seolar-system

[seolar-system]

Rating: General Audiences

Category: F/M

Relationships: Gale & OC Tav

Words: A LOT (7261)

Tags/Warnings: OC Backstory No One Else Cares About, Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Flirting, Nudity, Skinny Dipping, Sensuality, Kisses, Minor Blood and Injury, Introspection, Gale Gets A Darcy Moment, NOT A BOT I JUST LOVE EM DASHES OKAY JESUS

Contains non-explicit physical intimacy and light references to past suicidal thoughts. A celebration of ripped Gale, silver fox Gale, heterochromatic Gale

And typos, probably. I always see them too late.

Summary:

As Tavania reckons with her past and the idea of moving on from her intense loss, a chance midnight encounter with Gale leads them to a place of honest discussion and unguarded closeness-of the physical and emotional variety. As they stand at the brink of becoming something far more, Tav finds herself falling--but Gale still harbours dark secrets that threaten to tear it all apart.

AKA non-Origin Gale gets to touch an Act 1 boob maybe?

I'm posting it here in its entirety for people who might prefer to read on Tumblr, BUT IT'S LONG Y'ALL. UNFURL THE POST AT YOUR PERIL.

and she never wrote anything ever again.

For the third night in a row, Tavania could not sleep.

Every rock beneath her flimsy bedroll might as well have been a boulder—every blade of grass a longsword, piercing her through. Even her skin felt irritated—not exactly feverish, but hot and tingly, like when she was little and her brother used to amuse himself by grabbing her arm and twisting her skin in both directions until she cried out. Given the circumstances, it was hard not to think back on Gale's graphic descriptions of ceremorphosis, all splitting skin and elongation, and wonder if this was finally it.

You're being ridiculous, she told herself. If she was changing, Lae'zel would already be upon her, knife at the ready, boot on her neck. No; this agitation was wholly her own.

She glanced at Gale's tent. The flap was open so she could see him inside, seemingly fast asleep, an occasional soft snore and unintelligible murmur rising from him. A pang of longing precipitated a mad urge to join him. She pictured herself pressed up against his back, arms around his middle as she buried her face into his hair to drown in the sweet, smoky musk of him… How swiftly rest would find her there, she thought. How happily.

Sighing, Tav rolled onto her back to stare up at the cloudless sky. By the hang of the bright, full moon, she guessed that dawn was still several hours away—too many to spend wallowing in her various frustrations. A walk, she decided, kicking out of the thin blanket tangled about her knees; a quick stroll would burn off some nervous energy and help clear her head.

If only it were that easy.

She slipped from camp, crossed the stream and followed its winding shore, skirting the denser parts of the forest. Ever since she was little, the very idea of the woods had terrified her. Too many storybooks full of bandits and goblins, ravenous wolves and child-eating hags, she supposed. Having faced down all those things and more in the last tenday alone, it seemed a silly thing to be afraid of now. Besides, if life had taught her anything, it was that the worst things that could happen to a person often occurred in places they thought themselves most safe: their homes, their beds—inside their own hearts and minds. What was a common hag next to those, most intimate of betrayals?

Still—one could never be too careful.

The stream eventually widened into a small lake that spilled in a misty froth over a crag into the wild river several dozen feet below. Not yet ready to return, Tav followed the cliff edge up out of the forest hollow to a desolate granite bluff high above the treeline. The climb turned out to be much steeper than it had looked from the ground, and the humid night air was as tepid as a cup of forgotten tea, so by the time she reached the ledge she was panting, dripping with sweat, and her legs had gone to jelly.

Tav stood at the edge of the bluff while she caught her breath and was surprised to see how far she had come. All she could make out of the camp from here was a few errant slivers of orange glow, flickering through the forest shroud. On the livid horizon several leagues beyond, the twisted hulk of the rotting nautiloid loomed, its cursed bowels still smouldering more than a tenday after the crash. As they headed up into the mountains in search of Lae'zel's fabled creche—a lead Tav had little reason to believe would bear fruit—she wondered grimly if they would ever escape the wretched thing's monstrous shadow.

She closed her eyes, putting it out of her mind.

Midnight stillness pressed in around her. The silence was uncanny—so thick, even the rush of the river could not penetrate it. A feeling of unease crept along her spine, of trespass, as if in her rush to escape her troubles she had accidentally slipped somewhere she should not be. A place between worlds, not meant for anyone.

Not the living, anyway.

It was not an altogether new sensation. Time and again over the years, at the lowest points of her life, she had found herself here: poised precariously on the edge of some great precipice or another, gazing deep into the face of grim oblivion. One foot in the warm, pulsing present. The other—

The breeze pushed against her back. Tav stretched out her arms and began to unconsciously lean forward. A dizzying sense of lightness swept over her. Calm; pleasant, almost. One good gust and she would be gone.

There was a time, not so very long ago, she would have welcomed it. Not out of despair, exactly, but something more like fatigue—need of a decisive push from some power greater than herself, toward a freedom she did not have the strength to reach for on her own.

The difference was that now, she knew how it felt to fall. It was not what she had always imagined—a wild, liberating plunge into nothingness. No; it was horror, and helplessness. A grand unravelling, time stretched thin to reveal its insides, which contained only regret. Not a single, clean moment of it but a turbulent flood seething with life’s debris. Every chance not taken, every song unsung. No absolution waited at flight’s end—only a bloody exclamation point, rammed violently into the middle of a sentence not yet finished.

The impulse was no longer there. In its place, she found the blunt ache of something far more terrifying:

Hope.

Tav’s eyes snapped open. As she took a gasping leap back from the rocky edge, another realisation hit her, a bolt of the most exquisite agony exploding beneath her ribs: she had not thought of her sister in days. Not since the assault on the goblin camp, their first dashed hopes for a cure, the party, and—

Gale.

So consumed with the business of living, she had had no time for the dead.

All her life, no matter where she was, how much time or distance or twist of circumstance separated them, Tav had never gone a day without thinking of her twin. Long before she was a wound, Lavinia was a lifeline, the pair of them so deeply tangled up in one another, it was impossible to tease them apart. The end, when it came—sudden, brutal, final—left a gaping hole; a hollow space where Tav’s second heart used to beat.

She had tried to fill that space with her sister's memory, holding on to whatever she could like a cherished song, stitching the tatters of her own life around the rhythm of the loss.

But Tav should have known better. She should have known that a song could not be caged, any more than a memory could be made to endure, and both could eventually turn sour.

But what if she kept forgetting?

What if the days she did not think of Lavinia began to outweigh the ones she did?

What would be left of her?

What if she dared to let herself feel something other than her grief?

What if she already had?

You're allowed to have a life, some other, treacherous part of her mind interjected. Haven't you punished yourself enough?

Tav sucked in a wet, trembling breath. Guilt was a difficult lesson to unlearn; moving on was just a different kind of loss.

She remained a while longer, watching the spill of Selune's Tears turn overhead in a sleepy echo of her own. When she finally set off for home, sorrow and slumber dragged on her limbs, leaving her leaden and off-balance. Halfway down the craggy slope, her foot struck loose granite, shifting and giving way beneath her. Tav fell hard on her left side and slid, jerking to an eventual stop at the brink of the sheer drop into the roiling river below.

It took a moment to register that she had stopped sliding. That she was still alive. She lay a there, breathing in ragged gasps, until the pain caught up with her, dull crimson waves rushing up her left side.

Groaning, she pushed herself upright, held her arm toward the moonlight and peeled away her tattered sleeve with a trembling hand to reveal a raw graze that stretched all the way from wrist to elbow. Blood oozed to the surface in bright, wet jewels.

“Shit,” she whimpered.

As she struggled to her feet, the hazy throb sharpened into searing white blades that stabbed her in the hip and knee with every step. Involuntary sobs slipped from her throat as she limped on, wishing even one of her friends were here with her.

Shadowheart, with a timely healing spell.

Wyll, with a sturdy shoulder to lean on.

Karlach, with a rousing 'C'mon, soldier! Knees up!' for encouragement.

Gale, with a tender touch, that charming smile, a story spun in golden tones to help her forget her pain…

Oh, Gale…

You don't need them, she told herself, wiping her wet cheeks with a filthy hand.

No. She didn’t need them. She could make it on her own, as she always had.

But wouldn't it be nice? To not have to fight so hard for every inch? To have someone to laugh or commiserate with? Someone to catch her when she inevitably fell again? Just because she could manage on her own did not mean she needed to.

The contrarian within made no reply.

Back on level ground, Tavania hobbled to the lake’s edge and lowered herself with a grimace, her swelling knee protesting every inch of the way. She dipped her arm, hissing at the sting, but once the initial shock subsided, found the water was pleasantly warm and soothing. Inviting, even.

It was late.

She should get back, take a potion, get some rest.

Instead, she began tugging off her boots. Peeled off her bloodied blouse. Trousers next. With her hands poised at her hips, she hesitated, scanning the tree line, half-expecting a bugbear to come charging out of the shadows—her luck would run that way. But the woods remained still and so, with a laugh, she slipped her underwear down and left the whole lot in a heap upon the shore, wading out until she was hip-deep. There, she sank, stretching out her legs to let the water carry their weight, and leaned back on her elbows. She dipped below the glossy surface, washing the dirt and sweat from her hair in a single breath.

Relief was immediate and complete.

Moments of calm like this had become such a rarity. She was not made for all this…adventure, as the others so frivolously called it; horror was the word she would choose. The things she had seen this week; the things she had done. The things she feared she would need to do if she was to survive this…

It was little wonder she could not sleep.

Each night when she sat down to the evening meal, all she could taste was blood and brimstone. She would chew and swallow in silence, forcing it down without betraying her distaste to the others, all the while wondering: Why her?

What was she next to a fierce githyanki warrior; the Blade of Frontiers; a veteran of the Hells; or the archmage of Waterdeep?

Just a stray witch and musician long without a vital muse. A scrap of worthless by-catch tangled in a net full of far more valuable prizes. Every time she was forced to raise her hands and reach for that murky well of untamed power inside of her, it felt like reciting a prayer in a foreign tongue to a god whose name she did not know, hoping that her graceless fumbling would not be mistaken for blasphemy.

Admittedly, Gale's instruction had been helping. The somatic gestures he had her practice as they walked provided her with much-needed focus, and she could feel them beginning to settle into her bones. In some ways, it was like breaking in a new instrument: painful and stilted for the first while, but then one day, the hands simply knew what to do.

Tav winced, that uncomfortable tightness from earlier returning, twisting its way inside of her thoughts as they gathered predictably around him, and more specifically, their would-be kiss.

A ripe piece of stupidity on her part. Impulsive. Destructive. So like her. Tav wished she could take it back, forget the feel of his satiny lips and breathless need, the roughness of his beard and the hungry fumble of phantom hands… Gods. It had not even happened, yet it haunted her more vividly than some of her actual memories. Even now, as she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend it was his thumb tracing slow, yearning circles along her hip and not her own.

That night, he had left her without any real explanation—only half-mumbled apologies. Things had felt…different since, in a way that transcended simple embarrassment. Outwardly, they had carried on as if it never happened—which it technically hadn’t, no matter how lurid her daydreaming—but subtle cracks had sprung up between them. The way his eyes often avoided meeting hers, and the distance in them when they did, as if his mind were miles away. The careful stiffness of his speech, as if he had wound himself back to the day they met, that polished version of himself—polite, but not completely honest.

A guardedness she knew all too well.

“Cheer up, old girl,” she said, lifting a hand to watch the water rain down her arm. “Could be dead tomorrow, and all this fretting will be for nothing.”

A sound tore through the stillness: the snapping of a twig in the woods somewhere behind her.

Heart hammering, Tav surged to her feet. White-hot pain lanced up her leg, but she barely registered it, her body operating on instinct. With no blade and no armour, she turned instead to flame. Magic surged through her, fierce and primal, but she caught it on her fingertips, dancing through movements Gale had taught her, graceful and sure. The fire burst to life, bright, ready. As was she, drawing back her arm on a held her breath, poised to strike.

A flicker of silver at the treeline caught her eye. A figure, tall and slender, ducking behind the trunk of an ancient cedar.

“Astarion!” she called, instantly vexed by his intrusion. “I see you!”

A hand shot out from behind the oak, the long, elegant fingers gilded in familiar rings. A voice followed, yelling, “Easy! It’s only—” He paused. “Wait—Astarion?”

“Gale?”

Tav’s stomach dropped. What in the hells was he doing here? Had she…summoned him, somehow? In her mindless yearning, had she perhaps accidentally whispered his name too loudly into the Weave? Was that…could that even happen? Gods—what if she had projected something? Again.

“Yes, Gale! You were expecting Astarion?” he cried, his voice pitching high and then cracking apart like skim ice beneath the heel of the other man's name.

“I wasn't expecting anyone,” she snapped. The fireball flared, casting wild shadows across the trees as the heat licked down her arm. “But if anyone was going to be skulking about at this hour like a woodlands pervert—”

“Not skulking! Approaching! Very cautiously, I might add! Speaking of which, would you mind, terribly, putting that out? I would do it myself, but fear that would be awfully nude—rude! I meant rude!”

Tavania blinked.

“Oh, gods!” she yelped, dropping like a stone into the water with a splash, a sizzle and a grey curl of steam.

“Much obliged!” Gale waved again. “I’ll just—turn around and be on my way!”

“Wait—!” She arranged herself into a modest crouch, arms folded over her naked breasts and released a resigned sigh. “You might as well come over here.”

Crickets chirped. An owl hooted. Water burbled apathetically over the rocks.

“…Are you certain?”

“No,” Tav barked, her cheeks burning, “but you’re already here, and I’m already mortified, so—yes. Unless you'd rather summon the entire Sword Coast with our shouting?”

“No! No…” Gale poked his head out from behind the tree—only far enough to reappraise the situation. “Very well. I'm coming over—I shall avert my eyes!” he announced, then extended one long leg from his hiding place. “Here I come, ready or—well, just ready, I hope!”

She dipped her head, snorting a laugh into the crook of her elbow and muttered, with glowing affection, “Idiot.”

True to his word, Gale kept his eyes fixed with studious intent on the ground for the entirety of his theatrical passage, coming to an eventual halt beside her pile of clothing. Her underwear sat on top like a flag of surrender—practically waving at him. Tav bit the inside of her cheek to stifle a sound—half laugh, half whimper; altogether a nightmare.

Gale rocked stiffly on his heels, arms folded so tightly across his chest, he looked as though he might vanish into himself.

“What are you doing here, Gale?”

“Looking for you, of course,” he replied, brows twitching together as if he did not understand the question—why it needed asking.

He drew a short breath before elaborating.

“I woke and saw your bedroll was empty. At first, I presumed you'd gone to relieve yourself, or some such. When you didn't return in a timely fashion, I…well.” Gale hesitated. When he spoke again, his voice bore all the weight and frailty of a grave confession. “I was worried.”

Tav looked away.

Of course he was worried. From the moment they’d met, just a fortnight ago—though it felt like far longer—he had been watching out for her. Not always in loud or obnoxious ways, but with a simple and steady presence he wove around her like a magical armour. A healing potion, pushed into her hand before she could ask; a soft word to bind her together when her nerves or temper threatened to fray her all apart. Always hot on her heels whenever she hurled herself into danger, his concern for her safety often eclipsing any thought for his own. Always loitering at her side after a fight, helping her to her feet when she needed it, steadying her, making sure she was still whole.

Kindness like his had always made her wary; in her experience, it never came without cost. Gale’s did. Not once had he demanded anything from her. When he had asked for help, it was with open heart and open hands, without guile or expectation; she had been all too happy to give him what he needed.

She was willing to give him a great deal, as it turned out.

Now here he was, trembling nervously in the dark because she had gone missing, and he had noticed. And she had nearly set him on fire for his troubles.

“I couldn’t sleep. Decided to take a walk,” she said, guilt twisting keenly in her gut. “I didn’t mean to be gone so long, I’m sorry. For worrying you—and for almost fireballing you.”

“I'm merely relieved you're all right.” He glanced up, smiling so warmly it made her shiver.

“It was an impressive fireball, by the way,” he added as an aside. “A little…enthusiastic, toward the end, but you held onto it expertly and your form was—well. Exquisite.” He paused. “Not that I was admiring your…form, or…” He trailed off into a timid, almost silent whine.

A smirk tugged at her lip, more delight than embarrassment; she knew he would not offer such praise lightly. Whatever else he may or may not have noticed in the course, she opted not to address.

“You're an excellent teacher.”

“I know,” he murmured, absently prodding the sand with the toe of his boot. Then, almost to himself: “Though you’re the first to say so.”

An easy hush fell over them. Tav’s knee began to ache again, and she was about to say something when Gale lifted his head and glanced around.

“Lovely spot, this.”

“Yes.”

“How is the water? I must say, it looks…”

He turned back, his gaze locking onto hers—sharp, steady. In the moonlight, she caught the quick bob of his throat as he swallowed.

“…rather enticing.”

Heat flushed through her, from her scalp down to her toes. The way he looked at her now, clear and unflinching, was precisely how she had hoped he might after their magical kiss. The look of a man who knew exactly what he wanted: to be here. With her.

If only she would ask.

The words slipped from her lips, barely louder than a whisper. “Come see for yourself.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he raised a hand to his shoulder and the three toggles that secured the front of his robe. His eyes never left hers as he painstakingly worked the first two loose. At the third, he faltered. “Forgive me, but would you mind…?” With his free hand, he made a small circle.

“Hardly seems fair,” Tav said with a mock pout, “but fine—I'll even close my eyes.”

A chuckle followed her as she turned awkwardly in place—more of a waddle, really—though she was not sure why she was still concerned with her own modesty when it was clear he had seen…well, enough.

From behind her came the rustle of falling fabrics, the unsnapping of boot buckles. A muttered 'Bollocks!' and then the crunch of gravelly sand.

“Stuck, wizard?” she teased. ”Need a hand?”

“Hah! Never living that down, am I?” he replied. “I think I've quite enough, thank you…for now.”

Tavania smiled and shook her head, a rosy fondness unfolding within her. This was what she had missed these past days of fracture—his lopsided charm, playfulness, his endearing fumbling. The way things were when it was just the two of them, without pretense or pressure to perform.

Her smile faltered—maybe that was the thing that most unsettled her, keeping her awake at night: how easy it was to miss him.

A splash at the shore broke her meditation, followed by a subtle pull in her blood, like the tugging of a loose thread, and a tingling at the nape of her neck. Magic; he was casting something. Curious, Tav cracked one eye open in time to see a handful of pale blue lights scatter like marbles across the bed of the lake, illuminating the depths in a fuzzy, dreamlike glow. Then Gale, diving into the water after them. The light clung to him, shimmering over his bare skin like a divine blessing as his body cut through the water with effortless grace, muscles rippling in a symphony of strength and radiance. For just a moment, she did not see a mortal man, but a godly being stitched together from ancient threads, older and more elemental than time itself. Every line, every muscle, every glorious inch of him woven out of raw, living magic—awe and power incarnate.

Tav forgot how to breathe.

She had never seen a more beautiful man in all her life.

He surfaced with a gasp in the inky heart of the lake, then rolled onto his back with a satisfied sigh, arms flung wide. There he drifted, his hair fanned out around him in a silver crown. As he stared serenely up at the starry sky, moonlight caressed his face with the delicate reverence of a lover’s hand, and Tav felt another pang, her longing this time envious, wishing she were the moon.

She smiled, unable to help herself; he looked so utterly content.

That was the puzzle of Gale of Waterdeep. He was all charm and warmth, quick with a quip to ease the tension or cast light on an otherwise dim moment—but his levity rarely tarried. Over his carefully curated exterior lay an untold sorrow, worn like a threadbare cloak. It suited him, in a way—the thoughtful furrow etched permanently between his brows lent him a sort of scholarly gravitas—but it made her heart ache. Tav did not know yet the exact shape of his burdens, only that it resonated deeply within her. On her coldest days, she selfishly wanted nothing more than to lift the corner of his grey shawl, crawl inside and hold him so that they might find some warmth together.

“You look quite in your element,” she called to him, grimacing as she finally relented, unfolding her limbs and easing back into a comfortable recline. “I didn't realise the ‘of Waterdeep’ was so literal.”

Gale laughed. “A mere stroke of serendipity. Though I do love to swim. It's the closest thing in this mortal plane to experiencing the freedom and lightness of true ethereal delight.”

He stilled as he said this, his tone shifting into wistful lament, as if floating in bleak pool of memory. The moment passed swiftly as the blinking away of a tear. With a splash, he rolled over onto his side and began to swim toward her.

“My tower in Waterdeep overlooks the sea, which is terribly convenient,” he continued, stopping to tread water at the edge of the shallows. “No better way to begin the day than with a cold plunge, in my estimation. Thoroughly invigorating—for body and mind.”

Tav tried to picture it. Gale, rising with the dawn, the salt breeze tugging through his hair as he dove from his tower steps—but her own memories of that city, blurred by time and shrouded in youthful regret, muddied the waters. She backed away.

“Sounds lovely,” she said, a bittersweet taste remaining on her tongue.

“Perhaps, someday, I can show you what I mean.”

