through wet eyes.

"How long has it been since someone last gave you a hug?"

A sob caught in his throat and he looked at the girl — so much shorter than him, her brown braid half undone, her pale blue pajamas all rumpled. She was looking at him the way you look at a child who needs comforting after a nightmare.

Something in the back of his mind pointed out that he was, in fact, a child who needed comforting.

Jaeni raised an eyebrow, as if to demand an answer to her question.

"I — I don't... know."

His soulmate took a step toward him, raised a hand to wipe his cheeks, and then, up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around his neck and brought their bodies together. Haechan stayed still and focused on keeping his breathing steady: they had never been this close before, and the feeling of having his other half in his arms was intoxicating, startling, disorienting. He returned the hug, hesitantly — Jaeni was soft, warm-scented, comforting. Tender. She radiated the same warmth that only a mother could—

That thought made the young man flinch. He felt his stomach clench again and his eyes fill with tears once more. Jaeni felt the boy's body trembling and held him tighter, her hand stroking the back of his neck.

And Haechan kept crying in her arms for the rest of the night.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

«Wordless» index

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masterlist

So, Mark's decision is surely a bittersweet bite to digest for nctzens and for me too. Of course i'm so proud and relieved that he was so brave to put his well-being and his happiness above social pressure and expectations, but i also feel so blue, gloomy, sad, hopeless at the idea of saying goodbye to Dreamies as a 7-members group, even if that's what they will always be in my heart.

I'm deeply grateful to be one of the few lucky czennies that got to see all of them on stage, together as 7, in Berlin, november 2024, tds3. I'll cherish that day forever, what a privilege to be able to remember with meloncholy such a precious memory!

As of now, i'm not sure if i'll keep on writing about Mark as part of the group, majorly on tumblr. I think i'll understand how i feel about that only with time. What i'm sure of is that i'll keep on being a Mark Lee fan , as an artist, as a writer, as a true talent, as a person, as whatever form he'll choose to express his art.

And i'm also sure of the fact that i won't change a singular thing about this story: Mark is and will be the Leader of NCT D. And, more important, Mark is and will be the main character of the last book of this series.

To nctzens, for Mark and for Jeno, Renjun, Haechan, Jaemin, Chenle and Jisung:

Yo Dream.

-im4rmy

[im4rmy]

Wordless is written beautifully and I’m enjoying it to the extend that I don’t want the chapters to end🥹 Is it possible to make the chapters a bit longer please?

ahah you're very sweet!! unfortunately the chapters are all completed and set in my drafts so i can't change the lenght🥹 i'm glad you like it! i honestly can't wait to start writing the next book🤩

[im4rmy]

03: she's nicer than sohyun

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

He sank back onto the worn couch and fixed his eyes on the ceiling.

If someone had told him two days ago that he'd be spending his evening walking alongside his soulmate, holding an entire conversation through typed notes on a phone... well, he would have believed it, because a lot of pretty insane things usually happened in his life.

It had been strange — very — but nice. Jaeni was kind and sweet, she seemed to appreciate his humor, and she was fun. Even so... Haechan had felt everything he supposed you were meant to feel with your Mate: the pleasant shivers, the warmth pooling in his stomach alongside the butterflies, the overwhelming urge to stay closer to her, and the deep, genuine resentment of having to eventually leave — but he wasn't sure he was actually attracted to her, in a romantic sense. Maybe theirs would be a wonderful platonic bond. He couldn't figure out whether that possibility made him feel relieved or horrified.

The front door opened with a rusty click, and Renjun peeked in carefully, in case anyone was asleep on the couch.

"Hey," he whispered, catching Haechan's small smile of greeting.

Renjun kicked off his shoes and joined him on the couch, stretching out so his head rested on the other boy's thighs. Haechan slipped a hand into his soft curls.

"Where were you?"

Haechan kept massaging his scalp. "With a girl."

Renjun's eyes went wide and he stared up at him from below, stunned. "What?"

