im4rmy

[im4rmy]

16: i'll be fine

← 吻 →

Sohyun had started throwing up at one in the morning and hadn't left the toilet since. While Taeyang stayed by her side, fighting off sleep and worry, Junghyun had been glued to his phone for hours, desperately trying to reach Jisung—who, of course, hadn't answered a single call.

What had happened to him?

Her entire body felt like it was being pricked by a thousand tiny needles, her chest tightening with pain, as if someone was gleefully jabbing a voodoo doll with her face on it every thirty seconds.

Was that what they were doing to Jisung?

He had told her it was a dangerous mission, but they had been too caught up in their little love escape, too wrapped up in each other to worry about it. Everything was supposed to be fine.

So why could she feel his pain so clearly? Were they torturing him? Was he dying?

"I have to go to him," she muttered, gripping her father's arm to pull herself up, but he stopped her.

"No, sweetheart. You can barely stand. At least wait until morning, okay?"

As soon as dawn faintly brightened the Seoul sky, Sohyun was in the car. She was still nauseous, but the pain had dulled, and she had managed to gather just enough strength to make it to the NCT D house. She barely parked before rushing to the door. She could feel his presence beyond the walls—so he was here. Not in the hands of some sadistic killer.

She didn't knock. She just walked in. Her eyes immediately scanned the room: two of Jisung's teammates sat at the kitchen table, three more on the couch, Rachel perched on an armchair.

No Jisung.

No one spoke. No one moved. Rachel was the only one who got up to approach her, sniffling. Now that she was closer, Sohyun noticed her red, swollen eyes, the combat uniform still clinging to her body, her face and hair still streaked with dirt.

"What's going on? Where's Jisung?"

"Uh..." Rachel's hoarse voice barely made it past her lips.

Oh God. Oh God.

The brunette flicked her gaze toward the closed door near the fridge, as if about to say something else. But Sohyun had already figured it out. Two quick strides, and she was there. She threw the door open, not even thinking about what she might find on the other side.

The sight before her shattered her heart.

The room looked like an improvised infirmary, a long table at the center—one that resembled the operating tables in a vet clinic. A white sheet covered something.

No. Someone. A still body lay beneath it.

Sohyun held her breath as her eyes landed on Jisung. He was slumped on a stool beside the table, his fingers clutching the hand of whoever lay under that sheet, his head resting against the cold metal edge.

Before she could move toward him, someone stepped into her path—a woman, a few inches shorter than her, staring her down with sharp, bloodshot eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" she snapped.

Sohyun arched a brow. "Who the hell are you?"

The brunette narrowed her eyes. "If you don't mind, this is a delicate moment."

Who the fuck does this bit—

"Please," Jisung's whisper broke through the tension, his head still resting in the crook of his arm. "Let her in."

The woman kept glaring at her, but Sohyun only cared about making sure Jisung was okay. She sidestepped the guard dog and reached him, planting herself in front of him. He didn't react. He was too busy remembering to breathe, one breath at a time, and to listen to the part of his soul screaming for him to reunite with his other half.

Sohyun studied him carefully—he didn't look injured. His black leather uniform was stained with blood, but it was intact. That blood wasn't his. His face was pale, his red-rimmed eyes and nose the only signs that his heart was still pumping.

She lifted her gaze to the covered body, even though she already knew. The pain she had felt reflected in her own body that night, the sense that Jisung was being tortured, the sharp ache in her chest—

It was Jisung's agony. It was his pain from losing Chae.

Sohyun placed her palm against her soulmate's cheek, brushing over his skin, still damp from the tears that had now stopped. Jisung exhaled, closing his eyes for the first time in hours, shifting slightly before resting his head against Sohyun's stomach. He melted into her presence, finding comfort in her warmth—but he never let go of Chae's cold hand.

Sohyun ran her fingers through his hair, and Jisung felt his muscles loosen just a bit, reassured by her touch. She said nothing.

A soft knock-knock broke the heavy silence. Sohyun looked up to see a guy she had never met before pushing the door open just enough to slip through. He had big eyes and long hair. His gaze flickered to Jisung, then to the hostile woman.

"Taejin, Jaehyun and Shaw went to get the kid from the hospital. They'll be here in twenty minutes."

The older woman gave him a curt nod. Yuta left, careful not to let his eyes linger on the white sheet. Taejin cleared her throat and stepped toward the two tangled soulmates.

"Jisung."

Sohyun locked eyes with her, ready to bare her teeth if she got too close to him.

"Jisung," Taejin repeated, her voice sharper.

"What do you want?" he grumbled, his voice low and irritated.

Taejin clenched her jaw. "Watch your tone when you speak to me, kid. You don't want to be here when Yeonjun arrives."

Jisung pulled away from Sohyun's warmth and stood, sniffing, turning to face the NCT leader. "And what about you? You think he'll be happy to see you here? Because we both know you're just as guilty as I am."

The woman blinked but didn't flinch. Not yet. "Guilty of what? Chae took three bullets for you."

Sohyun flinched—but maybe it was just the sharp pain in Jisung's stomach, which he ignored.

He took a step forward. "She meant to. Stop pretending it was an accident. Chae chose not to wear the vest."

Taejin inhaled slowly through her nose. "And why would that be my fault? Or yours?"

"Because we both knew." Jisung felt the sting of fresh tears in his eyes. "We knew she wasn't okay, and we did nothing."

Silence thickened the air. The whole house barely breathed, as if even the walls didn't dare make a sound.

"You were her brother. You should have helped her."

"You were her mother." Jisung's voice wavered, but his glare didn't. "You kicked her out of your house because you thought a change of scenery would fix her? She needed you."

Tears were streaming down his face again, but he didn't look away.

Taejin lifted her chin just slightly. "When Yeonjun gets here, only Jaemin stays in this room. That's an order."

With that, she turned and left.

Jaemin. Jaemin was the one with the nice smile—the Doctor. Of course. If Yeonjun was Chae's soulmate, the only thing he'd need right now was a doctor.

Sohyun stopped connecting names to faces when Jisung turned back to her, his face wet.

"Do you want to leave?"

He looked at the covered body. "I don't know if I can." His voice was barely a whisper.

Sohyun couldn't even begin to imagine what it felt like to lose someone like that. "Do you want to say something to her?"

Jisung looked at her. "Huh?"

"If you want to tell her something... before you let her go. Say goodbye."

Jisung swallowed and took a deep breath. Then he nodded. "Okay."

Sohyun stepped closer, pressing a kiss to his bicep. "I'll be outside," she whispered, running her fingers over his hand before turning toward the infirmary door.

When she stepped back into the room, the entire team's eyes turned to her, but no one said a word. It was obvious they wanted to ask how the youngest was holding up, but it was just as obvious what the answer would be.

Only Renjun moved, standing up and heading to the kitchen. "Do you want something to eat, Sohyun? Coffee?"

"Uh... sure, coffee. Thanks," she replied, sitting down next to Jeno at the kitchen table.

The boy didn't look up. He didn't move at all. His eyes remained fixed on the empty mug in his hands.

How did someone get through something like this? Sohyun was sure that no one in the room had the slightest clue.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the grumpy guy—whose name she never seemed to remember—stand from the couch and head upstairs. But then Renjun placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of her, and she stopped wondering where the other one was going.

The grumpy guy needed to see Mark.

By the time they got home, Taeyong was already there waiting for them. He hadn't wasted a second before pulling the younger Leader aside and taking him upstairs to his office.

Haechan needed to know if he was okay.

Mark had frozen—out there, on the field, in front of death.

When he reached the closed door to Mark's room, he didn't even get the chance to knock. It swung open, revealing Taeyong, his eyes more lifeless than ever.

Taeyong met his gaze, searching the younger man's dark eyes for any sign of emotion. Surprisingly, he found plenty—sadness, fear, worry, regret.

Taeyong sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Haechan nodded, watching as the older man descended the stairs. His soulmate was waiting for him in the car, ready to take him home.

Haechan stepped inside Mark's room. Mark was sprawled in his desk chair, staring at the ceiling.

"How are you?"

Mark's eyes flicked to him. "You for real right now?"

Haechan didn't flinch. "I'm asking a more than reasonable question, i think"

Mark looked back up at the ceiling. "I don't feel like arguing right now."

The younger furrowed his brows. "Why would we argue? I just came to check on you."

"Oh, sure," Mark scoffed, voice thick with sarcasm. He pushed himself up from the chair and walked to the window. "You're not here to tell me this is all my fault?"

Haechan's gaze softened. "Hyung, it's not your fault."

Mark turned sharply, his face twisting in fury. "Yes, it is! And you can't wait to rub it in my face."

Haechan shook his head. "You're wrong, Mark."

"Get out."

Haechan tensed. "I didn't come to blame you for anything. I just wanted to check on you because I feel like shit, and so does everyone else. Maybe having you with them would help."

Mark sighed and waved him off. "Just go."

He slumped back into his chair, this time turning his back to him.

Haechan opened his mouth but realized he had nothing left to say. He left the room, making sure to slam the door behind him, then headed to his own bedroom, sinking to the floor with his back against the wall.

He was always the steady one—the Anchor. Waves, storms, lightning—they crashed against him, but nothing moved him from his place. He had taken control of the mission the moment he realized Mark wasn't going to function anymore. He had brought the team home, informed Taeyong and Taejin on the way back, and placed Chae in the infirmary.

But now...

Now, he thought back to the feeling of Chae's lifeless body in his arms.

And he cried like a child.

← 吻 →

When he heard the door close, Jisung stepped up to the table, his hand reaching for the edge of the sheet. "Look at what you're making me do..." he whispered before pulling it back to reveal Chae's face.

A sob caught in his throat, and his chin trembled again. Apparently, he still hadn't run out of tears. He tried to keep quiet, but his chest ached too much, forcing him to take ragged breaths between sobs.

He placed his fingers against Chae's cheek, brushing her skin gently. His fingertips traced the curve of her cheekbone, then the bridge of her nose, her closed eyes.

"You just had to be dramatic, huh? I should've known," he murmured, tucking a stray lock of hair away from her brow. "You had to play the hero and save me. I thought I'd never be able to forgive you for that, but... if you're at peace now—" A sob cut him off, forcing him to take a deep breath. "If you're better now... then it's okay. I get it."

Jisung nodded to himself, staring at the face that had been with him for fifteen years, now still and lifeless.

"I forgive you, Chae. And I'm sorry... I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

He took her soft hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before holding it tightly against his chest.

"Thank you for always protecting me. For being by my side my whole life, like a guardian angel. But I don't need you anymore, right?" A choked laugh shook his body. "There's someone else to look after me now. That's why you made this choice, isn't it?"

Jisung sighed, closing his eyes for a moment.

"You can go now. I'll be fine, I promise."

← 吻 →

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[im4rmy]

15: let's go home

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"Why the hell is your boyfriend texting me to ask where you are?" Jisung grumbled, walking into their room with his eyes on his phone screen.

Chae didn't answer, still wrapped in the warmth of her thick blankets.

Jisung frowned. "Why are you still in bed?"

"I don't feel like getting up," she mumbled, burying her face deeper into the pillow.

Jisung flopped down beside her, staring up at the ceiling with a smug grin. "It happened, by the way. Last night."

Chae didn't move. "Congratulations."

Her indifferent tone made him turn his head. "What's your problem?" he asked, irritated.

"What are you talking about?"

Jisung propped himself up on one elbow. "Every time I talk about Sohyun, it's like you couldn't care less. You don't like her?"

Chae huffed. "I've talked to her twice, Ji. How the hell should I know?"

He stayed silent for a moment. Was this because they weren't spending as much time together? She had been the same way when she first met Yeonjun, disappearing for a while—so why should it be any different for him?

"I thought you'd at least be happy for me."

Chae sighed, rolling onto her back and covering her face with her hands. "What the fuck, Ji? Of course I'm happy for you."

"Well, you don't sound like it."

She let out a frustrated groan. "Look, I really don't want to talk about this right now. Can you just leave?"

Jisung flinched, caught off guard. He stood up. "Gladly," he muttered, slamming the door behind him.

Chae pressed her palms harder against her swollen eyes and resumed crying silently.

She wasn't a late sleeper. She liked waking up early, taking her time with breakfast, easing into the day. But today, even dragging herself out of bed to pee felt impossible. Even unlocking her phone to reply to her soulmate's texts seemed like too much effort. She had stared at her lock screen for twenty minutes before deciding Yeonjun could survive a morning without hearing from her.

She groaned when a knock sounded at the door. "What do you want now?"

Chenle's sharp face peeked in from the doorway. "Good morning to you too."

Chae turned away, not wanting him to see her puffy face. Chenle scanned the room without stepping inside. It wasn't like her to stay locked in here until 11. The window was still shut.

"Chae, have you at least gone to the bathroom?"

"Yeah."

"Liar."

"What do you want, Chenle?"

"For you to go pee. And maybe take a shower. Tonight's mission is important. You need to get up."

Silence.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?"

"I just don't."

Chenle sighed. "You're really annoying." He finally stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he tried to find her face hidden beneath the blankets. "Is it one of those days?"

Chae sniffled and nodded.

Chenle knew she was depressed. It wasn't hard to figure out, especially with the way his analytical mind worked—her reckless pursuit of adrenaline during missions, the dull look in her eyes the rest of the time, the way she swung between binge-eating like a machine and going days without food. She tried to hide it, but piecing it all together hadn't been hard.

In the end, it was obvious. He knew. But he didn't know how to help her. Logically, Chae needed meds. Therapy. But right now, in this moment, he had no idea what to do, how to comfort her. No one had ever taught him. Chenle had learned what it meant to love a family when NCT took him in. But emotions weren't his strong suit.

So he just sat there. Staring into the void. Occasionally reminding her that she should really go pee, pulling out a small laugh from her every now and then.

After over an hour, Chae didn't feel like crying anymore. Maybe she could get up. Maybe she could go to the bathroom.

"Jaemin hyung fired up the grill, by the way."

Chae sighed, slowly pulling the blanket away from her face, taking her time stretching out every stiff bone in her body. "Okay. I'll go pee."

Chenle smiled.

← 吻 →

Jisung and Chae hadn't spoken all day, and they weren't speaking now as they got ready to head out. The older members were already outside the door, going over the trickiest details of the plan for the hundredth time, while the younger ones gathered their gear in the infirmary. Usually, Jisung and Chae would be chatting excitedly, like two kids about to play PlayStation together. But today, they didn't even look at each other. They checked their guns in perfect sync, counted the military-grade knives hidden in various places, and secured their equipment. Jisung adjusted his bulletproof vest beneath his black leather jacket. Chae glanced at him before stepping away slightly to put on her own—identical to his. They had picked them out together. They liked matching on missions. That was why the others called them the little twins—that, and the fact that they had a bad habit of getting into trouble together.

"You ready?"

Chae shot a quick, anxious look at the equipment locker before answering yes, but Jisung wasn't looking at her. So he didn't notice. He opened the door, and they walked to the entrance. 

Mark looked up at them. "Good. Let's move."

The two youngest followed their Leader and Renjun into the van, fully equipped with everything the Hacker needed. Renjun would stay outside, guiding them through the security cameras installed inside the warehouse they were about to break into. He had been using them for days to track their targets' movements. They knew where the enemies were stationed, the best entry points, how to take them by surprise. The goal was simple: incapacitate as many as possible and get out. Leave the rest to the cops, who would arrive to make the arrests. It should have been easy—except for the fact that the warehouse was massive. And there were fifty of them. Against nine.

They had permission to shoot, of course, but not at the gang's leader. The Wolf.

Haechan had nicknamed him The Troll because he looked ugly as fuck.

The Wolf had to be taken alive. No matter what.

Mark had split them into three teams: Jeno, Rachel, and Chenle would enter through the front door, creating as much chaos as possible to clear a path for the Leader, who would come in through the back with the two youngest. Meanwhile, Jaemin and Haechan would sneak in through the emergency exit on the east side, ready to reinforce the front-line trio when they inevitably needed backup.

Mark parked the black van between two containers scattered around the warehouse lot, shut off the engine, and turned to Jisung, who was sitting beside him—tense as a wire.

"What's going on with you and Chae?"

"Nothing."

Mark growled. "If either of you screws up this mission, I swear to God, I'll kick you both out."

Jisung's head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "What?"

"You heard me. If you disobey orders again like two dumbasses at the playground, you're out. And not just out of the mission. You're out of the team."

Jisung opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Mark's face was stone—pure authority and intensity. He didn't wait for an answer before getting out of the van.

Jisung swallowed hard and took a deep breath. The reckless days were over. He had something to go back to now. He had to get back to Sohyun.

The primary objective is always the same, every single time... Don't lose anyone. If nine of you go out, nine of you must come back.

Taejin's words had been ringing in her head since they started prepping.

If  nine of you go out, nine of you must come back.

If Chae went off on her own again, she knew Mark and Jeno would make her pay for it. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths.

"You okay?"

Renjun's soft voice made her blink, her eyes adjusting to the dim glow of the van's interior. The only light came from his two monitors, glowing stark against their dark uniforms.

"Yeah," she said, checking her gun for the hundredth time.

Renjun studied her carefully, concern flickering in his expression. But before he could say anything, the back doors of the van swung open, cutting him off.

Mark shot her a look. "Let's go."

Chae nodded, pulling up the high collar of her jacket to cover her nose and mouth. She glanced at Renjun and held out a fist.

He bumped it without hesitation. "Don't be stupid, kid."

She jumped out of the van and immediately fell into step beside Mark. Jisung followed right behind her.

Haechan’s voice crackled in their earpieces. “Team C in position.”

Jeno’s deep timbre followed. “Team A in position.”

Mark signaled to the two youngest members, and within seconds, they slipped into their designated entry point, melting into the shadows of the night. “Team B, moving in.”

Once they had infiltrated from the rear, the lateral reinforcements would do the same—then it would be the Captain’s turn to draw attention at the main entrance.

“Team C, moving in.”

Renjun’s eyes darted across the monitors until he located both teams advancing with careful steps, weapons raised. “I see you. Everything looks normal, proceed,” he relayed through the mic linking all eight of them.

Then, something went wrong.

The top-left camera feed abruptly went dark, as if it had never existed in the first place. Renjun straightened in his seat.

“Team A, are you ready?” Mark’s voice rang in his ear.

“Wait! Mark,” the Hacker called out, freezing the entire squad’s movements. “I lost a camera.”

“Lost? Just one?”

“Yeah. But I didn’t lose the signal, it’s like…” He was cut off as two more feeds went dark. Haechan and Jaemin had vanished from his view. “They’re shutting off the cameras… from the inside.”

“Renjun, get them back,” Mark hissed.

The boy did everything he could think of, but the feeds kept blacking out one by one, leaving him in complete darkness. “I can’t! It’s like they never existed. You need to get out.”

A brief silence sent a chill down Renjun’s spine.

“Team A, are you ready?” Mark repeated.

“Mark! I can’t see you! I can’t help you. We need a new plan—pull out.”

“No, we’ll handle it ourselves”

Renjun’s mouth fell open, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Only a hacker could have shut down the system like this… which meant they had one too. Someone had kicked him out of his own network like it was nothing. His team was about to go in completely blind. And worse—they knew they were coming.

Shoving back from his beloved padded stool, Renjun grabbed his dark green biker jacket, throwing it over his flak vest. He reached for his rifle, loading it as fast as he could. Swearing under his breath, he jumped out of the van.

“Hyung, are you sure? We can—”

Mark cut the younger boy off. “We just need to cover more carefully. You two go that way, I’ll take the long route.”

Chae’s eyes widened. “We’re splitting up?”

Mark hesitated for only a second. “Yes.”

Chae and Jisung exchanged a glance before pressing forward, each footstep measured. Now alone, they wove through the graveyard of crates, stacked furniture, and towering wooden pallets. Only a few flickering neon lights cast a dim glow.

Their blood thrummed with anticipation. The silence was deafening.

“Team A, now,” Mark commanded in their ears.

The Captain didn’t hesitate. “Team A, moving in.”

Within seconds, gunfire erupted in the distance—thunder in the midst of a storm. Chae and Jisung picked up their pace, ready to ambush their targets from behind. Reaching a crossroads, Jisung turned to check that no one was lurking to their left, where a corridor opened up.

“Cle—”

“JISUNG!”

Chae’s scream snapped his attention forward. An all-black figure rose from a pile of crates, stepping out of the shadows. His gun, aimed at Jisung’s exposed side, fired three times. Jisung reacted in a flash, a single shot blasting the man’s skull apart. But before he could breathe, a new burst of gunfire erupted from the right, filling the room. That guy… had missed him?

Only when Jisung ducked behind an overturned table did he notice Chae’s legs, right beside him—buckling. He caught her just in time, pulling her down with him, shielding her from another wave of bullets coming from who-knew-where. He braced his back against the wood, cradling her between his legs.

“Did he hit you? Shit, breathe.”

The bulletproof vest would stop the shots from being fatal, sure—but getting hit in the chest still knocked the wind out of you. Hurt like hell. Jisung knew that firsthand.

Chae was gasping, her breath coming in ragged, desperate gulps beneath her collar. Jisung’s eyes flicked over her—legs intact, no blood.

“It’ll pass, just—”

Jisung froze. Gunfire still cracked behind him, but his mind zeroed in on Chae’s face. Her eyes were wide. Fixed. She wasn’t breathing. His hand trembled as he reached out, pulling down her collar—soaked in blood. Thick, dark liquid spilled from her mouth, staining her teeth, her lips, her chin in a hideous, terrifying red.

Jisung’s heart thundered.

What—?

His gaze dropped to her leather jacket. Three bullet holes. One at her kidney. One near her collarbone. One straight through the lungs. Through the heart. Shaking, he yanked down the zipper—

Blood. Just blood.

“Chae, what—”

She hadn’t worn her vest.

Jisung let his gun clatter to the floor and grabbed her face in his hands. “Chae! What the fuck did you do?! Why aren’t you wearing your vest?” His voice drowned out even the enemy fire.

Chae’s gaze finally met his. And she smiled.

It didn’t even hurt.

Everything was fading, her last sparks of adrenaline drifting sweetly to the tips of her fingers. The noise in her head had stopped buzzing. It wasn’t even hard to breathe anymore. Her heart was finally finding the peace it had longed for.

She leaned into Jisung’s warmth one last time.

“I saved you. It’s okay.” Her voice was a whisper, a fragile thread woven between them.

“No, no, no, no. Chae! Come on, stay with me. Jaemin! Hyung, please!” His cry broke into a sob.

And then—

Chae died in his arms.

Her eyes dulled. Her lips stopped reaching for air. Her body sagged against his, limbs heavy with finality.

Another barrage of bullets tore through his cover, nearly hitting him.

“STOP!” He screamed through his tears. “Stop! Stop it! Chae, please. You can’t do this to me… Chae!”

He shook her, desperately, clinging to her, sobbing into her shoulder. He couldn’t do anything else. His mind was blank. He wasn’t Jaemin—he didn’t know how to bring her back. He could barely breathe, let alone think.

The gunfire around him stopped. But they could come for him. He didn’t care.

Jisung curled over her, wrapping her in his arms, holding her closer, tighter, desperate to keep her with him just a little longer. Her blood seeped into his skin, drenching his hands, drowning out her scent. Her long hair—once so soft—was matted with dust and death.

“Jisung!”

Mark had taken down the last three targets before rushing behind the table.

“What are you—” His voice cut off.

His heart slammed against his ribs. Chae’s body—entwined with Jisung’s trembling form, his broken sobs—

Mark couldn’t see her face. Jisung wouldn’t let her go. He clutched her to his chest, whispering her name like a prayer, as if saying it enough times could bring her back.

No. No. No.

Everything else disappeared. The mission. The squad still fighting across the compound. The earpiece exploding with voices.

Chae was dead.

“Mark! The Wolf is running away!”

Jeno’s voice didn’t even register.

It was Haechan who answered the Captain, after reaching Mark and Jisung together with Jaemin. “Let him go.”