Their eyes met briefly. There was something so fragile about it, hopeful and hurting all at once. Possibility cobbled together from wisps of nothing: vivid enough to almost be convincing, but ephemeral and formless. Another well-crafted illusion.

Gale shattered it with an abrupt clearing of his throat. “What about you? Do you swim?”

“I grew up a ways inland—more than day’s walk east of Baldur’s Gate,” she said, now watching her fingers make swirls across the surface of the water. “There was the river nearby, but we were forbidden from going near it; three children were swept away in a storm surge the summer Lavinia and I turned two.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “My—how awful.”

Tavania nodded. “Two of them were our closest neighbours; the older boy was friends with my brother. He could easily have gone with them that day had my father not needed help fixing fences. I think that made it worse for my mother—that pervasive nag of might-have-been made her a little crazy, which I suppose in turn instilled a lasting fear in me. That’s the way of things in a village as small as ours was. Even a small incident resonates. A tragedy like that, it…alters the rhythm of everything irrevocably.” She stilled her fingers, watched the last of the ripples ebb. “Can feel almost like…like a curse…”

Gale said nothing, and she was grateful for his restraint. The churn of falling water filled the silence.

“I do love the sea, though—from a distance,” she continued, more brightly. “I could sit beside it for hours and just watch the colours shift, squall clouds gather...There’s a certain romance to it, don’t you agree?”

“Completely.”

“And seafaring tales are some of my favourites,” Tav went on. “Gandorra Burr’s Fifty Years at Sea—have you read it?”

“The second volume only,” Gale replied, almost apologetic. “Ironically, I found it a little dry.”

She snorted. “Fair. Though the sparseness of the text added to the experience for me, compounding the dread and desolation. Her description of the Whalebones, for instance: there’s something innately chilling about a natural graveyard, and the matter-of-fact way she described those monstrous bleached ribs jutting up out of the black sand was just so…doleful. Haunting. I think that’s the true appeal for me. Romance, yes, but there is an inherent sense of tragedy about the sea. The loneliness and enormity of it feels quite…otherworldly.”

This time when he did not speak, she risked a sidelong glance and found him simply watching her, smiling dreamily, his eyes shining with a doting interest that was completely disarming.

Dangerous, indeed.

“Perhaps I need to revisit it,” he ventured, scratching his beard. “Or better yet—hear it read aloud by a talented bard with a gift for finding the poetry in bones.”

Tavania laughed. “If we stumble on a copy, I’ll happily read you to sleep, wizard.”

“I’ll begin the search at once.”

She bit down on her lip, blushing. “To answer your actual question…” Tav lifted one leg out of the water and wiggled her dripping toes. “This is as deep as I go.”

Gale’s expression shifted—a certain tilt of his head, a new glint in his eye that fell just shy of mischief. The spark of an idea. He planted his feet and rose in the chest-deep water, holding out a hand.

“Come here.”

Tav blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“Come here,” he repeated, beckoning her this time with his spellbinding fingers, his many rings of gold and silver playing in the moonlight. Then, as if remembering himself, he lifted his other hand to shield his eyes. “Ah—apologies!”

“I think we’re a little beyond that, don’t you?”

He hummed, his smile turning luminous and sly. “True. One can’t always be a gentleman.”

Gale let his hand fall away and he watched her, keenly, as she stood and made her measured way to him. If he noticed the faint limp in her stride, he gave no sign. Merely waited, mute, his hand outstretched and lips slightly parted as he drank her in with something close to wonder, studying her as if she were some rare beauty he could not grasp the meaning of—but would gladly spend the rest of his life in the rigorous pursuit.

By the time she reached him, every inch of her was aflame, and when she slid her hand into his, she felt the same spark she had the very first time they touched, the day she pulled him from that rock. Then, she had dismissed it as magical interference; now, there was nothing else between them but a few scant inches of cold lake, and something far deeper as well. Undefinable. Inevitable.

“Exquisite,” he murmured—so absently, she was not sure he was aware he said anything.

The heat in his gaze was suddenly too much to bear. With a nervous laugh, Tavania looked away—down, to his chest, its vital rise and fall, and the ominous circle of flame branded into the flesh over his heart. The black tendrils that curled up his throat had long intrigued her; she suspected them connected to his mysterious affliction, but the rest he had always kept carefully concealed. Seeing it now, a thing of uncommon elegance laid bare by moonlight, a storm gathered inside her. Sympathy, curiosity, desire…

A bloom of quiet dread.

“Is this”—a breath quivered from him—“all right?”

Tav glanced up, catching his eyes. One, a rich and velvety brown a person could get lost in forever; the other, silver as a frost-laden sky. Dusky tear stains tattooed the cheek below as if he once had wept all the colour out of it.

She was not sure if his question was meant for her, or for himself.

Summoning her most charming smile, flush with rosy light, she asked, “Are you going to teach me to swim, professor?”

With a snort, he said, “In good time,” as if time was a luxury they had in abundance. “For now, I offer merely a taste.”

“Of drowning?”

Gale frowned. “You wound me, my dear.” He sought her other hand beneath the water; his fingers were warm despite the chill. “I hope you know I’d never allow that to happen.”

That quiet ‘my dear’… A slip that sounded so natural, she suspected it was not the first time the words had occurred to him, even if he had never spoken them aloud. Her chest constricted. All she could say was, “I do.”

He smiled. “Are you ready?”

Without knowing precisely what he intended, she nodded; a stark realisation of trust. “Yes.”

“Any time you want to stop, you need only say the word,” he assured her as he began to walk slowly backward, the pull of their joined hands coaxing her deeper with him. “Be aware, there is a sudden drop.”

She nodded again, only half-listening, focused instead the water rising up her arms, her chest, floating her nerves with it. It was far colder here than it had been by the shore; Tav shivered as it lapped up to her collar bones. She her felt herself becoming more buoyant as it breached her shoulders, her footfalls feeling far less grounded in reality. Around them, Gale’s magical lights had dimmed into soft, pulsing pinpricks, drifting constellations that mirrored the stars. Suddenly, they were nothing more than two small, fragile bodies adrift in an ethereal sea of cosmic dark.

And then, on her next dizzying step, the ground vanished entirely.

Water surged up her neck, into her ears, her nose. She gasped in alarm and swallowed a mouthful. Coughed. Choked. Somehow in her flailing panic, she slipped free of Gale’s grip, losing him in a thrash of bubbles as she tried to claw her way back to the surface, but there was nothing to grab on to. Nothing above, nothing below. Only cold, uncaring darkness.

Instead of floating, she was falling.

Her thoughts splintered, half of her back aboard the burning nautiloid, its sinewy walls quivering in the hot rush of wind as it tore apart around her. The tadpole squirmed in her skull. She could not breathe. She was going to die. She was—

And then he was there. His arms wrapping tightly around her waist, lifting her up, his voice cutting through the roil of terror.

“I have you.”

Coughing, she threw her arms around his neck, clinging to him, shaking.

“I have you,” he said again, lips closer against her ear. “I have you.” Again. And again. Until she believed him.

“Don’t let go,” she rasped.

“I wouldn't dream of it.”

She believed him.

Safe in his arms, Tav let her body slacken. Shivering, sputtering, she breathed, matching the steady rise and fall of his chest, finding his rhythm to anchor herself. The cold and the dark remained, but soon she hardly noticed. All she felt was Gale: the warm glide of his bare skin against hers, the subtle shifting of his muscles and the push-pull of the water around her feet as he kicked gently to keep them both afloat.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, squeezing his arms around her. “This was a terrible idea. I’ll take us in.”

“Wait—” she said in a rush, clinging harder, desperate to hold on to this, to him, this precious moment.

He stilled beneath her.

“It wasn’t terrible. I don't know what happened, I just—” Tav exhaled. “Can we just…stay?”

Gale skated a hand up her back to cradle her neck, a warm and solid comfort. “Whatever you wish.”

The river current split and flowed on around them, and they drifted a little in its gentle course, Gale ever kicking to keep them steady. They began to turn in aimless circles, as if caught in the stream of a silent waltz. As the last vestiges of fear receded, Tav began to see the music in her mind: pretty waves of indigo tangled up in midnight blue, threaded through with silver strands against a canvas of star-soaked black. The song made its needful way to her throat, and without meaning to, she began to faintly hum.

“What is that?” he asked after a time. “I don’t recognise it.”

“No, it's…” Not know how else to describe it, she said simply, “Us.”

Gale let out a blissful sigh, resting her head against her temple.

Tav shifted her weight, a sudden sting breaking the spell; the music slipped away from her, leaving only a sharp yellow hiss of pain in its wake.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Tavania Starling,” Gale said sternly.

Rolling her eyes, she lifted her wounded arm from his shoulder for him to see.

“Hells, Tav!” he exclaimed at a glance. “That’s hardly nothing—it’s your whole bloody arm!”

“It’s nothing,” she insisted, an edge of irritation cutting in. “A graze, that’s all. Skin-deep.”

“Skin-deep! You’ve hardly any skin left at all! What happened?”

“I slipped like a clumsy fool coming down the bluff, that's all. Honestly—this”—Tav shook her arm at him—”hurts far less than you calling me by my full name in your grumpy wizard voice.”

“I don't have a—” He huffed, a splinter amusement in it, the rest pure exasperation. At least a little of it with himself for taking her bait.

“I may have also sprained my knee.”

“Mystra give me strength…” he grumbled, taking hold of her wrist for a closer look. He was careful, methodical. She suppressed a cringe as his thumb barely brushed the bitter edges of her wound.

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Quite dire, I’m afraid,” he said, solemn in tone if not in spirit. “And we once again find ourselves confronted with the glaring void in my otherwise formidable repertoire of expertise: the restorative arts.“

“Well, I had a good run,” she said with a shrug.

Gale tutted. “Not so fast, madam. I do happen to know of one very old technique, proven to help ease pain and hasten recovery, popular to this very day among certain wise practitioners of the gentler arts. If you would permit me to try it.”

She raised one eyebrow. “By all means, if you think it might help.”

Gale gently lifted her arm above the waterline, droplets trailing from her elbow as he leaned in, squinting in an exaggerated show of scrutiny. “Yes, I think—”

A soft kiss, just above her elbow.

“Any better?” he whispered, barely lifting his lips from her skin.

Tav swallowed a lump. “Still hurts…”

“I see.”

Another kiss, a touch higher than the last, lingering this time.

“Now?”

She did not answer. Couldn’t.

Gale continued, tracing a deliberate path up her arm with unbearable restraint. Each tender kiss sent a jolt through her—hot, electric, winding her up from the inside out. The fingers of her other hand flexed, digging into the taut muscle of his shoulder, eliciting from him a soft, aching sound; she was not sure if it was pain or pleasure—or both.

At last, he arrived at her wrist. There, he paused, just long enough for anticipation to coil itself around her throat, leaving her breathless. Gale turned her hand, pressing one final kiss into the centre of her palm. Longer. Deeper. His lips warm, his beard soft, his tongue a sweet whisper of heat falling into her heart line. As he moaned again, this one distinctly rapturous, she blearily wondered if he could still taste the scorch of magic on her skin.

He sighed her name, and she cupped his cheek to draw him closer; Gale obeyed, coming back to rest his forehead against hers.

“About the other night…”

Tav winced. “You don’t have to—”

“I have thought of little else for days,” he blurted, undeterred. “Only you. But I acquitted myself poorly—then and since. For that, I must apologise. I was…startled. It’s been a very long time since I was…close…to anyone…in that way,” he said, struggling even to say it, and she could feel his brows pulling into a frown. “In any way, really. Or for that matter, wanted to be.”

“Same,” she confessed in a small voice.

Gale pulled back to look at her, offered a smile that seemed to comfort them both. “To be perfectly clear—I do want to be close to you, Tavania. Very much so.”

A giddy laugh teased the back of her tongue. “We could scarcely be any closer.”

“Oh, I can think of a way or two.” His eyes narrowed, turning his smile wryly suggestive, and Tav felt herself flush again.

A familiar shadow fell over him, his shoulders drooping beneath its weight.

“But, I am…afraid…well, of many things,” he admitted. “A great many things, indeed. Chief among them: the sudden contraction of time.”

Gale barked out a humourless laugh.

“If someone had told me two weeks ago that I would find myself here—dumped unceremoniously in the wilds of southern Faerun, with a deadly parasite squirming in my skull, harried by deranged cultists hailing the coming of a new god”—he paused, his harsh tone softening into molten gold—”with the most magnificent, extraordinary woman I have ever met wrapped my arms…”

Tav nudged his shoulder lightly. “Charmer.”

He flashed a quick grin. “Suffice it to say, I would have declared it the ramblings of a madman—or the stuff of an overwrought, implausible bodice-ripper, replete with gross misrepresentations of my character.”

“True,” she agreed. “To my knowledge, you’re yet to rip a single bodice.”

“Yet…” Gale emphasised. “When it happens, you shall be the first to know.” He sighed then. “The timing of all of this, however, is—”

“I know.”

“—inopportune. To say the very least.”

What neither of them said loomed loud in the ensuing silence: This might be all the time we have.

Tav’s gaze was drawn again to the grim brand above his heart. Her hand slipped from his cheek, fingertips tracing the searing circle’s edge with a feather-light touch. Gale held perfectly still, failing even to breathe, and she thought she felt something stir beneath his skin—a faint pulse that did not belong to him. Something other. Something wrong. In her own blood, her magic thrummed like a struck chord and then…recoiled. As if even her wild and untamed power feared what lay within him.

Gale caught her fingers in a sudden vice grip and wrenched her hand away—too rough to be intentional. Guilt followed instantly; he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers in trembling apology.

Tav gaped at him, a chill creeping through her that had nothing to do with the icy water.

The terror in his eyes just now…

“We should head back,” he said hoarsely.

She nodded.

With one arm still around her waist, Gale turned and swam them back toward the shallows from which they had drifted. Tav clung to him, numb, barely kicking her trailing feet. At last he slowed to a stop in the shallower water and set her down, making sure she had her feet fully beneath her before letting go.

They looked at one another. Tav saw the distance gathering, tendrils of creeping fog come to pull him away. She was losing him again.

Without thinking, she brought her hands to his face, pulled him closer as she leaned in, and kissed him. Softly. Briefly. Nothing at all like desperate, hungry the thing she had imagined nights ago.

But it was real.

And it was perfect.

Left as waypoint for him to find her by when he was ready. If he ever was.

Then she let him go, limping the rest of the way to the shore on her own.

[seolar-system]

homesick Odysseus hours

[seolar-system]

Epic the Musical, but it's Odysseus venting

It's our HC - mine and my friends watching me drawing those - that Odysseus composed Most of Epic the musical while he was in Calypso Island (seven years are a lot), and the "All I hear are screams" he said to Calypso that day was because he was struggling for it. Sorry. Needed to be done.

Sorry, it's something silly but i hope you like it anyway.

Remember that Penelope, Poseidon and Ody designs are from @neal-illustrator! and that ofc Epic the musical is from Jorge Rivera-Herrans.

[seolar-system]

ruthlessness Is *SQUEAK*

Would you believe if, when I First drew Cloudyseidon, this One was the First comic in my head?

Odysseus Is in @neal-illustrator design and ofc Ruthlessness Song Is form Epic of Jorge !

#cloudyseidon #cloudyseeusAU #Odysseus #ruthlessness #epic the musical

[seolar-system]

ruthlessness Is *SQUEAK*

Would you believe if, when I First drew Cloudyseidon, this One was the First comic in my head?

Odysseus Is in @neal-illustrator design and ofc Ruthlessness Song Is form Epic of Jorge !

#cloudyseidon #cloudyseeusAU #Odysseus #ruthlessness #epic the musical

[seolar-system]

Handsome Changbin for @nightchangesmp3

[seolar-system]

That was so cute and sweet and uff.. I loved it!

Pieces of Us

Chris Bang x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT MDNI

Genre: Exes to lovers, second chance love, fluff, smut

Summary: Even a year after your divorce, you can't get over Chris. You keep seeing him all the time because you're co parenting your daughter, and you see that he's still the same man you fell in love with. And you both haven't moved on at all.

It’s late. Your apartment is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator, as you sit on the sofa, nursing a glass of wine when you hear the doorbell.

You find Chris on your doorstep, punctual as usual, holding your toddler, Mia, against his chest, her small body curled into him like she’s still a newborn.

Your heart does a funny little lurch. It must be the wine. Definitely the wine.

“She fell asleep in the car,” he whispers, stepping inside. He is still dressed in his formals, and your traitorous eyes drink him in.

“Rough day?” he asks softly, noting the wine and the way your shoulders sag.

“Something like that,” you mutter, gesturing to Mia’s room. “You can put her to bed.”

Chris nods, carrying her toward her bedroom. He emerges moments later, quietly shutting her door behind him. His gaze locks onto yours, dark and a little too comforting.

“What happened?” he asks, folding his arms against his chest.

“It’s nothing,” you say, but Chris raises an eyebrow.

“Bullshit,” he counters smoothly, sitting next to you on the sofa. “You know you can't lie to me.”

You roll your eyes but relent and say, “Work politics. Same old garbage.”

Chris winces, before he leans forward and says, “You’re too good for them, you know that, right?”

Those are simple words, but they hit harder than they should. You glance at him, something raw flickering in your chest.

“Oh please,” you murmur, looking away.

“What?” He asks. “It’s true.”

You don’t answer, reaching instead for the bottle of wine. Chris doesn’t stop you as you pour a second glass.

“Here, celebrate my failures with me,” you tease, trying to ease your own heart. “I don't feel like wallowing in self pity alone tonight.”

He snorts, shaking his head, but takes the glass.

“You're so dramatic,”

“And yet, you were married to me for five years,” you quip, with a grin.

The wine loosen you both faster than it should. Soon, you’re reminiscing about Mia’s first words, and the road trip to Busan where the car broke down, and you ended up making out in the car till Minho came to rescue you both.

“I miss this,” you admit quietly, the words slipping out before you can stop them. “Talking...and everything,”

You and Chris had been good friends before you both fell in love. It had been the most beautiful years of your life before things started falling apart.

He doesn’t say anything, but reaches out, his fingers brushing yours. It’s subtle, but it sets your heart racing. Like always. Even a year after your divorce, you clearly haven't moved on.

“I miss it too,” he finally says, his voice low. “All the time.”

“Please don’t say that if you don’t mean it.” you mumble.

He leans in, closer than he’s been in a more than year, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

“You think I don’t mean it? You think I ever stopped wanting you?”

Your breath catches as he closes the distance between you. His lips hover inches from yours as he says, “I never stopped…”

It’s reckless, stupid, maybe even a mistake - but you don’t care. You let him close the gap, his lips crashing into yours, and everything you’ve been holding back spills over.

The kiss is messy and heated - all the pent-up frustration and longing coming crashing down. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you melt against him, your arms circling his neck. His lips move against yours desperately, like he is afraid to let go.

When you finally break apart, breathless and a little lost, Chris brushes a thumb over your cheek.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you whisper.

“No. But it’s a start.”

It’s intoxicating - the feel of him, the heat radiating off his body. You both pull each other close again, his lips moving down your neck, leaving soft kisses.

But somewhere in between, reality raises its nagging head and you falter.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back slightly.

Chris freezes, his breathing ragged, as he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“This is… reckless,” you whisper, though your heart won't allow you to let go of him.

He exhales sharply, leaning back just enough to meet your gaze. “Y/N, I -”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, your voice trembling. “I don't want us to mess up again.”

He gives you a look and you think he might argue. But then he sighs. He looks exhausted and a little heart broken. But he stands up and says, “You’re right. We can’t… not like this.”

“You have to go.” You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

He stares at you for a long moment, then he nods.

“Right. I’ll… I’ll call tomorrow to check on Mia.” he says, clearing his throat.

You nod, biting your lip to keep it from trembling. Because this feels even harder than the first time.

“Goodnight, Chris.” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he says, his voice rough.

As soon as he’s gone, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You sink onto the couch, your face in your hands, and you cry until your throat is raw. You missed him. And you still hate yourself for letting this happen.

It starts with a look. It always does.

The next time Chris comes by, it’s late again, Mia’s tiny backpack slung over his shoulder, and her hand clutching his tightly as they walk to your door. You try to play it cool, standing in the doorway with your arms crossed and a polite smile fixed on your face.

But then he looks at you and the air shifts.

“Hi,” he says, his voice lower than it needs to be, his gaze lingering on your mouth.

“Hi,” your voice shakes but it's soft.

Mia is already running into her room, way too excited to get to her new playset, and Chris watches her for a moment, before his gaze settles on you.

And then there are no words exchanged as his hands grab you towards him and he's pushing you against the kitchen counter, kissing you.

You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand slips down your back, cupping your butt before pulling you flush against himself.

“Is this going to keep happening?” you ask breathlessly, as he kisses down your neck. Past your collarbone. Down your chest. His face is buried in your breasts, before he kisses them over your t-shirt.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, holding on to him, and you gasp as he bites your nipple over the fabric and a dull pleasure courses through your body.

“What?” he murmurs, his lips back on yours again.

“This,” you say between kisses.

He kisses you again, rougher than before and says,

“Tell me to stop,” he says, and his hands cup your cheeks, gazing into your eyes.

You don’t. You can’t. Instead, you pull him closer, your bodies so familiar with each other.