The other sighed, his gaze drifting to the way his teammate's hair slipped through his fingers. "Yeah."

And his mind drifted back to the moment when Jaeni, just a few hours earlier, had told him he had nice hands.

"W-What?" he'd stammered, caught completely off guard by the compliment.

Jaeni had laughed and held out her hand in front of him, inviting him to do the same. Haechan raised an eyebrow, but then placed his hand in hers, trying to ignore that damned wave of pleasure that ran down his spine the moment their hands touched. Jaeni traced a finger along a vein that started at his wrist and disappeared between his knuckles, then touched the ring he shared with his team, ran her fingers along his long, knobby ones, and looked up with an amused expression when she noticed his crooked pinky. Haechan flushed, but he didn't explain that he'd broken it trying to punch Jeno when the other refused to give up the house's one and only console. They'd been fifteen.

The girl smiled and let go of his hand, picking up her phone.

They're nice.

"Thanks," he replied, still thrown off by the compliment — though his heart clearly had a different opinion, judging by the way it was hammering.

They kept walking toward the girl's neighborhood, which apparently sat in one of Seoul's more well-off outskirts. She had her own brand-new apartment and seemed genuinely proud of it. The girl pointed to a building a little further ahead.

"Is this it?" he asked, looking up at the tall, grey, modern complex.

Jaeni nodded. Once they were standing at the front entrance, the two turned to face each other, and Haechan understood the moment had come.

"So... there's something you should know about me," he began, catching a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. "I don't exactly do conventional work — for a living, I mean. Since you hang around the slums, you've probably got some idea."

Jaeni's expression grew a little more serious, though her big eyes were still distracting him no matter what.

"I can't tell you much more than that, but it would be better if you didn't tell anyone about... us."

She tilted her head to one side, confused.

"A lot of people know my name, and not all of them are friendly," he explained.

Jaeni breathed a silent "okay" and nodded. She held his gaze for a moment, then unlocked her phone and opened her contacts. She created a new entry and held the phone out to him. Haechan took it without a word, typed in his number, and handed it back. The girl made the sign he'd come to understand meant "thank you."

"I should probably go now," he murmured, burying his hands in his jeans pockets before his instincts could get the better of him.

His fingers were tingling with how badly he wanted to use them to pull her close and wrap his arms around her.

Jaeni nodded. She moved toward him, cautious, under Haechan's careful gaze, and rose onto her tiptoes to press a brief kiss to his cheek. She stepped back, giving him one last one of those magnetic smiles of hers, and fished her keys from her pocket. Haechan wanted to say something — but what could you possibly say after a kiss like that? Absolutely nothing that made sense.

When the girl pushed open the door, he finally managed to open his mouth. "Goodnight."

Jaeni turned to look at him and —

"Don't tell me you found her."

Haechan startled and found Renjun's face just inches from his. "What?"

The boy, now sitting cross-legged beside him, frowned. "Your face is so relaxed you look like you've had Botox, your skin is practically glowing, and you keep zoning out while I'm talking to you... did you meet your soulmate?"

Haechan sighed. Then nodded. Renjun's face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh my God! When?" he exclaimed, just barely keeping his voice down.

"Today, at the Carnival."

"Is that why you lost focus?"

Haechan nodded. "And I saw her again tonight."

Renjun scooted closer, like a kid being told a bedtime story. "What's she like?"

"She's cute... I think," he replied, shrugging.

Renjun nearly spat in his face. "What do you mean, 'cute, I think'? Is she pretty? What's her name?"

"Min Jaeni. Yeah, she's very pretty."

The Hacker waited for him to go on, hoping that his stream of consciousness would eventually get the better of his armor of ice.

"She's got a baby face, but her eyes are stunning. And she's... mute."

Renjun's eyes went wide. "Mute? Like, deaf-mute?"

Haechan looked at him. "Same thing. Except she's not deaf," he clarified, as though the other was being slow.

Renjun shot him a look — talking to this guy was like talking to a brick wall. "So, do we like her?"