Jaemin dropped to his knees beside Jisung, reaching for Chae’s shoulders—

“Don’t touch her!” Jisung snarled. “Don’t touch her.” His voice broke into a whisper as he pressed his forehead to hers. “Leave her alone.”

Jaemin moved slower this time, fingers ghosting over her wrist, searching for even the faintest pulse.

Nothing.

His grip tightened for a moment. Then, gently, he laid her arm across Jisung’s lap again. Jaemin lifted his gaze to Mark, who stared back with wide, disbelieving eyes. Slowly, he shook his head.

Mark stumbled back. Another step. And another. Until he hit something—a wall, a crate, whatever.

Chae was dead.

The youngest. The little one.

Dead.

He’d lost one of his own. A piece of his squad. His family. His home. His heart.

And it was unraveling before his very eyes.

"Why the fuck isn’t anyone answering me?!" Jeno’s furious voice shattered the silence in the small space.

He, Rachel, and Chenle burst in, guns still raised, chests heaving, adrenaline coursing through their veins. They had taken down about twenty—maybe twenty-five—of the gang, all ready to be arrested. Their leader had escaped, but everything else had gone according to plan.

Until the tense silence was punctured by the gut-wrenching sound of Jisung sobbing.

The three of them scanned the room: Haechan and Mark stood frozen, Jaemin crouched behind a table reduced to splinters. Rachel stepped toward the Doctor, and the second she saw what was in front of her, her breath caught in her throat. Her gun slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor. Her hands flew to her mouth, trying to muffle the sobs breaking through. She turned away and buried her face against the Captain’s chest, trembling, while he stared in horror at the mess of blood and grief Jisung had curled himself around.

Renjun rushed in next, breath held. He lowered his rifle in an instant but said nothing—too stunned to form words.

Yet, somehow, a single thought managed to surface.

"You were supposed to get out," he whispered, eyes locked on the two youngest, huddled together. "I told you to get out."

Mark’s head snapped up, his pale gaze meeting the Hacker’s.

No, we’ll handle it ourselves.

Nausea overtook the panic, burning through his insides.

The wail of police sirens only made the sinking weight in all their chests worse.

Haechan was the only one to move.

"Everyone out. To the van. Now," he ordered, nudging Chenle—who stood stiff as a statue—toward the back exit.

Jeno blinked up at Haechan, his eyes glassy. Then he swallowed hard, gripped Rachel’s arms, and pulled her along, guiding her toward the door. Jaemin wiped his face and stood, moving to his soulmate. Renjun followed close behind, desperate to look anywhere but at Chae’s lifeless body.

Haechan turned to Mark and grabbed his shoulders.

"I need your help." His voice was firm, unwavering. "Look at me."

Mark did. But he didn’t respond. Didn’t move. He searched Haechan’s strained expression for an answer.

Was this his fault?

"Get it together, goddamn it!" Haechan growled, shaking him. "I need you right now!"

Mark shook his head.

He needed help. He was drowning.

Haechan let out a frustrated snarl and turned away, kneeling beside Jisung. He reached out, arms sliding beneath Chae’s waist, lifting her into his hold. The moment his hands touched her, a shudder ran through his body.

Cold. Her limbs hung heavy, lifeless.

Jisung let out a weak, broken sound of protest.

"Let's go home," Haechan murmured, meeting his eyes. "Okay? We’ll take her home."

Jisung didn’t answer. But he forced himself to stand. Barely.

She was his home. There was no home without Chae.

Chae was his best friend. His sister. His favorite person.

He had never imagined a world without her—because she was the world.

His first love. His first friend. His first family.

His Chae.

How was he supposed to do this without her?

Who would sit with him at night when he was locked in The Reflection Cage?

Who would protect him from the bigger, stronger bad guys?

Who would cover his back in a fight?

Who would complain with him about the stupid rules the older ones made?

How could they still be a team if she—

She wasn’t here anymore.

And Jisung didn’t know how to survive without her.

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14: i'm in charge now

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Jisung gasped, squeezing his eyes shut as a flood of sensations crashed over him. His skin burned, his legs refused to stay still, and Sohyun was pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along his neck, tracing God-knows-what with her damn tongue. As if that wasn't enough, her hand was under his shirt, exploring, feeling, mapping out the ridges of his muscles. Then she started to move lower, fingers slipping down to the loose waistband of his pants, ready to sneak past his boxers like—

"Wake the fuck up!"

Jisung's eyes flew open. He shot upright in bed like someone had just shoved a gun up his ass. Blinking rapidly, he focused on Chae's unimpressed face. She stood at the edge of his bed, arms crossed tight over her chest.

"Hello, you there?" His best friend looked at him like he was an idiot.

"Uh—uhm, what?"

"It's ten. Mark's waiting."

"O-Okay. Five minutes. I'm up."

Chae gave him a nod before heading out of the room. Jisung exhaled sharply through his nose, running a hand through his hair. It had been almost a week since the bond had fully bloomed the way it was supposed to, and almost a week since he told his soulmate he wanted to wait—just a little—until the wildfire of the sparks settled before... taking the big step. He had seen Sohyun a couple of nights ago after sneaking in through her window, and she had practically devoured him with kisses and... dangerously tempting attention.

And these dreams? He couldn't stand them. Sleeping next to Chae didn't help either—he'd taken more than a few knees to the ribs when she kicked him for moving too much.

With a heavy sigh, he dragged himself out of bed, stretching his back and arms, trying to shake off the lingering charge of his dream. After splashing cold water on his face and pulling on an old hoodie, he made his way to Mark's studio, bouncing on his heels as he went. He knocked before stepping inside.

"I'm here, sorry."

It wasn't often that all of NCT D gathered in the same room, but Jisung wasn't surprised to see every single one of his eight teammates packed into the small space. They had a mission to discuss. A big one.

"You're good, Jisung." Mark reassured him, pushing up from his swivel chair with a sigh. "Alright, guys. Tomorrow's mission isn't going to be easy. You already know the plan, but I need us to go over every single detail—every possible variable. If you have questions, ask them, even if they're stupid. I don't want doubts."

Jaemin raised a hand, waiting for a nod from their Leader before speaking. "Shouldn't we run this by Taeyong and Taejin? Usually—"

"No."

Jaemin flinched at Mark's sharp interruption.

The older boy lifted his chin slightly. "We're not under their protection anymore. I'm in charge now."

No one argued, but Haechan flicked a barely perceptible glance at Jeno, who returned it with equal unease.

Mark spread a map out on his desk, red markings scrawled across different points. He tapped a small circled area.

"Jisung, Chae, and I will enter from here."

← 吻 →

Jisung looked at himself in the mirror for the millionth time and let out a loud sigh. He had to leave soon—he was supposed to meet Sohyun for what was technically... a date? More or less.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hey, can I come in?"

Jisung sighed out a weary "yeah" and kept staring at his reflection as Renjun walked in, positioning himself in front of the toilet.

Tonight was the night. Jisung wasn't just nervous—he was terrified. The thought of spending the evening alone with Sohyun made his head spin.

"You heading out?" Renjun tied the drawstring of his sweatpants and stepped up beside him in front of the sink.

"Yeah..."

"Wow, you sound really excited," the older boy said, drying his freshly washed hands with obvious sarcasm.

When Jisung didn't reply, Renjun turned to him, puzzled.

"Aren't you meeting Sohyun?"

Jisung sighed for the millionth time. "Yeah. But... ah, forget it," he muttered, deciding to leave the bathroom.

"Wait." Renjun caught him by the wrist, stopping him. "I get it. I know how you feel, you know?"

Jisung looked at him like a lost puppy in the middle of an existential crisis. Renjun chuckled, amused.

"If you're not ready, you don't have to—"

"Of course I'm ready!"

Renjun's lips curled into a teasing smirk. "Sure, i can tell. You're panicking now, but trust me, when you're with her, everything will just... happen naturally."

Jisung nodded, feeling a little more at ease. "Thanks, Hyung."

Renjun nodded back and let him go. Jisung took a deep breath and finally convinced himself to leave. As he made his way downstairs, he waved briefly at Rachel, who was sitting at the kitchen table with a bowl of cereal, but she stopped him.

"Hey, tall guy."

Jisung froze just inches from the front door and turned on his heels to look at her.

"Be good tonight, okay? What's the most important thing?"

Jisung nodded. "Respect."

"Good. Have fun." She shot him a wink.

His cheeks warmed slightly as he stepped out of the house, heading straight for his soulmate's place. He wiped his sweaty palms on the oversized flannel he wore over a black sleeveless shirt—the one Sohyun liked so much—but it did little to calm the restless fluttering in his stomach. He had never taken so long to walk there, but he kept having to pause to steady his breathing.

And now, here he was. Right in front of her door, with no way to back out. He rang the doorbell and forced himself to act like a normal person. The door swung open.

"Hi. Sohyun's not ready yet, but honestly, I'd rather not let you in," her father said, leaning against the doorframe with an unimpressed expression.

"That's okay, sir, I'll just—"

"Let him in!" Taeyang's voice rang out from the kitchen—lighthearted but firm.

Junghyun huffed and moved aside just enough to let Jisung through. The boy stepped inside with a small bow.

"Hi, Jisung," Taeyang greeted him with a warm smile. "Sohyun will be down soon. Want some water?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

At least one of her parents didn't hate him anymore.

"What's the plan for tonight?" Junghyun, however, still having a hard time accepting that his daughter was eternally bonded to that guy.

Jisung swallowed and hesitated for a moment. "Picnic in the park."

"It'll be dark soon."

"Picnic under the stars."

Taeyang walked over and handed Jisung a glass of water. "Honey, stop grilling him."

But Junghyun kept staring at him, scrutinizing. "What are you eating?"

"Whatever Sohyun wants. We'll grab something on the way."

"Hmm. I want her home by—"

"Dads, don't wait up for me tonight."

Both Junghyun and Jisung turned toward the stairs, their back-and-forth cut off by Sohyun's calm voice. Jisung felt his entire body melt. Taeyang had to take back the half-empty glass before he dropped it—and it wasn't because of the army-green dress, or the knee-high black boots, or the high ponytail that swayed with each step. It was just because she was there. He hadn't seen her in two days, and only now did he realize just how much he had missed her.

Sohyun met his gaze and smirked. "Hey, Jimin."

"H-Hey."

She kissed both her dads on the cheek before linking arms with her soulmate. "Shall we?"

Jisung nodded, his thoughts still tangled in knots. Sohyun waved one last time and pulled him outside.

"So, where are you taking me?"

Jisung forced himself to focus. "It's a... secret spot. I'm not even supposed to bring you there, but it felt like the perfect place."

A mischievous glint flickered in Sohyun's eyes, making him blush and look away as he rummaged through his pockets.

"Here. Put this on. Just in case."

He handed her a black face mask and slipped one on himself, glancing around briefly. He had planned out every minute—even the safest route to the old train.

"What do you feel like eating? We can grab whatever you want."

"I'm not hungry."

Jisung frowned. "You sure?"

She nodded and pulled herself closer to him, eager to see what he had prepared. The past few days after their bond had snapped into place had been torture. Morning and night, day and evening—he was all she could think about. And it was infuriating. Physically, mentally, completely. She had always despised the idea of having a soulmate and being irreversibly dependent on them. But now that Jisung was her entire reason for existing... she truly couldn't live without him. It terrified her. But when she was with him, everything else disappeared.

After about fifteen minutes of walking, they reached a chain-link fence surrounding a half-collapsed shed.

"You can't be serious," she muttered, pulling off her mask now that they were in the middle of nowhere and stuffing it into her leather jacket pocket.

Jisung chuckled, slipping through the gap in the fence and taking off his own mask. "Come on."

She eyed him warily, then took his outstretched hand and squeezed through the fence, rewarded with a beaming smile. He didn't let go of her hand as he led her through the overgrown clearing ahead.

"Okay, but seriously—where are we going?"

"You'll see. I promise you'll love it."

Despite her grumbling, she followed him—until his sudden stop nearly made her crash into him. His hands shot out to steady her by the waist.

She opened her mouth to scold him, but the words died in her throat when she saw where they were.

"When you said 'the old train,' I didn't think you meant—"

"An actual old train?" Jisung grinned, his chest swelling with pride as he gazed at the abandoned 1950s railcar. "So-So, welcome to the NCT D Romantic Hideout."

"A train."

"An abandoned train. In the middle of nowhere. No one around for miles. Come on," he said, tugging her toward the entrance, "it's even better inside."

"Wait."

Jisung turned to look at her. Sohyun stepped closer, locking eyes with his dark gaze, setting his neurons on fire. He swallowed hard.

Once she was just millimeters from his face, she whispered, "Call me So-So one more time, and I'll rip your tongue out with my teeth, pretty boy." She gave him a light slap on the cheek and walked past him, climbing onto the train.

She pulled the door handle to the right and slipped inside, followed closely by Jisung—though he had to take a deep breath first. Right behind her, he reached out and flipped a switch.

Sohyun's jaw dropped. The train car had been transformed. The seats were gone, the space filled with strings of colorful fairy lights draped across the walls like vines. To the left, a queen-size mattress lay on the floor, covered in plush blankets and pillows. In the far corner, a small wooden table held an old but seemingly functional stereo, judging by the pile of CDs and cassette tapes beside it. The rest of the space was filled with cozy, colorful beanbags, a few scattered books, a crate of water, another of wine beneath the stereo table, and a projector near the bed.

A hideout. Or, as Jisung liked to call it, a love nest.

And with the golden light of the setting sun filtering through the train's foggy windows, it all looked so... magical.

"Wow..."

"You like it?" Jisung wrung his hands, his eyes scanning her shocked expression, waiting anxiously for a reaction.

When Sohyun turned to him with a smile, his shoulders relaxed, and he exhaled. At least until his soulmate stepped closer and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her in, gripping her waist. Her fingers wove into his dark hair, massaging his scalp, forcing a groan from deep in his throat. She smiled against his lips, feeling the heat of his flushed cheeks warming her own skin. One hand trailed to cup his jaw before she pulled back, looking into his eyes—his pupils already blown wide, shimmering.

"You did all this for me, Jimin?"

Jisung nodded, his gaze drinking in every detail of her face. "You redid your eyeliner."

"You liked it so much."

His lips curled into a smile as he brushed his nose along her temple, trailing down to her ear. "I do," he murmured, pressing a slow kiss just behind the crescent of cartilage.

Sohyun sighed, her eyes fluttering shut, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. Jisung let his instincts take over. He caught her earlobe between his lips, making the tiny silver pendants she wore chime softly. Then he licked, allowing himself to sink his fingers into the curve of her waist. Once again, he had no idea what to do with his hands.

Luckily, Sohyun did. She slipped his flannel off his shoulders, taking the opportunity to run her hands along the muscles of his exposed arms, barely covered by the sleeveless tee underneath. Then, it was her turn. She shrugged off her black leather jacket, letting it drop to the floor.

Jisung stepped back just a bit to take her in. The olive-colored dress hugged her frame, sleeveless, leaving her collarbones, shoulders, and arms bare. She smirked, watching him swallow thickly.

Adorable.

She reached back and shut the train car door, then stepped forward and took his hand. Without a word, she led him toward the mattress in the center of the space and gently pushed him down to sit. His wide, puppy-like eyes never left her.

She nodded toward his black tee. "Take it off."

He hesitated—then obeyed. Chills ran across his skin despite the warmth of the space because now his scars were on full display, bare before his soulmate's gaze. Sohyun reached to lower the zipper of her dress but then shot a glance at the train windows.

"Are you sure no one's around?"

Jisung nodded. "Jeno and Rachel come here whenever they want privacy," he explained, his throat suddenly dry. "And besides," he added as she let her dress slip to the floor and straddled his lap, "if anyone interrupts us, I'll shoot them."

Sohyun giggled, making sure to settle herself comfortably on his thighs. "Dangerous. I have to admit, it's kind of hot," she whispered before kissing him again.

Jisung let out a low sound as her soft, cool skin met his. His hands instinctively moved to her waist, but she had other plans. She guided his hands down—lower—until they rested on her ass, barely covered by delicate black lace panties that matched the strapless bra currently turning Jisung's brain into melting wax. He was pretty sure it would start dripping out of his ears any second now.

"You can touch me wherever you want, Jisung," she whispered against his lips, her fingers tracing the nape of his neck.

The dark-haired boy swallowed hard, letting his hands relax—and they moved on their own. They slid up, caressing the bare skin of her back, then trailed down again, teasing the hem of her panties before exploring the softness of her thighs. Jisung let out a shaky breath, tilting his head back as he continued to knead the delicate flesh of his soulmate. It seemed he had a weakness for her thighs. Noted. Sohyun smiled, seizing the opportunity to latch onto his exposed neck like a leech. Only then did she realize just how aroused Jisung was, his need pressing against her ass. As she kissed and nipped along his jaw, his collarbones, the sensitive skin of his throat, her hand traveled downward to his narrow waist—where the button of his cargo jeans practically begged to be undone. The moment she unfastened them, she pulled away just enough to slide them down, earning a guttural noise of protest at the sudden loss of contact. Her fingers hooked into the waistband, tugging the fabric down until they were completely off.

Jisung flushed, but he couldn't look away. Not when such a breathtaking creature stood before him. And those knee-high boots? They only made the sight even sexier.

"Y-You’re beautiful," he murmured.

Sohyun chuckled and stepped closer. "Breathe, sweetheart," she teased, pressing her palms against his shoulders and gently pushing him down onto the bed.

Before joining him, she took her time removing her combat boots, loosening the laces slowly, peeling them off just as languidly—relishing the way Jisung’s chest rose and fell, his heartbeat practically deafening. When she finally climbed over him again, the air seemed to grow thicker, heavier. The golden hues of sunset had long since faded, replaced by the soft grays and blues of twilight. The world outside fell silent—the train car, the clearing, the entire universe, no— Fate itself holding its breath, waiting for their souls to finally merge.

Jisung reached up, tugging at the black ribbon keeping her silver hair tied back. As soon as the strands tumbled forward, her scent overwhelmed him. Fuck. How was he supposed to stay sane through this? His body, however, had stopped listening to logic. Instinct took over as he wrapped an arm around Sohyun’s waist and flipped them, pressing her into the mattress beneath him. His head swam as he hovered over her, marveling at how perfectly their bodies fit together.

"Don’t think," she whispered, running a hand down his back.

Jisung exhaled sharply and glanced down. "Can I?" he murmured, his voice barely audible.

She nodded, granting permission without hesitation. With slightly trembling fingers, he unclasped her bra—and didn’t waste time admiring. Instead, he buried his face between her breasts, kissing, licking, nipping at her soft skin. Did he have any idea what he was doing? Absolutely not. Did he love it? Hell yes. Especially when Sohyun arched beneath him in pleasure. New favorite thing unlocked. His lips traveled lower. He reached for her panties, carefully sliding them down, his fingers grazing her long legs as he went. Sohyun held her breath, watching him, now completely bare beneath him. Jisung settled between her thighs, pressing a slow, reverent kiss to her hill of Venus. God. Her scent. He let out an involuntary moan—just from the way her fragrance changed here, deeper, richer, more intoxicating. If he could, he’d never breathe in anything else ever again. He made his way back up, capturing her lips, drinking in the taste of her. Meanwhile, Sohyun’s nimble fingers found the waistband of his black boxers—so tight they had to be painful. When Jisung finally pressed against her, skin to skin, Sohyun swore she melted—right into the molten pool of heat in her stomach, the one that had been forming for the past five minutes. Desperate to finally experience what it was like to make love to her soulmate, she hooked a leg around Jisung’s narrow hips, wordlessly inviting him closer.

Jisung trembled. And then—he entered her.

The silence exploded into color. It felt like the beginning of all things—the Big Bang, the Garden of Eden, and everything in between. Jisung was completely still because the entire world had stopped. Sohyun had no idea where she was, who she was. It was too much, it was—

"What the fuck?" Jisung exhaled, collapsing onto her body, still buried deep inside her with absolutely no intention of moving.

Sohyun blinked, swallowing hard. "Holy shit."

"Yeah."

She took a deep breath, running her hands along the muscles of his back, still too overwhelmed to move. "Do you think—do you think it'll be like this every time?"

"God, I fucking hope so."

Sohyun burst out laughing, cradling his face in her hands and pulling him in for a kiss. It felt like magic—the way their bodies crackled like live wires, sparks igniting every nerve, every curve, every hollow of skin. And when Jisung finally found the strength to move, Sohyun had to break the kiss just to moan, just to breathe. Jisung sighed, forcing himself to keep his eyes open because he couldn't miss this—not even for a second. Every slow, deliberate thrust made the pleasure build, made Sohyun whimper and mewl in ways that would have normally embarrassed the hell out of her, but Jisung was just as loud, cursing under his breath between groans and sighs. His knees were probably digging holes into the old mattress, his arms—tense and trembling at the elbows—barely held him up on either side of her face. The veins running from his fingers to his shoulders stood out starkly beneath his skin, and his abs—God. Sohyun lost her mind every time they flexed against her stomach, every time his muscles tensed with each roll of his hips. They fit. Perfectly. It was the most right thing in the world, and Sohyun knew it with absolute certainty. Two souls destined for each other, finally touching—finally becoming one. She wrapped her other leg around his waist, pulling him in deeper, and the new angle had Jisung moving faster, harder, chasing that terrifying sensation clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach. The train car was shrouded in darkness, save for the soft glow of the string lights above them. But the sounds of their burning bodies—their gasps, their moans, the sharp crackle of friction—lit up the space more than anything else. Jisung didn’t stop. And when he felt Sohyun tighten around him, his eyes squeezed shut, his whole body locking up as he fought not to combust.

The orgasm tore through them at the same time. And destroyed them.

Their moans turned to cries, their desperate touches became nails digging into flesh. It felt endless. Jisung kept moving, letting himself be wrung dry by the pleasure until Sohyun’s body finally went slack beneath him, her breath coming in one long, trembling exhale. Only then did he slow, stop, and let his forehead drop against her heaving chest.

Sohyun couldn’t catch her breath. But honestly? She didn’t really care.

After a few minutes, she blinked up at the ceiling. "Can we do that again?"

Jisung groaned. "Jesus, give me a minute."

Sohyun giggled, pulling him up, earning a rough, reluctant noise from him as she let his face nuzzle into her neck, holding him close, sinking into the warmth of him.

They stayed like that for an eternity. Until Jisung felt it again—that insistent, familiar tingling just beneath his navel. They were still tangled together. And, well—it had been a minute, after all.

But before he could even think about moving, Sohyun's voice filled the quiet.

"Fuck, I’m starving."

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so angry at the world rn. why must i work and go to school? i should be dedicating all my time to Haechan #HateLife

[im4rmy]

☆13: you were creepy, but happy

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NCT 127's House, Seoul, 2019

"Are you happy?"

Chae didn't really know how to answer. She was lying on the roof of what had now become her home, staring at the stars with Jisung beside her. In that moment? In that moment, she was okay. But in general, in life?

No, she wasn't happy.

"Yeah! We're finally getting our own team," she replied, turning to look at her best friend.

The seventeen-year-old broke into a bright smile. "Just think about all the missions we'll go on! It's going to be so much fun," he said excitedly, his gaze returning to the sky. "And we'll stay together."

Chae closed her eyes, grateful that the tear slipping down her face traced her left cheek—the one Jisung couldn't see.

← 吻 →

Chae did everything she could to avoid meeting Taejin's eyes. First, because his gaze was hypnotic, and legend had it that he could steal your soul just by looking at you. It was a rumor started by his soulmate, Taeyong. So maybe it was true.

"How's the house?" the woman asked, not looking up from the papers she was scanning behind her desk.

"A dump. But it's fun. Jaemin's a great cook," Chae replied, sinking deeper into the chair across from her.

Taejin lifted his gaze. "Do you like it better than here?"

Chae raised an eyebrow, confused. "I like it here. What are you talking about?"

"I'm not an idiot."

The younger girl flinched.

Taejin sighed and stood, circling the desk.

"When you first got here, you were a ball of energy. You were creepy, but happy. And the more you settled in, the more you dimmed. That's why I thought assigning you to Mark was the right thing to do—new house, new team. Was I right?"