It becomes a pattern after that. Anytime he comes over - whether he’s dropping off Mia or picking her up - it happens.

Sometimes it’s rushed and frantic, like the time he cornered you in the kitchen, your lips colliding as the coffee maker sputtered in the background. And other times, it’s slow and sweet. Especially when he knows you're a bit down or you're having a bad day.

You don’t talk about it. It’s easier to pretend this is just an outlet, a way to scratch the itch that never seems to fade.

You tell yourself this is only because he's the only man you've been with for so damn long. You two had married so young. You hate thinking about it.

So you don't. But deep down, you know it’s more than just sex. But you’re not ready to acknowledge it. Neither is he.

Friday evenings with Minho are sacred. He's your best friend, your big brother, your pillar of support. The one person who held you up during your separation from Chris. The only person who knows that you still loved him with everything in you.

Minho brings take out, you both talk, watch a movie, sometimes two. And fall asleep on each other because obviously, you both were the laziest besties in the world.

You've been trying to tell Chris to leave, but he is busy pounding into you. You stand with your hands grips the kitchen counter as he thrust into you from the back, his hands holding onto your hips tightly.

“He's gonna be here any minute!” You hiss, and Chris moves faster, and more rough. You try not to moan as waves of pleasure hit you, and you clench so hard around him, he's shuddering with his release.

“Fuck-” He groans, pressing his face against the back of your neck before slowly pulling out of you.

You both clean up and look somewhat presentable when the doorbell rings. You sigh because Minho will see right through you.

And he won't let you live this down. Ever.

You glance at Chris before opening the door. And Minho steps in already ranting about his day and he stops in his tracks when his eyes land on Chris.

Well that's a first - Minho being at a loss of words.

You freeze, your cheeks burning, while Chris awkwardly shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, Minho,” Chris says, giving him a quick nod.

Minho doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks between the two of you, his lips twitching in amusement, before slowly smirking.

“Hey, Chris.” Then, he strolls further inside saying, “Don’t mind me. I'm just here for my niece.”

He disappears into the living room, leaving you and Chris standing there like a couple of teenagers caught doing something bad.

“I should, uh, get going,” he says, though he doesn’t move.

“Right, yeah,” you stammer, smoothing your hands over your skirt nervously.

“See you on Sunday,” he says, opening the door.

“See you,” you manage, your heart racing again, and Chris flashes you a smile before leaving.

The moment the door shuts, Minho reappears, a wicked grin plastered across his face.

“Soooo…”

“Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “You’re clearly fucking Chris freaking Bang and you want me to not start?”

“Minho,” you warn, making a beeline for the living room, and he follows you with that menacing grin still in place.

“So, when exactly did this ‘we’re just co-parents’ arrangement turn into ‘we’re fuck buddies again’?”

“It’s not like that!” you protest, though your face feels like it’s on fire.

“Uh-huh.” He says, starting to plate up the food. “You two were totally not flushed and guilty. Try again.”

You bury your face in a throw pillow.

“Linooooo stopppp!! It’s complicated.” you whine.

“It always is with you two,” he says, rolling his eyes. “You’re like Ross and Rachel, except somehow more frustrating.”

You peek out from behind the pillow, glaring at him.

“We’re not -”

“Don’t even think about saying you’re not into him,” Minho interrupts, pointing his chopsticks at you. “I know you, Y/N.”

You open your mouth to argue but immediately close it, because he's stating the obvious and there is no real use of denying it.

“I’m just saying, if you’re going to jump your ex-husband, at least warn me so I can avoid walking into it.” Minho smirks, leaning back smugly.

You groan, throwing the pillow at him. He dodges it easily, laughing as you sink further into the couch, hands covering your face.

“Seriously, though,” he says after a moment, his tone softening. “Are you okay? I mean, this whole Chris thing… are you sure about this?”

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

“I don’t know. I love him, Minho, and I swear I tried to move on…but, everytime I look at him…he's the same person I fell in love with. He's not a monster. He's a great father. He's a good friend. And.. and I don't even know why…” Your voice cracks a bit as you struggle with your thoughts. “Then we talked, and it’s like… like nothing’s changed. But everything has changed, and it’s so… messy.”

“Messy’s okay. You deserve to be happy, Y/N. Whether that’s with Chris or someone else.” he says softly. “If you're sure, then go for it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be honest with Chris. To let go of the pride and the fear and just… try again. Because God, you really want to.

Sunday arrives, and Mia is up early, ready for her day with her daddy. She even picks out her favorite toy to take along with her and insists on wearing the sparkly dress she knows Chris loves.

When Chris texts, you think it's to let you know that he's on his way. But it wasn't.

Chris: Hey, something came up. Can we reschedule Mia’s time for today?

You blink at it for a moment, heart sinking slightly. You don’t question it - life happens, after all. But Mia doesn’t take it as well.

“Daddy’s not coming?” she asks, her lower lip trembling and her little shoulders slump in disappointment.

You kneel down, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“No, sweetheart. He’s just busy today, but we’ll see him soon. How about we have a girls' day instead?”

She looks up at you with big tear filled eyes.

“Girls' day? With Mommy?” she asks, and you nod, pulling her into a tight hug.

“That’s right. Just you and me. Let’s make it special.” You say, kissing her cheek and getting on with it.

You spend the afternoon indulging in ice cream, shopping for new art supplies, and of course, toys. You also take her to an indoor play area that she loves, and by the time you get home, Mia is falling asleep in your arms.

You carry her to her room, tuck her into bed, and she’s out within minutes. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, you step out of her room.

The apartment falls into a quiet, peaceful lull. You wash up quickly and sit in front of the TV, hoping to watch an episode of that show you've been trying to watch for a while now. It's not exactly easy with a toddler around.

But around fifteen minutes into the show, you hear the sound of the doorbell. You open the door, and there stands Chris, holding a small box in his hand.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, as he meets your gaze. “I'm sorry about today. I brought her favorite cupcakes.”

Your heart does a little flip at the sight of him.

“That’s sweet of you.” you say, “But she's already asleep.”

“Oh…I was hoping to see her before....ah,” Chris says with a little sigh.

You give him a small, sympathetic shrug.

“It's okay, she can eat them tomorrow,” You say with a smile and step aside to let him in.

He nods, stepping inside and setting the box of cupcakes on the kitchen counter. There’s disappointment in his eyes and it stirs something deep inside you.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N,” he says, and it feels like he’s apologizing for more than just missing his day with Mia.

“It’s really okay. Mia missed you, but we still had a good day. She was really happy.” you tell him.

Chris’s gaze lingers on you a moment too long before he says,“I feel like I keep letting you both down.”

“Chris, please don't say that,” you reply, giving him a small smile. “We know you’re doing your best. I know you’re trying.”

He nods, though he doesn't look completely convinced.

“So,” you say, trying to keep it light, “I’m about to have dinner… want to join me?”

It’s an innocent enough invitation. Casual. Polite. But the way he looks at you gives you an idea of what's about to happen next.

Chris takes a step forward, his hand gently cupping your cheek, and then his lips are on yours. The kiss deepens almost instantly and he pulls you closer, your bodies pressed together.

You stifle a sob, and Chris is quickly pulling back to look at you, tipping your chin up to see you better.

“Baby, please don't-”

“I love you-”

There is a moment of silence - Chris's eyes soften as he watches the tears fall. You can't believe you just said that. But this whole thing was getting more and more difficult to manage. The constant need to be close to him. Waiting for the days he spent with Mia, just so you could see him.

And then he's kissing you again, mumbling a hundred ‘I love yous’ you against your lips, and the next thing you know, he's scooping you up in his arms and carrying you towards your bedroom.

He closes the door gently (so that it doesn't wake Mia), and places you on the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you on the floor.

“Baby, I never stopped loving you. And there isn't a day where I don't regret letting you walk out of my life… we could've handled things better…and everytime I came here for Mia, I wished you would just ask me to stay. I selfishly wished that you wouldn't move on.” he says, his voice soft and his touch even softer as he placed his hands on your knees.

“I don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you. If you give me another chance, I promise I'll not let you down. I'll spend every day of the rest of my life proving to you that you're my everything… and I will be here for you, always.”

You nod and tears falling more rapidly now, and throw your arms around Chris's neck, and he wraps his arms around your waist, his face pressing against your neck as he holds you close.

“I love you, baby I'm sorry-” You cry, your arms tightening around him. “I didn't know what to do…the baby, the job, there was so much noise, and I wasn't well…I'm sorry I didn't see that you were suffering too-” you hiccup through your tears.

You feel his hand moving up and down your back in an attempt to comfort you.

“I know baby, I'm not mad. We were both suffering. We were both hurt. But we're here now.” Chris whispers.

“I love you, I want you back. Please don't leave me again-”

Chris kisses you again, stealing your breath away.

“No more crying over me ok?” He says with a soft smile. “I'm not going anywhere…I love you and Mia so much, I am going to be here-”

More kisses follow and you move back into the bed, and he follows, both of you pulling at each other's clothes.

He trails his lips down your neck, and it feels like the world outside your bedroom might as well not exist. His hands glide over your skin, gentle, but just as desperate.

You can feel the way he trembles against you, the way his breath catches as your hands move down his chest. And then when he slips inside, as gentle as ever, you can't help but cry, because as beautiful as the moment feels, you realize just how miserable you have been without him.

Chris moves slowly at first, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds. He peppers so many kisses on your lips and neck, like he can't kiss you enough.

His fingers work on your clit as he moves, and soon your body shudders as your orgasm ripples through you. You moan softly, and it obviously has him crashing down too.

You don't let go, because truth be told, you're afraid he's going to leave. And tonight? You don't want him to. Actually, you don't want to see him walk out that door ever again.

And Chris isn't planning to, because he holds you just as tight, promising softly that he'll be here when you wake up in the morning. And you let your eyes fall shut, trusting him.

You both decide to take it slow, for Mia's sake.

Chris doesn’t officially move in, yet, but his presence is…undeniable. There are more of his things around the house, and more than anything else, it's the way Mia’s laughter grows louder every time he walks through the door. You’ve caught yourself smiling more too - wide, genuine smiles you hadn’t worn in ages.

You love watching him help Mia with her bedtime routine, fixing squeaky hinges around the house you’ve ignored for months, and finding every excuse to stay a bit longer.

And Minho? Well, he’s having the time of his life.

---

One Friday evening, you’re all gathered in the living room. Chris is helping Mia build a tower with her blocks while you sip wine and half-listen to Minho’s dramatic story about his latest “date gone wrong.”

“And then she said she didn’t like cats. Cats, Y/N. Can you imagine the nerve?” Minho says, gesturing wildly with his chopsticks as he digs into the takeout he insisted on bringing.

“Oh my God” you say, laughing as Chris adds, “Sounds horrible, but maybe try not to bring home every stray you find?”

“Don’t think I don’t see you trying to steal my best friend away. Again.” Minho narrows his eyes, pointing at Chris.

“Jealous, Minho?” Chris quips, and Minho scoffs, leaning back dramatically.

“Of you? Please.” Minho says. “But whatever this setup is, it's sure looks promising.”

You freeze mid-sip of your wine, while Chris raises an eyebrow.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask.

“I’m just saying, for exes, you two sure look cozy.” Minho grins, and your cheeks burn, as you try not to look at Chris.

“Minho…” you warn.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. I’m rooting for you,” Minho says, winking before turning back to Mia. “Besides, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll adopt Mia. Because you two are idiots. And we're done dealing with you. Sorry, not sorry.”

Mia giggles at the mention of her name before getting back to her game.

---

Later that night, after Minho has left (eyeing you mischievously because Chris was still there) and Mia is asleep, you and Chris are clearing up the kitchen.

“You know,” he says, his voice low, “Minho isn’t wrong.”

“About what?” You ask, glancing at him, wiping your hands on a dish towel.

“About us. About this.” Chris says, leaning against the counter and folding his arms.

Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at him, watching him push off the counter and walk towards you.

The towel slips from your hands as his fingers brush against your cheek, and his lips land on yours.

It’s slow at first, warm and tender, but it doesn’t take long for it to snap and you're both pulling each other closer. Your fingers tangle in his hair, your body responding to his touch like it always has.

He pauses, his forehead resting against yours as you both catch your breath.

“I love you,” he says, pressing a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

“I love you too,” you admit, and he smiles, his dimples making an appearance and your heart races as you reach up to run your fingers over it.

He kisses you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second of it. And at that moment, this doesn't really feel like a second chance.

It’s the beginning of everything you’ve ever wanted.

The smell of pancakes fills the house as sunlight filters through the kitchen windows. Chris stands at the stove, a spatula in one hand, flipping golden-brown pancakes onto a plate. He’s wearing his usual gray shorts and a fitted black T-shirt. His hair is messy, a sign that he’s only been up for about twenty minutes, and he’s humming softly to himself as he works.

Mia sits at the table, still in her pajamas, happily coloring into a giant coloring book. This is such a dream. You lean against the counter, sipping your coffee, watching Chris with a faint smile that you haven’t been able to shake since he stayed over last night.

For the first time… in a very long time.

And then, the doorbell rings. You frown, setting down your coffee.

“Expecting someone?” He asks and you shake your head, walking to the door and opening it to find your mum standing there, a purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face.

“Mum?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Surprise, sweetheart!” she says, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. Wanted to see my girls, and I brought muffins!”

She holds up a bakery bag, grinning, then stops dead in her tracks.

Her gaze falls on Chris, who’s just turned around from the stove, spatula still in hand, his expression frozen like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” your mom says.

There's silence for a second before Mia screeches, “Grandmaaaaaaaa!!!”

Your mum picks Mia up, pressing a kiss to her cheek before asking if she could play in her room for sometime. Mia pouts, but runs off with a muffin.

Her eyes narrow slightly, taking in how casual Chris looks, his messy hair, and the way he just seems to be part of the scene.

“Good morning, mum,” Chris says smoothly, recovering faster than you could've thought.

He smiles, dimples flashing, as he asks, “Pancakes?”

Your mum raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying his innocent act. She folds her arms, looking at you.

“Y/N… what’s going on here?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you start, suddenly feeling like a child again.

“Mhm.” She gives you a look that says she doesn’t believe you for a second. “You’re telling me it’s normal for your ex-husband to be in your kitchen, making pancakes, looking like he just rolled out of bed?”

“Technically, I did just roll out of bed,” Chris says, unable to resist.

You shoot him a glare, but he has already turned back to the stove, hiding a smirk.

“Y/N?” Your mom’s eyes narrow further.

“It’s… kind of...,” you say finally, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Yes?” she prompts, looking from you to Chris and then back at you. You think she's going to give you a nice big lecture about responsibility. But she lets out a sigh, her posture softening.

“You know,” she says, her tone gentler now, “I always thought the two of you were good for each other. When you got divorced, I was shocked and devastated - for you, for Mia.” She pauses, her eyes locking with yours. “But if you’re giving this another try… I just want to make sure you’re happy, sweetheart. That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“I know I messed up before. I know I hurt your daughter. But I love her. I always have, and I’m doing everything I can to show her - and Mia - that I’m here to stay. I realize that I need them more than they need me…so yeah,”

Your mum’s gaze softens as she studies him, and then she looks at you.

“And you, Y/N? Are you happy?”

You glance at Chris, who’s watching you with that steady loving gaze that’s always made you feel safe and sure, and you nod.

“Yeah, Mum. I am.”

Your mom smiles, stepping forward to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Well, then. I suppose I’ll have to stick around for breakfast. Those pancakes smell amazing.”

Chris grins and gets back to work, and your mum nods, making her way in to properly greet her granddaughter again.

Just as she disappears, Chris slides up beside you, his hand brushing yours as you start setting the table for breakfast.

“That went better than expected,” he murmurs, his voice low.

“You’ve always been her favorite, you know.” You glance at him, your lips twitching into a smile.

He smirks, leaning in just enough to make your heart skip a beat.

“Good to know I still am.” He pecks your lips quickly before getting back to work.

You roll your eyes, but your smile lingers as your mum comes back with Mia in her arms. And you all sit around the table and enjoy breakfast.

It’s chaotic and imperfect, but it's home. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is exactly where it’s meant to be. All the scattered pieces of you finally fit.

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @satosugu4l

[seolar-system]

I SAW MOMMY KISSING SANTA CLAUS ✭

—(🎧)—> when your silly husband gets a little too festive for Christmas (but you love him though)

pairing - husband!dad!changbin ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

warnings: they have 3 kids. Somi - 9, Do-won - 7, and Nari, 5. unedited & fluffy asf!

series note : hello !! welcome to part three of my winter series, “winter records of love” where there will be 8 individual short stories for each member :) these stories are based off of songs I deem “winter” feeling ! this story is based off of “ I saw mommy kissing Santa Claus!” by The Jackson 5. enjoy !!

If daddy had only seen, mommy kissing Santa Claus last night!

“You look ridiculous, baby.”

“What! I look fabulous.”

What were you taking about? The silly Santa costume that your husband, Changbin had randomly decided to buy on impulse while shopping.

The white, dusty beard was connected to his face by a single strap, the red felt of his outfit mixing well with his complexion. He looked so ridiculous, but so adorable at the same time.

“Nari is going to freak out when she sees you.” You giggle, walking closer to him and stroking his silky, faux beard. “Are you going to put the presents under the tree like this?”

He laughs at your question, bringing one of his warm hands over the one you have stroking his beard, placing it into his hand and kissing the back. “And what if I do?”

“Then Nari will really freak out.” You chuckle, removing you hand from his grasp you you can pick up the purse laying on your shared bag. “Cmon, let’s go get the rest of those presents.”

“W-Wait, let me change first.” He stutters, tips of ears turning red. “Why? I thought you wanted to wear it.”

“It’s embarrassing.” He blushes, moving to take the fake beard off. You smile at him, finding his reaction utterly adorable. It makes the marriage band he has around his ring even more valuable to you.

You can’t even put in into words how much of a great father he is.

He’s so caring, attentive, and so much more. Caring for your 5 year old, Nari, and coaxing her back to bed when she has nightmares, helping your middle child, Do-Won with his 2nd grade homework, giving advice to your eldest daughter, Somi. He did it all.

He takes amazing care of you too, cooking meals regularly, taking you out on a date every week, offering to pay for you to take a trip to the spa while he takes care of the kids. Even while working so hard as an idol, he always took the best care of you and your kids, and you love it.

◂—♥︎—▸

“Feels like we’ve been shopping forever.” You groan, sloppily following behind Changbin as he pushes along the full and heavy shopping cart, leading you with a lot more energy in his body than you have in yours.

“We’re almost finished, sugar. I just want to find a few more things for the kids.” He explains, peering down the doll aisle before turning in.

“Baby, I love you. But the cart is so full, people are going you’re shoplifting.” You rest your hands on your hips, pouting your lips out slightly as Changbin looks at you.

You can be pretty stubborn when you want to, but seeing the stupidly adorable pout on your husband’s face was doing things to you.

“But babyyyy,” he starts, whining. “I want to Christmas tree to be full underneath.”

You could positively melt at the look of his face, and he notices the falter of your stance, sighing defeatedly. “Finee.”

“Wait no, sorry. We can continue shopping, baby. I see it’s making you happy. I just don’t want them to spoiled.” He smiles at your defeat, looking back at the row of various doll clothes and accessories.

“They’re not going to be spoiled, honey. Trust me. Now which one of these glasses looks better with the dolls dress.”

◂—♥︎—▸

Your house couldn’t have been any more Christmas themed if you tried.

Lights all over the house, Christmas tree decorated to the brim with red and green ornaments (with assistance from 3 little helpers), holly and tinsel littered throughout. It was “Christmasified” to the brim, and you loved it.

Christmas held a special place in your heart, it was the day he had proposed to you after all.

It was a snow blizzard, just his luck. He had plans to take you out and propose to you somewhere on the water. A place where you can watch the snowflakes fall delicately on the surface like ballerinas on tippy toes.

Ever since then, the bitter cold season has always had a warm place in your heart, meaning things that the prickly hot of summer could never.

It means home, and you love that.

“We’re going to have to hide these until Christmas.” Changbin sighs as he looks around for an area to hide the colorfully decorated boxes bags from the kids view. “Jagi? Do you think under the bed will do?”

You take a peek underneath, seeing enough space to put all the presents under. “Yup! Should be good.”

He nodded, taking the love wrapped present and shoved them underneath the frame of the bed. You watched him with a warm smile, taking in the sight even though it’s one you’ve seen time and time before.

Nothing would beat the feeling though, the feeling of the domestic tranquility that he brought you.

Nothing could.

◂—♥︎—▸

A noise loud noise coming from downstairs and 3 am is certainly not a welcoming one.

It startles you out of your sleep, instinctively causing you to turn to the other side of the bed where your husband lays, but it’s cold and empty.

Getting out of bed, your heart beating fast and strong, you work your way out of the bedroom and downstairs, not failing to check on the kids before doing so just to make sure they were safe.

Practically tiptoeing to avoid creaking, you make your way downstairs, peering your head around a convenient corner.

Then, there you see it.

It’s your husband, clad in his silly Santa Claus costume he had brought not to long ago.

He looked utterly adorable as he carefully placed the presents underneath the sparkling lit up tree, not forgetting to sign each kids name upon their respective gifts before so.