Haechan sighed. "Yeah, of course. But... she's not really my type. Of woman, I mean."

Renjun raised an eyebrow. "You have a type? You don't even have a preferred gender, and now you have a type?"

He shrugged. "She's very sweet and affectionate and I don't think she's right for me. Romantically, I mean."

When he got no response, he turned and found Renjun now staring at him like he was the slow one. "Seriously? A sweet, affectionate woman isn't right for you? And I thought you were supposed to be the smart one around here."

Haechan looked genuinely puzzled — either not catching the implication, or choosing not to — as the other stood up to finally head to bed. But before he could get far, his teammate caught him by the wrist.

"Keep this between us, okay? I need to tell Mark before he hears it from someone else."

Renjun nodded understandingly and wished him goodnight — but something stopped him before he got away. He sniffed the air and looked at Haechan.

"Did you use my cologne?"

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

If he'd been hoping that a few hours with his soulmate would finally let him sleep like a normal person... he was wrong. He'd managed a couple of hours, then one of his nightmares had pulled him back under, and after that he couldn't fall asleep again — the anxiety of having to tell Mark what had happened had stormed his stomach and taken up residence. Well, two hours was better than nothing.

It was barely nine-thirty when he knocked on the older boy's door.

"Come in."

Haechan opened the door and leaned in. "Do you have five minutes?"

Hearing his calm voice, Mark looked up at him. He nodded, letting him in. Haechan settled into the armchair across from his and glanced at the documents the Leader was leafing through.

"Are those for a new mission?"

"No. When Jisung needed a passport, I figured it would be useful for everyone. I'm just checking that the information is correct."

"Please take two centimeters off Renjun's height."

Mark shot him a look. "One less is enough. It's more subtle."

Haechan chuckled, and missed a beat when he caught the small smile on his teammate's lips.

"What did you want to tell me?" the latter asked, straightening the papers and setting them on the desk.

"Oh, right," Haechan murmured, clearing his throat and shifting in the armchair. "Something happened to me yesterday."

Mark kept watching him, more serious now.

Haechan lifted his chin slightly, because somehow those words felt like they deserved respect — maybe even a little pride. "I met my soulmate, and the bond clicked."

Mark's eyes went wide, and for a moment the other was afraid his heart had stopped. A long, frozen silence followed.

"What?" the older boy breathed, in shock.

"We ran into each other at the Carnival, and then we met up again last night."

"Is she a girl?"

"Yes."

"Is it... is it a platonic bond?"

Haechan saw the anxiety in his teammate's eyes. "I don't know yet."

Mark held his gaze, but then shifted his attention to his own hands, because Haechan's eyes were too much to sustain — calm, as always, waiting for a reaction, whatever it might be. And Mark genuinely had no idea how to react.

"At least it's a normal one?"

Haechan blinked. "What?"

"The bond, I mean. I don't have the energy to deal with another unidirectional disaster," he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Oh, yeah, don't worry. It's all... normal."

Mark nodded, visibly relieved. "Good."

"And she's nicer than Sohyun."

"Well, that's not a high bar," the Leader remarked quietly.

Haechan let out half a laugh. Then he decided it was time to leave, before he said something wrong or breathed too loudly and set off his best friend's dark mood. He got to his feet and headed for the door, but before stepping out, he turned to look at him. Mark had drifted off, staring at his fingers again.

"Thanks... for listening."

Mark looked up, surprised, caught the younger boy's small, awkward smile, and watched him leave.

When he was alone in his room, the boy buried his face in his palms and sat very still, turning it all over in his mind.

Haechan had found his soulmate.

That had been his nightmare since he was thirteen. Another problem to deal with.

No — 

Another wound to heal.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

🔧Phrases written in «italics» are spoken in sign language🔧

Seonwoo had been yelling for ten minutes, and Jaeni knew that soon enough some neighbor would come knocking in outrage.

"Please, lower your voice," she signed, exasperated, gesturing to get his attention as she sat at the kitchen table.

The boy stopped pacing back and forth and took a deep breath, pressing a hand to his chest.