Chae held her gaze, biting her tongue. She wanted to scream at her that it didn't matter who she was with, didn't matter where she lived... she'd still want to disappear into the ground all the same.

"Yeah. I'm happier there. It's less crowded."

The woman in front of her didn't look away, searching Chae's eyes for a flicker of... something. Anything. But she found nothing.

Taejin sighed. "Go on, then. Mark has new orders."

Chae shot up in her seat. "A mission?"

And there it was—something. The rush of excitement over a new, possibly deadly experience.

The only feeling that ever managed to light up her eyes.

← 吻 →

Seoul's University Music Festival, Seoul, 2020

It wasn’t the first time Chae had snuck into an event like this. That afternoon, she’d fought with Jisung and needed an outlet for her anger. That’s why she was now staring at her plastic cup filled with cheap beer, waiting for the first artists to take the stage. The heat was heavy, and the sun was about to set. Around her, people were buzzing with anticipation, eager to dance and let loose, laughing with friends or clinging to lovers, many of them already streaked with colorful chalk dust. But Chae just stared at her drink. And she thought about how easy it would be to drop those pills from her pocket into the liquid and dance until she disappeared. She’d die having fun, lost in a sea of strangers who had already showered her in rainbow-colored powder the moment she arrived. There was something poetic about it. It felt right.

But something held her back. Was she too much of a coward? Or was it just not the right time? Maybe she didn’t want to leave after screaming at Jisung that he was just a child and needed to grow up. Maybe she didn’t want those to be the last words he ever heard from her.

And yet, she was exhausted. The idea of letting go, of not having to wake up tomorrow, sent a wave of relief through her chest.

The stage lit up, snapping her out of her trance as the crowd erupted in cheers. She lifted her gaze to the giant screens, watching as a group of white-washed boys took their places, singing and moving in sync. Her fingers drifted to the bottom of her jeans pocket, feeling the three tiny pills pressing into her skin through the fabric. She checked to make sure no one was watching and let the white beads tumble into the piss-colored liquid.

She took a deep breath and let the music take over, closing her eyes. And just as she brought the cup to her lips, her phone vibrated.

Chae hesitated. Then she smiled and looked at her drink again.

Not the right time.

She turned her wrist, letting the liquid spill onto the trampled grass. With a sigh, she started typing a reply to her best friend—until something urged her to look up.

And there he was.

Standing frozen, staring at her with his mouth slightly open. He had one of those stupid scarves from the merch stands tied around his forehead and two cups of coke in his hands. His face was sweet, but undeniably attractive.

Chae forgot how to breathe. Too shocked to understand why everyone around them had suddenly stopped moving, why the noise had died down. Too shocked to notice that the guy in front of her had just dropped his drinks and looked like he was about to have a full-blown panic attack.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

← 吻 →

Chae lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, her fingers drifting lazily through Yeonjun’s soft hair. He was fighting sleep, his cheek pressed against her sternum, warm and bare against her skin. His body was like a blanket made of rose petals, his touch like sinking into a hot spring. Her muscles were loose, her nerves quiet for once.

But her mind never stopped running. Even with her soulmate curled up against her chest, Chae kept staring at the ceiling, wondering how perfect it would be to fall asleep like this and never wake up again.

“What are you thinking about?”

She sighed and kissed the top of his head. “Everything.”

“Everything good or everything bad?”

“What’s ‘everything good’?”

Yeonjun lifted his head to look at her. Chae didn’t meet his gaze.

He knew how she felt—not because he shared her depression, but because he could feel her sadness, like a distant echo when they were apart, like a wave crashing over him the moment they reunited.

He had tried to help. He really had. But their bond was meant to heal the body. It could hardly be able to stop the mind from bleeding.

“What if I do that thing with my hands?” he asked softly. “Would that be something good to think about?”

A breath of laughter slipped from her lips before she tipped her head back into the pillow, laughing outright. “I’d say that’s a fantastic idea, baby.”

Yeonjun’s dazzling smile lit up his face as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his hand slipping between her legs. Chae closed her eyes and let herself sink into the familiar pleasure.

It would be enough for today.

Tomorrow... she wasn’t so sure.

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12: i can't breathe

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"Choi Kuro was seen entering through the back of the Kunde Club."

Yuta’s words over the phone had sent a sizzling urge through him—an overwhelming need to smash that greasy-haired pimp’s face in and make him forget all about Sohyun. Jisung had left the Kims' house in a few determined strides, barely acknowledging Chae and Jaemin waiting in the car as he made his way to that godforsaken neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. He hated it. It stank of sewage day and night, crawling with truly terrifying gangs, and Waves had made it their preferred turf for drug trafficking.

Jisung pulled his black mask up over his face and yanked the hood of his sweatshirt over his head. The air had smelled like rain since he’d stepped outside. With his hands shoved deep in his pockets, he navigated the alleyways of the abandoned district, the dark clouds overhead seeming to follow him. Nightclubs, dingy bars, rundown discos, 24-hour convenience stores, shuttered shops—and then, finally, the Kunde Club. Run by the Choi family, the Kunde Club was the jewel of the district, a legacy left by the great Choi Katai to his brother—the bastard threatening NCT D. Jisung stalked past the club’s gaudy and unlit sign and slipped into the alley beside it, heading for the back entrance. He wasn’t carrying a weapon. He didn’t need one. He shouldn’t have been there—not alone—but he wanted to put an end to this. He knocked twice on the heavy door and glanced up at the security camera in the upper right corner.

He didn’t have to wait long.

← 吻 →

A crack of thunder jolted the girl awake, the book slipping slightly from her grasp. She blinked at the window—the gray sky outside filled her with an unexpected sense of calm. Sohyun loved the rain. With a soft sigh, she forced herself to continue reading the last story in the book she had bought the day before.

"Sometimes, the event that triggers the bond in a unidirectional couple is tied to their first meeting or a particular aspect of their relationship. However, in the case detailed below, the trigger was found to be linked to the couple’s shared tattoo.

In 1995, E and F—only the third recorded case of Unidirection—discovered that their bond had been activated through sheer logic. After numerous failed attempts, the answer turned out to be a simple gesture: before heading inside, F plucked a daisy from their yard; the moment E accepted it, their bond was sealed. Their tattoo, located at the base of their necks, was a daisy."

Sohyun furrowed her brows, barely registering the knock on her bedroom door.

Her father, Junghyun, stepped inside, scanning the room for any unwanted visitors. “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded, offering him a small smile. “Yeah. You? Bored?”

Junghyun sighed and sat beside her. “Yeah, but I can hold out for another day. Where’s Jisung? Also, Jisung… what? What’s his last name?”

“He went out to… check on something. And I don’t know his last name. No one does. When they join the gang, last names are off-limits. They can choose whatever name they want.”

“Why’s that?”

Sohyun recalled the answer Jisung had given her when she had asked him the same question. “They have the chance to erase who they used to be and become the people they want to be.”

A brief silence followed as her father considered that. Then: “Is Jisung his real name?”

She nodded. Then, clearing her throat, she said something she wasn’t sure she wanted to admit. “You know, Jisung is…” She met her father’s gaze but quickly looked away. “He’s really sweet. And clumsy.”

Junghyun frowned. “Doesn’t really sound like your type, So-So.”

Sohyun made a face. “Yeah. But… he’s not so bad. Even if he acts like an idiot, he makes me feel... safe.” She studied her nails as she said it.

Her father blinked, surprised. Sohyun had never kept secrets from them, but she had never talked about a boy like this before.

“And he’s really sexy.”

Junghyun burst out laughing. “Seriously? He just looked skinny to me.”

“He is. But I have to admit, he’s pretty nice to look at,” she said, shooting him a sly glance.

Junghyun shook his head, amused, and ruffled her hair as he stood. “Just be careful with all of this, sweetheart.”

Sohyun nodded.

Her father leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you.”

Then he left the room, closing the door behind him. Sohyun sighed, glancing back at the open book.

"He plucked a daisy."

"Their tattoo was a daisy."

Her father’s kiss lingered in her mind. A kiss. Wěn.

Their tattoo was—

She snapped the book shut, her eyes going wide as her heart began to pound.

← 吻 →

Night had fully fallen, and the moon cast its glow over the alleys, joining forces with the few working streetlights and the neon signs of nearby clubs. Jisung was out of breath and freezing, his sweatshirt and jeans soaked through with rain. His black hair was plastered to his forehead, water dripping into his eyes as shivers ran down his spine. But he felt strong, unstoppable. And furious. His knuckles were bruised, his eyes bloodshot, but compared to the man he was holding in his grip, he was in perfect condition. Choi Kuro’s face was wrecked, blood pouring from his wounds. He could barely stand, his eyes struggling to stay open—just enough to glimpse the rage on the boy’s face as he slowly choked the life out of him with his bare hands.

“I’m not going to kill you, you piece of shit,” Jisung growled, their faces mere inches apart, only the relentless downpour separating them. “But if you want to keep your skin—and your goddamn club—you’d better stop thinking about me and my crew. Because let me tell you, it’d be real easy to blow this place sky-high. Or maybe we just make a quick call to the higher-ups. You know, we’ve got some important connections. You get the picture?”

Kuro didn’t answer right away. Breathing was hard enough. He wanted to cry, to scream at Jisung that they had killed his brother, that he wanted justice. Instead, he nodded.

Jisung grinned like a sadist. “Ah, good, then.” He abruptly let go, and Kuro collapsed onto the wet pavement with a pained groan.

“Jisung?”

His head snapped to the left, and his heart dropped.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, eyes wide.

Sohyun blinked a few times. “I...” she started, but then she noticed the limp figure at Jisung’s feet, wheezing for air, and the two unconscious men sprawled on the ground behind him, motionless under the pounding rain.

Jisung took a step toward her, an instinctive urge rising within him to cover her eyes, to shield her from all of it—from the blood, from the violence, from himself. “What are you doing here? Are you insane? Did you come alone?”

Sohyun lifted her gaze to him and sniffled. “I... I think I figured it out.”

Jisung ignored her words and looked around. How had she gotten out without Chae and Jaemin noticing? How had she found him? Had she walked all the way here in the rain? Had someone followed her? “You can’t be here! Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? What the hell were you thinking?!” His frustration boiled over into a shout.

Sohyun rolled her eyes, yanked her hood down, and closed the few steps between them in a single movement. She grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down, pressing her rain-slicked lips against his.

It happened so fast that Jisung didn’t register it at first. The moment he realized Sohyun was kissing him, his body short-circuited. He went rigid, his breath caught in his throat as sensations crashed over him in waves. Then, suddenly, the static in his skin faded, his heart slowed, and he could breathe again.

He pulled away, staring at her in disbelief. Sohyun looked just as stunned. The overwhelming energy that had always burned between them was... gone. His heart still pounded, and the bond still thrummed through his veins, filling him with a feeling so electric it made him feel more alive than ever. But it wasn’t unbearable anymore. It was... extraordinary. Pure pleasure.

He was about to smile, about to laugh in relief—

Then Sohyun’s face twisted, and she slapped a hand over her mouth before lunging toward the wall and vomiting. 

Jisung’s expression fell instantly, and he rushed to her side. “Are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on her soaked back.

She spun around, shoving him away with one trembling hand, the other still covering her mouth. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, eyes brimming with tears.

She took a few shaky steps backward before slumping against the filthy brick wall, gasping for air. Her legs were shaking.

“You’re okay,” Jisung reassured her, stepping closer but careful not to touch her.

Sohyun squeezed her eyes shut. She felt like she was dying. Her chest ached so badly she thought her heart might explode. Her legs gave out, and she braced for the impact of the pavement—but it never came.

“It’s okay. It’s okay...”

Jisung’s voice was right by her ear, and it only made her panic worse. He had caught her before she hit the ground, gently lowering her until she was sitting between his legs, pulling her against him. Sohyun struggled in his arms. Being this close was unbearable. “I... I can’t breathe,” she sobbed, trying to pull away, but Jisung held her tighter.

“It’ll pass, I swear,” he murmured, resting his cheek against her wet hair. “Just breathe. Breathe with me.”

Sohyun clenched her eyes shut and forced herself to stop fighting. The shock of their kiss had been too much—she had felt the bond take control of her body, seizing her lungs, her stomach, her heart. It had been so overwhelming she thought she might die.

But now, in Jisung’s arms—arms that burned like embers—she felt her soul curl up against its twin, basking in the warmth of their connection. She inhaled deeply and let herself sink into his embrace. Jisung stroked her drenched hair, and for nearly five minutes, they simply breathed together in silence. The cold couldn’t reach them inside their cocoon of heat, but Jisung knew they couldn’t stay there forever.

“We need to go home,” he whispered in her ear.

Sohyun sniffled and nodded, gathering her strength to stand—only to find a new energy guiding her movements. Jisung held onto her arms, scanning her face to make sure she was okay.

“I’d kiss you again,” he said, lips twitching, “but you just threw up.”

Sohyun burst out laughing.

← 吻 →

Chae slipped her phone back into her pocket, shaking her head with a smirk—finally, Jisung was making a move. She was just getting home from her watch shift with Jaemin, who had spotted Sohyun sneaking out of her bedroom window, hood pulled low over her face. Chae had followed her from a distance, keeping an eye on her without being noticed. When she had witnessed the scene in the alley beside the Kunde Club, she’d felt like she was watching a K-drama unfold. She’d smiled at the palpable relief in Jisung’s eyes and headed straight back home… but not before calling Jaemin and squealing over every sweet detail.

“There you are,” came the doctor’s voice from behind her.

She turned with a grin to see Jaemin as he stepped through the front door. The older boy ruffled her hair before slipping past her inside. “You’re soaked. Go take a shower—I’ll start dinner,” he said, kicking off his shoes and heading straight for the kitchen.

“Okay—oh!” Chae gasped, her eyes landing on the wall near the door. “I didn’t notice…” she murmured, suddenly somber.

Jaemin followed her gaze and understood immediately—the family photo.

When they had first moved into that rundown house, Chae had insisted on taking a group picture and framing it. Now, a bullet hole from the shootout had shattered the glass, and the wooden frame was chipped.

“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin sighed. “It’s a shame. But don’t worry—we can replace the frame and the glass. It’ll be as good as new.” He turned back toward the kitchen.

Chae nodded, but she couldn’t look away.

Jeno, lounging in his armchair with Rachel hanging off his neck. Jaemin squishing Renjun and Chenle’s cheeks. One of Haechan’s rare smiles as Mark pulled him into a side hug, all of them crammed together on the couch. And finally, the youngest two, sprawled on the floor, cheek to cheek, grinning like they had the whole world in their hands. Chae loved that picture. And seeing it broken like this shattered something inside her. Her eyes burned, and she swallowed hard, quickly darting up the stairs before Jaemin—busy planning dinner—could notice.

Once she reached the bathroom, she locked the door, sat on the plush white rug, leaned back against the wooden cabinet—

And cried.

Chae rarely cried. But right now, she couldn’t stop. She buried her face in her hands, forehead resting against her knees. The weight in her chest was unbearable. She had tried everything to shake off this sadness, but nothing worked. Not even being with Yeonjun helped much anymore. Her soulmate could heal her exhaustion physically, but…

Chae was depressed. And she couldn’t see the light at the end of that tunnel.

The bathroom door suddenly swung open.

“Oh! Sorry, Chae—”

She flinched, quickly turning her face away, holding her breath to stifle her sobs.

But it was too late. Haechan had already understood. He stepped inside, shut the door behind him, and sat down beside her with a sigh. Feeling his warmth next to her, Chae lost the battle—her tears fell harder, her sobs shaking her frame. Haechan didn’t say a word. He simply reached over, wrapped an arm around her back, and pulled her against him, silently inviting her to lean in. Chae didn’t hesitate. She curled into his chest, hiding her face against him.

Haechan was the least expressive of them all. He rarely smiled, never spoke unless necessary. But his quiet comfort was unmatched. He was the Anchor of their team, the one who never wavered. He might have come off as cold, but his unshakable presence was something they all depended on. And even though he didn’t voice his feelings—ever—everyone knew Haechan cared deeply about them. They were his family. His brothers. His sisters.

Minutes passed, Chae’s sobs eventually subsiding, but neither of them moved. Haechan pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head, his hand running gently up and down her back. Still, he said nothing.

And for that, Chae was grateful.

← 吻 →

Jisung and Sohyun had devoured the dinner Taeyang had made, and the boy hadn’t even had the chance to thank the two fathers for yet another free meal before his soulmate was dragging him toward her room.

Sohyun shoved him inside, shut the door behind her, and then attacked—grabbing him by the nape of his neck, she pulled him down into a kiss. Jisung still wasn’t used to all this affection hitting him at once, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Without breaking the kiss, Sohyun guided him backward until he sat down on her bed. He looked up at her like a wide-eyed puppy, his gaze glossy with excitement. She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to keep her desire in check—because, honestly, she just wanted to devour him. Maybe... smear him all over herself? The bond was turning her brain to mush. She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t control her body the way she normally would. She straddled Jisung’s lap, his trembling hands finding their way to her waist. Slowly, she pulled down the zipper of his hoodie, still damp from the rain, and helped him shrug it off. Jisung shivered, goosebumps covering his arms. Sohyun cupped the back of his neck, and he melted into her warmth, closing his eyes and trying to relax. She leaned down, brushing her lips against his.

“Breathe,” she whispered.

Jisung exhaled shakily, opening his eyes. He felt like he was dreaming. Sohyun was right there, barely an inch from his face, more beautiful than ever. His heart screamed at him to kiss her, to touch her, to pull her closer—but his hands wouldn’t move. Sohyun kissed him again, this time deepening the contact, slow and deliberate. Jisung whimpered, finally gripping her waist and drawing her in. Sohyun smiled against his lips, threading her fingers through his dark hair, fingertips grazing his nape. Heat coiled in Jisung’s stomach, and he tried to focus on the kiss, but the excitement was overwhelming. And when Sohyun pulled away to peel off her hoodie, his brain simply short-circuited.

She was soft, smooth, cool to the touch, and—

“Perfect,” he breathed, burying his face against the hollow of her collarbones.

Sohyun chuckled, running her fingers through his hair, letting him take in her scent. “You good?” she asked, amused.

Jisung nodded against her skin. “Never been better.”

“We haven’t even started yet.”

“Oh, I’ve started a long time ago.”

Sohyun threw her head back, laughing, and Jisung smiled at her. Was he nervous? Absolutely. But seeing her like this filled his soul with a sense of peace. He knew, without a doubt, that she had just become his favorite place in the world.

She slipped her hands under the hem of his white T-shirt, searching his gaze. She was waiting for permission. Jisung swallowed hard and helped her lift the fabric over his head. Unlike Sohyun, his skin was burning. She ran her hands over his shoulders, then down his toned arms, clearly admiring what she saw. Gently, she pressed on his chest, urging him to lie back against the bed. Jisung scooted to the center, and she followed, leaning over him again.

Skin against skin was intoxicating, electric. Jisung slid one hand into her silver hair, the other skimming lightly down her bare back. “Wait, wait… hold on,” he suddenly blurted, breaking the kiss. 

Sohyun groaned in protest.

“We should… um—” he stammered.

“I know it’s your first time. Don’t worry,” she murmured, leaning in again.

Jisung’s eyes widened in horror. “Who told you that?!”

“Your older sister.”

Jisung squeezed his eyes shut and cursed under his breath. Rachel never knew when to shut up. He sighed, tracing slow circles on Sohyun’s back with his fingers. She rested her head on his chest, peering up at him.

“It's not that,” he finally admitted.

“Then what is it?” she asked, studying his face.

“It’s not—” Jisung flushed, exhaling sharply. “It’s not how I imagined it.”

Sohyun frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I smell like a sewer, I’m still wet, your parents are literally outside this door, and I’m pretty sure your dog is standing guard. This isn’t how I want it to happen.”

She bit her lip, stifling a laugh—he was too damn cute. “And how do you want it to happen?” she teased, watching him turn even redder.

“I want it to be… nice. I want the right atmosphere. I want us to be, uhm… alone. And I think we should wait until the adrenaline from the bond dies down a little.”

Jisung tried to focus on what he was saying rather than the feeling of her white lace bra pressing against his ribs. Sohyun studied him for a moment.

“Okay,” she said simply.

Jisung blinked. “Okay? You’re really fine with that?”

She giggled. “Of course. Though…” she leaned closer, lips brushing his, “there are other things we can do.”

Before he could respond, she kissed him softly, then trailed down to his ear.

And when he felt her tongue flick beneath his earlobe, Jisung swore he forgot his own name.

← 吻 →

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[im4rmy]

11: your father hates me

← 吻 →

"But if they were armed, why didn't they shoot you?" Sohyun asked, pulling another cookie from the bag.

Jisung finished chewing his cheese breadstick before answering, "Their boss wants revenge in a big way, so they were ordered not to kill any of us."

Sohyun nodded. "Give me a breadstick."

Jisung made a disgusted face. "You're eating chocolate!"

"So what? I'm on my period," she said curtly, reaching into his bag.

"Oh—are you okay? When Rachel's on her period, she feels awful. She can't even walk," he said, concern flickering across his face.

Sohyun found that absolutely adorable. She smiled and shook her head. "Mine isn't bad, thank God. I get some cramps on the first day, but mostly I just crave sweets."

"Okay... that's good, then."

They were sitting on Sohyun's bed, eating while a Netflix sitcom played in the background—one Jisung had never seen before. Hana dozed off at their feet.

"How are the abs doing?" she asked, her tone slightly teasing.

"A little better. And how's my pretty face, princess?" he shot back playfully.

Sohyun rolled her eyes. "You look less like a punching bag. You're already healing."

"That's thanks to you."

She scoffed. "I'm not that great of a nurse."

"No, I mean... the bond—being near you helps me heal."

"Is that why you came here? To recover?"

"And to protect you. I was afraid they'd come here," he admitted, leaning back against the headboard.

"My hero," she sang teasingly, making him smile sleepily. "Do you want to sleep?"

"Yeah, but I can't sleep here with you—I should've taken a shower."

"It's fine. I'll wash the sheets tomorrow."

Jisung hesitated. "Are you sure? I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"We've already slept together."

Jisung turned red as a chili pepper. "Yeah, but I was drunk. I don't even remember it," he muttered, looking away.

"Come on," she said, pushing the snack bags onto her nightstand and slipping under the covers. Jisung followed, still a little unsure.

"How do you still sleep with such a heavy blanket? It's almost summer."

"I'm always cold," she said, tucking the pink blanket up to her chin.

"Chae's the same way. One time, she went to bed wearing a coat because I refused to keep the blanket on," he laughed, settling in beside her.

"You actually sleep together?" Sohyun asked, turning on her side to look at him.

"Yeah, why?"

"Doesn't she have a boyfriend?"

"Yeah—well, I'm not sure if they're officially together. They're soulmates tho."

"And he's okay with you two sleeping together?"

"If he has a problem, he can come tell me himself," Jisung scoffed. "A punch to that face might help wake him up."

"You don't like him?"

"No, it's just..."

"Are you jealous?"

Jisung looked at her. "No. Why would I be?"

"It sounds like you're in love with her."

He chuckled. "Chae is my favorite person, but I don't have romantic feelings for her."

"That sounds like a rehearsed answer."

He sighed. "You have no idea how many times I've had to explain this to people. I never understood why it seems so weird—no one questions a brother and sister for loving each other."

"You're right," Sohyun murmured, rolling onto her back. "Love shouldn't raise so many questions," she agreed, thinking about how hard it had been for her dads to be accepted by society.

"Ah, shit," Jisung groaned, shifting and yanking one of the pastel pink pillows out from under his head. "I think I cracked a rib." He exhaled sharply and shut his eyes. "I hate sleeping on my back."

Sohyun turned off the TV and the main light, leaving only the soft glow of her salt lamp on the desk, she nodded goodnight to Hana as she curled up on the floor. Then, without a second thought, she scooted closer and rested her head on Jisung's chest, draping an arm over him. "Better?"

Jisung's lungs, wrists, and heart all trembled at once. He forced himself to breathe, to relax, even though every single point of contact with Sohyun felt amplified. His skin tingled, and it took all his willpower not to pull her in tighter, not to press himself against her completely.