You also notice a plate littered with cookie crumbs, broken carrots, and an empty milk cup to the left of him.

Oh how you love this man.

“Hey, Santa.” And he jumps at the sudden noise, whipping his head around to find you leering behind the wall.

“You scared me, sugar. I’m almost done placing these under the tree, if you want to help?”

You make your way over to him, wrapping your arms around his strong body and squeezing tight.

“I love you, Changbin.” Voice and tone softening, pressing your head into his chest. “You’re seriously the best thing I could ask for.”

“I love you too, my baby.” He places his hand on head, stroking the soft strands softly as you stand there, absorbed in each-other and the sound of fire cracking in the distance.

You lift your head up and place your lips on his, feeling the hand he had placed on your hair moving to your waist.

It’s sweet and daunting, something that’s been the one of your favorite parts of your marriage. The soft, tender, and sweet.

The feeling of being warm and fuzzy, wrapped in a blanket woven with love and comfort is what you felt whenever he kissed you.

It could be an intimate moment or a somber one, but it always gave you the same kind of warmth inside, and you loved it.

A creak of wood mixed with a small gasp takes you out of both your thoughts and the kiss, turning your head around towards the stairs.

There stood Nari, holding her hand over her mouth with the most shocked look in her eyes.

“Daddy! Daddy! Mom’s kissing Santa Claus!” She shouted, pointing towards him and attempting to scream once more, but you run up to her in time to stop her.

“Shhh! Somi and Do-Won are still asleep!” You shush, sighing as you crouch back up from where you were silencing her with the palm of your hand.

Changbin stands frozen, a blush and awkwardness written all over his face. You giggle, seeing as Nami’s eyes drift from Changbin to the glittering stack of presents underneath the tree.

“Ooh! Can I open them now? Mommy pleaseee.” She whines, and she looks positively adorable. “Not without your siblings, Nari. It’s time to go to bed.”

She groans and whines as you pick her up, cradling her in your arms.

“Uhm. I’ll see you later, ba— I mean Santa!” You stammer, walking up the stairs and sighing once more.

He watches as you make your way up the stairs, feeling his heart swell at the cute moment of you with Nari.

His little family, the same family that woke up the next morning, eyes filled with amazement and joy as they opened up their various gifts.

The comfort and joy it brought his heart is incomparable, not matching with pretty much any joy he’s experienced.

It felt like pure, indescribable love, and he couldn’t get over it.

Neither could you.

[seolar-system]

This was kinda cute ngl 🥺

read the patterns - s. changbin

seo changbin x female!reader | fwb, angst, fluff, suggestive, one small smut scene | wc: 3.6k | notes: he’s an oblivious idiot, she’s aware of that; dialogue heavy; i like it by skz meets read your mind by sabrina carpenter

~~~~~~

“so you’re saying we don’t have a relationship similar to valentines, did i get it right?”

“yeah, i mean– we do some stuff they do, but it’s just the difference between a dotted line and a solid line, you know?” he explained, still naked on your bed while you got ready to work. “i like what we have, no need to go that deep.”

you stared him down, trying not to laugh.

“then you won’t be upset if we can’t see each other for a while?”

“what would be the reason?”

“i don’t know, i might be too busy or overwhelmed to meet up and have sex.”

“we’ve spent time together with no sex before, so give me another reason.”

“now you see, that’s valentines behavior right there,” you pointed out. “since we’re not friends to avoid deeper intimacy, why should we spend time together doing things other than sex?”

changbin narrowed his eyes, suspicious.

“are you trying to end what we have, is that it?”

finally, you broke out laughing.

“no! i just find it funny that you give me all these goofy punch lines while doing the exact opposite,” you cleared, walking closer to the bed. “i’ll give you some time to read the patterns, but if you refuse to accept them, i’ll have to change our dynamics for the type of relationship you really want.”

when changbin tried to pull you back to bed, you were quicker to escape, going for your bag over your desk.

“can’t be late today, bin,” you warned. “you can sleep longer, but don’t forget to wash your dishes and make the bed before you leave.”

“why are you telling me what to do? did i ever forget?” he whined.

“no, you didn’t, exactly. that’s pattern number one.” you threw him a wink and left the room.

changbin whined your name again, making you hold a smile. you pressed the elevator button with thoughts wandering around your non-established relationship with the man on your bed. you were well aware of his bad experiences with dating before, that’s what gave you the patience to deal with his detachment speeches. the thing was that changbin was the clingiest friend with benefits to ever exist– the sex is amazing, of course, but what made you stay was his attentive demeanor, his dedication to make you feel the best in bed, to prioritize your pleasure, to make you want to come back.

since you lived quite far from each other, both agreed to spend the night and just leave in the morning for safety reasons. changbin was the one to pitch the idea, to be honest– on your third night together.

“i don’t believe it’s safe for you to go home right now, so just stay the night,” he said, head buried on the curve of your neck, pressing slow lazy kisses on your skin.

“oh, so you’re making up an excuse to cuddle me?” you asked, eyes closed, enjoying the aftercare way too much.

“i mean, i won’t be rude and tell you to leave. i’m thinking of your safety, if you’re safe while cuddling me, what can i do?”

you gave a light slap on his thigh resting over your waist.

“yeah, alright. is cooking included in the package? ‘cause i’m getting hungry.”

changbin raised his head, you could visualize a cartoon light bulb right in the air.

“i can cook in the morning, but my favorite diner is open until late,” he announced. “your feedback might affect your next orgarms for the night.”

you frowned at his choice of words, but couldn’t help an endearing laugh.

“is it that important to you?”

“oh, you have no idea.”

“then call them, i’m gonna shower while you’re at it.”

changbin giggled and jumped off the bed to reach for his phone.

the food was actually amazing, so he made you come at least three times before you blacked out on his arms. the breakfast didn’t happen, though, you had to leave as soon as you woke up for a work meeting. the tiredness of the night before almost made you late, but you went through it even with your focus far away from your apartment.

changbin’s excuse to stay the night at your place was that the streets weren’t safe for anyone to drive that late.

“that’s when drunk people go out there and mess up everything. do you mind me staying?”

“to cuddle as well?”

“that’s non-negotiable.”

in fact, these late night hook ups weren’t usual. the first time was after a daytime party for your friends engagement, two months ago, the first time you really met changbin in person. you knew him from pictures with your friend's fiance, but never crossed paths until that very day. lots of talking, dancing, laughing and flirting later, you ended up at his apartment with no clothes on and a pretty fun afternoon.

you decided to leave in the evening, since you also weren’t looking for attachment – even though changbin’s number was already saved with a promise of another good time soon. your hookups were planned to be whenever one of you needed a release, so the first rule was to respect each other's free periods on the day.

“i have no fixed hours, so you might not get lucky sometimes,” you warned.

“guess i’ll just have to sadly handle it myself.” he shrugged.

you took the opportunity to bring up another topic.

“do you plan on doing it with other people?” your eyes didn’t leave his.

“i don’t think so, it’s not easy to match the chemistry these days,” he answered honestly. “but i can’t give you the hopes of a deeper commitment, i’m not available for that.”

you turned your body to lay over his, pressing a peck on his lips, “don’t worry about it. this is fun as it is.”

“they say the trailer is always the most fun part, anyway.” he cocks a brow, smirking.

“oh, so you got some punch lines? nice to know what i’m getting into.”

changbin laughed, pulling you closer to kiss you properly. the rest was history.

~~~~~~

“bin,” you whispered in the darkness of your room.

he was sleeping right beside you. it took one more grind of your ass over his crotch to take a hum out of him.

“need me, baby?”

“please, put it in me, this wet dream won't let me go back to sleep.”

with one hand, you took off your panties, with the other, you played with his cock over his pajama shorts. his left arm goes under to hug you by the waist, keeping you close enough to still allow you to roll back onto him. he left kisses all over your shoulder, aware that you were in the mood to be his pillow princess. which was okay with him — changbin loved being your service top.

“oh, i’m so lucky… having the best pussy just for me,” he moaned, trusting slowly from behind. he holds your right knee up to your stomach so he could have more access to your creamy hole. “is it okay, baby? want me to go harder? talk to me.”

“i'm so tired and sensitive, just want to go back to sleep,” you whine, playing with your nipples and pressing harder against him.

he gets the message and speeds it up, pounding harder, making your whines go louder.

~~~~~~

things started to get weird when changbin got teased by your friends in common. during a dinner hang out in dan and aeri’s apartment, changbin got comfortable enough to have you sitting on his lap while everyone was around in the living room. no one was drinking, to be fair, everyone had work and classes the following day, so a hangover wasn’t an option. changbin was holding a cup of juice on the hand that wasn’t around your waist, you were holding a small plate of snacks to share with him.

later that night, the line was dropped:

“oh, but it’s so nice to see changbin being as married as aeri and dan!”, jun cheered.

“right? thought it would take longer to see our bin this happy again,” yujin agreed, the biggest smile on her face.

you could feel him tense slightly under you.

“thank you, everybody. glad to know you were paying that much attention to me, i feel very loved,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue.

being too busy chewing on your food, you just smiled at the interaction. everyone was aware of changbin’s issues with commitment, everyone was aware that he wouldn’t be the one to admit that the joke wasn’t that much of a joke, after all.

when they changed the target to another friend, you thought it would be fun to keep on teasing him by yourself.

“guess i gotta take our marriage off my vision board now?” you whispered, putting a snack on his mouth to shut him up and make him think first.

changbin narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. he licked his lips, then left a small kiss on your arm.

“you better hide this hypothetical vision board when i’m around, or else i’ll have to take two steps back.”

he said that with such a cute smile that your reaction must have been what he expected for his comeback teasing. your smile wavered instantly, so you averted your gaze to the conversation happening outside your bubble. your body that felt so comfortable against his, started to feel itchy to get out of there as soon as possible– but you didn’t, you didn’t want to make a scene for something you knew was bound to happen.

“hey, i didn’t mean i don’t want to know about your plans, of course i do.” he squeezed your thigh softly to get your attention back.

“no, you’re right. honestly, i think we’re doing everything wrong at this point,” you mumbled, trying to be discreet. the mood obviously changed, but you hoped that you two were invisible in the room.

“what do you mean by that?” changbin asked, confused.

“aeri, where did you find these goodies? they don’t sell this flavor in my area.”

your friend got up excited, as if willing to share her newest discovery. she took you to the kitchen the showed you the pile of snacks she stocked for a week. aeri gave you two packs – for you and changbin, but you immediately let her know that those would be just for you.

“how are things in paradise?” she asked, leaning against the counter.

“been good, but i realized changbin has a twisted idea of a friends with benefits dynamic, so i’ll have to remind him of how it’s done.”

aeri watched you carefully, letting silence take the room. she didn’t have to search for disappointment on your features, it was pretty evident.

“yeah, it’s time he gets shaken up,” she agrees. “he’ll be a real loser if he lets you go.”

you gave her a faint smile, nodding. before sad thoughts took over your brain, you decided to leave, it was getting late– of course aeri didn’t believe it one bit, but she hugged you goodbye anyways. on the other hand, changbin was alert when you returned to the living room. he got ready to leave as well, hugging everybody while pretending he wasn’t the reason for your sudden change of mood.

the silence remained in the elevator and all the way to his car. changbin’s brain was overworking to come up with a solution for his mistake. unlike him, you looked oddly calm.

“y/n,” he decided to break the wall. “i’m really sorry for what i said. i didn’t mean to be insensitive about your plans.”

you shook your head, eyes on the street. “that’s not what upset me, actually,” you admited, changbin frowned. “i just realized i already told you about all of them, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

“what? why wouldn’t you?”

“because this isn’t what a sex-based relationship is about.”

“alright, no need to be rude,” he couldn’t help but scold you. “i never said i wasn’t interested in your life, i never said it was all about sex.”

“didn’t i tell you to read the patterns? did you even try?"

changbin paused, being able to look at you properly after stopping at the red light.

“i thought you were joking. i know i have crossed some lines, but–”

“you have crossed all of them, bin, that’s what i want you to realize.” he went silent. “i’m not ending things, i’m just acting differently from now on, like it’s supposed to be.”

a few minutes later, changbin parked in front of your building. he waited for your invitation, not sure if he was still welcome.

“you can come up, if you want,” you say, grinning when his face brightened a bit. “but there won’t be cuddles nor staying the night.”

his face fell again.

“but, baby, look at the time…”

“you can risk it tonight, that’s your call. we can give up the nightly hookups too.”

“stop teasing me, i’m warning you,” he said, his voice lower.

changbin took the car to your building’s parking lot, then you waited for the elevator together. you could feel his hand restless near yours, so you intertwined your fingers with his, feeling him relax. he didn’t stop looking at you once you got inside. for the both of you, it was not a thing to make out in public, but changbin hadn’t kissed you in what seemed like hours, so it was freaking difficult to stay sane in that moment.

as soon as you locked your door, changbin grabbed your waist to pull you closer, but you turned away when he tried to kiss you.

“we won’t get freaky tonight, okay? don’t want you too tired to drive back home later.”

changbin let out a frustrated goan locked his fingers on the back of your neck, tearing a moan out of you.

“baby, please, just shut the fuck up and let me give you what you deserve.”

~~~~~~

in the following days, changbin got busy with a project and you got overworked by your boss, so you couldn’t meet even once. the pent up stress joined the sadness of not being able to talk about it with changbin. you were aware that it was probably immature to just let him out like that, but you couldn’t give him all of yourself if he wouldn’t do something about it. changbin was the proud one in the situation, you were so tired and fragile to give him an ultimatum.

“is he fucking dumb, aeri?” you cried once. “how can he act that way and not actually be with me as a boyfriend? am i the only one fucking loving? didn’t i prove enough that i’m not his ex?”

aeri hugged you while dan prepared a cup of tea in the kitchen.

“i’m being honest when i say yes, he might be fucking dumb,” dan uttered from afar. “changbin is contradicting himself with this detachment shit. he’s unable to not care about someone’s feelings.”

“darling, don’t be wordy,” aeri advised, which made you laugh a little.

“y/n, i felt really sorry for bin when his ex messed him up.” dan returned holding two cups, giving to you and aeri. he held a finger up as a sign to wait, then he came back with his own cup. “but it’s been over a year, that’s why everybody jokes about him being happier, it isn’t actually a joke.”

“yeah, it’s clear as day that you and bin make a pretty good match”, aeri added. “he might be scared, but these actions are starting to hurt you because it’s obvious you’re not just friends with benefits anymore.”

you sniffled, less tears falling. the warm cup on your palms helped grounding you, somehow.