He looked at her, his eyes wild with something frantic. "You tell me you've met your soulmate and I'm supposed to stay calm? Wait—" he froze, struck by a disarming detail. "Did you say you ran into each other yesterday morning? You mean you didn't tell me all afternoon? We were together the whole day yesterday — we had dinner together and YOU DIDN'T THINK TO MENTION IT?" he shouted, looking at her as if she had just driven a blade into his sternum.

Jaeni avoided his gaze, guilty. "I didn't know what to tell you. He left right after. I wanted to know more, first."

Her best friend let his shoulders drop with a huff and sat back down across from her. "To earn my forgiveness you have to tell me everything."

The girl's expression only deepened her guilt, and Seonwoo caught it immediately.

"What is it? Don't tell me he's ugly — or worse... a nazi," he said, whispering the last word.

Jaeni let out a small laugh and shook her head. "I don't think he's a nazi... at least he didn't seem like one. It's just... he told me I can't go around telling people about us."

Seonwoo frowned. "Why?"

"Apparently he's someone well-known in your neighborhood."

A chill of unease ran through the boy's shoulders. "Jaeni... don't tell me he's in a gang."

Jaeni met his eyes. "I don't know... it's possible."

"You have to tell me who he is," he said, his voice firm.

The girl hesitated, but... what if Seonwoo was right and this person was dangerous?

"But you have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

The boy nodded, anxious.

Jaeni sighed. "His name is Haechan," she told him, spelling the name out slowly with her hands.

Seonwoo froze. "What?"

Jaeni repeated the name.

"Haechan," he said aloud, and received a nod from his best friend. "Haechan from NCT."

She blinked a couple of times. "NCT?" she signed, a wave of panic washing over her.

"Yes, sweetheart. Haechan is in NCT," he explained.

Jaeni covered her mouth with her palm, stunned. Of course she knew who NCT were — she might not have known their members' names or ever seen one in person, but she knew who they were. And they were terrifying. Even for people living in the slums, let alone the rest of the city.

"Wait, wait... maybe it's a good thing, right? If you're the soulmate of one of them it means they can't touch you..." he started thinking out loud, growing more and more animated. "And not only won't they touch you — they'll protect you. And their protection naturally extends to me, which could make my life a whole lot easier, and oh my God — you'll meet Jeno and Jaemin — hold on. I will meet Jeno and Jaemin!" he exclaimed, stars in his eyes.

Jaeni tilted her head, puzzled. "Who are Jeno and Jaemin?"

Seonwoo let out a dreamy sigh. "Only the two sexiest men to ever walk the streets of Seoul."

He suddenly turned and grabbed Jaeni's phone from the table. He held it out to her.

"Call him. Call him right now and tell him we're going on a double date — no, no. A group date! Five people!"

Jaeni shot him a look.

"Oh, right," he said, remembering that Jaeni couldn't, in fact, call anyone. "Well, text him."

The girl dismissed him with a wave of her hand and headed toward the entrance of her apartment. She grabbed her shoes and started putting them on.

"What are you doing?" Seonwoo asked.

She turned to look at him. "I want a bubble tea."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮  →

"How do you know she lives here?" asked Rachel, casting a secret, longing glance at the buildings of the neighborhood from under the brim of her cap.

"I know everything," Chenle replied, as if it was obvious.

After Haechan had asked Renjun not to tell anyone about Jaeni, the Hacker had rushed to the bedroom to wake Chenle so they could dig up more information on the girl. Obviously.

"It wasn't hard to find her address knowing she doesn't live in the cursed neighborhood," Renjun explained, checking Google Maps on his phone. "It should be that one over there," he said, pointing to an apartment building a little further ahead.

"Hey, geniuses," Chenle cut in from behind his dark mask, "What's the plan? We ring the doorbell and tell her... what, exactly?"

Renjun looked at him, unimpressed. "I can't be the one to think up every single part of the plan."

"What plan, though?" Rachel muttered.