"B-Better," he mumbled.

"Breathe, Jimin."

← 吻 →

Junghyun hummed softly as he laced up his shoes, that annoying little tune from the night before still stuck in his head. He adjusted his dark jacket and reached out to grab his car keys from the hook beside the front door.

His fingers closed around empty air. Frowning, he turned his head. Where were his keys?

Five minutes later, he still didn’t have an answer.

"Tae," he called, gently brushing his partner’s shoulder. "Tae, wake up, please."

Taeyang stirred, cracking open one reluctant eye. "What’s wrong?"

"I can’t find my car keys."

"Uh—Dad?"

Both men turned toward the bedroom doorway, where their daughter stood, a keyring resting in the palm of her hand.

"Sweetheart! Are those my keys?" Junghyun asked, stepping toward her.

"Yes, Mr. Kim," a voice answered from beside her.

Jisung. Junghyun froze.

"But you won’t be needing them today," the boy added.

Half an hour later, Junghyun sat at the kitchen table, a scalding cup of coffee clenched in his hands, his knuckles turning white from the force of his grip. He glared at Jisung with fire in his eyes.

"Say that again, kid. Tell me why I should listen to you."

Jisung wasn’t trying to be cocky, but he couldn’t let anything happen to Sohyun’s family because of him. "Because if you leave this house, you’re risking a bullet to the head."

Taeyang whipped around to stare at the stranger who had snuck into his daughter’s room in the middle of the night and was now holding them hostage in their own home.

Junghyun let out a low, dangerous growl. "You climbed through my daughter’s window in the middle of the night—"

"Not the first time."

Sohyun shot her soulmate a sharp look. "Shut up, idiot."

"You sneak into my house, sleep in my daughter’s bed, and now you think you can make the rules? In my own home?" Junghyun’s voice dripped with irritation.

Jisung lowered his gaze to the steaming cup of tea Taeyang had begrudgingly made for him. He glanced at Sohyun’s face for a brief moment, then focused on his hands, which were still far from healed.

"I’m really sorry," he admitted softly, drawing everyone’s attention. "Believe me when I say I’ve done everything I could to keep people out of my life, but—" he exhaled heavily, shaking his head. "The best thing I can do now is keep you safe. And I will do whatever it takes to make sure nothing happens to any of you. I’m mortified—for breaking into your home like a thief, for standing here demanding that you do what I say, and most of all, for putting you in danger. I’ll do everything I can to make up for it, but right now, I need you to trust me. Because I can’t let anything happen to your daughter."

Silence filled the kitchen. Jisung didn’t dare lift his gaze from his cup.

"I took two days off work," Junghyun finally said. "I hope that’s enough."

Jisung nodded. "I hope so too, Mr. Kim."

"So…" Taeyang hesitated. "We really can’t leave the house?"

Jisung lifted serious eyes to the man standing beside his soulmate. "No. The doors stay locked. So do the windows."

"And… what if I need to get groceries? I wasn’t expecting a guest today."

"A guest who eats like a lion, by the way," Sohyun added.

"My team can get you anything you need. And I…" Jisung hesitated, guilt gnawing at his stomach. "I don’t want to be more of a burden than I already am. I’ll stay out of your way. You don’t have to treat me like a guest."

"Nonsense. Of course, you’re a guest," Taeyang said dismissively, heading toward the kitchen.

"An unwanted one," Junghyun muttered through gritted teeth.

Taeyang opened the fridge, scanning the contents. "Tell your friends I need five carrots, two red onions, some sauce—wait, where are my cheese breadsticks?"

Jisung swallowed hard. "They were delicious, sir."

← 吻 →

"The spicy one or the regular one?" Renjun asked, holding up two jars of sauce.

"I don’t know, he didn’t specify," Rachel replied, glancing at the message Jisung had sent.

Renjun shrugged. "Both it is, then." He dropped both jars into the cart.

"Right. Not like we’re the ones paying," she said with a sarcastic smirk.

Just what they needed—another expense. They didn’t exactly have the time or money to be looking after anyone else. But when it came to a soulmate… well, it was basically like taking care of a part of Jisung. For the day, they’d set up a rotating watch over the house. Once they finished shopping for Mr. Kim, Rachel and Renjun would take over for Jeno and Chenle, who had been stationed outside since dawn. The two made their way to Sohyun’s house on foot, each carrying a grocery bag. As they reached the driveway, they gave a quick nod to their teammates waiting in the car. After ringing the doorbell, they waited for Jisung to check the peephole. Several locks clicked open before the youngest finally let them in.

Rachel nearly did a double take. She had never seen him look this radiant before—his eyes were bright, his skin glowed, and he even seemed taller. The bond really did work wonders. "You’re looking good, beanstalk."

"Yeah, my face healed up fast," he replied, locking the door behind them and motioning toward the kitchen, where Taeyang was waiting.

Renjun and Rachel immediately bowed at a perfect ninety-degree angle, greeting him politely before setting the bags down on the large wooden table.

"If anything’s missing, just let us know," Renjun added with a sweet smile.

"Sure, but you’ll have to lend us your credit card. Ours is maxed out," Rachel quipped.

Jisung and Renjun laughed, though they both knew it wasn’t exactly a joke. Taeyang, on the other hand, suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. "This will do just fine," he muttered.

"Oh, hey."

Everyone turned toward the staircase, and Rachel’s face lit up. "Hey, gorgeous!"

Sohyun offered a small smile before averting her gaze to her father, who was already wearing an apron. "Dad’s about to die of boredom. What can we make him do?"

Taeyang sighed. "I’m out of ideas, sweetheart."

Rachel chuckled. "It’s only ten in the morning."

"A few hours of nothing is torture for Junghyun."

Renjun grimaced. "Yeah, we know the type."

Rachel and Jisung chuckled.

"The Captain is—"

"The tall, good looking guy lurking in the car outside?" Taeyang guessed.

"That’s him," Jisung confirmed.

"Yeah, Jeno’s… a handful," Renjun added. "If he doesn’t have something to do, he gets unbearable."

As soon as the words left his mouth, two loud knocks at the door made Sohyun and Taeyang jump. "JISUNG!" The Captain’s muffled voice rang through the house.

Renjun paled. "No way… he heard me?"

Jisung went to open the door.

"A package arrived. I already checked it," Jeno said, handing him a cardboard box with one side already opened.

Sohyun stepped closer. "It’s mine. Thanks."

Jeno turned to the others. "Renjun, Rachel." His voice snapped them to attention. "Chenle and I are heading back. You’re up."

With that, he motioned for them to follow him outside. The two bowed politely to Mr. Kim before trotting out the door, which Jisung promptly locked behind them.

From the staircase, Junghyun scoffed, holding a bag of chips and eyeing the door with skepticism. "Those two kids are supposed to protect us?"

Jisung sighed. "One of those kids can kill a person by throwing a knife from a hundred meters away. The other could hack into your fridge with his phone and blow up the whole house."

Silence fell over the open space. Even Sohyun looked momentarily stunned, her newly delivered book from Amazon clutched in her hands.

Jisung swallowed hard under the weight of three pairs of eyes staring at him. "Uh… sorry. I was trying to be reassuring, but I see that didn’t work." He studied their expressions. "I just meant—we’re capable of protecting you. Even if it doesn’t seem like it."

Taeyang exhaled. "And you? What are you capable of, Jimin?"

"Jisung," Sohyun corrected, making the boy shiver slightly at the way she said his name.

"Right. Jisung."

Straightening his back, the young man answered firmly, "I can fight. Really well."

"Do you use weapons?" Junghyun cut in.

"I know how to, yes."

Taeyang’s voice wavered. "Have you ever… fired a gun?"

"Yes."

Junghyun’s expression hardened. "Have you ever killed someone?"

Jisung didn’t hesitate. "For legal reasons, I can’t answer that question, sir."

"For legal—" Junghyun’s eyes widened. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Dad, they work for the Government," Sohyun chimed in.

Jisung shot her a pointed look. "That’s just your theory, princess."

"A theory you haven’t denied," she countered smugly.

Jisung sighed in defeat.

"You feel that, kid?" Taeyang smirked, setting up ingredients for lunch. "Get used to it. You never win against Sohyun."

His daughter rolled her eyes before grabbing Jisung by the wrist and dragging him upstairs to start reading the book on Unidirection, ignoring Junghyun’s disapproving glare.

As they climbed the stairs, Jisung muttered, "Your father hates me."

"Yup."

← 吻 →

"Damn, they really went all out," Chae muttered as she stepped into the house.

Renjun had called her right after the shooting, and she'd caught the first train home the next morning. Seeing the living room window boarded up had been unsettling enough, but the bullet holes in their couch, the dining room cabinet, and the kitchen walls were even worse. She was just grateful no one had been hurt.

"Yeah, you guys got lucky," Jaehyun agreed, standing to her left.

Chae spun around, only to realize that Jaehyun and Johnny were packing up their tools—both shirtless.

"Oh. Well. Good morning," she said, taking in the sight she never got tired of.

The two guys walked up to her and pulled her into a hug, effortlessly lifting her off the ground and making her laugh.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, dropping her backpack by the front door next to the shoes.

Only Mark's and Haechan's were there, which meant they were probably in the Leader’s office discussing their next move.

"Plotting with the Taes. We're just here for the muscle," Johnny replied, flexing his bicep for effect.

Chae chuckled, about to offer them a drink, but the sound of Taeyong and Mark’s voices coming from the stairs made her stop. The two of them appeared in the open space, followed closely by Haechan and Taejin, who were chatting quietly.

"Hey, Chae. Trip went okay?" Mark greeted her with a small smile.

"Yeah, all good," she nodded.

"Chae," Taejin called, making the younger girl’s hair stand on end.

Chae cleared her throat. "Yeah?"

"We need to talk," the older woman ordered.

"Want us to wait for you?" Johnny asked.

"No, go ahead," Taejin replied. "Mark will give me a ride back."

The young Leader nodded, and Taeyong signaled Johnny and Jaehyun to follow him outside. Chae trailed behind Taejin toward Jaemin’s infirmary, aware of Mark and Haechan’s worried stares. Taejin looked at her, and Chae knew this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. 

Taejin was the closest thing she had to a real mother. If Jisung had always been her anchor, Taejin had been the ship that steered her away from a tragic end. She had taken Chae under her wing, shaped her into a woman capable of killing, protecting, destroying, and most of all—surviving. Her body was a war machine, thriving on the adrenaline rush that lit up her mind the moment she strapped on her weapons before a mission.

But once that euphoria faded and her survival instincts switched off, an oppressive feeling had started creeping into her daily routine.

"Close the door."

← 吻 →

"Find anything?" Jisung asked, tossing and catching Hana’s ball for what felt like the millionth time. He was sprawled out on Sohyun’s pink carpet.

Sitting cross-legged on the bed with the new book in her lap, Sohyun sighed. "Yes and no. It says there’s no specific rule to trigger the bond."

"So… it just happens? The trigger could be anything?"

"Yep."

Jisung groaned in frustration, letting the ball drop onto his chest. "Great," he muttered sarcastically before exhaling deeply. "I’m so full."

Sohyun giggled. "You really enjoyed that meal. My dad was genuinely touched."

She kept flipping through the book and stopped at a chapter that looked interesting—testimonies. She got lost in reading, while Jisung found himself watching her from the floor.

Spending so much time with her had helped calm his nerves, but resisting the instinct to touch her was still a challenge. Her long silver hair was tied up in a high bun, her face clean, her expression serious and focused. He wanted to stroke her cheek, to examine it up close and see if there were hidden scars or beauty marks. He wanted to know what her hair smelled like—he thought he'd caught a hint of peach before, but he wanted to bury his face in it like he did that night they slept together, when he was drunk.

"Jisung?"

He snapped out of it. "Hm?"

"Your phone's ringing," she informed him, amusement flickering in her eyes.

Jisung flushed, realizing he'd been caught staring like an idiot. Only then did he notice the vibration in his back pocket. He pulled out his phone just in time to answer. Sohyun watched him from the corner of her eye as he straightened up, focusing on the call. His expression turned serious and sharp, and she immediately knew it was one of his superiors.

That morning, his teammates had brought him a fresh set of clothes—he was wearing a white T-shirt with a faded print and a pair of light-wash jeans, held up by a black belt. Sohyun found herself staring at his flexed arms, absentmindedly biting her lower lip, before forcing herself to look away.

Then Jisung growled. She snapped her head up just as he stood, his movements swift and precise.

"Where are you going?"

Jisung hung up and hurriedly shoved his feet into his sneakers by the door.

"To kill the bastard that's threatening you."

Sohyun had to remind herself, once again, to keep her composure.

← 吻 →

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[im4rmy]

bf!haechan x fem!reader (idol AU) II

IMAGINE: it's your birthday and Haechan wants to gift you your favourite thing in the world... his hands.

TW: sex, fingering, fisting, hand kink, MDNI

• This year, your birthday falls on a Wednesday. That means no wild night out with your friends—class starts at 8 a.m. tomorrow. You’ll celebrate with them Friday night instead. But tonight, you belong to Haechan. He woke you up this morning with a warm kiss and a smiling “Happy birthday, pain in the ass of my heart,” before rushing off to work. You headed to class, had lunch in the cafeteria with your classmates—who treated you to a slice of cheesecake while singing the birthday song—then studied in the library and came home. It’s been a good day: calm, quiet, peaceful... until a message from your boyfriend nearly crushes your mood.

You sigh, but you’re used to this by now. A message like that doesn’t ruin your day anymore. You know it’s not his fault, and you know he’ll do everything he can to come home at a decent hour.

• And he does. You’ve just finished dinner when you hear the front door unlock. You spring off the couch, but then remind yourself to tone it down—you don’t want to look like a lovesick teenager. When Haechan walks in and kicks off his shoes with his usual lack of precision, he glances up at you with a grin, clearly pleased to catch the excitement you tried (and failed) to hide.

“Hi, baby. How was your day?”

There’s something strange in his voice. You step closer, now more suspicious than giddy.

“Really good. And yours?”

“Mmh, it was long. But the best part is just about to start.”

You don’t miss the suggestive note in his words, but before you can make a snarky remark, he pulls a plastic bag from behind his back and hands it to you with a bright smile. You take it, fingers curling around the handles, and light up when you pull out a teddy bear holding a tiny bouquet of flowers. Then you burst into laughter when you notice the plushie is wearing a black T-shirt that says: “I AM THE BOY THAT CAN ENJOY INVISIBILITY.”

“That’s me. I’m your present.”

You shake your head, laughing, and walk over to hug him. His arms wrap around you, warm and solid.

“Thank you. I love it.”

Haechan kisses your shoulder and pulls you close with a deep, satisfied hum, clearly happy to have you in his arms after a long day.

• You stay wrapped up in each other for over a minute. Then you pull back just enough to see his face—and your heart melts at the way he looks at you, like you’re the most special person in the whole universe. You kiss him, and your lips meet in a kiss that’s slow and deep, a promise of more. When his hands slip under your shirt and find your bare skin, you know that more is just about to begin. He lifts your shirt and slides it off, leaning in again to continue the kiss—tender, sweet. But as your hands instinctively move to his arms and start exploring the muscles and soft skin, he chuckles and plants a teasing kiss on the tip of your nose. Your obsession with his arms and hands never fails to feed his already oversized ego.

“You know, besides the teddy bear, I had another gift in mind for you.”

“I figured,” you reply with a soft laugh.

He shakes his head, fingers now lazily tracing patterns on your bare waist.

“This one’s a little... special. If you’re up for it, of course.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Can I get a hint?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into a mischievous smirk, a glint of playful intent lighting up his eyes.

“These are involved,” he says cheerfully, waving his hands in front of your face.

A grin spreads across your lips.

“My favorite things.”

• Two minutes later, you're completely naked and lying on your stomach on a towel spread across the bed—because, according to Haechan, it was absolutely essential to protect his precious silk sheets from “your body’s unpredictability.” Though for now, the only thing the sheets need protection from are the drops of cherry-flavored edible body oil trailing down your shoulders and hips, as you melt under the massage your talkative boyfriend is giving you. He’s recounting his day, his ideas for the new tour, and a song he’s thinking of writing. You listen with your eyes closed, your face resting on your crossed arms like a pillow, as his honey-laced voice flows in sync with the slow, deliberate motion of his hands—starting at your shoulders, gliding down your back, lingering between your shoulder blades to ease a stubborn knot. He presses deeper along your hips, drawing out a few involuntary moans, then reaches your ass, massaging the soft flesh with warm oil—his voice faltering as his concentration slips. And then, he moves lower, because tonight he’s not planning to skip a single inch of you. His hands tend to your thighs, one at a time, your calves, even your feet.

“I like this present.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” he replies, moving back up your legs and pressing a couple of playful kisses to your backside, making you giggle, “this isn’t the gift. I just need you as relaxed as possible.”

You feel the smile on his lips against your skin as he drags them slowly along your spine, savoring the cherry taste until he reaches the base of your neck. There, he lingers—kissing, sucking, and nibbling gently—drawing a sigh of anticipation from deep within you. You flinch slightly when one of his hands suddenly finds your most intimate spot, brushing against your entrance without warning.

“Yeah,” he murmurs with a satisfied sigh. “You’re ready. Turn over for me, please.”

“Tsk,” you huff as you roll onto your back under his attentive gaze. “Did you just say ‘please’?”

He smiles and leans down to kiss your lips. “Tonight, I’m not the one in control.”

A shiver runs through you, starting in your stomach and rippling outward.

“Alright then. Let me see this gift of yours.”

• Haechan shivers with anticipation and lights up, quickly moving to open the drawer in his nightstand—his special stash of… accessories. You watch, curious, as he pulls out a small bottle of lubricant and bites his lower lip. Is that excitement—or nerves?

“You look nervous, Lee Donghyuck,” you tease, propping yourself up on your elbows and watching him return to the bed, kneeling between your thighs, just below where your body aches for him most. Haechan takes a deep breath and opens the bottle.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “If it’s too much, just tell me.”

You look at him in confusion as he coats the fingers of his right hand in the scented gel—rings still adorning every knuckle. You’re about to ask why he even needs lubricant when you’re already so wet for him—but the moment you notice him covering his hand up to the wrist with gel, your breath catches in your throat. His dry hand caresses your lower belly, sending shivers through you. Then he moves to your thigh, lifting your legs so they rest on either side of his hips.

“Hyuck—”

“Shhh.” His eyes are steady, soothing, and they hold yours just long enough to distract you before his slick fingers find your entrance and slide in with ease. “Relax, love.”

Any lingering worry dissolves instantly into pleasure—the kind only his hands can give you. Long, veined, slightly calloused fingers that make your head spin every time they touch you—or even when you just think about them.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he whispers, lowering himself to press kisses to your chest as two of those fingers delve deeper, the coolness of his rings sending delicious shocks through your system. “You’re thinking about my hands, right?”

His voice is thick with arousal and smugness, and it pulls a broken moan from your throat.

“I know how much you love them. I know you think about them when you touch yourself. You imagine my fingers instead of yours, because only mine reach you this way. Isn’t that right?”

A third finger joins the mix and your back arches, a moan spilling out with no shame—especially when the wet sounds his fingers make are far filthier than anything you could say.

“Shit, baby, you’re so good for me. Look at you.”*

Just the thought of how you must look to him right now—completely undone—makes your head spin even harder. And he’s only using three fingers. And he’s still fully dressed. In those ridiculous shorts that don’t even reach his knees.

• Haechan lifts his torso, settling back on his knees between your legs. But his hand doesn’t stop moving—not even close. With his free hand, he reaches up to your face, brushing your cheek and then your bottom lip with his thumb. A small nod tells you what he wants, and you obey immediately, parting your lips. His index and ring fingers slide into your mouth, and Haechan lets out a low moan at the obscene sight. He nods approvingly, like he's proud of you.

“You can take one more, yeah? Think you can do that for me?”

You nod as you suck on his fingers—but he wasn’t talking about your mouth. Your eyes widen when you feel a fourth finger slide inside you. And then… his thumb. You moan around the fingers in your mouth, panic flickering in your gaze, but Haechan is faster than your fear. He slows the movement of his hand, but keeps all five fingers buried inside your warm, pulsing walls.

“Relax. You’re with me, right? I know you can do it—you’re doing so well.”

The honey in his voice melts the tension in your stomach. You ease your back and thighs, trusting him—and his wickedness. That’s when he takes his chance, sliding deeper, pushing nearly his entire palm into your body. A loud cry breaks from your chest, but it’s not pain. Oh fuck, it’s not pain—and he knows it. He smiles, the smug bastard.

“Yeah? You like that?”

You can’t answer. The pleasure’s too much—too intense, too all-consuming. It crashes over you in waves that steal your breath.

“I know you do, I know it... just a little more, okay? You’ve got this. I’m almost there,” he murmurs, eyes locked on his own hand now nearly swallowed by your body, cursing under his breath at how painfully hard he’s become.

The urge to tear down his shorts and replace his hand with his cock is nearly overwhelming. But today is your birthday, and he’s determined to follow through with what he’s been fantasizing about for over a week. He ignores your whimpers, leans in, and pushes farther—until his whole hand, all the way to the wrist, is inside you.

“Oh my God—oh my God,” you gasp, breathless.

His free hand slides down to your chest, fingers closing around one of your breasts, thumb circling your hard nipple. His other hand, though barely able to move, shifts just enough inside your body to send you reeling, the sensation terrifying in its intensity.

“Fuck, baby—look at you. Can you see it? You took all of it... so good for me. It’s yours now, Y/N. My hands are yours.”

His entire fucking hand is inside you. Your brain short-circuits, your body writhing uncontrollably beneath him. Haechan groans, riding out your climax without needing to move—watching you unravel is enough to make him shake. Thank God he put the towel on the bed.

• When your cries fade into shaky whimpers, Haechan starts massaging your thigh with his dry hand.

“Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

You struggle to catch your breath, but the moment he feels your muscles loosen just enough, he slowly begins to withdraw his hand. The slick, obscene sound it makes as he slides free draws another weak noise from your throat, and your body collapses onto the towel, completely drained of every last drop of energy. Haechan keeps stroking your leg, grounding you through the aftershocks.

“How are you feeling?”

“That was fucking—"

“Hot? Yeah, I agree.”

You take a deep breath as he lies down beside you, pulling you against his chest and holding you in the quiet, protective safety of his arms—your wrecked body safe and worshipped in his embrace.

• After a few minutes of quiet, slow breathing, and gentle touches, your mind starts to function again. Sort of.

“Check if you still have all your rings—I wouldn’t want one getting lost… in there.”

“If it did, I’d be more than happy to go looking for it.”

You roll your eyes at his shamelessness. But then a thought hits you. You glance down, brow furrowing. You definitely saw something bulging under those ridiculous shorts of his. Haechan chuckles, catching your train of thought—and then he blushes.

“I came just before you, baby”

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other haechan's chapters:

bf!haechan scenario

haechan - when you first met

haechan - your first time together

bf!haechan 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

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[im4rmy]

10: i do have abs

← 吻 →

Jisung was bored to death. He had no idea what to do. Chae was in Ulsan, Chenle had gone to the 127s to get his ear treated by Jungwoo, and Renjun had tagged along. Jaemin and Rachel were out shopping, while Jeno, Mark and Haechan were busy scouting for their next mission. And him? Stuck in the house with nothing to do. He was terrible at video games, had no interest in working out with Jeno's punching bag, and found Jaemin and Rachel's romance novels and Haechan's crime thrillers unbearably dull. Letting out a frustrated groan, he lay sprawled out on the living room floor, staring at the ceiling.

He gave in.

He stared at the screen for what felt like decades.

When he realized she wasn't going to reply, he got up and left the house—then came back, scribbled a note saying he was heading downtown, and left again. Destination: the university.

← 吻 →

"No, her father died when she was little," Mark said, grabbing a handful of fries from the bag.

"Then who was she talking about?" Jeno asked, his face buried in his burger.

They had completed the scouting mission. On their way home, they had passed by a McDonald's and... well.