“i’m so fucking overwhelmed, i just wanted to feel safe with him.”

~~~~~~

the next day, all of changbin’s texts to you stayed on read.

bini: good morning, baby

bini: day off today, uh? any plans?

bini: how did that project go?

bini: my friend took me to the cutest ice cream shop yesterday

bini: let me know whenever you’re craving for it

bini: they have your favorite order there

bini: hey, answer me when you wake up

bini: was thinking of taking you out to lunch

bini: you’re probably overworked as always

bini: please take care of yourself

in the afternoon, you looked over the blanket to see your phone vibrating. changbin was calling.

“hey,” you picked up, not even a bit of excitement in your tone.

“sleeping late today?”

“no, just rotting in bed, actually.”

“everything okay? do you need anything?”

“just an awful week at work. i’ll hang out with aeri later, see if i can cheer up.”

“did you check my texts? i can come over right now, if you want. i’m an amazing company, as you know.”

“not in the mood for sex today, bin.”

“what? didn’t even think of it!”

you sigh, no energy left to have that conversation.

“well, you should. that’s all we have in common. don’t try crossing the line you created yourself.”

“y/n, don’t be stubborn, i want to take care of you.”

“you don’t have to, it’s not part of your role.”

“is this some kind of sick punishment? why are you doing this? i am your friend.”

“no, you’re not. the only time i get to be vulnerable with you is when we’re horny in bed, that’s all. my struggles outside our rooms are none of your business because that would require a level of intimacy that you made sure i knew is forbidden,” you ramble without noticing. “so, no, changbin, you can’t take care of me because i’m just your fuck buddy. i’ll text you when i get better, when i feel like i can be a good partner to you again, alright?”

“yeah, sorry. i get it, i’ll wait for you.”

but you didn’t hang up, you waited for him to do it. far from that cheesy couple action of not wanting to hang up first, you heart hurt just to think of doing it– distancing yourself.

you only realized you’d started crying when you heard his voice again.

“i’ll be there in ten. can you leave the door open for me, baby?”

you sniffled, just mumbling a weak “yes”. you heard the sound of keys and changbin moving around.

“just wait for me, okay? i’ll be with you in a few.”

then he hung up, leaving you with your heart on your sleeve. you got up from the bed and went to the door, unlocking it. after drinking some water in the kitchen, you got back in your room, throwing yourself over the sheets. didn’t take long for you to fall asleep again, burnout messing up your sleep schedule for a couple days now.

changbin woke you up in the softest way possible. he patted your hair carefully to bring you out of your slumber– it was great to see his face again as you opened your eyes.

“hi, baby.”

“hi,” you said. wasting no time to cuddle him by the waist, forcing him to lay down and get comfortable with you.

changbin left a kiss on the top of your hair, feeling your heartbeat due to how close you were.

“i’m sorry for being such a stubborn dumbass,” he started. “thank you for being so patient, for waiting as long as you could. sorry i couldn’t wait for you like i said i would today– couldn’t handle the thought of having you crying by yourself.”

“so you came to cry with me?” your voice was muffled by his shirt.

“of course, that’s part of my role as your friend and your boyfriend.”

silence again.

“that’s not the best way to make it official.”

“probably, but the label’s been here for a while, we just had to voice it out.”

“yeah, that’s why we all agreed you’re fucking dumb sometimes.”

“don’t tell me ‘we all’ includes dan and aeri.”

“won’t tell you, then.”

changbin changed his position to put you on your back, facing him. he used his thumb to get rid of the tear paths on your face, then started pressing kisses all over.

“i wasn’t planning to fall in love, but loving you is the easiest thing in the world,” he said, eyes locked on yours. “the only thing making me scared was my own memory of a bad time, ‘cause you never got me triggered, ever.”

you nodded, biting your lower lip nervously.

“i’m terribly sorry for pushing you away with my words, i know i can be quite contradictory.”

“speak your truth, cuddle monster.”

changbin’s eyes widened, hands immediately going to tickle your ribs. he couldn’t even be offended, he actually felt relieved knowing that you read his patterns so well.

“you know i’m sorry for your past experiences, and i’m glad you didn’t change your ways of affection, that’s what made me fall in love,” you stated. “i didn’t believe your goofy lines once, but you had to get a reality shock for your own good.”

his smile got bigger before kissing you softly. his tongue touched yours with an electric wave that came from longing and loving each other so much.

“have you eaten? we can cry together about your work and then i can cook you something,” changbin offered, playing with your hair.

“can we cry while you cook, though? i’m feeling hungry right now.”

“however you want it, baby.”

[seolar-system]

My heart... This is so cute

Love Letters

Gryffindor! Seo Changbin x Ravenclaw! reader

Genre(s): Harry Potter/hogwarts au!, ABSOLUTE FLUFF, one scene of angst but that’s it, acquaintances(?) to lovers (Reader has a crush on Changbin but they aren’t quite friends???), feat. the rest of skz (mainly Felix, Jisung, Bangchan, and Jeongin though…)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of self-doubt, but that’s about it :)

W.C: 12.9k

Summary: Seo Changbin was used to his friends having to turn down confessions left and right, seeing as their little friend group as one of the most popular in the school. He convinced himself he didn’t care if nobody ever had interest in him, as it seemed liked such a hassle. That is, until he receives finds a box of chocolates and a love note from his “secret admirer”

A/N: I originally had this idea for Chan, but I feel like Changbin doesn’t get enough love these days and I am such a big simp for Binnie, so here we are. I also love different AUs, and Hogwarts is by far one of my favourites. And with the recent controversy of the stupid game coming out, this is a better way to indulge in the HP universe without supporting Transphobia and Antisemitism, so I hope you enjoy!

Everybody, look how cute he is

Keep reading

[seolar-system]

"He's so damn intrigued"

You and me both

Diversion - SCB - 3/?

pairing: officer changbin x femreader (korean native - several years older)

genre: angst, crime, s2l, eventual smut

word count: 4k

trigger warnings for this chapter only: some suggestion in dialogue and thoughts, toplessness, appearance of a gun in an almost threatening manner, consideration of using the other for ulterioir motives, still very tame methinks

rating: 18+/M

summary: Set a year after the events of Catalyst, officer seo visits Jeju to see old friends and get away from the city. He meets a local and finds out that someone can see everything he’s hiding.

a/n: sorry this has been so long without an update. the brain has been very reticent on finishing this chapter. hopefully that won't occur again (HA!). note at the bottom about physical descriptions

series masterlist ~ ch 1 ch2

Chapter Three

The morning after Changbin moves into the loft, you don’t sleep well. It’s restlessness. A particular kind of restlessness. You’re not so naive to deny that you find him attractive. You aren’t blind. Nor in the little that you know, is his character unappealing. The fact that he’s willing to try tea despite being skeptical makes him open-minded. And you will always appreciate an open-minded person. Especially in the little village you’ve grown up in. 

You’re up stupidly early due to said restlessness. The morning chill is far sharper as you and Amadeus stroll to the shop. You need to go food shopping, but there’s always something more interesting at your store than at home, so breakfast will be at your place of commerce. Amadeus curls up in front of the small oven that you preheat. You look up at the ceiling, thinking about your new tenant and though you aren’t planning to set a precedent to serve him, perhaps a nice simple breakfast would be welcome. 

It’s a compulsion for you. To consider your teas, your food options and try and tailor it to the individual not only based on what you know about them, but also the time of day, the weather, etc. The cold means a warm breakfast, but you have no idea when he’ll get up, so it needs to be something that can sit for awhile without going bad. You cut fruit, stealing (is it stealing if it’s yours?) pieces to pop into your mouth. The water in the kettle on the stove boils and whistles. You pour yourself a matcha, whipping the tea with a bamboo whisk. The first sip is always delightful. 

You don’t think your tenant will necessarily enjoy the same. Nor is matcha as fantastic if it’s sat for minutes. You leave the kitchen to search your many jars on the wall. You grab the jar of assam and then another of licorice root to sweeten. 

Several minutes later, your stomach full of matcha and toast, you carry a drift-wood tray up the stairs. The stairs creak a little, but you hope you don’t disturb whatever rest he’s getting. You bend down to set the tray of tea, toast and local marmalade, and cut fruit in front of his door.

The door whips open and as you look up you see bare skin and dark metal.

Oh, you think, that’s the barrel of a gun.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” the tip of the gun drops instantly and your eyes go back to the bare skin. Your tenant is very much awake and standing in the open doorway in just pajama pants. 

No shirt.

It’s like your brain repeats that phrase because it cannot quite believe it. 

Broad, muscular in the arms especially. When you force your gaze up to his face, you see pink cheeks and his lower lip tucked in his teeth. 

“I heard footsteps and–” He backs up. “I’m so sorry.”

You are having a hard time finding your voice, honestly. You stand, tray back in your hands, desperately trying to keep your focus on his face, not the arms, or the soft stomach.

You might have satiated your hunger for food, but your teeth ache for a purely different reason. 

“I…” How do you word again? “I was up and thought a welcome breakfast might be nice. I didn’t even think…”

He shakes his head. “Of course not,” he forces a laugh. “Who thinks that?” He steps back into the loft before seeming to realize his not-fully-dressed state. “I…Uh…” He drops the gun on the bed and grabs a discarded t-shirt, dragging it over his head quickly. “Sorry…” He comes back to where you stand (you haven’t moved a muscle in several minutes) and takes the tray from you. 

Your restlessness is not helped by the minimal contact of hands with that transfer. 

“I know it’s not coffee…but…” you seem to be finding your ability to put together a sentence again. “It’s–”

“Tea?” He fills in, his smile nearly mega-watt. 

“It’s tea. I think you’ll like it.” You wish you still held the tray because now you can’t figure out what to do with your hands. Even though he’s covered now, all you can see is bare torso. “I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

“Consequences of the job.” He nods to his gun on the bed as he puts down the tray on the small writing desk at the window. “You don’t mind? That I have it?”

“No. I’m sorry that you feel you need it, but I can’t imagine what you’ve seen.”

He meets your gaze, the smile gone. “Yeah…”

“There’s licorice root in the tea, to sweeten it.”

He tilts his head at the change of subject, walking back to the open doorway as you feel odd to enter, so you don’t. “Sweeten it?”

“And it’s good for fatigue.”

He leans on the door frame, far more relaxed. “Really? You think I need that?”

“You don’t?”

He snorts. “Valid.” He crosses his arms. “You normally come to work this early?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Maybe you need the licorice.”

“I’m good.” You clasp your hands together, still awkward without something to occupy your fidgeting. “I’ll leave you to eat…Again, sorry for the wake up call.” You turn to head back down the stairs when you hear:

“Wasn’t all bad.”

–

You open your shop and spend most of the morning finding things to do as customers are few, and your mind is consumed with this morning’s events. Not only the free show of male beauty you got (though you are both grateful for and resentful of), but what kind of life provokes the thought process of creaking stairs to be something threatening enough to have a weapon on hand.

Also, you can mark ‘had a gun pointed at me’ off your bucket list (there is no list, but maybe you should have one). 

When Sheon shows up to take the afternoon shift, you welcome the opportunity to change environments, and get out of the shop and away from your thoughts. Amadeus is more than ready for a walk, and you need to take several packages to the post office, shipping teas to farther places than you’ve been able to go. 

And lunch. You should have lunch.

“Fish?” you ask your dog. “I could go for something freshly caught, what about you?” 

He doesn’t look anti-fish or crustacean, so you plan on seeking a table for galchi jorim after your stop at the post office. The sun has come out today and your coat feels a bit heavy for the warm-ish weather.  You lift your face to take in the chilly daylight when you stop at the crosswalk in the center of town. 

Then you grumble under your breath because across the street as you wait for the light to turn is the police station and who is walking out of it?

Your tenant. 

For all of two minutes or more, while you walked, you forgot about him; his nakedness and his story. 

“Dammit.”

He sees you, almost stumbling in his walk toward the curb across from you. You’d wave, but your arms are full of packages, so you nod instead. The light turns and you walk, now toward him, Amadeus at your side. 

“Can I…can I help?” he asks once you're within earshot. He gestures to the packages. 

“I’m good and I’m just–” He takes several off the top despite. “Why ask if you were just going to do it anyway?”

He grins and takes another. “Social rules.”

“I’m a block away from the post office, I can handle it.”

“Sure you can,” he agrees, walking beside you. “But now I have an excuse to walk with you, and thank you for breakfast.”

You feel your face heat. “Oh. You’re welcome.”

“And to apologize again for the whole..gun pointed at you thing.”

“Yes, well, certainly not a typical morning in my life in Jeju.”

He chuckles. “Would hate to be typical.”

“Yes, agreed.” I pause at the curb waiting for a car to go by. “Why were you at the station? Reporting your landlady for early morning disturbance?”

He laughs fully before crossing the street to the post office before you, shifting the packages into one arm so he can open the door for you. 

“Yes, but they won’t prosecute. Said her tea is too good.”

You hear your name as you walk in. You nod to the postal worker, walking up to the counter with your hoard. Changbin follows behind you, placing what he carried next to yours. You see the worker’s expression, the question on her lips, but you speak quickly about the packages, asking for them to send you the invoice (they always do, but reminding them verbally at this moment seems a good choice).

“You don’t need anything else from me, right?” you ask, already moving away from the counter. 

The worker shakes her head, and you can see that she wants to ask, but will hold off since Changbin is there. You might get accosted by questions next time you run into her, but for now, you’re safe. 

It isn’t until you’re both out the doors that he answers your original question. 

“I find it’s always good to let the local force know there’s an officer around. In case they need another person, or find out that I have a weapon, etc. It just makes it less of a pissing match if there’s any confrontation in the future.”

“That makes sense.” You look over at him before rubbing Amadeus’s head as you both walk toward the restaurant. “How did you find our local constabulary? Small town hicks? Impressive yet tiny?”

He half-grins. “Typical. And nice enough.”

“Sounds about right.” You haven’t had a lot of interaction, though two deputies you went to school with, though that hardly recommends them for authority. “Amadeus and I are about to have lunch. Would you like to join us?”

Changbin looks at your dog. “Is he okay with company?”

“I thought we established that you aren’t a threat.”

He meets your gaze, and it’s brief, but the kiss; the most chaste kiss you’ve ever given or received flashes through your memory.  

“We could again.”

Then he smiles and chuckles like his words don’t seize your heart in a way that you haven’t felt in a couple years. The teasing, the light flirting is pleasant and ridiculously cute from this man. 

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Amadeus doesn’t mind.” You continue leading the way. “I don’t either. Unless you have plans?”

“Just to check out the two local gyms.”

You make a face, unable to hold back your mild distaste for exercise. “You could jog on the beach. It’s much prettier.”

His smile doesn’t diminish as you both cross another street. “Not really in it for cardio.”

Your eyes fall to his arms, like his words just forced you to. “Ah. I guess I can’t help with that.”

–-

Changbin isn’t really interested in eating (okay, he is, but he had planned to work out first), but your invitation was too tempting to decline. He watches as you walk in and greet those who work there. Amadeus just stops at the front door and finds a spot to sit. The dog’s eyes watch Changbin as he enters.

Still not sure if the dog actually minds him or not. 

“I’m getting the galchi jorim,” you tell him as he stands next to you. “What would you like? My treat.”

He shakes his head immediately. “You got breakfast, I can get lunch.” In the corner of his eyes he sees you look away at his mention of breakfast and he wonders if he might be too bold with you, especially in public where listening ears can interpret anything and everything. “Galchi jorim sounds good.” The menu is plastered above the counter, photos matching each dish. His stomach grumbles. 

You huff. “You can’t get the same thing.”

“No?”

“No.” You’re firm about this. “Get abalone and razor clams. We’ll share.”

He doesn’t argue, nor questions the familiarity you assume with such a plan. He likes it. He likes that you know so little about who he is and seem comfortable with him anyway. That’s not usually his experience with people.

He pays as you go find a table, but not before getting a rib bone from one of the workers for Amadeus. He sees the workers eye him closely, then you, and it’s intriguing. He hasn’t dealt with small communities all that much in Busan. 

When he sits across from you, sipping his water, he asks: “Is it because I’m a mainlander that they’re staring?”

You look over at the people working diligently then out the door to where Amadeus is chewing happily. 

“Uh.” You shrug. “A bit. Probably.”

There’s more to be said. He just waits, enjoying seeing you not as cool and confident as usual. He won’t forget how almost agitated you were this morning. He’s sure his gun has to do with it. But maybe not all of it. 

“It’s more seeing me with someone?” you continue. “Small town means everyone knows everyone.”

“You don’t do lunch with strange men?”

You chuckle. “No. Not in a lot of years.”

He’s not sure how that’s possible. The sun is out and the way it filters through the windows of the restaurant and falls on your hair is stunning. His friends rag on him that he falls easily, but they’re wrong. He admires easily. People can be beautiful, and he seems to see the beauty more easily than others. That’s all.

He observes, it’s part of his job and with a job that takes over his entire life, it’s become part of his personality. You wear a modern hanbok, male or female style, as comfortably as you wear jeans and a sweater. You are confident with your place in the world as far as he can tell, and he is more than impressed by it. And you. 

“So, it’s likely that they’ll be thinking all kinds of things because we’re eating together,” you say in way of apology. 

Being linked to you is nothing to apologize for. He wonders if the locals think he’s worthy. “Must be nice to have that kind of time.”

“Must be.” 

“You know everyone then?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. I couldn’t name every single person in the kitchen, but…” You ponder, looking off somewhere as though the words are just waiting to be seized by you. 

He likes your eyes. Compassionate, very honest. He’s still a bit shaken at how well you seem to read him, but he can’t see not being around you. Not just as his landlady, to use your word, but you could be useful. 

He mentally recoils from the thought. Useful. What a terrible way to look at a person. 

“I know how everyone is connected,” you finish your sentence. “Like, I might not know the dishwasher’s name, but I know he’s cousin to one of the lawyers in town.”

The food arrives and you clap lightly in excitement. Seems you enjoy food like you enjoy tea. He doesn't say much as you explain why their galchi jorim is the best. 

You grew up here. You know every person which means you know when someone isn’t from here.

That kind of knowledge would be extremely helpful. 

“Here,” you serve several scoops of the stew into a separate bowl. “For you.”

“Thanks.” 

Your smile is bright. He imagines that you haven’t lived your life without difficulty but it’s hard to see the remnants of struggle in how you speak and live your life. 

It won’t hurt to get to know you more. To be close. If you ever noticed anyone that didn’t belong, you could tell him. He could ask, right? He doesn’t have to explain why he needs to know.

How close could he get? His eyes drift to your neck, bare as it isn’t as chilly today. 

Hella appealing. 

“How is it?” you ask.

He’s taken several bites, but not really paid attention. So he takes another, pondering.

“Pretty great.”

“I know, right?”

There’s only so much he can get out of Hwang and his partner without making them suspicious. He’d like to keep them ignorant the entire time if he can. Both of them have been through enough. 

He can use you.

Again, his mind chastises him for thinking of a person, you, that way. But he can’t risk it. 

And honey trapping you isn’t the worst thing. If he even can. That’s never been his role. His stature tends to be more intimidating than alluring. 

“You’re thinking really hard about the abalone right now.”

He startles and meets your gaze. You look knowing and that scares him. How much can you read him? 

Maybe getting close is risky. He wouldn’t want to put you in danger. The tea-lady in Jeju who serves him breakfast just because.

Fuck, he really doesn’t want screw your life up.

“Well, it’s really good,” he replies.

“Sure.” You prop your head up on your hands, watching him. “Was it a investigation that went bad?”

“Huh?”

“Why you’re using your time off now?”

“Oh.” The case was over a year ago. Does it still count? 

“You don’t have to tell me, but I feel like you’d stop thinking so much if you just got it out.”

He snorts. “What if I’m not thinking at all? I’m just completely blank.”

You point at him, specifically at his forehead. “That is not your problem at all, Seo Changbin. I can see those gears turning. You’re on vacation. You can just be.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that.”

You smile. “That’s okay. I can help.”

“Yeah?” He mimics your posture. “If it includes meditation, you’re fighting a losing battle.”

Your laugh is guileless, almost innocent in its freedom. “I don’t think I’ve ever even attempted meditation. I don’t know if I could ever empty my mind.”

The conversation slows as you both enjoy the food. Being from Busan means Changbin knows good seafood, and Jeju, or this restaurant at least, doesn’t fail to impress him. 

“Thank you again for lunch, even though it wasn’t necessary.”

“I’m good for it,” he reassures you. 

“You should be using your money on you, and your vacation.”

He smirks, holding back any flirty comment about taking you out. He’s already said a few things that surprise him, in just knowing you all of a few days. And if he makes you uncomfortable, it’ll make staying in your shop difficult; make seeking you out for the peace of your company tough. 

“So,” you set your chopsticks down. “You’ve known her since middle school?”

Though his smile is fond, his brain sifts through the details of his teen years and beyond, working on how to present them for a civilian. 

“Yeah. Hwang and I, and some others, worked for her dad. Both a boss and a mentor in some ways.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?” You reach over and steal another clam. 

“Errands mostly. The basic grunt work.” He’ll have to make something up if you want more specifics. 

“See if you could hack it?”

“Yeah, something like that.” 

“And could you?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, thoughts spinning back to those years, the end of high school and Park-nim’s designations for him and his friends at that time. Lee and Hwang booked tattoo appointments that very day. 

“He saw something very different for me.” 

Your eyes lose a little of the happy spark. “How so?”

“He was the one who recommended the police university.” He sees your eyes fall to where his rubs his arm. He stops, not even realizing he had done so.

“And your friends?”

“All worked for him, until he passed away several years ago. One of them took over the business. Does a really good job.” Minho makes Changbin’s job extra difficult, but that’s to be expected. 

You’re quiet for a few seconds. “That would be hard.”

“Huh?” He grabs another slice of cuttlefish so he doesn’t reveal any more. 

“I mean, you were the only one doing something different. Feels like it’d be kind of isolating.”

He swallows, eyes darting away from yours. You really do have a way of seeing beyond the surface. 

“I guess.”

“I mean, I’m sure you are great at it.”

“I could be terrible.”

“I don’t think you would allow yourself to be terrible at anything.” You answer so quickly, so sure of it that he goes silent. “But if all your friends are there, working for her dad. And you’re in cop college…. Not that you couldn’t make new friends,” you reassure, making him grin. “But…it’d feel like everyone got an invitation to the party, but you didn’t.”

A few moments of quiet again as he wraps his head around what you’ve just thrown out there. He’s never put it into words, but: 

“It’s disconcerting,” he begins. “How you seem to read me so well. Even shit I haven’t thought of.”

You look embarrassed at his observation, your feet tapping the wood boards beneath your feet. “It really is a byproduct of the job. No one comes to a tea shop for just tea.” You look outside, possibly for Amadeus. “Sorry if it’s too much.”

He stares at you for several seconds. “No. Not at all.” It probably is too much, given his life and his work, but he can’t feel bothered by it. He supposes most people want to feel seen.

Even him.

You consider each other. He tries to keep things hidden even while making eye contact. The seriousness fades with the seconds passing. 

“Was Hyunjin always annoyingly gorgeous?”

Changbin laughs. “Like…it was less obvious in those awkward puberty years, but yeah. We mocked him for being so pretty because what else could we humble him with?”

You giggle. “I actually understood the word ‘gobsmacked’ the first time I saw him.”