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Next time find her yoursel—"

"Sh-sh!" Chenle cut him off abruptly. "Look," he said, pointing ahead, where a couple was just stepping out of the front door of the building Renjun had identified.

It was a very short brunette girl and a taller boy with short black hair who wouldn't stop talking a mile a minute. From where the three teammates stood, they could hear his high, enthusiastic voice but couldn't make out what he was saying. So they moved a little closer, until they could catch a few words.

"You don't understand what this means, Jen! You could become the queen of the slums... you're basically the mafia boss's wife!" the boy exclaimed, gesturing with theatrical flair.

Rachel and Renjun exchanged a glance: found her.

"Okay, we found her," Chenle whispered, standing between the other two. "Do we keep tailing her now?"

The three of them froze in place as they noticed that Jaeni, up ahead, had stopped dead in her tracks. They held their breath. The girl turned around slowly, piquing her best friend's curiosity too. While he asked her what she'd heard, Jaeni stared at the three motionless figures just a few meters behind them, who looked like they'd seen a ghost. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head, puzzled.

"Caught," Rachel whispered.

"Great plan, Hyung."

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

Jaemin knocked with his heel on the half-open door of Mark's office, and Mark waved him in.

The younger one leaned in, letting him catch a glimpse of the tray in his hands. "Coffee?"

Mark sighed and nodded, pulling himself away from his laptop screen as Jaemin set the wooden tray down on his desk — a carafe of warm coffee, two cups, and a small plate of cookies. Luckily, exactly the kind Mark liked.

"You've been locked in here all day. It must be an important mission," the Medic frowned, looking concerned as he poured the dark liquid into a cup.

"Actually I'm watching a TV show," the older one admitted, closing his laptop.

Jaemin raised an eyebrow, handing him the cup. "On my Netflix?"

"Yep."

The younger one studied him for a few seconds, searching his Leader's face for some clue about his mood. Mark got ahead of him, sensing what he wanted to talk about.

"Haechan told me."

"And how are we doing?"

Mark shrugged, continuing to sip his coffee.

Jaemin sighed. "Are you going to use this as an excuse to make his life even harder?"

Mark looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Ever since Chae's been gone you've been acting like a real asshole to him. Even though you know perfectly well that without him that day they would have torn us apart in that damned little room."

Mark shook his head. "What are you talking about? There's just a bit of tension."

"A bit of tension? You can't say two words to each other without going for each other's throats!"

The Leader stood up with a sharp, restless motion. "It's just — it gets under my skin how he always manages to stay so calm and composed. Nothing bothers him, nothing touches him at all. Meanwhile I'm falling apart."

"Listen to yourself. Haechan is probably the one who's doing worst out of everyone here," Jaemin shot back.

Mark looked at him, baffled.

Jaemin let out an exasperated sigh. "He hasn't been able to sleep in months, he must have lost at least twenty pounds, and the most important person in his life has started hating him for no reason," he pointed out, his gaze pointed and accusing.

The older one stood there, speechless.

What? No — Haechan was fine. Like always.

"It's easy not to notice these things when you never look people in the face," the other one shot back again.

Mark shot him a hard look. "Alright. Drop it."

The older one ran a hand over his face and exhaled, sitting back down. Had he really been that unfair to Haechan? All he knew was that everything had been so hard since Chae died. He didn't have the strength to worry about someone else's wellbeing on top of it all. Haechan was a grown man — he could take care of himself.

"I'll be kinder," he sighed, biting into a cookie. "Where is everyone? Earlier I actually managed to take a twenty-minute shower without anyone needing to pee."

"Renjun, Rachel, and Chenle went to stalk Haechan's girl."

Mark made an amused, resigned face. "I'm getting déjà vu."

"I don't know where Jeno and Haechan went. They took the car," Jaemin answered.

Mark looked up at him. "Are you telling me we're home alone?"

Jaemin's eyes went wide. "We're home alone," he repeated, dumbstruck.