"Her drug addicted mom's boyfriend. From what Taejin told me, the guy had a heavy hand," the Leader explained.

"What a piece of shit," Haechan muttered from the driver's seat, finishing off his chicken nuggets.

"Yeah..." Mark mumbled.

"Chae's not doing well," Jeno suddenly said from the backseat.

The two in the front tensed, exchanged confused glances, then turned to look at their Captain. "What do you mean?"

"She told me she doesn't know if she has anything left to live for."

A heavy, nervous silence filled the car.

"We should talk to Jisung about it," Haechan suggested after a few seconds.

"You mean Taeyong and Taejin," Mark corrected.

Haechan looked at him. "No. I meant Jisung."

Mark met his gaze. "This is serious. Why would we go to Jisung before them?"

"Maybe because he's her brother and knows her better than anyone else?" Haechan shot back.

"Don't use that tone with me," the older one growled.

"Cut it out, you sound like kids," Jeno interjected. "I'm sick of listening to you two argue 24/7."

"We dnever argue," Mark defended.

Jeno let out a laugh, trying not to spit out his Grand Crispy McBacon. "Dude, I haven't heard you talk civilly to each other in months."

Mark, momentarily thrown, looked to Haechan for support, but the latter simply turned back to the road, sipping his Coke without a word.

"I think I'll talk to Jisung," Jeno murmured to himself, nodding at his burger.

Mark shut his eyes and sighed. "And I'll talk to Chae."

Haechan looked up, shifting in his seat. "You'll have to wait a few days for that."

← 吻 →

Sohyun blinked, adjusting to the sunlight after spending six hours inside the university. She turned on her Bluetooth headphones and was about to put them on when a familiar gray jacket caught her attention. What was that tall idiot doing here? He was standing frozen in front of the pastry shop next to the university building. Hanging her headphones around her neck, she strode toward him. Jisung sensed his soulmate's presence and turned his head to look at her before returning his gaze to the pastries behind the glass.

"What are you doing here?"

"Told you, I was bored."

"And what do you—what are you staring at?" she asked, irritated that he wasn't even looking at her.

"Why are the pastries so expensive here? How can they charge 8,000 won for a donut?" he asked, baffled.

Sohyun stood beside him in front of the window. "We're downtown. And this place is popular with students, so they can jack up the prices as much as they want."

Jisung let out a deep, dreamy sigh.

"You hungry?" she asked, puzzled.

"I'm twenty. I'm always hungry."

"Which one do you want?"

Jisung gave her a strange look. "Are you offering to buy me food, princess?"

"I'm buying food for myself, but if you want something, I'll get it for you since you're all skin and bones," she replied, stepping into the bakery with Jisung right behind her.

"Two donuts—actually, no. One donut and a cream-filled bun."

"Don't overdo it, Jimin."

The two stood in line at the register in silence. Jisung glanced around; the shop had a charming, rustic feel, like a mountain cabin with dark wooden beams and green plants decorating the shelves—

"Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath, catching Sohyun's attention. "Shit, shit, shit. We need to leave," he ordered, grabbing her wrist.

"What's going on?" she asked, confused, as he yanked her out of the bakery in a flash.

Jisung didn't answer, dragging her toward a nearby alley. He shoved her into the shadows, ignoring her annoyed protest, and cut her off before she could insult him. "Shut up, okay? Don't make a sound."

Sohyun was about to cuss him out but froze when she saw the hardened look in his eyes. She'd seen that expression before—dark, serious eyes, clenched jaw, even his skin seemed to sizzle with adrenaline. She shut her mouth.

Jisung stepped out of the shadows, but he barely made it two steps before a voice stopped him in his tracks, making him clench his fists. Sohyun watched from her hiding spot.

"Well, well! Look who it is! The little one! Where are mommy and daddy?" the voice taunted, getting closer.

"I know as much as you do, Cho-Cho," Jisung replied, tilting his head.

The man stepped into Sohyun's view. He was about Jisung's height but broader, with slicked-back black hair.

"Poor orphan boy... Who was the girl? A new addition to the crew?"

Sohyun's blood ran cold. They had seen them together. No one could find out they were soulmates—her life would be in danger.

"What girl?" Jisung asked, glancing around casually.

Mr. Gel chuckled. "You're still the most irritating of the group, Park. Where'd you hide her, huh?"

Sohyun held her breath, remaining completely still.

Jisung sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his baggy pants. "No idea what you're talking about. How many times do we have to tell you? When you take Wave's stuff, wait for the hallucinations to wear off before leaving the house."

Mr. Gel clenched his jaw at the sarcasm and stepped closer until they were almost nose to nose. Jisung didn't flinch, holding his gaze with disdain.

"Sooner or later, one of you brats is going to slip up. And when that happens, it's over for NCT."

Jisung stared at his retreating back for a few seconds before turning on his heel and walking in the opposite direction. Sohyun finally let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and sagged against the cold wall behind her.

This situation was, honestly, deeply unsettling. But also... She didn't want to call it exciting, exactly, but she was intrigued. Terrified out of her mind, of course. But intrigued. Her days weren't what she would describe as thrilling—not really. Not that she minded her quiet life, to be clear. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wished for something more. And that arrogant, aggressive Jisung was...

"Hey."

Sohyun jumped so violently she almost screamed when Jisung suddenly appeared beside her, a white paper bag in one hand and a half-eaten donut in the other.

"Are you insane?! You scared me to death!"

"What were you thinking about? You had a weird look on your face."

Sohyun felt her cheeks heat up. The truth? Her mind had wandered to an image of Jisung, gun in hand, his face smudged with soot, clad in black leather pants...

"Who was that guy?" she asked instead.

Jisung licked his lips and sighed. "We, uh... dealt with his brother last year, and he's still holding a grudge." He took another bite of his donut. It was really good.

"Why didn't you just take him out? One-on-one, you would've won, right?"

"Of course I would've, but he wasn't alone. Two of his guys were inside the bakery, and three more were across the street."

She hadn't noticed any of them... "Is he dangerous?"

"Not as much as his brother, but... well, he's definitely not harmless," Jisung muttered. Then he hesitated before adding, "We need to be more careful. And also..." His voice trailed off before he finally said, reluctant, "We need to figure out how to trigger the bond, or you'll always be in danger."

Sohyun stared at him as he finished his pistachio donut. "So you can finally go on missions again, right?"

"Yeah. Without worrying about accidentally getting you killed with every step I take."

Sohyun sighed. As much as the thought of triggering the bond made her stomach churn, the idea of suddenly dropping dead in the middle of dinner with her parents because that idiot lacked common sense was even worse.

"So how do we do it? How do we figure out what triggers it?"

"No idea. You're the smart one here. Oh! Here, I got you a pink donut, princess," he said, handing her the little white bag.

Sohyun raised a suspicious eyebrow. "Did you steal these?"

Jisung scoffed, looking offended. "No! I stole a wallet and then bought them."

← 吻 →

After making sure Sohyun got home safely—keeping his distance and checking every step of the way that no one was watching or following—Jisung wandered through the city, taking the long route home. By the time night fell and his stomach started loudly protesting, he finally gave in and headed back.

As soon as he opened the front door, he took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the comforting aroma of home: ramen and pork stew.

"Perfect timing, Jisung!" Jaemin called out with a wide grin.

Jisung hurried to his seat at the table. The only one missing was Chaerin—it was rare to find the whole team together; someone was always off doing their own thing.

"Where were you?" Renjun asked, scooping a portion of ramen into his bowl.

"Took a walk. Ate a donut," Jisung answered, waiting (mouth practically watering) for the older ones to serve themselves first.

"You look flushed," Rachel commented with a knowing smile. "So, you saw Sohyun."

Jisung rolled his eyes but didn't bother denying it. Instead, his expression darkened. "I ran into Choi Kuro."

The others immediately looked up, alarmed.

"Did he see you with Sohyun?" Mark asked.

Jisung shook his head and took his first bite of ramen. "No. Barely."

"Good. But you need to be careful. Try not to be seen with her in public."

Jisung nodded.

Dinner carried on peacefully, as if Jaemin's cooking had the power to dissolve all tension. The Captain wasn't throwing sharp glares at the youngest for once, Chenle's usual loud voice wasn't grating on anyone's nerves—on the contrary, it was almost funny. Even Haechan wasn't sulking like he usually did.

Then Rachel spoke, cutting off Jaemin's latest amusing story.

"Did you guys hear that?"

The entire table fell silent in an instant, every one of them on high alert. Mark's sharp ears picked up the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.

"DOWN! DOWN! GET DOWN!" he shouted, yanking Rachel down by the back of her neck and dragging her under the table.

The others followed in an instant, just as a hail of bullets shattered the living room window, splintering furniture in the open-plan space. They moved fast—Rachel and Jeno crawled toward the cabinet near the fridge where they had left their guns, grabbed them, and loaded them in one smooth motion as gunfire continued to ring in their ears.

"Is anyone hit?!" Jaemin yelled over the noise.

No one answered yes.

"Can anyone see who they are?" Mark called, shifting out from under the table with Jisung and Haechan.

"Can't see anyone," Haechan responded, craning his neck as far as he dared.

Then, just as suddenly as it started, the gunfire stopped. Silence fell over the house—until a voice blasted through a megaphone outside, cutting through the quiet.

"LET THIS BE A WARNING: REVENGE IS COMING."

The team exchanged tense glances. Then something was lobbed through the broken window. Mark's eyes widened, but it wasn't a grenade.

Jeno scrambled to his feet, peering out into the night. He caught a glimpse of figures dressed in black fleeing into the shadows. Too dark to make out any more details. "They're gone."

Mark hurried to pick up what had been thrown inside. It was a tightly rolled bundle of toilet paper. Inside, a folded sheet of paper. The moment he unfolded it, he knew exactly what it was.

"What is it?" Jisung asked, stepping closer.

Mark exhaled sharply. "It's Sohyun's informations," he said, grim. "Her parents, her classmates, her class schedule... everything."

← 吻 →

Sohyun took off her headphones and set down the controller before slipping under her warm, soft comforter—even though she hadn't changed into her pajamas yet. It wasn't that cold outside, but living with two men meant she couldn't adjust the house's temperature to match her perpetually chilly metabolism. She was always cold. She got lost on TikTok for almost an hour before someone knocked on her window. She shot to her feet, heart hammering, and didn't relax even when she recognized Jisung.

A bloodied Jisung.

"What the hell did you do?" she gasped, throwing open the balcony door to let him in.

Jisung staggered inside and collapsed onto her plush carpet with a grunt. Sohyun knelt beside him.

"Jisung? Are you okay?" she asked, gripping his shoulders in alarm.

He nodded but didn't speak. Instead, he took one of her hands in his—bruised and shaking—and sighed. Sohyun understood immediately: just that touch was already easing whatever pain he was in. So she stayed quiet, waiting for him to speak.

A few minutes passed before Jisung finally broke the silence, telling her about the shooting. How he'd lost his temper, chased down those thugs like an idiot, and made them confess who had sent them. But a three-against-one fight wasn't easy—not even for him.

"You're bleeding... I'll get the first aid kit."

"No!" He caught her wrist. "Don't go. Please."

"I need to clean your—"

"In five minutes," he murmured, shifting a little closer.

"...Okay," she whispered, sitting beside him as she tried to steady her breathing.

Jisung inhaled slowly and exhaled loudly. His breathing was steadying now. He stretched his legs out in front of him, straightening his posture a little, but he was almost certain he had at least one or two cracked ribs. "That was stupid," he admitted in a whisper.

"Getting your ass kicked by three armed thugs? Yeah, I'd say so."

"No, coming to your university... I'm an idiot."

"You said it, not me."

Jisung let out a soft chuckle, but it ended in a pained hiss. That was enough for Sohyun. Ignoring his groaning protests, she got up to grab the first aid kit. By the time she returned, Jisung had managed to prop himself against her bed, his head resting on her thick blanket. She sat cross-legged beside his long legs, setting the disinfectant bottle down beside her. She soaked a cotton pad, then brushed his dark bangs aside to clean a cut still oozing blood on his forehead.

"Does it hurt?"

Jisung shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. Having her this close wasn't easy—his wounds and bruises faded into the background the moment he entered her room. Even her scent was enough to blur out his physical pain, not to mention her touch. He forced himself to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. It didn't work.

"I can't take this anymore," he admitted.

Sohyun paused. "Does it hurt?"

"I don't know how much longer I can handle Unidirection. It's too intense."

She sighed, dabbing a fresh cotton pad over his face. "I found a book online... It'll arrive tomorrow. It's full of unidirectional soulmates experiences—maybe there's something that can help us."

Jisung opened his eyes, staring at her concentrated expression—just inches from his battered face. She was beautiful.

"Close your eyes before I punch you, Jimin."

Jisung laughed and shut them again. Silence settled between them until Sohyun's phone rang. Frowning at the unknown number, she picked up.

"Hello?"

Jisung lazily glanced up, watching her expression shift before she handed him the phone.

"It's for you."

Raising an eyebrow, he took it—her glittery case felt ridiculous in his bloodstained hands. "Yeah?"

"Don't come home when you're better."

Taeyong's voice on the other end made him straighten instinctively—at least as much as his ribs allowed. "What do you mean?"

Taeyong sighed. "You need to stay with Sohyun and make sure neither she nor her parents step foot outside. Taejin and I will find a solution soon, but if you want to keep her safe, this is the only way. We'll talk in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

The call ended. Jisung locked the phone and handed it back to Sohyun, who was now standing with her hands on her hips.

"Who was that? And why did they call me?"

"My phone's dead. That was my... boss."

"Mark?"

"No. Mark's boss."

"And what did he want?"

Jisung hesitated before answering. "Until we handle this situation, we need to follow certain security protocols. For you and your dads."

Sohyun sighed, nodding as she sat beside him again. "We'll deal with it tomorrow. Now, take off your hoodie."

Jisung flinched, looking at her in alarm—almost fear.

She rolled her eyes. "I know it hurts there too. Take it off."

"I'm not bleeding," he argued, wishing he could bolt.

"Stop being a baby—come on—" She reached for the hem of his hoodie, but Jisung's hand shot out, gripping her wrist to stop her.

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, terrified.

"Wait," he breathed.

"What is it?" she asked, searching his battered face for an answer.

"I'm... not a pretty sight under here."

Sohyun smirked. "No abs? What a shame."

"No, I—I do have abs," he huffed, blushing. "But... this isn't the first time I've been hurt."

She understood then—he was genuinely self-conscious. And technically... he was in love with her. "Don't worry, Jimin," she teased, flashing a mischievous grin. "You've always got your pretty face to count on."

Jisung chuckled, finally relaxing. He released her wrist, signaling that she could go ahead. She helped him peel off the hoodie, his pained grunts making her wince.

"Holy shit," she whispered, staring at the massive purple bruise coloring his torso. "Okay, this should help." She grabbed a tube of cream from the first aid kit.

As she gently spread it over his bruises, she tried not to stare too much. He hadn't lied about the abs, but his torso was covered in scars. A ten-centimeter gash on his right side—she could see every single stitch, probably home-made. Two large, almost parallel scars on his left pec—she didn't want to know how he got those. A small circular crater above his right collarbone. Countless smaller white scars and old, yellowing bruises scattered across his skin.

He was wrecked. She didn't even want to imagine what his back looked like. Then again... judging by his shoulders and biceps, she figured—scars aside—it must be quite the sight.

"Did you got shot here?" The words slipped out before she could stop herself.

Jisung followed her gaze to his shoulder. "Yeah. Chae and I hit the wrong house. We were seventeen," he said, a small grin tugging at his lips as he remembered the moment they realized they had broken into a cop's home.

"Does it still hurt?"

"No." He studied her face, taking in the curiosity in her eyes as she carefully spread the sticky ointment over every fresh bruise. She wasn't even trying to hide the way she examined each scar on his skin.

"Okay, we'll put on more in the morning. Wait here—I'm gonna grab some clean clothes from my dad," she said, getting to her feet.

"Isn't that my hoodie?" he asked, frowning at the garment tossed over her desk chair.

"Yeah, you gave it to me the other night. Remember?"

"Yeah... I can just wear that," he said, reaching for it with some effort.

"No," she shot back, snatching it from his hands. He blinked at her, confused.

"That's my pajama, Jimin," she explained, tossing it onto her bed. "There's no way I'm letting you get blood all over it. It still smells like you."

And with that, she walked out to steal something from her parents' closet.

Jisung stood frozen, his heart hammering. That was the kind of thing that made butterflies explode in a teenager's stomach, and he was pretty sure he had millions of them flapping around inside him. Then the butterflies vanished. Because Hana was staring at him from the doorway, teeth bared.

"Hi," he greeted her, already resigned to his fate.

The dog moved in slowly, sniffing the air. Jisung lowered himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged to make himself look... smaller. And he prayed for Sohyun to hurry back. Hana circled him, her nose trailing from his shoes to his bare arms, then around his back and up to the nape of his neck.

"I swear I don't usually smell like this," he muttered.

The dog stepped in front of him again, locked eyes with him, huffed—then flopped down, resting her head on his lap.

And let him pet her.

← 吻 →

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[im4rmy]

bf!jisung x fem!reader (idol AU) II

IMAGINE: You make out for the first time.

TW: suggestive, MDNI

• You and Jisung had only recently made things official—ever since he, trembling and stammering, had confessed what you'd known since the very first time you met: he had a massive crush on you and wanted you to be his girlfriend. From that moment on, though, you realized everything would move very slowly, because poor Jisung couldn’t even hold your gaze for more than two seconds. It wasn’t a problem for you, but you had never been with someone quite like him before, so… you were doing your best, always worried you might cross a line and make him uncomfortable.

"Are you still hungry?"

His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. You shake your head with a small smile and watch as he stands up to toss the empty pizza box onto the kitchen counter before returning to his spot next to you on the dorm couch, where Renjun is already fast asleep in his room.

You sigh. "Jisung."

He turns his head toward you, resting it against the back of the couch, watching you with those wide, curious, boyish eyes. You can’t help but smile adoringly at him, cupping his cheeks in your hand and pressing a quick kiss to his lips, making him flush bright red. You pull away and chuckle when he awkwardly clears his throat. Leaning a little closer, you take one of his hands, drawing his full attention back to you.

"Can we talk for a second?"

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly, and he grabs the TV remote to lower the volume. Then he shifts to face you, heart pounding.

"Listen... I really want this to work between us, so I need you to be honest with me. I need you to tell me what’s going on in your head, okay?"

Jisung blinks a few times. "Did I do something—?"

"No, no... I mean going forward. If I get close to you, if I kiss you, if I touch you... I need you to tell me if it’s okay, if it’s ever too much. Alright?"

You see him blush, but he doesn't look away. He swallows and nods. "Okay."

You hold his gaze. "Are you sure?"

This time he nods more firmly. "Yes."

• You smile and lean in to place a soft kiss on his lips, but before you can pull away, his hand comes up to cup your cheek, keeping you close, and your lips meet again. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you quickly melt into the tenderness of his touch, his lips... and when he parts them slightly to catch his breath, you do the same, gently slipping your tongue to meet his. You feel him stiffen for a second, then gradually respond, kissing you back with a hesitance that’s more curious than afraid. Your hands move up to his broad shoulders, caressing them gently, while his hand slides back to the nape of your neck, fingers tangling in your long hair. His lips barely pull away from yours, and you feel his quick, shallow breaths. You giggle, looping your arms around his neck.

"You need to breathe, Ji."

"O-Okay... um, can you—could you come closer?"

The butterflies in your stomach flutter wildly, and once again, you wonder what it is about this lanky boy that has you so hopelessly head over heels for him—because, let's be honest: you are completely gone for Park Jisung. Carefully, you shift to straddle his lap, watching his reaction. Jisung stares up at you, wide-eyed and terrified, completely unsure what to do with his hands. You smile, hoping to ease his nerves.

"Is this okay?"

Jisung nods vigorously, making you laugh. You lean in again, cradling his face in your hands as you kiss him slowly—this time giving him plenty of chances to breathe. His trembling hands settle on your thighs, but he doesn't move them, keeping his full focus on the connection between your lips. Your fingers leave his face to trail along his arms, brushing his biceps, then down to his forearms, finally taking his hands in yours.

• "I'm going to take off my sweatshirt, alright?"

Jisung swallows hard and opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You take his silence as permission and peel off your sweatshirt, feeling his gaze on you.

"Y-You're beautiful," he breathes, barely daring to glance at your navy-blue bra.

A wide smile spreads across your face, and you bring his hands back to yours. "You can touch me, if you want."

"O-Okay... where?"

His earnest but determined expression makes you laugh, and you press a kiss to his forehead.

"Wherever you want, baby."

You smile again as he takes a deep breath before resting his hands on your waist, feeling your bare skin beneath his fingertips for the first time. His touch is tentative, still unmoving. You lean closer to press soft kisses to the underside of his jaw, then higher near his ear, then down along his neck. Finally, you feel his fingers tighten slightly on your skin, twitching, though he still doesn’t move.

"Relax..."

"I-I can't, I’m sorry. I don’t know what—"

"Shh... Just pretend you’re dancing—freestyle," you whisper against his ear. "Listen to your body and let it move however it wants."

• Jisung listens to your voice and closes his eyes, focusing on the trail of kisses you're leaving along his skin. When your lips find his again, and your hand gently caresses his cheek, you feel his muscles start to relax beneath you. One of his hands slowly slides up your back, brushing your spine tenderly. You smile into the kiss, pressing your body a little closer to his, running your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. He lets out a small, helpless moan against your mouth—a sound that makes him blush deeply—but he quickly recovers as his hands explore lower, sliding down your sides to your hips, then down again to your ass. When he realizes it feels good—really good—he brings both hands to cup your ass, squeezing gently through your thin leggings.

"Getting a little bold there, huh?" you tease, giggling.

Jisung turns bright red but nods shyly. "I-I like it."

You give him a curious look. "You mean... my butt?"

He gazes at you with the hazy, lovestruck look of a drunk teenager, hands still firmly on your backside, and nods again with a sheepish grin. You burst into laughter and plant a quick kiss on his flushed lips.

"Good to know, little one."

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other jisung's chapters:

bf!jisung scenario

jisung - when you first met

jisung - your first time together

bf!jisung scenario IIˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 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

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[im4rmy]

☆09: finally you shut the fu*k up

← 吻 →

Ulsan, 2005

The sunset had painted the neighborhood in a thousand different shades before giving way to the silent darkness, illuminated only by the streetlamps outside Chaerin’s home. Her mother had chosen not to eat dinner that evening. Her stomach wasn’t in any condition to hold anything in. Chaerin, on the other hand, was still wearing her little black dress as she finished her cheese sandwich. Her mother watched her from the chair beside her. The girl was only three, but already strikingly beautiful—her large brown eyes took up most of her small face, always bright and full of life. Her upturned nose and round cheeks made her even sweeter. The woman rested a hand on Chaerin’s carefully braided brown hair, stroking it with a melancholic tenderness.

"We’ll be okay," she said, holding back tears.

Chaerin didn’t fully understand what had happened. She knew her father wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon, but she was too young to grasp what death truly meant. What she did notice was how sad her mother was.

So sad that she convinced herself she deserved a sip from the only bottle of liquor in the cupboard—a bottle of brandy that Chaerin’s father had only brought out on special occasions, usually when there were guests. She hadn’t touched alcohol since an embarrassing drunken night at eighteen that ended in vomiting, allowing herself only a glass of champagne on New Year's Eve. But she needed sleep.

So, she set water to boil for a calming tea, helped her daughter up, and took her upstairs. She didn’t remind her to brush her teeth or put on pajamas, just tucked her into bed, said goodnight, and went back downstairs. Once her tea was ready, she opened the cupboard and took out the bottle, half full. She poured a splash into the steaming cup, sealed the bottle, and put it away.

She drank the tea and went to bed.

She did the same the next night—put Chaerin to bed, drank her tea.

A week later, she bought another bottle.

Then she started having a cup of relaxing tea after lunch, to help her nap in the afternoon.