“He’s never let it die that he’s taller too.” 

“Are you insecure about your height?”

He shakes his head. 

“Good.”

That makes him look at you closely. Is your confidence sincere? Do you just say things with assurance that it’s fact? 

More laughter, more eating; the conversation veering to more casual subjects: the types of tourists that visit, his silliest call to go investigate, how it’s more paperwork and deescalating than anything else. 

You’ve both eaten your fill, and it’s time to part ways. Amadeus joins you when you head outside. You look past Changbin and half-grin.

“They really are going to gossip about me and you.”

He looks back and the workers busy themselves at his attention.

“I feel like I should do something really drastic just to mess with them.” When he looks back at you, there’s something in your eyes. 

He really could get close to you if he wanted to. You seem more than open to him.

It burns in his stomach, a heat that tempts. 

“Probably should keep that up your sleeve for now. At least until you decide on which gym to frequent. They might reject you if you cause public disturbances regularly.”

He laughs. “Right. Good point.” He reaches out to see if Amadeus will return the gesture. The wolf-dog eyes his hand for several seconds before affirming that he’s okay and moves to nose Changbin’s fingers. 

You smile at the interaction.

“Where to for you? Back to hocking your wares?”

Your smile widens. “No. It’s nice to have an assistant for that very purpose. I’ll probably spend time at the greenhouse.”

He tilts his head to the side. “I didn’t see one?”

“It’s not near the shop. There wasn’t space.” You cross your arms, intrigued. “Did you walk the perimeter?”

“Of course.”

Your arms drop. “Of course. That’s how you live.”

You’re seeing too much again and he starts to walk backwards, back toward the center of town. “Have fun?”

“It’s usually fun. Maybe you might help me at some point?”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “I’m not sure I have a green thumb.”

You are also walking backwards, toward the shore. “Maybe you haven’t tried yet, Mr. Seo. I feel like you have no idea what you are capable of.” You speak to Amadeus to follow you before waving at him. He tries not to watch you go, but it’s hard. 

He’s so damn intrigued. 

--

a/n2: okay, so i wanted to describe changbin's torso well, and here's my thing: i don't know how to say that he doesn't have rock hard abs in a way that sounds flattering. because i mean it in the best possible way. he's healthy, he eats, he takes good care of himself, but he's not dehydrated or whatever to make himself have a six/eight-pack. AND I LOVE THAT FOR HIM! anyway, i tried to present him as i think he might actually be and if that sounds at all insulting, i'm sorry. i did my best. i personally don't want a man who has the 'perfect' body. i want a human.

--

© yoongihan 2024. please do not steal, translate, repost, or whatever. stray kids belong to themselves and all idols used in this piece are just the inspiration for characters and do not in any way reflect the actual humans. 

[seolar-system]

Gosh really love Tattoo-artist Changbin and the characters. Really looking forward to more

Under Your Skin 03 — s.changbin

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➮ tattoo artist!Changbin × fem!Reader summary: Everything seemed to fall into place for Y/N. She had a loving boyfriend, her dream job, and the bestest friend in the universe. She never thought her life was missing something until she was introduced to Changbin, the town's newest tattoo artist who happens to be harboring an unimaginable secret. genres/themes/au: angst, fluff, smut, slow burn, “forbidden” love, strangers to lovers; supernatural themes; non idol au, tattoo artist au, werewolf au, supernatural au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, alcohol consumption, established boyfriend!Joshua (please note this story does NOT include cheating)

series taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @x-woozi @candidupped @snow-pegasus @brownieracha @avyskai @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @biribarabiribbaem @mchslut @hgema @oiminho @ughyeka @honey-lemon-goose @fixation-dump @sleeplessdawn @changbinnss @racha-enthusiast @sanjoongie @chillllllli @nattisbored @chrollosforehead @tai-loves-skz @labyrinthonmymind @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @mamieishere @mariesakamari @buttergumz @emithecharmer @binnies-donuts @v3n0mszn @kazzilla @jihanlovic @thezombiepandaleague @moonl1ghtmuse @woozarts @ateezkeepmysoul

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If you don't see your name, I cannot tag your blog or you've been removed for either being a minor or not having your age listed on your blog. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED. AGELESS BLOGS WILL ALSO BE BLOCKED.

a/n: here we have chapter 3. I lost some steam for this after being so strong in the beginning but I finally finished it. There isn't much to say other than here it is. I finished it lmao it's a slow burn so it'll take some time before we see any Changbin action. I hope you like it and as always, I love feedback and pls consider reblogging if you liked this chapter!

A huge thank you to Sky ☁️ for this entire story idea. Without her late night thoughts, this series wouldn’t even exist. Also a massive thank you to @icybluehosh for her professional input on all things tattoos. Thank you so much for reading this story and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only.

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𝗰𝗵 𝟬𝟯 - 𝗲𝗺𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝘂𝗽𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁

wc: 16.1k «« previous || masterlist || next »»

Soft subtle jazz tones floated through the air as you worked, a soft but catchy beat causing you to bob your head as you tapped your foot.

You’d been working on this new set, a beautiful antique set from Japan. You had finished making the gold paste earlier and were currently applying it to the broken seams of the carafe while Mr. Serizawa worked in the woodshop.

An old couch had been brought into the shop in dire need of restoration. The foam was lumpy and lopsided, the upholstery was ripped and beyond salvaging, and one of the back legs was broken, having splintered off. 

He’d spent most of the previous day stripping the loveseat down to its basics, tossing the old upholstery and foam cushion. You didn’t have much time to watch, having finished painting the details on the English tea set which was drying in the safety of your cabinet.

The whirr of the sander had been drowned out long ago as you listened to the music Mr. Serizawa put on instead. He did it as a courtesy to your ears but you’d learned a long time ago how to tune out the noise while you worked. 

You held two pieces of ceramic together, joining them at their seam with glue and once it set, you placed them aside to finish drying before you could add the resin. It was tedious work but you loved it all the same. Your eyes wandered to the clock and you were surprised to see it was almost six pm.

You wiped your fingers on your apron as you stood up, grabbing a cloth from your table as you walked over to the door of the woodshop, covering your nose and mouth with the cloth.

You peered in where you saw your boss looking over his work, sanding the wooden surfaces of the couch smooth before applying the stain. You took his break in sanding to call out to him and get his attention.

“It’s almost six pm, Mr. Serizawa!”

He looked up and you had to fight the urge to laugh at his appearance. He had forgotten his goggles and was instead wearing a pair of black sports sunglasses with blue shift lenses and his respirator. He always wore a pair of coveralls when he worked on furniture to protect his clothes from dust, stain, paint, and resin. He looked quite silly.

“Is it really?” he asked, his voice muffled by the mask. You nodded as he lifted the sunglasses.

“You don’t need to stay to close up,” he said as he turned off and set aside the electric sander, stepping over the cord as he moved towards you. “I’ll close up tonight. Shinju is making pork belly for dinner so it will be ready by the time I close up shop,” he added. You smiled at the mention of his wife.

Ever since his call the other day, he reported her progress each day. It filled you with relief that Shinju was doing so well. “Are you sure?” you asked softly as he started to walk back over to the work desk. He nodded, waving you away. “Just make sure to put that finished set out for sale!” he said, pointing as you started to walk away.

You moved to your station and cleaned up your supplies and left the pieces to dry as you opened the cabinet housing the finished English set. Carefully, you gathered all the pieces before closing the door and heading to the front where you set the items on the counter and started to write up a description and figure out a price.

As you were placing the set on one of the shelves, the front door opened. You looked up, expecting a customer but were surprised to see your best friend entering, the soft jingle of the bell echoing around the shop.

“Be right with you!” you heard Mr. Serizawa’s voice from the back. “I’ve got it!” you called back and turned to Lilah who smiled at you as she shut the door. “Is it a bad time?” she asked which you shook your head as you turned back to the shelf and set up the description and price tag.

Lilah walked over to look at the newest addition, leaning in to see all the tiny details.

“You really have a knack for that,” she noted as you moved behind the counter to add the English set to the inventory roster, adding the price and date. “Thanks,” you replied as you set the book back under the counter and looked up at your best friend. She was dressed rather casually you noticed but there was something about her make up that had you second guessing your assumption.

“What’s up?” you asked as she looked at you expectantly. “Are you off?” she asked. You nodded, leaning forward and resting your elbows on the counter. “Good,” Lilah said leaning in as well. “Cause we’ve been invited to a house party.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes, stepping back and moving away from the counter. “Lilah,” you started.

She followed as you walked out from behind the counter and towards the curtain that blocked off the back of the shop. Lilah followed you, pushing the green curtain aside as she stepped into the backroom. “Come on, Y/N!” she whined. You turned to her and noticed Mr. Serizawa peering out from the woodshop door. “Is that Lilah?” he called.

Lilah turned to look over her shoulder. “Hi Mr. Serizawa,” she said politely, greeting him. His face lit up. “Oh good to see you!” he said with a smile. “Make her leave,” he added, nodding towards you as you sat back down behind your desk.

Lilah turned back to you, giving you a smirk as she waited for you to move.

You sighed heavily and stood back up, reaching behind to untie your apron.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to stay, Mr. Serizawa?” you called as you folded and set your apron aside. His head appeared in the doorway into the woodshop again.

“It’s Friday night,” he started. “Go have fun with your friends!”

Lilah smiled brightly, thanking him as she ushered you out of the backroom, grabbing your things hastily in an effort to get out of the building faster. You whined as she shoved you out the front door, allowing it to shut. You glanced back in time to see your boss locking the door and waving you off.

You allowed Lilah to steer you town the sidewalk, no doubt in the direction of the party. “Wait,” you stopped in your tracks, forcing her to halt as well. You glanced down at your outfit and looked back up at her. “You don’t want me to change?” you asked and she smiled, shaking her head.

“You look perfectly fine,” she replied, linking arms with you and starting off down the sidewalk again.

Compared to her outfit, you looked ready to run errands in your peach floral skirt and cream colored blouse. There’s no way Lilah would have deemed this party appropriate under normal circumstances. You stopped her again. “Why do you keep stopping?”

You narrowed your eyes at her. “What’s your deal?” you asked suddenly. “You’d never let me go to a party dressed in my grandma clothes,” you added, using her words, not yours.

Lilah rolled her eyes. “Will you stop,” she asked, taking your arm again. “You look cute right now,” she added as she steered you down the pavement to the end of the block. “It’s just a house party.” 

“And besides,” she continued. “You have a boyfriend, so it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone!” You rolled your eyes as you made a turn at the end of the sidewalk and started down the street that led into a residential area. “And another reason is because we’d have to go to your place and then come all the way back here which would take longer,” she said as you neared the end of the block where you could hear heavy bass coming from one of the houses.

The true reason why she didn’t want you to go home and change. She wanted to save time.

“Are we going to see Chris?” you asked as you neared the house.

It was a medium craftsman style home with a nice sized front porch with the signature columns framing it. The front door was a rich red wood with glass windows at the top. The house was two stories with a small fenced in front yard and a one car driveway leading up to a small garage.

The front door opened as the two of you headed up the steps, a few partygoers exiting just before Lilah shoved you over the threshold.

Inside was like a scene out of a movie. The living room was just off the foyer with a staircase just in front of the door that led up to the second floor. To the left of the foyer was the dining room where the dining table had been moved aside and a beer pong table had been set up.

A crowd was gathered in the dining room watching the current match. Next to the staircase was a hallway that led all the way to the back of the house but you couldn’t see much as it was pretty crowded. Lilah dragged you into the crowd, bypassing the living room where a DJ had set up a table and all his equipment.

Lilah led you into an opening in the wall and into the kitchen.

You wove through the crowd until you reached the kitchen island where the drink station had been set up. Lilah was quick to pour you a drink despite your protesting. “It’s not that strong,” she told you over the bass. You lifted the cup to your lips and took a small sip, amused that she was right.

Lilah finished making her own drink before taking your hand and taking a large sip. She dragged you through the house, no doubt looking for Chris. You kept your wits about you, looking around as you dodged people and danced around them until you were back in the foyer, facing the dining room.

A few people had moved and you could now see on one end of the table was Chris and Minho. ‘They must be one of the teams,’ you told yourself as you sipped your drink. Lilah only waited a moment before dragging you into the mix and worming her way through the crowd until she reached Chris’ side as Minho aimed and bounced the ball in his hand into one of the cups on the opposite side.

Half the crowd erupted into cheers as Chris and Minho celebrated their small victory.

Chris turned from Minho and you watched as his eyes landed on Lilah and even you could see the way his expression changed. It was like no one else was in the room. It was the way Joshua used to look at you.

“Hey!” you heard him say, pulling Lilah into a hug. “You made it!”

You turned your attention to him as he spoke to you. “And you, too?” he asked, offering a hug which you accepted. Despite the empty cups in front of him, he smelled like cologne and not the alcohol you knew he’d consumed since before you even arrived.

“Yeah,” you replied. “She kidnapped me from work!” You nodded at Lilah who smiled sheepishly. Chris turned to look at Lilah, mimicking her grin. “I hope you don’t get in trouble for leaving work,” he replied. You shook your head as Lilah answered him.

“No, in fact, her boss practically kicked her out!”

Chris let out a laugh as he picked up his drink and downed the rest of it. He turned to Minho. “I’m gonna go get a refill,” he announced. Minho nodded nonchalantly before his eyes landed on you and you could have sworn you saw a small smile grace his features before he turned his attention on the opposing team. 

Lilah leaned into your frame to speak directly into your ear. “I’m gonna go help Chris,” she said before downing the rest of her drink and sending you a wink. And just like that, she left you alone.

You looked into your cup, wanting to avoid the gaze of practically everyone.

As you tried to act natural, you felt someone’s gaze on you and glanced up at the side across from Minho and Chris’ and felt your breath catch in your throat.

Changbin was standing with his friend, Jeongguk. They were the opposing team. Jeongguk was sporting a black oversized tee as he usually did but instead of his signature sweats you’d seen him in twice now, he was wearing a pair of jeans and some brown Timberlands.

Changbin on the other hand was dressed for the occasion, wearing a black graphic shirt with white geometric lines and black cargo pants fitted at the ankle and tucked into black combat boots and for the first time you’d ever seen, he was wearing black framed glasses. A pair of dog tags hung from the chain around his neck. Jeongguk was looking at Minho, a very cheeky smile on his lips as he pointed at Minho who glanced down and groaned at seeing a small white ball in one of the cups.

Changbin, however, had his eyes trained on you. His expression was unreadable but when he noticed you looking back, a small smile, almost a shy one, spread across his lips before he looked away. You looked away as well as Lilah and Chris returned with fresh drinks, laughing at some joke you hadn’t heard.

The party raged on around you and you downed your drink. Chris had offered to get you a refill but it was Minho who went instead, despite your protests. Your second drink dwindled quickly and soon you were venturing into the kitchen for something else to sip on.

The pong game had ended after Minho brought your second drink to you and the group had migrated into the kitchen nook, taking up empty seats around the table. Lilah had taken up residence on Chris’ lap and a girl whose name you didn’t know managed to steal Changbin’s lap and make it her spot.

You tried not to watch out of the corner of your eye as the two of them chatted animatedly about his tattoos and as he spoke, he pointed them out to her. You also tried not to pay attention to the way her hand rested on his bicep a little longer than necessary.

Changbin didn’t seem to mind the attention from what you could tell. As you tried to focus on anything else, you noticed in the living room Seungcheol who was leaning into and talking to… Joshua?

Your boyfriend laughed at something Seungcheol said before he caught your eye. He sent a smile your way and turned back to his friend. You managed to find something else to drink and were back at the table, ignoring the way the girl on Changbin’s lap was whispering into his ear.

You tried to focus on the conversation at hand.

“That place was so unsanitary, I’m glad they shut it down,” Ari said from her spot next to Minho who had his arm draped across the back of her chair. “It was an iconic staple!” Lilah argued, turning her head to look at Ari. The blonde rolled her eyes. “You got food poisoning from there like five times, Lil,” she reminded your best friend.

“When did you get food poisoning five times?” you interjected, drawing the attention of half the table.

The girl on Changbin’s lap finally seemed to notice you, giving you a once over before speaking.

“Uh, who the hell are you?” she demanded.

Your attention snapped to her.

You couldn’t focus on her face. Instead, you looked past her at Changbin.

He was looking at her with a look of unmistakable anger. He tapped her back, motioning for her to get up. She got up, still looking at you as he got up and excused himself from the table and disappeared into the crowd.

“She’s my best friend, Pax,” Lilah said sternly. Ari nodded, turning to look at Pax. “Don’t be a cunt, Paxton,” she added. You downed the rest of the liquid in your cup and excused yourself, feeling the overwhelming urge to run away and cry.

It had never bothered you before when some of Lilah’s friends asked who you were but when someone looked at you with such disdain, it really dug deep.

You returned to the kitchen island, glancing around. Joshua was nowhere in sight and you wondered briefly what he was up to. “Hey,” a voice said and you looked up. A man you’d never seen before was standing across from you at the island. “Keep walking buddy,” another voice said and you watched as Minho and Ari passed you, heading for the dance floor.

“Yeah,” Ari added. “She’s taken!”

The two of them disappeared into the dancing crowd, leaving you to the mercy of this talkative stranger.

“So you’re not single I take it?” he asked as you searched through the available drinks. You shook your head. “Nope,” you answered. He leaned in, watching you with brown eyes. “Then where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. You looked up to meet his gaze. 

He was decent looking and who knows. Maybe if you weren’t dating Joshua, you might have taken him up to one of the bedrooms. “He’s around here somewhere,” you replied, sifting through the small trough of ice on the counter, looking through the canned and bottled drinks.

“You should try the punch,” the guy said before winking and standing up straight. “Your boyfriend is a lucky man,” he added before bidding you a goodnight and walking away. Your eyes fell on the bowl of punch and deciding what the hell, you grabbed a clean cup and reached for the ladle.

You scooped a couple ladlefuls into your cup and placed the ladle back into the bowl before lifting the cup to your lips. Before you could take a sip, however, a hand grabbed the cup and tore it from your hand. You looked over as Changbin dumped the cup into the sink and tossed the cup before holding up an unopened can of soda.

You looked from the can up to his eyes and then took the can, offering a small thanks.

He gave you a small smile as you opened the can and took a sip, silence falling over the two of you.

“Lilah mentioned your tolerance,” he said just loud enough for you to hear him. You felt heat rise to your face so instead of speaking, you took another sip of the soda. Changbin watched you before speaking again. “And I’m pretty sure I saw someone spike the punch with something other than alcohol.”

You looked at him, brows raised. He was… looking out for you? You nodded silently, taking another sip of your soda before raising the can. “Thanks by the way,” you said and started to walk away. Changbin followed as you wove through the crowded kitchen.

“So, where did Paxton go?” you asked, noticing she was no longer seated at the table. Changbin glanced at the table before his gaze fell back on you. “Eh, she’s probably with someone else right now,” he answered. “To be honest, I wasn’t really interested in her.”

Changbin had no idea why he was even telling you this. It’s not like you cared about his dating life. Or so he thought. “What about Hana?” He looked up at you, the shock on his face must have shown because you continued to speak. “She seemed nice.” Changbin nodded slowly, still astonished you were even asking.

“Uh, she was,” he admitted. “But we didn’t really have that much in common. The attraction was mainly surface level,” he added. He let out a chuckle. “Actually, I’m pretty sure she only wanted to date me because she might get free tattoos.”

You looked up from your drink, clearly surprised by this admission. You looked away and said something under your breath, prompting him to ask you to say it again.

“If people want you to tattoo them, they should pay for it. Regardless if they’re dating you or work for you,” you replied. “Art is art and people need to remember that artists are people who deserve to be paid for their work.” If Changbin hadn’t already respected you as an artist he certainly did before.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said more to himself than to you but you seemed to have heard him anyway. “Take my art for instance,” you said as he listened. “If I just gave it away to friends or my boyfriend or my family, the shop would never make any money off something I spent hours, even days, making.”

Changbin nodded as you continued. “Art is a valid career and people need to remember that,” you added, taking another sip of your soda. Changbin watched you briefly before contributing to the conversation. “I’m glad someone else feels the same way about art. A lot of people see art as a hobby and not a livelihood so they expect you to do it for free,” he said as he leaned against the counter.

“They expect you to do it for free because someone else did it for free,” you interjected, catching Changbin off guard. “Which is why I always tell people to never sell themselves short. Don’t do anything for free, especially if you’re good at it.” Changbin’s lips pulled into a half smile.

The conversation between the two of you dwindled as you both watched over the crowd until Changbin noticed you fanning yourself with your hand. “You alright?” Changbin asked, brow knitting together in concern. You forced a smile. “I’m just a little warm. There’s a lot of people here.”

Changbin tossed his empty container in the trash and stood up straight. “You wanna get some fresh air?” he asked and you stared back at him, contemplating your options. You could stay inside where it was really warm but where Joshua could see you or you could go outside with Changbin and cool off.

You hadn’t seen Joshua in a long while so you decided it wouldn’t hurt to go outside. It’s not like you were with a total stranger. Changbin was friends with Chris and if both Lilah and Chris trusted him, then you had no reason not to trust him either.

“Sure,” you replied finally, standing up straight and downing the rest of your soda. Changbin took the empty can from you and tossed it before letting you lead the way to the backdoor, squeezing through the crowded kitchen, into the hallway before finally stepping out into the cool night air.

The backyard was a decent size, fenced in with a privacy fence. The deck was large, accommodating several partygoers and an eight person hot tub that was currently being used. You skipped down the steps, feet landing on the grass. In the corner to your right was a small garden, a large oak tree stood, a rope swing with a wooden seat hung from one of the sturdier branches.

Changbin followed as you walked over to the swing, taking a seat as he stood nearby.

“This is a really nice place,” you noted, looking around the backyard. Changbin nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “I’m not sure whose place it is,” he added with a chuckle. “Chris and Minho dragged us here,” he continued, moving to stand behind you.

“Yeah, me neither,” you replied, chuckling when you felt him gently push you. “You gonna push me?” you asked as you swayed lightly on the swing. Changbin chuckled, grabbing the rope to stop your momentum. “Sorry,” he said softly. “Old habits.”

You glanced back at him, meeting his gaze. You felt heat rise in your cheeks as you looked away. Changbin let go of the ropes and moved around to lean against the trunk of the tree. “So,” he started, hands in his pockets. “Is that one tea set still at the shop?” he asked.