Mark broke into a wild grin and jumped to his feet, darting around the desk and toward the door. "I'M GETTING THE GOOD CONTROLLER!"

Jaemin chuckled, shaking his head, and got up unhurriedly. "No adults live here," he whispered to himself.

← 𝅘𝅥𝅮 →

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[im4rmy]

my last tiktok video is getting more views because i mentioned jeno and his name is kinda trending rn🥀 my baby i feel so sorry😭

[im4rmy]

bf!mark x fem!reader (idol AU) II

IMAGINE: Mark is always exhausted but you're ovulating

TW: fingering, sexual activities, MDNI

When Mark walks into the apartment the two of you share, he isn't surprised to find you already bundled up in your blanket on the couch, watching a film you've seen a thousand times. He pulls the door shut behind him and sighs as he takes off his shoes, then heads straight for you — and you welcome him into your arms and under the blanket without a second thought. Mark lets himself be wrapped up in the familiar warmth of your body and your scent, and hums in contentment as he melts against you.

"Everything okay?"

He sighs against your neck. "Yeah, just tired."

You breathe out an "okay" as you absently run your fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. The stretches where Mark gets no relief at work come around often — you're used to it by now. You've learned to communicate as a couple, to meet each other halfway. But that doesn't make it any less hard to feel his absence, his lack of energy, when it happens. Apparently your thoughts are written plainly across your face, because when Mark lifts his head to look at you, his eyes fill with guilt.

"I'm so sorry, I really wish I could do something to—"

You laugh softly, cutting him off. "No, no, baby. Everything's fine, really. Don't worry. I just hate seeing you like this every evening."

Mark looks relieved and tucks himself back against you, holding you a little tighter.

"Although..." you venture to add. The boy looks up at you instantly, and you give a small smile.

You're getting your period in like three days and that edit you watched just two hours ago on tiktok about a Mark's poison fancam-

You couldn't stop thinking about it since then.

"More than anything, what I hate is that you're never in the mood to be touched... or to touch me," you murmur, tracing the side of his face, then his lips.

Something clicks behind Mark's eyes and the worry gives way to something more playful. "Oh... you're right, that is a shame," he says, playing along.

"Mm... yeah."

Mark smiles and tucks his face back against your warm neck, beginning to press a few open-mouthed kisses from your ear along your jaw and down your throat.

While you praise yourself for how easily you got your boyfriend's attentions on you, you almost flinch when you feel his warm hand on your crotch, only shielded by your panties. He waits to feel your body relaxing before inserting his fingers under the thin fabric and starting pleasing you. You close your eyes and let yourself being overwhelmed by the feeling of his rough fingers buried inside you and you arch your back, gluing your chest to Mark's, who trembles in anticipation.

His lips keep on covering your neck and collarbones of wet kisses, but when his hand starts to get serious, Mark can't hold himself anymore, needing to look at your face while you enjoy your well-deserved care.

"You were sooo right baby, it's real shame that i'm not able to see you like this more often, that i cannot have you like this all day long, all for myself..."

His deep and hoarse voice sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your belly together with all the others sensations pooling not afar from your core, and a shameful moan escapes your throat, making the boy smile in pride.

His fingers don't slow down and you start to lose control on your legs. Mark already knows what you like, where you like it and how you like it, so he doesn't wait any longer to make you cum: he finds the right pace and he mantains it until your thighs press together on instinct, risking of breaking his wrist between them. You cover your mouth with the palm of your hand while your hips starts pacing along with his hand, which has no intention of stopping whatsoever.

Mark makes sure you ride your orgasm till the end before letting go of you. You sink back against the couch, finally satisfied. He straightens your underwear and returns to his original position, curling back up against your chest, which is still rising and falling a little frantically.

"Better, my love?"

You nod with a little "mh-mh!" and feel him smile against your skin.

"Happy to fulfill my duties."

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other mark's chapters:

bf!mark scenario

when you first met

your first time together

bf!mark scenario II ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident

when he comes back from tour

etc...

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

⇘ nct dream idol AU -text imagines- index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

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