And since the bottle emptied faster and faster, she began buying more than one at a time—but never from the same store, just in case someone noticed.

The routine never changed. But more and more often, she forgot to put Chaerin to bed. Mornings came late, and her daughter was late for school.

But Chaerin didn’t mind too much. Her mother seemed tired, but she wasn’t sad anymore. Sometimes she was so tired she forgot to make dinner. Sometimes she was so tired she couldn’t walk Chaerin to preschool in the morning.

But she wasn’t sad anymore.

← 吻 →

Ulsan, 2008

By now, Chaerin had gotten used to walking home from school alone. Her teachers didn’t approve, but every day they called her mother, and every day there was no answer. Chaerin would flash a bright smile and assure them she could do it on her own—it only took three minutes, after all.

So, she’d trot home in her pink and fuchsia outfits, stop by the neighbor’s house for a snack, then sit at the table in her house and eat while watching cartoons, the only sound breaking the heavy silence that hung over her once-beautiful home.

Well, there was one other thing that disturbed that silence: her mother’s boyfriend.

Right on cue, he walked in, heading straight upstairs to her mother’s room without so much as a glance in Chaerin’s direction. And the moment he stepped inside, she would run to her room and stay there for as long as possible—because she never wanted to see him. He was tall and heavy, his hair and skin dark, his eyes clouded with anger, his body reeking of sweat and filth. Always. And he was cruel to her—shoving her aside if she got in his way, yelling at her if he ever remembered she existed. Chaerin didn’t understand what was going through her mother’s head. Then again, she didn’t understand most of her mother’s choices since her father had died.

Died. At six years old, she finally understood what that word meant. And understanding it had helped her convince herself that her mother wasn’t sick or injured—just sad. And sadness was something you could recover from. Always, right? It was just a matter of waiting.

And in the meantime, she had to endure the silence of her mother and the cruelty of a man whose name she didn’t even know. No one had ever introduced him to her. She didn’t care to learn it, either. Because once her mother got better, she would kick him out. And they would never see him again.

"You’re a really creepy little girl."

Chaerin flinched. She hadn’t heard him coming. She turned to see him looming over her as she sat at the kitchen table, doing her homework. But it wasn’t his presence that froze her in place. It was what he was holding in his hands.

Her diary.

"You’re terrifying. How can a four-year-old be so damn nasty?" he barked, shaking the little fuchsia notebook, bending its spine.

That diary held all her anger.

Every night before bed, she had taken to writing down everything she wanted to say to the world—how much she missed her father and her mother, how sad she felt when she couldn’t spend afternoons at her friends’ houses because she had to take care of her mom, how badly she wanted someone to pick her up from school like all the other kids, how sick she felt every time she heard this man walk through their front door.

It was all in there, written in big, bold letters, with holes punctured through the pages from the sheer force of her pen. She had learned that getting it out this way helped her calm down.

"I’m six."

The man stopped. It was probably the first time he’d ever heard her voice. "What?"

Chaerin locked eyes with him, letting every ounce of her hatred burn in her brown irises. "I’m six years old."

"And why the fuck should I care?" he spat.

"And why the fuck should I care what you think of me, you fat piece of shit?"

She didn’t even realize the words had left her mouth before she felt the slap. It sent her crashing into the kitchen island. Her temple hit the granite. She crumpled to the floor.

That night, her mother hit her too—for speaking to him like that. Her little girl wasn’t a monster. But Chaerin had liked screaming at him. She had liked telling him exactly what she thought. For a moment, she had felt free. Strong. Even if pain had followed. It was far more satisfying than writing in her diary.

So she stopped hiding in her room. If they crossed paths, she answered his insults with her own. She took his blows and almost enjoyed it.

Until the day her teacher pulled her aside and told her that people were coming to her house that afternoon—to help her mother. Because she was tired of seeing bruises on Chaerin’s pretty little face. But when Chaerin got home, she saw the man’s car in the driveway. That was strange. He usually came later. She hesitated before stepping inside. From the kitchen, she heard the sound of a bottle being emptied. He was drinking. But it wasn’t just that. His eyes were red and vacant, his lips tinged purple, his entire body swaying on his feet.

"Where’s my mom?" she asked, looking at him with disgust.

"She’s sleeping," he slurred, his gaze unfocused. "Like always."

Chaerin scowled and hurried upstairs. The door to her mother’s room was slightly open. She stepped inside and wrinkled her nose at the stale air. Her mother lay curled up in bed, her back to her. Chaerin reached out and gently shook her shoulder.

"Mom?"

No response.

She grabbed her mother’s arm and pulled, trying to roll her onto her back. Sometimes, she just needed a little push to wake up.

Chaerin had felt scared many times in her short life. But in that moment, she swore her heart stopped beating.

Her mother wasn’t sleeping.

Her eyes were wide open. And she had vomited all over the sheets and her pajamas.

She wasn’t breathing.

Chaerin jerked her hand back, her gaze darting around the room. The liquor bottle sat on the nightstand, as always. But next to it was a pack of white pills she’d only seen a few times before.

There was only one left.

"What a fucking idiot," the man scoffed, stumbling into the doorway. "Pathetic junkie," he sneered.

Chaerin turned to look at him, her eyes still wide.

The man leaned against the doorframe, then frowned. He could feel her stare—sharp, unblinking, drilling into him. And for the first time, he looked unnerved. "You’re fucking terrifying."

Chaerin lunged. With a scream, she shoved him with all her strength. He stumbled back, tripping over his own feet. And tumbled down the stairs.

She stepped forward and peered over the edge.

He wasn’t moving. His head lay in the center of a fast-growing pool of blood.

"Finally you shut the fuck up."

← 吻 →

"She’s incredibly aggressive for a six-year-old," the officer muttered to the social worker.

The woman sighed. "A problematic case?"

The cop cast a glance toward the little girl, sitting in a chair at the station.

"When we got there, she was doing her homework. Just a few feet away from her dead stepfather. And her mother, overdosed, at the top of the stairs."

"She’s in shock?"

"Hasn’t resisted. But won’t let anyone touch her."

The social worker nodded and approached the child.

"Hey, Chaerin. Are you okay?"

Chaerin nodded. "I’m free now, aren’t I?"

← 吻 →

Ulsan, 2022

The girl unbuttoned her hoodie and stepped through the large iron gate. It was warmer here than in Seoul. There weren’t many people around, and the silence felt almost suffocating. Chae was grateful when a notification buzzed on her phone, breaking the stillness.

She smiled as she continued walking along the gravel path.

The reply came quickly—her soulmate never took more than three minutes to text back. God, she adored him.

Since she was technically grounded, she figured she might as well take two or three days… off. A little vacation. So, she’d come back to her hometown. Jisung had wanted to come with her, but she had zero interest in spending three days listening to him whine about how much he missed Sohyun. And honestly, she didn’t mind being alone for a while—especially after that talk with Jeno.

Of course, he had no idea she’d left. He never would have let her go. Neither did Mark. Chae had batted her eyelashes at Haechan, and he’d taken on the responsibility of delivering the news to their Leader and Captain.

"Go before I change my mind," he’d muttered, pushing her out of his room.

Now, Chae tucked her phone into her pocket and stopped in front of the headstone.

Park Seunghoon

1967 – 2005

It was simple, always clean. She had no idea who kept it that way, but this was a cemetery for rich people—so she wasn’t exactly surprised. She turned her head slightly.

Park Jihyun

1972 – 2008

She wasn’t sure her mother deserved to be buried next to him. But at least this way, she could be with Dad. Maybe she wasn’t sad anymore.

"I hope you’re happy now," Chae whispered to the grave.

After all this time, after fighting to survive for nearly twenty years, after finally finding a little peace in a family that loved her… She was starting to understand how her mother had felt when she’d been left alone.

Depression.

That unbearable weight she had once thought would simply fade with time. That sickness she had never considered a real illness, because it wasn’t cancer.

She had been such a stupid child.

"I guess you didn’t have any other cures besides alcohol and drugs, huh, Mom?"

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[im4rmy]

when he comes back from tour - OT7 (idol AU)

TW: sex, oral, shower sex, MDNI

*＊✿❀ Mark ❀✿＊*

Sex after he gets back from a trip has pretty much become a tradition for the two of you—an event you always look forward to. It’s special, too, because your very first time together happened right after he came home from a tour. So you know the drill: you’re freshly waxed, matching lingerie, the whole nine yards. This time, Mark hasn’t been away for long, but his schedule’s been so insane lately that if he’s not on a plane, he’s in the studio, and if he’s not in the studio, he’s at rehearsals. And even when you do manage to grab an evening together, he’s usually running on fumes. Saying you miss him doesn’t even begin to cover it.

You’re sprawled out on his bed, absentmindedly scrolling through TikTok, when you hear the front door open. You leap off the bed and race down the hallway, heart pounding with excitement at the thought of finally getting to hold him again. Mark looks up when he hears your footsteps and his face breaks into a tired, cheeky smile. He drops his suitcase and backpack right there on the floor and holds his arms out for you. You collide like magnets, clinging to each other. He buries his face in your hair, right by your shoulder, breathing you in like he’s trying to soak you into his soul.

"I could cry right now," he mumbles.

You chuckle, squeezing your arms tighter around his neck to pull him closer. "Yeah? Why’s that?"

"Because I missed you so much."

"You’re here now," you whisper.

He nods against your neck and hugs you even closer, gently swaying you both where you stand. After a few minutes, Mark pulls back just a little, enough to cup your cheek in his hand and look at you properly, his thumb stroking your skin.

"Y/N, I know we should—I mean, it’s kind of our thing, but..." he sighs, clearly frustrated with himself. "I’m just so wiped out."

The devastated, guilty look on his face makes you laugh softly in disbelief.

"Mark, it’s fine. I promise I’ll survive one more day without sex," you tease, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He lets out a grumbly breath and rests his forehead against your shoulder. "I’m not so sure I will."

You laugh and start massaging his shoulders, then his biceps, working your way down his back, his shoulder blades, and his ribs, making him shiver under your touch.

"I can do all the work if that’s what you need," you offer with a playful smirk.

He shakes his head. "No, I still wouldn’t make it. I seriously just need to sleep."

"Okay, baby. Let’s go to bed then."

He answers with a sleepy "mh" and lets you lead him back to the bedroom, hand in hand. While he gets ready for bed in the bathroom, you ditch the lacy bra you’d picked out and throw on an oversized T-shirt that practically swallows you whole. Were you a little annoyed you’d gone to all the trouble to shave for nothing? Sure. But having Mark back in your arms was more than enough consolation. When he finally reappears, he can barely keep his head up on his neck. It breaks your heart to see him so worn out, but you’ve learned that Mark loves what he does—so even if his body’s exhausted, his heart is full, and that’s all that matters.

You slip under the covers and hold your arms out with a smile. "Come here, baby."

Mark doesn’t need to be told twice. He flops down beside you, letting you tuck him in. You curl around each other so tightly you’re practically breathing the same air, limbs entwined like knotted ropes. Mark smiles, his eyelids heavy, and his hand slips under your T-shirt, lazily massaging your bare skin until his fingers brush your naked breast, making him sigh with contentment.

"Tomorrow morning... I'll make it up to you," he mumbles with adorable determination.

You laugh quietly at the promise in his voice and start to reply, but he’s already fast asleep. Needless to say, you woke up the next morning with his face between your thighs.

*＊✿❀ Renjun ❀✿＊*

You can’t wait for him to walk through that door. You know he’ll be exhausted, barely able to stand… but standing won’t be necessary for what you have in mind. Renjun’s been overseas for nearly a month on the U.S. tour, and all you want is to kneel down before him and show him just how much you’ve missed him. Of course, you want to cuddle him, kiss him, hold him close… but you’re ovulating, and he’s back just in time before your period begins. You have no choice. And neither does he.

So when Renjun drags himself into the apartment, suitcase in tow, you don’t even greet him with words—you just take his hand and lead him to the armchair you set up for him that afternoon. He tries to ask what you’re planning, though he already has a vague idea. That’s why he doesn’t resist when you sit him down and pull your hair up into a quick ponytail using the hair tie on your wrist. Despite the exhaustion tingling through every muscle in his body, Renjun feels anticipation knotting in his stomach—being away from you hasn’t been easy for him either. And when you look up at him with a mischievous smirk as you kneel between his parted legs, his face lights up with the most beautiful smile. Just your presence is enough to make him feel at home, loved, safe. At peace. He doesn’t say a word as you unbuckle his expensive belt and undo the buttons of his tailored pants. He stays quiet as you pull them down along with his boxers, revealing his already half-hardened arousal. Renjun takes a deep breath when you wet your lips and lean in close to his member.

“Relax, pretty boy. Let me take care of you.”

Renjun lets out a soft moan, sinking deeper into the plush chair as you wrap your hand around him—gently but firmly. His head tilts back and his hands grip the armrests.

“So sensitive… did you miss me?”

He nods, barely holding back a whimper, biting his lower lip. You giggle at the sight of him blushing, pressing a kiss to the tip of his cock, before finally taking it into your mouth. A long breath escapes his chest, and he looks down to meet your gaze already fixed on him. Renjun isn’t the type to push your head down, but he reaches to brush a stray lock of hair from your face.

“Beautiful—” A guttural moan cuts off his compliment, sending a jolt of heat through your core, directly between tour legs. And just as his thighs begin to tense, you pull away. You can’t let him finish—not yet. You need him inside you. He groans in protest but falls silent when he sees you undressing. He watches as you shimmy out of your pants and underwear in one smooth motion, then welcomes you into his arms as you straddle his lap. You give him a moment of tenderness, smiling and finally kissing him for the first time since he returned. He melts into the kiss, hands slipping under your oversized shirt, groaning as he discovers you're not wearing a bra. You smile into the kiss, steadying yourself on your knees as you align yourself with him—finally reconnecting your bodies after so long…

“Fuck—” he gasps, fingers digging into your back.

Your moans blend with his as you move against him, quick and desperate. Feeling him beneath you, completely at your mercy, is overwhelmingly good—too good. Renjun keeps cursing softly as you ride him, chasing that long-awaited release.

“You’re so close, baby, so close—shit!”

His climax hits without warning, causing him to lift his hips, reaching deeper, and the new angle sends you over the edge too. Renjun’s eyes roll back as your warmth tightens around him, his hands gripping you tightly enough to leave marks.

As the final waves of pleasure fade, you collapse onto his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“Welcome home, pretty boy.”

*＊✿❀ Jeno ❀✿＊*

You had a fight before he left for his European tour, and during those weeks, you barely spoke — just enough to make sure everything was okay. And even though you still haven't fully forgiven him for that stupid outburst, you miss him like crazy. You know it, and so does he. You hadn’t made any plans for when he got back, but you knew exactly what time he’d be home. So you swallow your pride and punch in the code to his apartment. Inside, the place is silent. You don't see Jeno, but his shoes are by the door, and his suitcases are stacked against the couch. You slip off your shoes and quietly make your way toward the bedrooms. That's when you hear it — music, muffled by the sound of rushing water, coming from the bathroom.

Your heart pounds wildly, caught somewhere between excitement and nerves: what if he’s not happy to see you? What if he didn’t miss you as much as you missed him?

You step into the bathroom; the mirror is fogged up, and through the frosted glass of the shower, you can see the silhouette of Jeno's back. You take a deep breath and silently shed your clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. Then you walk up to the shower and knock twice. He jumps, swearing and turning sharply, eyes wide — but his shoulders relax the second he recognizes you. He shoots you a mock glare for almost giving him a heart attack. You smile shyly and slide the door open. Jeno steps back to let you in, watching you curiously. As you stand there in front of him, water starting to bead on your skin, Jeno’s gaze travels down your body — but it isn’t lust that lights up his eyes. It's something deeper. Affection.

"I'm sorry I scared—"

"I missed you," he blurts out.

The tension melts from your body, the knot in your chest unraveling with it. Yet Jeno doesn’t move — he waits for you to make the first move. When you step forward and wrap your arms around him, he holds you close, planting a kiss on the top of your head. After a moment, you tilt your head up, and your lips meet out of pure instinct. As your tongues reacquaint themselves, his hands find your hips, pulling you flush against him, your bodies meeting, electric. A low growl rumbles from his chest as his fingers trace the curve of your spine, sending shivers across your skin. Your hands explore the lines of his extraordinary body, just feeling him, needing him. Jeno lowers himself slightly, not breaking the kiss, and lifts you by your thighs, guiding your legs around his waist. His hands grip your ass like he's anchoring himself, and you devour his mouth, desperate not to drown under the running water. He chuckles when you blow wet hair out of your face, and he moves closer to the wall, pulling you away from the heavy stream. The cold tiles press against your back, making you gasp, and Jeno wastes no time — with a smooth movement of his hand, he aligns himself with you and pushes in, slow and deliberate, savoring every second of being inside you again. A strangled moan escapes his lips as he leans into you, his hips rolling in a deep, rhythmic pace that makes you melt in his arms. You cup his face between your hands, kissing him between gasping moans.

"I love you," you whisper.

Jeno opens his eyes and looks at you with that gaze that always makes you want to cry, his smile turning his eyes into two perfect little crescents.

"I love you."

The moment is so tender it almost breaks you — until Jeno thrusts into you harder, stealing the breath from your lungs and making your head fall back against the wall. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, licking and biting your skin, fanning the flames between you.

"Jeno—"

"Mmm, yes, my love?"

"I'm gonna—fuck—"

He growls as he feels you clench around him, your orgasm pulling him deeper, refusing to let him go. The thought alone pushes him over the edge, and he spills into you with a guttural sound that sends shivers across your whole body. You kiss his temple as you hold him close under the stream of water, the music playing from his phone outside the box making everything even more heavenly. He kisses your shoulder and rests his cheek against it.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," he murmurs.

You smile, running your fingers through his wet hair, messing it into a spiky little crest.

"I know, love. It’s okay."

*＊✿❀ Haechan ❀✿＊*

Haechan texted you earlier saying he’d be back today, but you two had agreed to see each other tomorrow—he was desperate for some rest. That’s why, now, almost 2 a.m., you’re buried under your blankets on the living room couch, watching your current drama obsession, dressed in your pajamas, a nearly empty bag of popcorn by your side, while your whole family sleeps upstairs. You figured Haechan would be too tired to hang out. He’s on a plane every other day, after all, so you’re just glad he gets to sleep a bit. You sigh and sit up, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV when a sudden knock knock at the front door freezes you in place.

Who the hell is knocking at this hour?

Your eyes dart around the room as you grab the first thing that could pass for a weapon—an almost empty bottle of that terrible beer your boyfriend keeps stocking your fridge with. You tiptoe toward the door and flinch when the knocking comes again, louder this time, making your stomach knot with anxiety. You peek through the peephole and frown. The figure on the porch has their face almost entirely covered—a mask pulled up high, a cap pulled low—but those glittering eyes locked on the door are unmistakable. You yank the door open and raise the bottle threateningly.

“Have you lost your mind? You scared me half to death!”

Those familiar eyes flick to your beer bottle and then back at you with a look that clearly says are you for real, girl.

“I just knocked on the door.”

“You could’ve used the key! It’s two in the morning!”

“Well, I didn’t think it was very appropriate to unlock the door to your parents’ house while everyone’s asleep.”

You eye him suspiciously until Haechan plucks the bottle from your hand and takes a swig.

“So, are you letting me in or what?”

“You said you were tired.”

“I slept.”

“And...?”

“And I wanted to see you, dummy. I’m freezing—can I come in?”

“Geez, so demanding.”

You step aside, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. The fact that he came all the way here in the middle of the night just because he wanted to see you? Your stomach erupts in butterflies. You close the door and turn to face him—just in time to watch him peel off his mask and hat, running a hand through his hair. And just like that, all the pent-up tension from weeks apart pools low in your belly. But it can’t happen. Not here, not now. Not in the living room of your parents’ house, with their bedroom right upstairs—

“Wanna have sex?”

You give him a look and roll your eyes, flopping back onto the couch. “Not a chance.”

And cue the whining. “Pleaaaase,” he drawls, crawling over to you and kneeling between your bent knees.

“No way, Hyuck. Give it up.”

“Why not?! It’s been a month... don’t you miss me at all?”

“Don’t give me that stupid pout. You can’t shut up during sex—you’ll wake up the whole neighborhood.”

He groans and collapses forward, pressing his face dramatically against your pajama-covered pelvis.

“I swear I’ll be quiet,” he mutters against you, his nose brushing dangerously close to sensitive territory.

You shiver, but try to keep your cool. Haechan has never been able to keep quiet. Still, even as you tell yourself this is a terrible idea, he tugs your pants down and presses his lips over your underwear. You jolt—more from the fact that he now knows you’re already turned on than anything else. You can feel his smug little laugh vibrate against you, and you throw an arm over your face in exasperation. Haechan takes that as a green light and slides your panties down along with your pants.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.”

“Of course, babe,” he mumbles, already too distracted to care.

You groan and accept defeat—there’s just no winning when he’s this insistent.

“Don’t make that face. I know you were kinda hoping for this.”

You don’t even have time to shoot back a snarky reply before he’s inside you with a slow but steady push. He exhales a soft "fuuuck", eyes fluttering shut as his hands grip your hips to draw you closer. His movements start out a little uneven, messy—no real rhythm, just raw need. The room quickly fills with the sounds of your bodies meeting, far too loud for your comfort. You grab his arm to get his attention.

“Slow down... seriously,” you whisper through gritted teeth, trying not to moan.

But he clearly doesn’t hear you—or pretends not to. He keeps moving, groaning softly. You smack his arm, earning a glare.

“Shut the fuck up, idiot! For God's sake”

He just grins and keeps going, clearly enjoying your frustration. You growl under your breath and shove him backward, hard, making him yelp as he falls back onto the couch cushions. You climb on top of him, sinking down until he’s fully inside you again. He’s about to moan—loudly—but you slap a hand over his mouth before he can make a sound. And then you ride him—desperately, purposefully—chasing your release and hoping he finishes fast. When you glance down, his eyes are wide and glassy, watching you like you using him to chase your own pleasure while you shut him up... is the hottest thing he's ever seen. The muffled moans under your palm get more intense as your body begins to tighten around him. You curse under your breath, hips stuttering. His hands slip under your pajama top, squeezing your boobs as he meets your movements with his own. His head falls back as he climaxes, and you feel his heat spread inside you—but you’re not done yet. You grab his cheeks and slip two fingers into his mouth. He starts sucking them obediently, eyes on yours like a puppy trying his best to please you. That’s what tips you over the edge—his overstimulated cock still twitching beneath you as you climax, overwhelmed and breathless.

You collapse against him, and he wraps his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. As your breathing evens out, he strokes your back under your shirt, exhaling softly against your ear, instantly calming you. When he carefully slips out of you, you shift to lay on his chest, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. Haechan reaches down to grab the discarded blanket and drapes it over your half-naked body, pulling you closer as your limbs tangle together.

He plants a sweet kiss to your temple and whispers a gentle “I love you.”

And just like that, you fall asleep with a smile on your lips.

*＊✿❀ Jaemin ❀✿＊*

You’re halfway through your night shift when you finally get a chance to take your fifteen-minute break. You settle at the nurses' station, pull your phone out from the staff drawer, and sip on your juice. As you unlock the screen, a flood of messages from your boyfriend fills your notifications.

📱 "Where are you?"

📱 "When's your break?"

📱 "I miss you"

📱 "I'm outside"

You frown at the last message, already starting to text back, when a dark figure steps up to the desk, drawing your eyes away from the screen.

"Can I help you wi—"

The words catch in your throat when you recognize Jaemin’s handsome face, lit up by a brilliant smile. "Hi, princess."

You're too stunned to speak, your mind a whirlwind of frantic thoughts like "What is he doing here? Has he lost his mind? Why isn’t he wearing a mask? It’s three in the morning!" — but all those questions get pushed aside by the simple, heart-thudding fact: Jaemin is here, in front of you.

You let out an excited squeal, leaping out of your chair and racing around the counter to throw yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, pulling you close. You lift your head from his shoulder, your eyes locking onto his, sparkling and full of joy.