You turned to look at him. “Which tea set?” you asked, cocking your head. “The kintsugi one,” he answered. You hesitated before answering. “Yeah,” you nodded. “It’s still there.” Changbin nodded silently. “Why do you ask?” you continued. Changbin fought the urge to smile.

“Jeongguk keeps talking about it. I think he really wants it but doesn’t want to admit it.”

You smiled, looking down at your knees. Changbin glanced down as well. He hadn’t said it earlier because he wasn’t sure if it was crossing a line but you looked really nice. The peach skirt with floral pattern complimented your skin and the cream colored flowy blouse looked good on your frame. Your makeup was subtle and different from almost any girl he normally associated with.

His eyes wandered of their own accord, moving down your legs to take in the shoes you wore. Beige colored mary jane style pumps with low heels completed the look and Changbin had to force himself to look away from your legs. If he stared any longer, you might think he was a creep.

“How many tattoos do you have?” you asked suddenly, pulling him from his thoughts. “Uh,” he hesitated, counting in his head. “A lot,” he finally answered with a chuckle. “Where are they?” you asked, leaning your head against the rope. “Well,” Changbin said, standing up straighter. “I have them almost everywhere,” he answered. “Arms, legs, chest, back,” he continued.

“Do you have full sleeves?” you asked, looking up at him. Your question was genuine and full of curiosity. Something he didn’t expect from you. He nodded. “I do,” he answered. “From the shoulder down to my wrists and a few hand tattoos,” he added. “Which I’m sure you’ve seen by this point,” he added with a chuckle, showing the tops of his hands to you. With a smile, you nodded slowly. 

“And your chest?” you asked. “Oh, just one,” he said softly, raising his hand to place it over his chest tattoo. “A tiger,” he explained. 

A smile grew on your face. “I have plans to add more,” he added. “Jeongguk has the sketches on his tablet.” You smiled at him as he spoke. “Do you have any tattoos?” he asked suddenly and you laughed loudly. “Sorry,” you said as your laughter subsided. “No,” you continued, shaking your head.

“Lilah is the tattooed one.”

Changbin nodded slowly. “Have you ever thought about getting one?” he asked and again you shook your head. “No,” you repeated. “It’s never really interested me before,” you added. Changbin watched as you swayed gently on the swing. “Do tattoos bother you?” he asked, tilting his head.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “No,” he said softly. “They’re just tattoos,” you added. “Most people in this town are divided when it comes to them. Half the population has them and the other half doesn’t,” you explained. Changbin watched as you started to turn the swing, the rope twisting together above your head. “Some people think archaically,” you continued softly.

“They think people with tattoos are somehow inherently bad.”

Changbin snorted. He’d experienced his fair share of those kinds of people. “And what do you think?” he asked, watching as you lifted your feet and spun around on the swing. “I think tattoos are a lot like accessories only you can’t change them or take them off easily,” you started, putting a foot down to stop your momentum.

“They don’t change a person. You are who you are with or without them,” you continued. “It’s just art but instead of being on a canvas, your skin is the canvas.” Changbin stared at you with new found appreciation. You looked up to meet his gaze, a small smile gracing your features.

Changbin opened his mouth to respond but was cut off.

“Y/N?” a voice called, making both of you look towards the source.

Changbin watched as your boyfriend, Joshua, walked towards the two of you. “Everything okay?” he asked, looking from Changbin to you and back. “Everything is fine,” you said, smiling at him. “We’ve just been talking,” you added. Joshua’s gaze shifted to Changbin again.

“Is that right?” he heard Joshua murmur. Either you didn’t hear Joshua or chose to ignore it, the smile on your face not faltering. “I’m heading home,” Joshua announced. “Would you like me to walk you home?” he asked, turning his gaze back to you. Changbin glanced at you as you got up from the swing.

You turned to face him. “Thank you for the talk,” you said, brushing off your skirt. Changbin nodded, smiling as you crossed the short distance where Joshua stood. “I’ll see you around,” you added, looking back over your shoulder at him. Changbin nodded. “See you around,” he said.

You took Joshua’s arm and allowed him to steer you towards the house as Changbin watched your figure disappear into the house. Jeongguk appeared moments later, jogging down the steps and walking over to where Changbin stood. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to,” he said.

Changbin shrugged. “You found me,” he joked. Jeongguk nodded, glancing back towards the house. “Were you out here with Y/N?” he asked, walking over and taking a seat on the swing. Changbin nodded silently. “Yeah,” he answered.

Jeongguk stared up at him, one of his brows raised. “It’s not like that,” Changbin said, rolling his eyes. “We were talking inside, she got hot so we came out here to cool off and get some fresh air.” Jeongguk nodded slowly, still giving Changbin a look. “Nothing happened,” Changbin clarified.

“Dude,” Jeongguk said, tattooed hands holding onto the rope. “She’s got a boyfriend.”

Changbin shrugged, gesturing wildly. “Nothing happened! We were talking!” Jeongguk nodded. “I know man. But you know how people are,” he replied. “They’re gonna talk. And you don’t want that kind of attention, trust me.” Changbin nodded, moving around behind Jeongguk and paused.

“You ready to go?” Jeongguk asked. “That Paxton chick was looking for you but I saw her making out with some dude in there like minutes before that.” Changbin nodded again, staring at Jeongguk’s back. “Yeah,” he said, pulling his hands from his pockets.

“I’m ready to go. I just need to do this first,” Changbin said. “Do what-YAH!”

Changbin pushed Jeongguk hard enough to cause him to slip off the wooden swing seat and onto the ground before he took off towards the house. “SEO CHANGBIN!” Jeongguk called as he clumsily got up and chased after him, Changbin giggling maniacally as he squeezed between the other partygoers.

“I’m heading out!” he called to Chris who looked up and nodded, waving at him with Lilah still perched on his lap. Changbin headed for the door as Jeongguk started to enter the kitchen. Changbin managed to make it out the front door and out onto the sidewalk as Jeongguk exited the house and made a beeline for him.

“Truce?” Changbin asked, backing away as his friend advanced on him. “Truce?!”

“No mercy,” Jeongguk said, trying to grab Changbin who managed to dodge and duck Jeongguk’s attempts before the older finally gave up. “You’re too small,” he whined as Changbin laughed, keeping pace with him as they walked away from the house.

“Too fast for you,” Changbin clarified. Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Yeah sure,” he retorted.

“Too fast and short.”

Your walk with Joshua was mostly full of silence as you held onto his arm, thankful he matched your pace as you walked. The night was cool and the air crisp now that the sun had set. The sound of crickets still lingered as you walked through the mostly empty streets.

“So,” Joshua finally said, breaking the silence between you. “What were you doing outside with Changbin?” he asked. You looked at him, shrugging your shoulders. “We were just talking,” you answered. “We started talking inside the kitchen. He warned me that the punch bowl might have been spiked with something other than alcohol,” you added.

Joshua looked at you, eyes wide. “Really?” he asked. You nodded and continued to speak. “Yeah, so he gave me an unopened can of soda and then we went outside cause I was feeling a little warm. Too many bodies in one room,” you added. “And we just talked.”

“What did you talk about?” You looked up at Joshua again, trying to discern the look on his face. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuinely curious or if he was prying. Either way, you had nothing to hide from him. 

“We talked about his tattoos,” you answered. “He asked if I had any and I told him no. We also talked about art.” Joshua nodded as you walked, mulling over your words. “Art, huh?” he asked more to himself than to you. “You know, the last thing I want to do is make you feel like you’re a child incapable of making your own choices,” Joshua started and you suddenly felt as if you should have lied.

“But I don’t like the idea of you and him alone together,” he continued. You held back what you really wanted to say, choosing instead to smooth over it. “We weren’t alone,” you reminded him. “There were plenty of other people outside.”

Joshua looked at you as the two of you neared your apartment building. “A bunch of drunk people,” he said as you slowed to a stop at the base of the stairs. “Joshua,” you started, letting go of his arm and turning to face him. “I was fine. Chris and Lilah trust Changbin and I trust them, so why shouldn’t I trust Changbin?” you asked.

Joshua sighed, taking both your hands in his and pulled you closer. “I’m just looking out for you,” he replied, placing your arms around his waist and wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “I don’t trust any man alone with you,” he added.

“Don’t trust them,” you started, pulling back to look up at him. “Or don’t trust me?”

Joshua clicked his tongue in mild annoyance, taking your face in his hands. “I don’t trust them,” he replied. “I trust you fully,” he added, leaning in to press a soft kiss against your lips. “Then,” you said as he pulled back. “Trust me to handle myself,” you continued.

“I’m not a damsel in distress that you have to save all the time,” you reminded him.

“I’ll see you Sunday,” you said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “After church?” he asked, sounding hopeful. You shook your head. “I have to have dinner with my parents,” you explained. “I need to borrow one of their cars and the fee is dinner,” you added.

Joshua looked at you with a mix of concern and confusion.

“Why do you need to borrow one of their cars?” he asked. “I can take you anywhere you need to go, you know that,” he said softly, caressing your cheek. “I know,” you chuckled, taking one of his hands and pulling it away from your face. “But you work Monday,” you reminded him.

“What’s Monday?” he asked, cocking his head. “Mr. Serizawa asked me to go to the next town over and pick up Daniel,” you explained. “Lilah is going with me so I won’t be making the drive alone.” Joshua nodded and sighed. “I wish you’d told me sooner. I would have requested it off,” he replied.

You smiled at him. “It’s alright,” you responded, pulling his other hand from your cheek. “I’ll be okay,” you added. “I’m just going to the ferry station to pick him up and then coming straight back, but it will take most of the day,” you continued. “Besides, a little road trip with Lilah should be fun.”

Joshua smiled and nodded. “Well, I suppose it’ll be okay. I’ll see you when you get back then? We could grab dinner, maybe watch a movie at my place?” he said, holding onto your hand as you climbed one step. “Sure,” you said, looking back at him. “Perfect,” he replied.

“Get some sleep,” he said as you took another step. “Hey,” he called, gently tugging your hand and making you look at him. “I love you,” he said, stepping up onto the bottom step. You leaned in, pressing your lips against his, following his lead as his lips parted and his tongue slipped into your mouth.

“I love you, too,” you replied as you pulled back. “Get some sleep, babe,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your lips and letting go of your hand as you climbed the rest of the steps. “Goodnight,” you called, looking back as you reached the door. “Night, babe,” he replied as you unlocked the door and entered the building.

You headed up the stairs to your door, unlocking and letting yourself into your apartment. Tomorrow you’d tackle your chores since Sunday you had church and Monday morning you’d be leaving to go pick up Daniel.

You dropped your purse on the counter and shrugged off your jacket, draping it over the back of one of the island barstools. You sat on the couch, bending over to remove your shoes and stood up to take them to the door, making sure the door was locked.

You headed to your bedroom, slowly stripping out of your clothes and changing into something more comfortable. You headed back into the kitchen to grab a snack as you had left work and gone straight to the party without eating dinner.

While you ate, you scrolled your social media feeds on your phone before finally turning off all the lights and settling down for bed, leaving your phone on the charger on your nightstand. It didn’t take long after climbing into bed for you to pass out.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

It had been a couple days since the party and you had gone to your parents’ house after church the following Sunday for dinner and to ask your father to borrow a car to pick up Daniel. You’d sat through the usual interrogation that occurred, asking about your job, your relationship, and somehow your parents managed to swing the conversation around to Lilah.

You did your best to answer the questions as vaguely as possible. After agreeing to spend the night at your mother’s request, the next morning, you headed out, stopping at your place before driving over to pick up Lilah.

As you pulled up to Lilah’s building, you slipped your phone out of your purse and typed out a quick message. You knew Lilah could sometimes take a moment to answer or even read her messages but as you looked up from your phone, you were surprised to see Lilah already walking towards you.

She waved as she got into view. You waved back, putting your phone in the holder on the dashboard as Lilah opened the door and got in. She smiled as he set her bag on the floorboard behind your seat and started to buckle her seatbelt as you put in the address for the ferry station.

“Hey,” Lilah said as the seatbelt clicked in place. “Hey,” you replied pressing the start button on your phone navigation. “How was dinner with your parents?” Lilah asked as you put the car in gear and pulled out of your parking space.

“It was… dinner with my parents,” you replied with a slight chuckle. “Did they grill you about your job again?” You nodded as you drove, following the road that led to the highway. “As usual,” you added. Lilah shook her head as she settled into her seat.

“And did they ask when you and Joshua are getting married?” You glanced at Lilah and your expression said everything. “Of course they did,” she scoffed as you continued to follow the signs for the highway. “Why do they always ask that? It’s not like you’re in a big rush to get married and settle down,” she added. “This isn’t the nineteen-fifties. You don’t need to be married with kids by the time you’re thirty.”

You hummed in agreement as you turned onto the highway and started to speed up to merge with traffic.

“You know how they are,” you replied. “I’m sure Joshua is getting the same treatment.”

Lilah snorted as she pulled out her phone and started fiddling with the bluetooth settings of the car.

“Yeah, well Joshua has always been a bit… old-fashioned.”

You glanced at your best friend as she focused on pairing her phone.

“And what does that make me?” you asked softly.

Lilah didn’t look up as her phone connected and she started playing her music. “You know how I feel about your relationship with Josh,” she said softly, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. You sighed softly as you changed lanes to go around a van crawling ahead of you. “I know,” you replied.

An awkward silence settled between you as Lilah turned the music up a bit.

She had always made her thoughts about Joshua known, especially after she and Seungcheol split and now that Joshua was starting to show more controlling tendencies. You understood and appreciated her concern but you knew you could handle your boyfriend when it came down to it.

“So,” you finally said, wanting to change the subject. “Tell me about this new tattoo you’re getting.”

It seemed to be the right call on your part, asking Lilah about tattoos always put her in a much better mood. She started off showing you pictures of the inspiration of the tattoo she was getting. She explained the details, even the minute ones. She finally showed you a drawing of the final design and explained the colors and shading that would be used.

“It sounds really cool,” you said as she put her phone back in the console. “I love the flowers.”

Lilah’s smile widened. “You wanna go with me to my appointment?” It wasn’t uncommon for Lilah to ask this and more than once you’d gone with her to get piercings but you’d never been to one of her tattoo appointments. “When is it?”

“Wednesday,” she replied, watching you as you contemplated. “I’m not off until six on Wednesday,” you explained. Lilah nodded. “It’s at seven,” she offered, hoping it might sway your decision. “It’ll take a few hours but you’re off on Thursdays,” she continued.

You felt the corners of your lips twitch as a smirk threatened to spread across your face. “I didn’t realize you had my schedule memorized,” you replied to which Lilah let out a laugh. “You’re my best friend,” she started as the song on the stereo changed. “Of course I know your schedule.”

You grimaced but said nothing. You thought about the conversation you’d had with Joshua the night of the party. He didn’t trust Changbin to be around you alone so surely being surrounded by people at the tattoo shop was fine.

Then again, you suspected it was really you Joshua didn’t trust though you couldn’t fathom why. You’d never so much as thought about another man since you started dating him. You’d never entertained the thought of cheating nor would you ever.

You were loyal.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Lilah’s voice snapped you out of it. You blinked rapidly and looked over at her quickly. “Sorry,” you replied. “What did you say?”

Lilah settled back against her seat. “I asked if you want to go with me to my appointment after you get off work,” she repeated. You nibbled on your bottom lip, checking your mirrors before changing lanes to go around yet another slow moving vehicle.

“Fine,” you finally answered, switching back into the lane in front of the truck. “I’ll go with you but I’m not getting anything and I expect you to respect that,” you added. Lilah nodded excitedly. “I’m just glad you’re going with me!” she said, grabbing her phone and changing the music.

“For moral support,” you explained. “That’s all.”

The first hour of the trip was spent listening to music, chatting. Lilah told you about the progress of her situation with Chris, keeping you up-to-date on all the juicy gossip among her friend group. You didn’t care much for gossip but you knew Lilah and how much she loved it so you let her carry on.

“Which reminds me,” she said as she finished telling you about Ari’s mishap at the party where she fell going up the steps with Minho. “Where did you go?” she asked. You glanced at her before looking back at the road. “When?” you asked.

“During the party,” Lilah asked. “Ari and Minho went upstairs to hook up in one of the many rooms,” she stated. “Hana spent the whole night outside in the hot tub, Paxton says she hooked up with Changbin--” you snorted, drawing her attention. “What?” she asked.

You glanced at her and then back at the road, fighting the urge to laugh. “She’s lying,” you replied.

Lilah eyed you suspiciously. “How do you know?” she asked. “I mean, I did see her making out with a guy that looked an awful lot like him,” she said, watching as you burst into laughter. “When does she say this hook up occurred?” you asked. Lilah shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably around the time you disappeared.” You laughed again.

“She may have hooked up with a guy,” you said as you kept your eyes on the road. “But it certainly wasn’t Changbin,” you added. Lilah narrowed her eyes. “How do you know?” she asked. “Cause he was with me outside,” you replied.

Lilah’s jaw dropped.” You got in the hot tub in your skivvies and didn’t tell me?!” she yelled. You looked at her incredulously. “Okay first of all, never say skivvies again,” you started, laughing. “And second, no,” you continued. “Changbin stopped me from drinking the punch and gave me a can of soda and we started talking.”

Lilah watched you as you continued to explain. “And then I got warm inside the kitchen so we went outside to get some fresh air and continued our talk. We were over by the garden. And then Joshua came up and I left with him,” you explained.

“Changbin was with you the whole time?” Lilah asked and you nodded. “So unless he went back in and hooked up with her after, which I doubt because he told me he doesn’t even really like her, she’s either lying or she doesn’t remember who she really hooked up with.”

Lilah let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Changbin told you he doesn’t like her?” she asked, to which you nodded. “Yeah. He said he also doesn’t really like Hana,” you continued. Lilah sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Is there anyone he does like?” she wondered and you shrugged.

“Maybe stop trying to set him up with your friends and let him do his own thing?” you asked and Lilah clicked her tongue. “That’s no fun,” she pouted, crossing her arms before she gasped. “What?” you asked, looking around. “I have an amazing idea!” she said, bouncing in her seat.

You groaned. “I thought you saw something,” you whined. “Don’t do that gasping thing when I’m driving!” Lilah grimaced. “Sorry, but wait until you hear this idea!” she said, sitting forward. “I have the perfect match for Changbin!”

You turned to look at her. “We just talked about this Lilah!” you admonished. “Leave the poor man be!” Lilah shook her head. “I can’t. This pairing is just too perfect!” she said, pulling her phone out and scrolling through it. “I know this girl. I think she’d be perfect for him.”

You sighed as you continued to drive. ‘Poor Changbin.’

The next two hours were spent listening to music until you stopped at a small town to get coffee and something to eat now that you were both more awake and hungry. “Look at her,” Lilah said, showing you a picture of a really pretty girl with a pale complexion. She had split colored hair, half blonde and the other half black. 

In the picture her hair was curled in soft waves reaching her shoulders, half of it pulled up into a high ponytail with strands framing her face. She had makeup similar to the style Lilah wore, graphic liner, heavy blush on her cheeks and nose, highlighter, false lashes, but she differed in that she wore nude pink lip colors.

She was covered in ink, tattoos decorating her chest, shoulders, and arms. She had multiple nose piercings, an upper lip piercing, stretched ears and multiple cartilage piercings. She had a slim waist with curves. 

She wore a high waisted black pleated skirt with black fishnets and combat boots. The shirt was black with white stripes and a tiny green alien peeking out of a small pocket on the chest tucked into the skirt. Half her curled hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, strands falling and framing her face.

“She’s pretty,” you noted with a nod. Lilah swiped to another picture. “She’s an instagram model too,” she explained, showing you the next picture. It was of the same girl kneeling on a bed, wearing a high waisted black thong with lace and a cropped shirt with a Mario star on it. She had extensions in her hair, part of it pulled up into twintails, the rest cascading in waves.

She wore a pink headset with kitty ears, white thigh highs with pink bows and in her hands was a gaming controller. You said nothing, instead nodding as you waited for your food to be ready. “She’s really cool,” Lilah said, fawning over her phone.

You watched as she scrolled a bit more and showed you a few more pictures before asking for your opinion. “Do you think he’d like her?” she asked. You looked at your best friend. “Why are you asking me?” you asked. Lilah shrugged. “I thought maybe since he told you what he didn’t like, he might have told you what he does like.” You snorted, shaking your head.

“Most certainly not,” you replied. Lilah sighed, returning her attention to her phone. “I’ll ask her if she’s interested anyway.” You said nothing again, instead focusing on the barista as she bagged up your food and grabbed your coffees. 

Back in the car, you ate your sandwich quickly while Lilah fiddled with her phone, exchanging messages. “She’s interested!” she said excitedly. “She wants me to send a picture of Changbin. Should I just take one from his insta?” she asked, looking up at you.

You shrugged, wanting to stay out of it. “Do you have any pictures of him on your phone?” you asked. Lilah stared at you unblinkingly. “Why would I have pictures of him on my phone?” she asked. You shrugged again. Lilah fiddled with her phone. “I think Chris follows him,” she murmured, searching through Chris’ follow list.

You started the engine and pulled out of your parking space, pulling onto the road and making your way back to the highway as Lilah searched for Changbin’s account. “Shit, it’s private,” she hissed. “And that’s bad?” you asked as Lilah grabbed your phone, unlocking it with your passcode.

“How do you know my passcode?” you asked incredulously. “It’s not like it’s a secret,” she said, looking up at you. “It’s your dead dog’s birthday,” she reminded you. “Isn’t yours Chris’ birthday?” you asked, eyeing her. She stuck her tongue out at you as she pulled up instagram, going into the search bar.

“What are you doing?” you asked, trying to keep your eyes on the road and on her at the same time. “I’m gonna follow him from your account,” she said nonchalantly. “What?” you shouted, reaching for your phone. “Hey, hey!” she shouted, shielding your phone from you.

“Eyes on the road, maniac!” she added, pointing at the road. “Why can’t you follow him from your account?” you asked angrily. “You follow his tattoo page, don’t you? And you follow the shop!” Lilah ignored you, typing in Changbin’s name. “I don’t follow either!” you added.

“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m making you follow them all right now,” she added with a mischievous grin. You tried to snatch your phone again only for her to pull away. “You’ll crash if you keep doing that,” she retorted.

You checked the mirrors before pulling over and parking the car.

“What are you--”

You reached over and snatched your phone, looking at the screen. “You’re literally insane,” you said as you made sure she wasn’t able to follow any of the accounts through your phone before opening your settings and changing your passcode, shielding the screen from her.

“Y/N!” Lilah pouted as you locked your phone and set it in the console. “Use your own account,” you replied, putting the car back in drive and slowly pulling forward to pull back onto the highway. Lilah grumbled as she grabbed her phone and tapped away on the screen.

The next couple hours went by without issue, mostly listening to music as Lilah texted back and forth with a few people. “He followed me back,” Lilah announced as you followed the signs for the ferry station. You were getting close to the coastal town. “He doesn’t have many pictures on here,” she said as she scrolled. “Which one should I send?” she asked as you got off the highway and came to a stop at the light.