"I've got thirteen minutes left on my break," you murmur.

A mischievous glint flashes across his face. His gaze drops to your lips, then flickers around the deserted ward.

"Where?" he whispers.

"Staff room. Down the hall," you say, pointing to a door a little ways off.

"Just like Grey’s Anatomy. I love it."

You giggle, clinging to his neck as he stealthily carries you toward the staff room. To your immense relief, it’s empty. You shut the door with a quick flick of your wrist and immediately press your mouth to his. There's no time to waste. Jaemin groans into the kiss, savoring the taste of you he’s missed so much. Your hands slide under his hoodie, hungry to touch every inch of him, reclaiming what's yours. You tug it over his head, and when your hands meet his abs, his chest, his broad shoulders—

"God, I missed you," you breathe.

He grins, pleased, setting you down just long enough to slip off your scrubs top. You tug at the drawstring of his soft pants, starting to sink to your knees, but he grabs your arm.

"No—wait. We don't have time."

You whine in protest, but he just presses a few kisses to your shoulder, guiding you back against the wall.

"Be good for me, princess. Tomorrow, we’ll have all the time in the world."

The rough rasp of his voice at your ear sends a shiver straight down your spine, and you stop complaining. You feel his hands hook into the waistband of your scrubs and tug them down along with your panties. His heated breath fans across your skin as you arch your hips toward him, his body pressing close, savoring the feel of your bare skin against his hard length. Jaemin doesn’t wait another second. He shoves down his boxers, squeezes your hips, and slides his fingers between your legs, confirming just how ready you are for him. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he thrusts into you from behind, gripping your waist. A sharp gasp escapes you, and you squeeze your eyes shut, overwhelmed by the electric pleasure of being filled by him again. God, how you missed this—

"Shit—Jaemin—"

He trails his hands along your sides, resting them just beneath your breasts, pulling you flush against his chest.

"Tell me, baby," he murmurs into your ear.

"I missed you so much," you whimper pathetically as he rocks into you with steady, deep strokes.

He chuckles darkly. "Yeah? What did you miss more—my hands or my cock?"

You moan, surrendering completely to the feel of him. "Everything. I missed everything."

With a low, satisfied groan, Jaemin picks up the pace, filling the small room with the sound of skin against skin, the roughness of breathless curses slipping from his lips. You feel him getting close, the tension building in his muscles. Reaching back, you tangle your fingers into his hair, holding him close. His forehead presses against your temple, and you barely manage to muffle your cry of pleasure when his fingers find your clit again, pushing you over the edge.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

Jaemin shudders through two sharp thrusts, spilling inside you as you climax hard against him, your body collapsing into his. He breathes heavily, relaxing the tight coil of his muscles, and presses a tender kiss to your jaw.

"How many minutes left?" he asks, voice low and warm.

You steal a glance at your watch and take a deep breath. "Three."

"Perfect," he murmurs, nuzzling your skin as he carefully pulls out. "Just enough time for a goodnight makeout session. Even if you do taste a little like antiseptic..."

*＊✿❀ Chenle ❀✿＊*

📞 "I hope you're not sleeping, because I'm on my way." 📞 "I'm wide awake."

And you really are. You're ready, waiting for him in his living room, draped in nothing but a bathrobe — and beneath it, his favorite: a delicate lace lingerie set. You pace nervously, tension coiling in you like a drawn bowstring. Chenle can be so stubborn, and he's not exactly the romantic type, but God, you miss him — his presence, his warmth, his kisses, his hands—

The door lock clicks. You freeze, heart pounding, and the moment he steps inside and kicks the door shut behind him, it’s Chenle who launches himself at you. His hands find your hips, pulling you into a frantic, messy kiss. You break apart only for fleeting breaths — but neither of you wants to waste a second. His hand slides down to grip your ass, possessive and hungry, making you whimper against his mouth. You fumble with the knot of your robe, letting it slip off your shoulders. Chenle pulls back just enough to look at you, his breath catching. His smile — that devastating smile — sends a shiver racing through you. His hands skim your bare waist before he sinks to his knees, grabbing your thighs like he’s claiming you. You let out a breathless laugh, unable to hide your amusement at how desperate he looks.

"You're gone for a month and this is the first thing you want to do?"

Chenle shakes his head and urges you back until the kitchen island presses against your lower back. "No, Y/N," he says, voice low and rough. "This is the only thing I want to do."

Before you can respond, he's hooking his fingers into your panties, tugging them down in one swift move. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and dives between your thighs without hesitation, groaning in satisfaction when he finds you already wet. The pleasure is immediate — overwhelming — as he kisses, licks, devours you like a starving man. Usually, he'd use his fingers too, coaxing you higher, but tonight, he knows he won’t need them. Not when you're already grinding against his mouth, chasing the high you’ve been aching for.

And he’s right. The way his hands clutch your thighs to keep you still, the way his dark eyes lock onto yours from between your legs, the raw hunger written all over him — it’s too much. It’s everything. You don't last long. Muscles tightening, you cry out, thighs clamping instinctively around his head. Even as he struggles for air, Chenle doesn’t let up — not when your cries turn to full-bodied moans, not when your fingers tangle in his hair, yanking hard. God, he missed you. When you finally crash, trembling and gasping for breath, he kisses your thighs tenderly, massaging your calves as he works you through the aftershocks.

"I missed these legs even more than your face," he murmurs against your skin.

You laugh and lightly knee him in the chest.

*＊✿❀ Jisung ❀✿＊*

When you punch in the door code and step into your apartment still wearing your practice gear, the last thing you expect is to find your lanky boyfriend standing in front of the fridge, shoveling your lasagna straight from the baking dish into his mouth. You let out a terrified scream, making him jump and puff out his chipmunk-cheeks full of food. One hand flies to your chest, feeling your heart hammering against your ribs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?! Are you insane?!”

Jisung hurriedly shoves the half-eaten dish back into the fridge and moves toward you.

“I got back an hour ago.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed. “I know, I read your texts. You could’ve warned me you were coming over.”

He shrugs and tilts his head innocently. “I thought it was obvious.”

You sigh and shut the door behind you, letting your gym bag drop heavily to the floor. After spending so much time apart, you sometimes forget how sweet and naive your boyfriend can be. You open your arms, and he lights up like a Christmas tree. He strides over and engulfs you in his familiar hug, swaying your bodies back and forth. He doesn't say a word, but you can feel it all—the strength of his embrace, the pounding of his heart, the affection in the kisses he presses into your hair, and the hardness—

You flinch, realizing his erection is pressing insistently against your stomach.

“Jisung?”

“Mmh?”

“You came here because you wanna fuck, didn’t you?”

Jisung steps back, keeping his hands on your shoulders. He sighs and gives you a guilty look.

“Yeah. Do you hate me?”

You burst out laughing, and he flushes bright red.

“You're adorable. But I really need a shower and—”

“No, please. I don’t care. I can’t wait any longer. I’m begging you—”

“Okay, okay. Jeez, what the hell happened on the plane?” you tease as you head toward the living room.

Jisung trails behind you in impatient little steps. “Chenle’s girlfriend posted a video on Instagram.”

You turn, one eyebrow shooting all the way up. “Excuse me?”

Jisung’s eyes widen. “Your video! She posted a video of you working out—doing that damn thing with your ponytail.”

You smirk and thighten your ponytail dramatically. “This thing?”

Jisung literally whimpers, reaching out for you like a desperate child. “Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

His hands cradle your face as he kisses you, his tongue immediately pushing into your mouth. Your hands find his biceps, and you grin as you feel the heat blooming in his face.

“What do you want me to do, baby boy?” you whisper against his lips.

He stammers something unintelligible and throws his head back when you trail kisses down his neck, your hand sneaking under his T-shirt to caress his abs.

“Do you want me to get on my knees? Hmm?”

You feel him shiver against you, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. He gives a trembling nod. You smile against his skin, tugging off his T-shirt. Locking eyes with him, you leave a trail of kisses from his chest down to just below his belly button. His skin breaks out in goosebumps as you finally sink to your knees, bringing your face level with his growing arousal. You lick your lips and undo his baggy jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. A bead of drool escapes the corner of your mouth when his erection springs free, and you quickly swipe it away. Glancing up mischievously, you catch him blushing even deeper—but, surprisingly, he doesn’t look away. You wrap your hand around him, giving him a few slow pumps, and Jisung lets out a loud, needy moan, raking a hand through his hair. The second you take him into your mouth, he grabs your ponytail, sending a jolt of excitement straight between your thighs. Your welcome-home blowjob doesn’t last long. Jisung cums within a minute, moaning loudly and clenching the muscles in his thighs. When you pull away, licking your lips, you start to rise to your feet—but he grabs you by the hips and hoists you over his shoulder, rushing toward the bedroom. You laugh when he gives your ass a playful slap. You retaliate with a cheeky pinch to his bare butt, your face just a few inches from it. He throws you onto the bed like you weigh nothing. Jisung clambers onto the mattress, kneeling in front of you, and for a moment, he just drinks you in—your training shirt, your scandalously short shorts—and that’s when you both notice you're still wearing your sneakers. You giggle as he lets out a frustrated huff and yanks your shoes off, tossing them across the room. He dives between your legs without a second’s hesitation, kissing you hard.

“Can you—can you get on top?” he stammers between kisses. “I want you o-on top.”

You straddle him immediately, sinking down onto his new erection and grabbing his large hands to guide them to your ass. He lets out a shuddering sigh as you start grinding on him, the slick fabric of your shorts sliding against his bare, sensitive skin. Jisung practically wails at the feeling, clutching your ass as he rocks your hips back and forth.

“I missed you so much... my good boy,” you whisper.

Jisung throws his head back against the mattress and squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s not—ugh, it’s not fair. You're cheating, woman.”

You glance down—and laugh out loud when you realize, yep, he’s cum again, while you’re still fully dressed.

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other 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 they come back from tour ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[im4rmy]

08: you scare me

← 吻 →

Chae was about to give in. Sohyun had offered to help her get Jisung home since he could barely stand. But even though both she and Sohyun were fairly tall and had taken off their heels, Jisung, completely dead weight, felt like a boulder.

"Okay, here we go," Chae grunted, stretching out an arm to open the front door.

Once they managed to get inside and turn on the lights, Sohyun flinched and cursed under her breath. One of Jisung's squad members—she didn't remember his name, wasn't even sure if he had introduced himself, but he was the one who had "kidnapped" her—was sitting in an armchair, deliberately turned toward the entrance as if he'd been waiting for them.

Chae, on the other hand, froze. Jeno was staring at her, a beer in hand and a furious calm in his dark eyes that made her skin crawl.

"You," Jeno ordered, nodding toward Sohyun. "Take him upstairs. No one's driving you home, so you're staying here. I don't care whose bed you sleep in."

Sohyun looked him up and down. "Yes, sir," she muttered, annoyed. She was sure that broad-shouldered asshole had a gun stashed somewhere (probably up his ass), so she didn't argue. Instead, she jabbed Jisung in the stomach with her elbow. "Get up, dumbass," she threatened.

As the two soulmates struggled up the stairs, Jeno let out a sigh and rose from his seat. Chae started trembling—literally—but didn't move, not even when Jeno stopped just inches from her face. A heavy silence settled between them.

"I know this was your idea."

"Yes, Captain."

"I'm pissed as hell because you don't know how to be responsible."

"Yes, Captain."

"I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on."

Chae just stared at him.

Jeno gritted his teeth. "There has to be something. Something that makes you think all the dumb shit you do is actually a good idea. I refuse to believe you're just that stupid."

He was about to keep ranting when he saw her flinch and take a step back at a movement of his hand—the one still gripping the beer bottle.

Their eyes met, both equally shocked.

Jeno had never hit her. Sure, he'd smacked her behind the head a few times when she said something stupid, but he'd never hurt her. And yet she was terrified, a fear that made no sense.

Jeno stood frozen, staring at her, his mind racing with a thousand questions. Did she really think he'd hit her?

"Chae..."

She shook her head. "It was instinct, I didn't—"

"I would never hurt you."

"I know," she rushed to say. "But... it's just... I don't know why, but you..." Chae glanced at him briefly, swallowed hard. "You scare me."

Jeno felt like someone had stabbed him straight through the left lung. Chae was the youngest in their group, and both he and Mark had always felt a deep responsibility toward her. He had wanted to be close to her, to have the kind of bond she had with Chenle and Renjun. Even Mark, their Leader, was like an older brother to her. But Jeno had held back, afraid that getting too close would undermine his authority. Chae already had trouble following orders—if they bonded further, would she ever listen to him at all?

Silence fell between them again, broken only by the awkward footsteps upstairs as Sohyun struggled to put Jisung to bed.

"Did I do something—?"

"No! It's just... you remind me of—ah, forget it. I'm just tired." Chae sighed. "I'm sorry for being late."

She moved to step past him, but Jeno caught her wrist, gently pulling her back.

"No, wait," he murmured, setting his beer bottle down on the small table by the door.

"Okay, listen." He ran his hands down her arms before cupping her face, his touch warm and steady.

Chae looked up at him. His gaze was deep, serious—yet his eyes shimmered with something softer, something she swore she had never seen on his face before. At least, not directed at her.

"Do you know why I'm always hovering over you?" His voice was quiet but firm. "I'm terrified that something will happen to you. Do you know why it was so easy to leave you out of missions? Because every time we go out there, ninety percent of my energy is spent worrying about whether you're safe." He studied her eyes, making sure she was listening. "Chae, you need to understand that there are people here who care about you. Who love you." His voice dropped even lower. "I need you to understand that you matter—to us. To me." Jeno took a deep breath, his grip on her tightening slightly. "I can't lose you, Chae. Please, make your survival your priority."

Chae felt her stomach twist, her eyes sting. The alcohol definitely wasn't helping her keep her emotions in check. "I don't..." Her voice came out more broken than she expected. "...I don't even know if I have anything left to survive for," she admitted, closing her eyes and leaning into the warmth of his hands.

"I'll help you find a reason. I'll help you, okay?" Jeno whispered. "Just... please, don't give up. Not yet."

Chae opened her eyes. Jeno's were filled with terror. She sniffled and nodded. Jeno nodded too, then gently pulled her into his arms, holding her close against his chest, letting her calm down for a few minutes.

"...Chae?"

"Mh?"

"Why do you smell like vomit?"

← 吻 →

"Please, for the love of God, change your pants too. You reek of vomit," Sohyun muttered, waving a pair of sweatpants in front of him, which she had found on the floor.

Jisung just huffed, sitting on the edge of his bed, crossing his arms over his chest, and shaking his head—like a stubborn kid refusing to wear his Sunday best. He had peed, put on a T-shirt three sizes too big, with a faded SpongeBob print, but he was still wearing his jeans.

Sohyun pinched the bridge of her nose. She was about to punch him. "Either you change, or you sleep on the floor."

Jisung whined and stood up with a huff, unbuttoning his dark jeans and yanking them down in one swift motion. Sohyun flinched slightly and turned her head away, though she caught a glimpse of his black boxers. Jisung stepped forward, grabbed the gray sweatpants from her hands, and pulled them on in one hop, leaving the waistband loose on his narrow hips.

He stood there for a moment, looking at her curiously. "You should undress too," he said with the most innocent tone and expression in the world.

Sohyun couldn't help but chuckle, nodding as she walked over to the closet. "Can I borrow something from Chae?"

"No!" Jisung protested, offended, rushing to the closet. "Take this," he said, handing her a gray hoodie—probably the matching set to his sweatpants.

Sohyun gave him a look but didn't argue. She took the hoodie and headed to the bathroom next to the bedroom. Once inside, she slipped out of her black dress and tossed it onto the floor alongside Jisung's discarded shirt. She pulled the hoodie over her head and was surprised to recognize the faint but pleasant scent of his cologne clinging to the soft fabric. It nearly reached her knees. She turned to the mirror and made a face at her reflection—her makeup was a complete mess. As she glanced around, her eyes widened at the sight of some of the trendiest and, more importantly, most expensive beauty products of the moment.

The Government paid them that well—

"Oh..." she thought, realizing they were probably stolen.

She got over it quickly, found a cleanser, washed her face, and even applied a moisturizer. When she returned to the bedroom, Jisung was lying in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling. "You okay?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

"I ruined your night."

Sohyun sighed, walking over to the bed and lying down beside him. "Not true. You just made it a little weird."

They lay there in silence for a while before Jisung continued his unchecked sentimental rambling. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this world, but I don't have a choice."

Sohyun turned her head to look at his profile. "You think I'm in danger because I'm your soulmate?"

Jisung sighed and closed his eyes, as if just thinking about the answer hurt. "I don't know," he murmured. "But I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."

Sohyun kept watching him, wondering where this story would lead. "It's time to sleep."

Jisung nodded in agreement, shifting under the covers. Sohyun did the same, turning onto her side with her back to him. Just as she reached for the light switch, she felt Jisung move closer, wrapping his muscular arms around her waist. She had noticed from the start—his scaredy-cat personality completely contradicted his lean, defined, strong physique.

"Can I hold you?" he mumbled, already half-asleep, burying his nose in her hair.

Sohyun raised an eyebrow. "You already are, Jimin."

"Oh," he murmured, as if his body had acted before his brain. He loosened his grip, ready to pull away. "Sorry."

"It's fine," she whispered, placing her hands over his forearms, encouraging him to stay as he was.

Jisung inched closer, listening to the bond whisper in his ear as he nestled against his soulmate. Sohyun reached for the bedside lamp, but his alarmed voice stopped her. "No, please. Leave it on."

"Why?" she asked, puzzled.

"I don't like the dark," he admitted, nuzzling into her neck.

Sohyun didn't ask any more questions. She simply adjusted herself, letting herself sink into Jisung's warmth. She had never slept like this with a guy before—whenever someone tried to cuddle after a night together, she would get up, get dressed, and leave. But right now, it felt almost... natural.

"By the way, my name's Jisung," he mumbled.

"I know."

"No, you don't. You keep calling me Jimin."

"I'm messing with you."

"Mh," he grumbled, unconvinced.

Sohyun only fully relaxed when she felt his breath against her hair become slow and steady.

Tomorrow morning was going to be really awkward.

← 吻 →

Jaemin stretched and let out a loud yawn. He reached out as usual, ready to annoy Jeno awake—otherwise, he'd sleep for hours—but his hand met nothing but the mattress. Frowning, he turned to his left. Jeno wasn't there. It was almost impossible that he had woken up first. When he walked into the kitchen, he was, in fact, the only one awake—his hair sticking up, eyes barely open. He looked around. The kitchen was still untouched, meaning no one had been in yet. So where was Jeno?

The answer came when he stepped into the living room. Chae was curled up on the couch, makeup smudged on her face, the straps of her evening dress barely visible under a thick blanket. And his soulmate—Jeno—was sprawled across his armchair, legs draped over the armrest, arms crossed under a ridiculous pink fleece blanket.

Jaemin tilted his head. What the hell happened last night?

The doctor walked up to Jeno's chair and ran his fingers through the dark strands of his hair, waking him gently. Jeno stretched, feeling the sparks of their bond flicker in his stomach. He opened his eyes, immediately looking for his soulmate's face, finding Jaemin smiling at him sleepily and confused. Jeno blinked a few times and glanced around. The events of the previous night came rushing back when he spotted Chae curled up on the couch. He yawned and tossed off the blanket, getting ready to stand.

Jeno and Jaemin were the earliest risers in the team. They'd have breakfast together, then Jeno would retreat to the small garage-turned-gym while Jaemin cooked or tried to make their humble home more livable. It was a peaceful routine, in stark contrast to the rest of their lives.

As they sat down, pouring cereal into their bowls, they tried to be as quiet as possibleto try not to wake a likely hungover Chae.

"What happened last night?" Jaemin whispered.

Jeno sighed and, without looking up from his bowl of milk, recounted the events of the previous night.

"She said you remind her of someone?" the doctor asked, puzzled.

Jeno nodded. "But she didn't elaborate. Do you know anything about her childhood?"

"Not before she ended up at Jisung's orphanage. I think only he and Mark know more. Are you going to talk to Mark about it?"

"Mh, probably not. It's between me and her."

Jaemin agreed. After a few moments of silence, filled only with the crunch of granola, he raised an eyebrow. "Hold on," he said, drawing Jeno's attention. "Are you telling me Jisung is sleeping with a girl right now?"

Jeno made a face. "Knowing her, she probably made him sleep on the floor."

← 吻 →

Sohyun had to pee. No, scratch that—she was about to pee herself. She'd been trying to get up for half an hour, but Jisung was holding onto her like his life depended on keeping her glued to his chest. And she couldn't even wake him up. The more she struggled, the tighter his arms locked around her waist.

"Jimin, wake up."

Nothing.

"Jim—ah, fuck. Jisung!"

Still nothing. Sohyun huffed, patience completely drained.

"Jisung! Wake up, or I swear I'll beat the hell out of you."

The boy groaned but didn't budge. It was only when Sohyun jammed her elbow into his abs that Jisung's grip loosened just enough for her to wriggle free. She scrambled up, adjusted the oversized hoodie, grabbed her phone, and headed for the bathroom, ignoring the sleepy protests of her soulmate.

By the time she stepped out, her only wish was to get the hell out of there—go back to her parents, her dog, and lock herself away in her pink, vanilla-scented bedroom. That house was... dark. Not dirty, exactly, but it was obvious too many people shared the space. Sohyun liked order, the kind of near-obsessive cleanliness her father maintained. She wasn't rich, but she was used to bright, modern rooms, soft, freshly scented sheets, not to a place where she had to worry that some random guy might barge into the bathroom because there wasn't a lock.

Or worse—walking downstairs and finding five pairs of curious eyes staring at her.

She had brushed her hair and washed her face, but she was still wearing Jisung's hoodie.

"Uh..." Sohyun eyed the people sitting around the kitchen table. She recognized most of them—kind of. The two guys who had kidnapped her off the street, the one (probably the Leader?) who had driven her home that night, the grinning guy, and another one who looked like he had just come back from a vacation in Hawaii and was watching her between bites of cereal. "I need some pants. And I can't wake up Jisung."

Rachel stood up with a chuckle, set her empty bowl in the sink, and walked around the table. "Come on, sweetheart, I'll lend you a pair," she said, already heading up the stairs, Sohyun trailing behind her.

Once they disappeared, Mark sighed. "Alright, someone wanna fill me in?"

← 吻 →

"If you prefer leggings, you can borrow some from Chae. You two seem about the same height," Rachel said, scanning her closet. It was filled with tight jeans and fitted pants that, given her petite frame, wouldn't fit Sohyun.

"No, these are fine," Sohyun replied, tying the drawstring of the black sweatpants around her waist.

Rachel shut the closet and turned to her with a mischievous smirk. "Sooo," she started, fox-like eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You slept with the baby of the house. I wanna know everything."

Sohyun tilted her head. "Everything like what?"

"What happened! This is new for all of us—Jisung's never had a girlfriend, so we're all—"

"Wait." Sohyun cut her off. "Jisung's never had a girlfriend?"

Rachel bit her lip. "Ah... Maybe I shouldn't have said that."

Sohyun just stared at her, unsure of what to do with this information. She wasn't in the mood for small talk, especially with someone she barely knew—someone with way too much energy this early in the morning. "I should go home now."

Rachel studied her, then let out a laugh. "You really don't care about people, do you?"

Sohyun raised an eyebrow. She knew she could come off as rude sometimes. "Sorry if I offended you."

Rachel just smiled and shook her head. "No, no... I respect it. Besides, you're helping Jisung despite our... situation. We all appreciate that. And if you ever need anything, you can count on us. All of us."

"That's... very kind," Sohyun said, tilting her head slightly, almost puzzled.

Rachel chuckled. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"You guys are criminals, but the more time I spend with Jisung, the more you all just seem like..."

"Regular people?" Rachel finished for her, smiling.

Sohyun nodded.

"You know," Rachel continued, "we've all had shitty luck in life—some worse than others. But we saved each other. What we do is... unconventional, but during the day, we're just kids."

Sohyun studied her for a moment. She had just woken up, and yet she was stunning; her long black hair was sleek and silky, her sharp yet delicate features made it impossible to look away, and her dark, knowing eyes always sparkled with amusement. "You ever thought about being a model or an actress?"

"And you?" Rachel shot back.

"Touché."

Rachel snickered and headed for the door. "Come on, let's go steal some sneakers from Chae."

← 吻 →

Sohyun's parents loved having Yuri over for dinner—it was the only way they could get any updates on their daughter's college life.

"Oh, last night was fun!" Yuri exclaimed between bites of food. Then she turned to Sohyun. "By the way, I caught a glimpse of Jiho. You didn't leave with him, did you?"

Junghyun and Taeyang immediately looked up at Sohyun, their gazes sharp with curiosity. She avoided their eyes, feeling a little embarrassed. "Of course not."

"Good. That guy gives me the creeps," Yuri muttered, shaking her head.

"Who's Jiho?" Junghyun asked, but Yuri ignored him and kept going.

"So, who did you go home with? You said you didn't come back here."

"Yeah," Taeyang chimed in, crossing his arms over his chest, his stern expression barely masking his curiosity. "Who did you go home with, sweetheart?"

The night before, after dumping Jisung onto his bedroom floor, she had texted her dads to let them know she wouldn't be coming home. They were used to not waiting up for her; they trusted her. They knew Sohyun was smart and responsible.

"With... um." Sohyun glanced between her parents and Yuri, who was practically vibrating with curiosity. "With Jisung," she finally sighed.

The two soulmates froze, while Yuri frowned. "Who's Jisung?"

"The tall guy," Sohyun said, casually, going back to her food.

"Ohhh!" Her friend's eyes lit up with recognition. "He was really hot."

"You slept at his place?" Taeyang blurted out, visibly stunned.

Sohyun peeked up at him through her lashes. "Yeah," she admitted.

Yuri, noticing the fire in her parents' eyes, cleared her throat. "Trust me, it's a good thing he was an option. Anyone's better than that other creep."

Sohyun seized the opportunity. "Exactly. Jiho wanted me to go with him, but Jisung sent him away. He didn't want me walking home alone, so I went with him instead."

That wasn't exactly how things had gone down, but it wasn't a total lie either...

Her parents visibly relaxed, though a trace of skepticism lingered on their faces. "We'll talk about this later," Junghyun muttered, his expression firm.

Sohyun shot Yuri a glare. Yuri just grinned innocently.

Oh yeah, having her over for dinner was always so much fun.

← 吻 →

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[im4rmy]

Edited!!

when he hurts you during sex by accident - OT7 (idol AU)

TW: rough sex, pain, fingering, anal, oral (woman receiving), bruised skin, handcuffs, MDNI

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Mark　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

After growing up surrounded by men, he’s still learning how to temper his strength when he’s with you. But when he’s caught up in the pleasure of thrusting into you, chasing his orgasm... he loses that last shred of control he had left. And it’s a little... too much for you. You squeeze his shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

"Mark—wait, slow down, please."

Nothing. But when he slams into you again, making you cry out in pain and scramble to pull away, that finally snaps him out of it.

"What’s wrong?"

"You were hurting me—ugh," you groan, pressing a hand to your lower belly.

Mark’s eyes go wide. "W-What? Oh my God, I’m sorry! Are you okay, baby?"

You take a deep breath, relaxing your legs as the stinging sensation starts to fade. You give him a small smile and scoot closer, but his face and body have completely shut down.

"I’m so sorry... Are you—are you sure you're okay?"

"I’m fine, really. Don’t worry, it’s already over."

Still, Mark can’t stop apologizing—over and over—until you finally sigh and decide to call it a night. He feels so guilty that he doesn't touch you for nearly two weeks.

"It’s just—I’m scared I’ll hurt you again."

"It was just an accident, baby. I trust you."

Let’s just say, sex with him was extra gentle and cautious for the next two months or so.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Renjun　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Renjun is never rough or violent in bed, but he is freaky—there’s no denying that. He loves tying you up (and being tied up, though that’s another story). Tonight, though, he seems a little too lost in the moment to notice that your arched back isn’t from pleasure—it’s from pain. You’re lying on your stomach, hands cuffed behind you, as a moaning Renjun thrusts into you from behind. And when it feels like your back is about to snap in two, you realize it’s time to use your safeword.

"APPLE PIE!"

Renjun freezes instantly, sucking in a deep breath as he reels himself back in. As you relax your back, trying to ease the pain, he carefully pulls out of you.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"No, please—u-uncuff me."

You barely finish the sentence before your wrists are free. You collapse onto the bed with a whimper, face buried in the pillow.

"Talk to me, beautiful. Is it your back?"

You nod against the pillow, feeling his warm hands gently massaging your sore muscles. You breathe deeply a few times, trying to let your body relax, and then roll over onto your back. Meeting his worried gaze, you give him a small smile.

"I’m okay now."

"Are you sure? We can stop—"

"No, no, it’s fine. Really."

You lift yourself up enough to kiss him, and he melts into you, though he’s still cautious. His hesitation doesn’t last long, though—after all, you two communicate a lot, and you have a safeword for a reason. It’s not the first time one of you hasn't been comfortable with something you were trying in bed (and there have been a lot of things). You say the word, the other stops immediately, and you move on—no guilt, no second-guessing, no overthinking. That’s why soon Renjun is moving inside you again, slowly and deeply, kissing you and holding you close. You smile up at him, and just like that, nothing else matters.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jeno　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

You love having sex with Jeno. You’re absolutely crazy about it: he’s insanely hot, he knows exactly what he’s doing in bed, and he’s an expert when it comes to using his hands and mouth. He’s not even rough, not really—he’s just so strong that sometimes he doesn’t realize when he’s gripping your hips a little too hard. Honestly, you don’t even notice it in the moment. Let’s be real. But the next morning, you definitely feel it: your skin burns, your hips ache, and when you catch sight of the dark bruises blooming across your body in the mirror… you know Jeno cannot find out. If he sees them, he’ll never touch you again (and you cannot let that happen, for heaven’s sake). Still, when you keep wincing every time you shift your weight, it’s impossible for him not to notice. Ignoring your half-hearted protests, he lifts up your sweatshirt—and immediately spots the damage.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

His voice is sharp, panicked. And when you can’t even meet his eyes, can’t even form words—he realizes the truth.

“Oh my God, baby—I did this? Shit, I'm so sorry—why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?”

“Because you weren’t! I swear, it only started hurting this morning.”

He looks at you with those wide, heartbroken puppy eyes, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Does it hurt a lot?”

You giggle softly, melting into his touch.

“No, it’s okay, really. It’ll go away soon. Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Mhm.”

You stay curled up together for a long time. He even skips his gym session with Jaemin, choosing instead to stay in bed doing absolutely nothing but showering you with endless affection. And the next night?

He makes it up to you by eating you out like he’s never done before.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Haechan　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Sex with Haechan is messy, loud, and full of needy, desperate sounds. So it’s understandable that he doesn’t immediately realize when your moans of pleasure shift into moans of pain. He shifts into a wrong angle and thrusts too sharply, and your body stiffens, a strangled sound escaping your throat. But he moves again, making you cry out. Finally, something clicks—he looks at you, sees your pained expression, and his eyes go wide with alarm. He pulls out instantly.

“Are you okay?”

“Fuck—ouch.”

You curl your legs up to your chest, taking a few deep breaths to ease the sting.

“Y/N, you’re scaring me. Talk to me.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you assure him, even if you’re still a little breathless.

“Can I take a look?”

His voice is so soft, so gentle, and his warm hand resting on your knee makes you feel safe. You nod, opening your legs for him.

“You’re not bleeding, sweetheart,” he says after checking carefully. “How about I run a hot bath for you? We can cuddle until the water gets cold, and then I’ll give you a full-body massage with my best lotion—and snuggle you to sleep after that.”

You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as he scoops you up and carries you to the bathroom.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to enjoy the massage more than I will?”

“Impossible! I’m using my precious, insanely expensive lotion just for you!”

“And getting the chance to rub it all over my naked body isn’t worth it to you?”

“Oh, baby, it’s worth every damn cent.”

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jaemin　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Jaemin is a HUGE fan... of anal. You, on the other hand, have to be honest: you don't enjoy it quite as much as he does. But he really loves it, so sometimes you give in, even though you know it’s not going to feel amazing at first. But today, your body just refuses to relax — especially with your naked body pinned against the door, your muscled boyfriend pounding into you from behind, gripping your breasts like his life depends on it. And normally, this would be one of the hottest things you've experienced in a while (not that your sex life is anything close to boring), if only you could manage to relax... even a little.

"Wait, Jaem— please stop," you gasp.

"W-What?" he stammers.

"I-It hurts— please," you plead.

Jaemin immediately pulls back, easing his hold on you. "You okay, baby?"

You collapse back against his strong chest. "I'm sorry, love— I'm sorry, I can't..."

"What’s wrong, princess?"

"It just... hurts. I don’t like it."

He starts stroking your stomach gently, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder. "I’m sorry... was I too rough?"

"No, it's just... I can’t relax tonight."

You can literally feel the smirk forming against your skin. "Mmh, my girl needs to relax? Lucky for you, I know just the thing."

Less than thirty seconds later, all your tension is forgotten— replaced by pure bliss as his head disappears between your thighs. A win is a win.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chenle　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

That would never happen with Chenle. During sex, Chenle is entirely focused on you. There's no way he would get so lost in the moment that he wouldn’t notice if you were uncomfortable. Every move he makes is about your pleasure — so the worst that could happen is him trying something you’re not particularly into.

"Oh, you don’t like that? Noted," he says, adjusting immediately. "But what about this— yeahhh, that’s my good girl. There we go."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Jisung　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Jisung isn’t rough or wild in bed — not at all. But he is... big. You're the more experienced one in the relationship, so you’ve turned foreplay into an art form, making it playful and teasing. But the truth is, it’s all part of making sure you’re wet enough to handle him properly (not that you mind — you're a huge fan of foreplay). Tonight, though, Jisung is a little tipsy from the wine you gave him — and he's definitely in the mood to take charge. You’re not complaining: he’s hot as hell and you’re hopelessly in love with this adorably clumsy boy. So when he starts stripping you down with eager hands, kissing and licking at your breasts with reckless abandon... you're in heaven. Until he suddenly pushes between your legs, barely grazing your entrance— and you gasp, eyes flying wide open.

"Wait, Ji— SHIT!"

He tries to thrust inside you, but you’re not nearly wet enough. You yelp, scrambling out from under him, glaring at him with an exasperated look.

"What the hell? You can’t just go like that! Ouch," you hiss, pacing around the room to shake off the burn.

It’s obvious you’re not really mad at him, so you take a deep breath to calm yourself.

"I really... I hurt you?" he asks, wide-eyed.

You look up at him, and your heart just melts: he’s kneeling on the bed, stark naked, cheeks flushed, looking more wrecked than you’ve ever seen him. You sigh and climb back onto the bed, sitting in front of him.

"Baby, you're too big to just... shove it in like that."

"T-Too big?" he echoes.

"Yes, Ji."

"So every time I— does it always hurt?"

"No! No, not at all. Making love to you is my favorite thing in the world. We just have to make sure I’m ready for you, okay?"

Jisung keeps staring at you with those huge, puppy-like eyes. Then his gaze drops— right between your thighs. He wouldn’t dare look at you like that if it weren’t for the alcohol buzzing in his system. Still, he nods seriously.

"Got it. I have to touch you first."

You blink a couple of times, about to answer— but then you feel his fingers moving against your clit, and whatever you were going to say dies on your tongue. There’s a clumsy, inexperienced edge to his touch... but it’s still exactly what you need, your body relaxing under his hands.

"Is it working?" he asks.

You laugh, pulling him into a kiss. "Yeah, my good boy."

(He came right at that moment.)

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

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[im4rmy]

Edited!!

his favourite part of your body - OT7 (idol AU)

TW: suggestive, mention of sexual activities (such as oral, doggy-style, reverse cow-girl), MDNI

☄. *. ⋆ Mark

• Your lips: full, soft, and always glossed. You never leave home without lip gloss in your bag—he knows it’s your signature.

• Your mouth is his favorite distraction, especially when you’re talking.

“Sorry, what were you saying, baby?”

• He’s always gifting you lip products. You haven’t bought your own gloss or lipstick since you met him.

“You’re wearing the new gloss, aren’t you?”

• He wants to kiss you 24/7.

“Please, baby, just one little kiss.”

• You always make sure to apply a generous layer of gloss before dropping to your knees for him.

“God, baby. You know me so well.”

☄. *. ⋆ Renjun

• Your hands: soft, graceful, always adorned with gold rings and bracelets that suit you perfectly.

• He loves playing with your fingers while you talk—he’s obsessed. One time, he got turned on just watching you flip through the pages of your book.

• He buys you rings regularly and always notices if you’re wearing a new one—or if you’ve taken off a favorite.

“I like this new hand cream... is it peach scented?”

• So many kisses on your knuckles.

• There’s a reason he loves lacing his fingers with yours right before he comes. You’re petite, and watching the hands he adores roam across his body drives him insane.

“Look at you... come on, honey, use those pretty hands for me.”

☄. *. ⋆ Jeno

• Your whole body: you’re not super skinny, and Jeno fell for your curves the second he laid eyes on you.

• He loves resting his hands on your tummy and just leaving them there. And he worships your thick thighs.

“Last night I dreamed I suffocated with my face between your thighs. Woke up with the worst hard-on of my life.”

He begs you to sit on his face at least once a month.

• You’re confident in your body—and he finds that incredibly hot.

• Sometimes you “borrow” his credit card to buy new lingerie, and he thanks you every time.

• Your ass is his favorite stress relief—he has a weird preference for the right cheek.

“Look at that. They fit perfectly in my hands. That’s insane.”

☄. *. ⋆ Haechan

• Your neck: long, elegant, and always scented with your signature perfume—the one Haechan is absolutely addicted to.

• He loves falling asleep with his face buried in your neck while you absentmindedly play with his hair.

“I could die right here. I’d die so happy.”

• You’ve become a pro at covering up hickeys.

“I just want to get under your skin. Being this close isn’t close enough.”

• He adores your delicate silver necklace—it's the perfect complement to your skin. The cherry on top.

• So. Many. Kisses. Starting from your collarbones and traveling up to your jawline.

“You’re so fucking sweet. You’re something else, I swear to God.”

☄. *. ⋆ Jaemin

• Your back: he fell for you at first sight, the moment he saw you in that black dress with the open back. Since then, it’s been his favorite thing in the world.

• He gives you long, slow back massages—sometimes with oil—fully intending to turn you on, but you always end up falling asleep. Meanwhile, he’s left painfully turned on.

• His phone gallery is full of photos of your bare back.

“Look! Just look how perfect you are.”

• You’ve developed the habit of lying face-down on the bed when he’s about to get home. The moment he walks in, he throws himself on top of you with a happy sigh, hugging you like you’re his entire peace. You can’t even move after.

• Kisses. Kisses. Bites. More kisses.

• His love for your back is why he’s obsessed with taking you from behind, doggy-style.

“God, you’re gorgeous from this angle, princess.”

☄. *. ⋆ Chenle

• Your legs: you’ve been playing volleyball since you were a kid, so your legs are strong, muscular. That’s exactly why he loves coming to your games—especially when you’re wearing those outrageously short shorts.

“Are those even legal?”

• He loves to run his hands from your ankles all the way up to your thighs—he’s obsessed with touching your legs in every way he can.

• Once, you apologized for not having shaved, and he looked at you like you’d grown a second head.

“What are you talking about? I love it—you’re so damn sexy.”

• He loves having your legs resting on his shoulders when he’s on top of you.

• When he’s on tour, he often texts you asking for pictures.

“You know what I want, Y/N. Take those shorts off. Do it for me.”

☄. *. ⋆ Jisung

• Your ass: he’ll never admit it, but he drools over your butt. He can’t even watch you play volleyball anymore—if Chenle caught him staring? God, no. Just... no.

• You gave him his first hard-on of the relationship just by sitting on his lap.

“I’m not obsessed... I just—like it, okay? Of course I do, it’s yours!”

• He loves hugging you from behind—there’s a reason—but he always asks before touching your butt, and he’d never do it in public.

• One time during sex, you sat on him in a perfect reverse cowgirl... and he came right then and there.

“F-fuck—what was that? Do it again.”

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone

his favourite part of your body ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

when he hurts you during sex by accident

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[im4rmy]

Edited!!

your contact names in each other's phone - OT7 (idol AU)

IMAGINE: you can't write their full name in case anyone saw your notifications

TW: none.

•°. *࿐ Mark

his name in your phone: the lee

your name in his phone: cutie🎀

•°. *࿐ Renjun

his name in your phone: junior🧝🏻

your name in his phone: angel

•°. *࿐ Jeno

his name in your phone: hot boyfriend

your name in his phone: sexy girlfriend

•°. *࿐ Haechan

his name in your phone: hyuck

your name in his phone: hot stuff💘

•°. *࿐ Jaemin

his name in your phone: pretty smile

your name in his phone: princess💞

•°. *࿐ Chenle

his name in your phone: stephen

your name in his phone: best legs on earth

•°. *࿐ Jisung

his name in your phone: baby boy💙

your name in his phone: (y/n)

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other OT7 chapters:

your contact names in each other's phone ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ you're here!

his favourite part of your body

when he hurts you during sex by accident

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

[im4rmy]

Edited!!

your first time together - jisung (idol AU)

IMAGINE: You’re curled up next to Jisung, who’s effortlessly hot tonight, during one of your usual movie nights. But you two had agreed—when he felt ready, he’d be the one to make the first move.

TW: sex, fingering, virgin!boy, MDNI

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

• Jisung is very much a virgin. You’re his first girlfriend ever—his first kiss, even. He told you all of that himself in a moment of rare courage (not that you didn’t already know), and you reassured him, promising there was absolutely no rush. When the time felt right, you’d take things slow, together. Sure, you’ve shared some pretty intense makeout sessions, but that’s where it stopped. You genuinely don’t mind waiting—what matters most is that he feels comfortable, and when it happens, it’s a good experience for him. But—Jesus Christ. Jisung is so attractive. And the worst part is, he has no idea. It’s maddening.

• The two of you are bundled up under the covers in his cozy, warm bed. There are way too many junk food wrappers scattered across the blanket, and a Christmas movie is playing on his massive screen—even though it’s barely November. He slides his feet beneath the blanket, nestling them between your bare legs, clearly seeking the warmth of your skin. As his body presses closer to yours, you can’t help but stiffen slightly.

"You okay?"

You nod quickly, eyes glued to the screen, avoiding his gaze. Jisung doesn’t push.

• A little while later, he’s still all over you, absentmindedly drawing soft circles across your stomach just beneath your bellybutton. He probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, too absorbed in the movie. You take a deep breath, silently begging yourself to keep it together. Come on, y/n, get a grip, for fuck's sake. But your inner pep talk clearly isn’t working, because Jisung shifts just enough to glance down at you.

“What’s going on? You’re acting weird.”

You sigh, closing your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just—ugh. I’m about to start my period.”

His eyes widen with concern. “Are you hurting? Cramping?”

“No, I’m just… horny.”

Jisung freezes, utterly stunned. You can practically see his brain short-circuiting. You giggle and quickly put a hand on his arm before his heart explodes.

“I’m kidding, Ji. I’m fine. Really. Don’t worry, okay baby?”

You snuggle back into him, but he doesn’t budge. You glance up.

“I mean it, babe. Don’t—”

“Are you really… um, t-turned on?”

You blink at him, studying the tension in his jaw, the way his throat bobs as he swallows.

“A little,” you whisper.

He has the nerve to nod. “So… d-do you want me to… do something?”

“I told you, it’s okay. You don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to.”

Your eyes snap to his, surprised. “Oh.”

• He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple shifting again as he leans toward you—hesitant, careful. He props himself against the headboard, then pats his thighs nervously.

“C-Can you come here?”

His stammer and those big, innocent eyes have your body trembling with anticipation. You nod and crawl onto his lap, settling on top of him. He wraps his arms around your waist, then lifts the hem of your pajama shirt, carefully pulling it over your head. You’re startled at first—but when you notice his hands are shaking, your heart softens. You lean in and kiss him slowly, threading your fingers through his soft hair. His touch on your bare torso is shy, unsure—but when you shift your hips slightly, grinding down for the smallest bit of friction… That’s when something clicks for Jisung. He swallows his nerves and lets himself lean into the sensation. He breaks the kiss for just a moment, catching his breath.

“Can I touch you?”

You nod, eyes locked with his, watching as his hand moves toward your underwear. You don’t know what’s gotten into this sweet, lanky boy—but honestly, you don’t care. Jisung starts touching you slowly, uncertainly—his fingers exploring with gentle, tentative movements. You let out a breathy moan and close your eyes. He blushes deeply, glancing between your blissed-out expression and his hand hidden beneath your shorts. As he starts to get a feel for the rhythm you like, you roll your hips to match the pace, gripping his shoulders for support as your legs begin to tremble.

“D-Do you like it?”

“Mhh… you’re doing so good, baby.”

The praise sends a shiver through him, and you feel his erection harden beneath you. You’d tease him, but then his fingers curl inside you and—yeah. You forget how to think. You can't believe Virgin Boy Jisung Park is about to make you come with just his fingers.

“Fuck—woah. That was… unexpected.”

• Jisung looks up at you with those big, puppy-dog eyes, his hand still between your legs, still inside you. You smile wickedly and kiss him again, stroking the back of his neck, drawing a soft sigh from him.

“Y/n… can we—um… can we keep going?”

“We can do whatever you want, baby. It’s all up to you, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

You tug lightly at the hem of his hoodie, silently urging him to take it off—and he does, right away. Finally, your eyes get their fill of his gorgeous arms, goosebumps trailing down his skin, and that beautifully sculpted chest that quite literally steals your breath. You bite your lower lip, and he flushes under your gaze. Your mouth finds that sensitive spot just beneath his ear, and he melts the moment your tongue touches down—you've found out before that’s one of his weak points. Now, with your body grinding softly against his, he’s practically in heaven.

“O-Oh my God.”

“You’re doing so well, my good boy.”

He groans, hands coming to rest around your waist. “Wait, I want—”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he lifts you effortlessly and lays you down beneath him, resuming his kisses while his fingers trace slow, reverent paths along your bare sides. He’s taking his time with you, learning, worshiping every inch of skin he uncovers. When he hooks your thumbs into the waistband of your pajama shorts, you raise your hips, letting him slide them down—along with your damp panties. Jisung holds his breath, realizing you're completely naked beneath him now, save for your bra. You help him out of his sweatpants, flashing him a sweet smile, doing everything you can to help him relax.

• He leans down to kiss you again, trying to calm the buzzing nerves beneath his skin. But then you feel him—his erection pressing against your thigh—and the need inside you spikes even higher. You can’t help but roll your leg against him, drawing a sharp curse from his lips. His eyes lift to meet yours, catching your soft, reassuring smile. He takes a steady breath and glances down at the space between you. Then, slowly, he aligns himself with your entrance and begins to ease into you, letting your bodies come together inch by aching inch. You both moan at the overwhelming relief of finally being this close. Jisung moves gently, in and out, savoring the way you gasp and shiver beneath him, because of him. And when he feels his orgasm start to rise, he buries his face in your neck, letting you hear the ragged sounds of his pleasure—God, his fucking voice. That low, wrecked voice of his nearly tips you over the edge all on its own, making your body tighten around him as your climax crests.

“Oh my—fucking God.”

“Shit.”

• The rush of release leaves you both stunned, clinging to one another in the aftermath. You stay like that, tangled up, trying to remember where you are, who you are—because holy hell. Your first time together was everything.

“H-How… how was it?”

“Incredible, baby. You were amazing.”

Jisung didn’t sleep a single minute that night.

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤

other jisung's chapters:

bf!jisung scenario

jisung - when you first met

jisung - your first time together 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

⇘ nct dream idol AU index ⇙

·˚✎ ﹏im4rmy's masterlist

Taglist: @carelessshootanonymous

♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤♡♤