You glanced at the phone and she showed two different pictures.

The first looked more recent. It looked as though he’d just woken up, his hair was messy and curly. ‘Is that what his hair naturally looks like?’ you wondered silently. His tattoos were visible and he was wearing his signature fitted black tee shirt.

The other picture was older. His hair was a completely different color. It almost didn’t look like him. His hair was styled and he wore a black suit with a red tie. He looked amazing. His hand tattoos were missing and you wondered how old the photo was.

“The first one,” you answered. “It looks more recent,” you added. Lilah nodded, looking back down as she took a screenshot of the picture and you waited for the light to change. The drive through the sleepy seaside town was quiet, most people were at work or school as you drove, winding down the side of the mountain. In the distance you could see the ocean, waves crashing into the sandy beach.

You pulled into the ferry station parking lot with some time to kill and parked the car. “Let’s go get some pictures,” Lilah said excitedly. You grabbed your jacket from the backseat and got out, locking the doors and pulling on your jacket as Lilah pulled her hood up over her head and shoved her hands in her pockets. You followed behind her, checking the time on your phone before pocketing the device and rushing to catch up with your best friend.

The look out over the ocean gave a spectacular view and you could see an island not far from shore. “You want to go down to the shore?” Lilah asked over the wind. You nodded and followed her down the steps leading to the shore. The sand was unlike what you expected. Less like sand and more like stones. Pebbles. You were glad you chose to wear sneakers and were sure Lilah was faring just as well in her boots. “Look!” Lilah called, hurrying over to a spot and kneeling down.

You followed her and leaned over her back as she unearthed a rather large piece of sea glass. “Whoa,” you said as she lifted it to reveal another piece under it. You reached down, grabbing the second piece, revealing yet another piece of sea glass.

“It’s like a rabbit hole,” you murmured, picking up the other piece. “These are so cool,” Lilah said, looking over the piece in her hands. You looked down at it. She held a black piece with tiny white flecks from who knows how many years spent in the sea water.

It was shaped like a shark fin, smooth and rounded at all three points and flat. “I wonder what this is,” Lilah said, flipping it over to look at the other side. “It’s glass,” you pointed out. Lilah looked up at the pieces in your hands. A bright pink and a deep purple, both frosted like hers.

“What kind of glass is black?” she asked, looking back down at hers. You held out your hand, lifting to inspect the glass she placed in your palm. “It’s probably from a really old bottle,” you started, handing her the pink and purple to inspect.

You held the black up towards the sky, tilting and turning it. “It’s green,” you stated. “Along the edges, it’s hard to see without the light,” you explained. “It’s probably from really old beer or gin bottles,” you added, handing it back to her, taking the pink and purple from her.

“What about those?” Lilah asked, nodding at your hands. “The pink is probably from the Great Depression era,” you noted. “Pink glassware was common during that time period because it was decorative but extremely cheap,” you explained, looking at the pink piece.

“The purple,” you began, shifting your gaze to it. It was a deep rich purple color, frosted just like the others due to exposure and time spent in the ocean. “Probably came from purple glass. Between 1840 and 1880, hair tonics were commonly sold in amethyst bottles,” you explained, turning the piece over. “But it could very well be glass made with manganese.”

Lilah stared at you as you looked over the glass. “What’s that?” she asked. “Venetian glassmakers discovered they could neutralize the color caused by imperfections in glass by adding manganese to the sand and create clear glass,” you explained, handing over the purple piece.

“But over time, the glass will turn purple when exposed to ultraviolet rays,” you continued, looking down at the ground, searching for more glass. “I’ve heard sea glass glows under a black light,” Lilah said, looking up to watch you explore. “Is that true?” she asked.

You shook your head, pushing some pebbles aside and unearthing another black piece of sea glass. “No,” you replied. “Uranium glass glows under black light,” you replied, digging out the piece and holding it up. ‘More green edges,’ you noted.

“Uranium glass has uranium added to the glass before melting,” you explained. “It produces green glass that then glows under a black light,” you continued. “That’s so cool,” Lilah said as she watched you dig in the pebbles. “How do you know all this?” she asked.

“We’ve gotten a lot of different glass types in the shop,” you said, looking up. “Including an entire tea set made from uranium glass,” you added. You managed to find a few more pieces of sea glass ranging from blue to clear but no more purple or pink.

You stood up, brushing your hands off as a horn sounded in the distance and both you and Lilah turned to see the ferry in the distance. “Let’s go,” you said softly, leading the way back to the steps. You and Lilah had found a decent amount of sea glass and pocketed it to take back home.

Back up at the station, you and Lilah huddled close to the building to avoid the wind that had picked up. “Fuck! I should have worn sweat,” you cursed and Lilah laughed, huddling closer. “Would they hurry up and disembark already?” she snapped.

Finally it seemed like the wait was over and the gates opened, passengers making their way off the boat. This early in the morning you didn’t expect so many passengers but it sort of made sense. People making the earliest commute possible.

You spotted Daniel and waved, calling out to him. He spotted you and a smile spread across his face, weaving through the other passengers until he reached you, pulling you into a hug. He’d grown taller, nearing almost six feet. “Jii-chan said you were coming so I was really excited to see you,” he said as he let you go. “You got taller,” you noted, making him laugh.

He turned, noticing Lilah. “Lilah?” he asked, almost shocked to see her. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he added, pulling her into a hug as well. “Y/N asked me to keep her company on the drive out here,” she replied. “And she annoyed me the whole way here,” you added, dodging Lilah’s attempt to slap your arm. 

Daniel was amused by your antics as he followed you two back to the car, listening and laughing as you bickered back and forth. Once his luggage was put in the trunk and the three of you inside, strapped in, you put the car in drive and pulled carefully out of the parking lot.

You asked Daniel about his time in Busan and Jeju.

“It was amazing!” he said excitedly. “We went to the aquarium in Busan and hung out on the beach most of the time,” he explained, going into further detail, describing the beach. “And then in Jeju, we went to their aquarium and we also went hiking. So much hiking!”

You smiled as he went on. “And then, since we finished our itinerary early, we took the ferry to Japan,” he continued. You nodded, glancing up in the mirror at him. “That would explain why your grandfather asked me to pick you up at the ferry station and not the airport or bus station,” you mused.

“Tell me about Japan,” Lilah said, turning in her seat to look at Daniel.

You listened to him tell his stories of Fukuoka and the surrounding areas. He talked about the food, what the group did, and even showed pictures on his phone of him and his friends.

“It sounds like you had a really good time,” you said after listening to him go on for almost an hour. He nodded as Lilah took his phone to look at a photo of him and his friends. She swiped to the next photo and let out a yell. Daniel noticed and tried to grab his phone but Lilah held it out of his reach.

“Who is this?” she asked, looking at a picture of just Daniel and a girl. She showed you. It was very pretty girl you recognized him meeting with for study sessions. “Is that Kari?” you asked, taking your eyes off the road briefly to get a better look.

“Give it back,” Daniel protested, trying to grab his phone from Lilah. “She’s cute!” Lilah remarked as she swiped through a few more photos of Daniel and Kari. “Will you stop it!” Daniel grumbled, fighting to regain control of his phone but Lilah swiped again and gasped.

“What?” you asked, glancing between her and the road. She showed you the phone and it was a picture of the two, Daniel was taking the photo and Kari had her head turned kissing his cheek. “Daniel!” you said, sounding scandalized. He groaned, leaning back in his seat and pulled his beanie down over his face.

“Dannie’s got a girlfriend!” Lilah said in a singsong voice as she looked at more photos. Daniel groaned in embarrassment and you chuckled lightly. “Don’t worry, Dannie,” you said, making him peek out from under his hat. “I won’t tell your grandparents.”

He sat up, readjusting his beanie and waited, watching Lilah before he made his move, snatching his phone back. “Yah! I was looking at pictures of you and your girlfriend,” she whined. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he clarified. “We haven’t even been on a date.”

“Then change that,” Lilah said, turning to look back at him. “Ask her out. Go to the bowling alley or something else. Something you kids find fun these days.” You glanced at her. “You kids?” you asked her and she shrugged. “He’s in high school,” you added. “He’s not twelve.”

“Take her to the fall festival,” you suggested. “That’s coming up soon.” Daniel shook his head, not looking up. “I can’t ask her out,” he murmured. “And why the hell not?” Lilah asked, turning to look back at him. “Because,” Daniel said softly. “You saw her,” he added. “She’s gorgeous.”

Lilah scoffed and you snapped your fingers. “Look up,” you said. “Look at me Daniel.”

He looked up, meeting your gaze in the mirror. “Don’t do that to yourself. You are an extremely intelligent, funny, and good looking guy. Kari would be an idiot to say no to you,” you said in a firm but gentle tone. “And if she says no, I’ll kick her butt,” Lilah added. “She’s a minor,” you said incredulously. “You can’t beat up a minor, Lilah!”

Daniel smiled as the two of you bickered. “Thanks, you two,” he said softly.

The next hour passed quickly as Daniel told Lilah more about Japan and what Fukuoka was like. You listened, keeping your eyes on the road as you drove. Another hour in, you glanced down at the gas gauge and sighed. “I gotta make a stop,” you announced, pulling off the highway at the next exit.

“We’re running low on gas.”

Daniel and Lilah continued to chat as you filled up, both of them heading into the convenience store. While the pump worked, you pulled out your phone, checking your notifications. You had a couple texts from Joshua, asking how the trip was going.

You texted him back before noticing another notification from Instagram. You had a new follower and opened the app. Your eyes widened as you read the username, tapping on the profile and your lips parted in a soft gasp. Changbin had found and followed your account.

Your thumb hovered over the follow back button before tapping it quickly as Lilah and Daniel headed back to the car. You pocketed your phone as the pump switched off and took the nozzle out of the tank, placing it back in the cradle.

Getting back in the car, you set your phone in the console, buckling your seatbelt and Lilah and Daniel divided up their snack haul. “We got you something to drink and some snacks as well,” Daniel said as he pulled a bottle of soda out of the bag and set it in one of the cup holders.

“Thanks,” you said softly as you started the engine and pulled out of the gas station parking lot, following the signs to get back on the highway.

As you drove, you tuned out Lilah and Daniel’s conversation, instead mulling over the notification you’d gotten from Instagram about Changbin’s personal account. How did he find you? Had Lilah gotten through before you grabbed your phone?

You glanced over at your best friend, meeting her gaze. “What?” she asked softly.

You shook your head and looked straight ahead. “What?” Lilah asked again. It took a couple more minutes for Lilah to pry it out of you.

“Did you like one of Changbin’s pictures on my account or something earlier?” you asked softly. Lilah’s confused expression morphed into one of excitement. “No,” she answered. “Why? Did he follow you?” she asked excitedly. You narrowed your eyes, glaring at her.

“What did you do?” you hissed, not noticing how Daniel leaned forward between the two of you.

“Who is Changbin?” he asked suddenly, making both you and Lilah jump. You glanced at his curious expression. “No one,” you said quickly, hoping Lilah would drop the subject but when you looked at her, a mischievous grin had taken up residence on her face.

“Don’t,” you warned her. “I just want to know why he followed me.”

Lilah laughed excitedly, grabbing your phone. “What did you change your passcode to?” she asked as she stared at the screen. “It’s none of your damn business,” you retorted, snatching your phone from her hands only for her to pout at you.

“I just need screenshots of his pictures to send to Riley,” she grumbled as you set your phone in the pocket on the driver’s side door, far from her reach. “I told you,” you replied as you continued to drive. “Follow him from your own account.”

“And what would Chris think?” Lilah asked, crossing her arms. “Uh, that’s you’re following your tattoo artist on instagram who you also happen to be friends with?” you offered. Lilah scoffed. “You’re no fun,” she mumbled as she sank down in her seat.

“Is someone going to explain what’s going on?” Daniel asked, making you and Lilah glance back at him. You’d partially forgotten he was there as you and Lilah bickered about Changbin and his instagram account. “Who is Changbin?”

Lilah turned to look back at him, turning in her seat. “He’s new to Sejong,” Lilah explained. “He just moved here and opened a tattoo shop on Market,” she continued. “And why are you following his instagram from Y/N’s account?” Daniel asked slowly.

“Because I need pictures of him to send to this girl I know who is interested in him!”

You sighed as you followed the signs for Sejong. “Despite the fact that he didn’t like either girl you threw at him before,” you interjected. “Changbin isn’t a wall that you throw girls at like pasta and expect them to stick. Let the poor guy settle into Sejong, let him figure things out for himself.”

Lilah’s lips curled up into a devious smirk. “You like him, don’t you?” she asked. Your eyes widened and you turned to look back at her. “What?” you asked incredulously. “I knew it!” Lilah said excitedly, sitting up quickly. “You like him!” Daniel looked between you and Lilah quickly, eyes wide.

“Lilah,” you said sternly. “I have a boyfriend.” Lilah rolled her eyes. “Yeah, a shit one,” she murmured. You reached out, smacking her arm. “Ow!” she exclaimed, holding the spot you hit. “Don’t start that shit again,” you snapped. “Joshua isn’t perfect,” you continued. “None of us are.”

You stared at her pointedly. Lilah conceded and sunk back into her seat. “Fine,” she groaned. “So, this Changbin guy,” Daniel asked, leaning forward, breaking the tension. “What kind of ink does he do?”

The rest of the ride, Lilah showed Daniel pictures on Changbin’s professional instagram, showing off his previous work and explaining the tattoo she commissioned from him. You listened as you drove. The sun had started to set as you reached the outskirts of Sejong, driving through town and heading for the Serizawa’s house. Daniel had wanted to come back and stay a few days with his grandparents before moving back into the apartment above the shop.

“Thank you so much again,” Daniel said as he leaned down to peer into your window, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “It was good to see you, Lilah,” he added. Your best friend leaned forward, smiling at him. “You too, Danny,” she replied. Daniel turned his attention back to you.

“I’ll see you at the shop,” he said and you nodded. “See you later,” you replied as he waved and headed for the front door of his grandparents’ house. You waited, watching to make sure he made it in safely before driving off and making your way to Lilah’s building. The ride was silent as you followed the memorized route.

“I’m sorry,” Lilah said, her soft voice punctuating the silence. “For what I said about Josh,” she clarified. “I know I should stay out of it,” she continued. “But I can’t help it. Not when I see how he treats you from the outside.” You pulled to a stop outside her building.

“He’s too controlling,” she added. “I know you care about me,” you started, turning to look at her. “But please trust me when I say I can handle it. I know how to handle my boyfriend,” you added. “If I need help, you will be the first to know.” Lilah nodded, unbuckling her seatbelt and leaning over the center console to pull you into a tight hug.

“You’re still coming to my tattoo appointment, right?” she asked as she pulled back, making sure to grab her bag and things from the cupholders. You nodded. “Of course,” you replied as she opened the door and got out, leaning over to look at you through the open window. “You promise?” she asked.

You nodded again with a smile.

“I promise.”

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Wednesday came much faster than you were expecting. Lilah had asked the days leading up to the appointment if you were still going with her and you kept reassuring her you’d go. It wasn’t like you hadn’t attended her appointments before, you had. So why she was so adamant about you attending this one was lost on you. Until you showed up to White Lotus Studio.

Lilah had insisted on you meeting her at the shop instead of going there together. You didn’t really question it since you only had an hour after getting off work to go home, change and meet her. You didn’t really need to change but you preferred to.

The walk to the shop didn’t take long and soon you were walking up to the door, stepping aside as a couple of patrons exited, chatting excitedly about whatever work they’d gotten done. Lilah was seated inside on one of the black armchairs you’d sold Changbin as you crossed the threshold into the building. It seemed to be a busy day, each station was occupied.

Minho was sitting on a black stool, working on the leg of a man you’d seen briefly at some of the parties Lilah brought you to. In the same space, Chris was explaining jewelry options to a girl who was getting her ears pierced for the first time, her friends crowded around her but staring at Chris instead of the jewelry.

You walked over to Lilah who was talking to Hana and looked up in time to catch a glimpse of Changbin through a glass window. He was talking to a client, no doubt explaining something related to the tattoo he’d just done as he wrapped it. Your eyes lingered a moment longer as you really studied him.

You’d only ever seen him outside the studio in social settings. Parties, the club, and your work. You never saw him in his own element before. He looked much more confident in this setting.

You tore your gaze away before he caught you staring and smiled as you moved to sit on the ottoman across from Lilah. Your best friend smiled widely, leaning forward to pull you into an awkward hug. “You made it!” she said happily. You chuckled as she let go and nodded. “I said I would,” you replied.

You turned to Hana, nodding politely. Hana returned the gesture and then went back to her phone, thumbs tapping on the screen. You took the lapse in conversation to look around the shop. It was a completely different space from what you remembered. The walls were mostly an off-white color except for a bump out that was painted entirely black with a massive tiger painted.

The decal was impressive and looked imposing and intimidating, as if the tiger was leaping from the wall. Whoever had painted it was incredibly talented. Behind Lilah was a counter, behind which Paxton stood. She threw a dirty look your way but you ignored it. You were here for Lilah and if Paxton didn’t like it, that wasn’t your fault.

The front of the counter was glass, showing off a vast array of jewelry for all types of piercings. Bright lights mounted to the underside of the counter top made the gems in some of the pieces sparkle. You looked away at the black velvet sofa. You wondered where Changbin had gotten it as it was almost a perfect match to the armchairs. 

Behind the sofa, on the same wall as the tiger bump out, large rectangular planters stood behind the sofa, dark bamboo stood against the wall in contrast with the paint.

You looked towards the front of the shop, a low console table, also painted black with a matte finish and glass surface, stood under the large box window with books sitting atop the surface. The box window had a small collection of decorations in it, a few small statues of buddha, a dragon perched atop its treasure hoard, a golden lucky cat waving at anyone who passed by.

The rooms were separated by half walls with large glass windows, the doorways were open square arches. The walls inside each room were different in the decor and decals. In the room Minho and Chris were working, a dragon decal had been painted in the center of the wall, lined up with the door. A neon sign, green in color, hung on the wall next to the dragon displaying the name of a brewery in town.

There was a backlit shadow box with comic strips framed and spaced evenly from top to bottom.

You looked away from the room, taking note of the light wood floor with pale ashy tones, the black and gray ornamental rug that filled the lobby area was stunning and the patterns very intricate. You wondered if Changbin knew about the history of the rug and if so, you’d love to hear about it.

Changbin had gotten so used to the sound of the bell that he almost didn’t hear it anymore, especially when he was in the middle of an appointment with a client but whenever the tattoo gun wasn’t in his hand, he paid more attention.

Looking up as the bell rang, he saw two patrons leaving, both having been serviced by Chris. Changbin was about to return his gaze to the client who was currently counting bills when his heart skipped a beat. You had just walked in, politely bowing to the clients who were leaving.

It had been several days since Changbin had last seen you at the house party Chris and Minho had invited him and Jeongguk to. You looked just as radiant as ever. You wore a light pink jacket over a flowy cream colored dress where the hem fell just above your knees.

The tights you wore with the ensemble were nude with a swirly floral pattern. You’d paired the look with black suede pumps with straps which brought out the black details of the dress. A thin black ribbon tie at the high neck, black buttons that went up the front of the bust. It was a simple look but you made it look anything but simple. Every time Changbin saw you, somehow you always managed to look so well put together. It was clear you spent a lot of time picking out your outfits and planning things.

From your outfit to your makeup and hair. It was a huge contrast to your best friend who Changbin had noticed was wearing high waisted black cut-off jean shorts, a black tank tucked in and a black oversized cardigan. She wore black combat boots much like Changbin and it never managed to surprise him how different the two of you were.

Like night and day.

Changbin smiled as his client handed him a wad of cash, thanking him for the newest work on his calf before exiting. Changbin quickly counted the money, moving over to the counter and opening the top drawer where he kept his built-in safe, carefully putting in the code and opening the door. He separated a few of the larger bills before adding the cash to the safe, closing it up and tucking the rest in his wallet.

He went about cleaning up his station to set up for the next appointment, trying not to look out the window where he could only see the top of your head. He could faintly hear you talking to Lilah but couldn’t make out what the two of you were talking about.

He picked up the spray bottle on the counter and gave the chair a few sprays, quickly wiping the surface down. He moved about his station, opening and closing drawers and cabinets as he gathered the supplies he would need for Lilah’s tattoo. Once he had the basics, he exited the room, popping over to Jeongguk’s station to check on his progress.

He then left the room and walked into the lobby. He noticed how you were looking around, no doubt inspecting his choice in decor. He suddenly felt self-conscious. How would you perceive him through his design choices? Were you impressed or underwhelmed?

He shook his head, and walked over to where you and Lilah sat. “You ready?” he asked, taking note how you didn’t seem to hear him as he spoke to your best friend. She nodded and Changbin beckoned her to follow him.

As you were lost in your thoughts, staring at the rug, Lilah stood up and snapped you out of your thoughts. “Come on, spacey,” she joked and you got up, following her back and into the room. Your heart skipped a beat as you realized Changbin was the only artist in the room. It then dawned on you that Changbin was going to be doing her tattoo.

Lilah hopped up on the chair and pulled out her phone, connecting her head phones to the device and leaving one ear free. “Just the line work today, right?” Changbin asked as you stood awkwardly by the doorway. Your eyes raked over his form, taking in his outfit of the day.

He was wearing another fitted black tee tucked into black cargo pants with the cuffs of his pants tucked into his signature black combat boots. His hair had been straightened and styled, showing his forehead. He had a simple silver chain around his neck. It seemed that this was kind of his go to outfit.

Changbin turned slightly to glance your way before chuckling to himself. “You know you can sit down, right?” he asked, nodding at the chair near the chair Lilah was sitting on. You murmured a thanks and walked over to the chair, removing your jacket and sitting down

You glanced around the room, taking in the features. Changbin’s station was the only one in the room. The same floor ran through this room as the rest of the shop. The walls were the same off white with a custom made neon sign in the shape of a lotus hanging above the counter top that ran the length of the wall opposite the doorway.

The countertop was black quartz, the cabinets below the same off white as the walls with gold hardware. The chair Lilah sat on was a bright red leather with an adjustable headrest, arm rests, foot rest and heavy circular base. The entire chair looked fully adjustable and quite comfortable.

Changbin was looking over supplies sitting on a silver rolling tray. Various tools and equipment sat before him. He had a few small ink pods waiting to be used. You continued to scan the items, noticing he had two pairs of black gloves. ‘Two pairs?’ you wondered to yourself.

A stool, at least you thought it was a stool, sat near him. It looked like a small chair with a back and arm rests but the arm rests were backwards, sticking out from either side of the back of the stool. You looked away from the equipment to the artists as Changbin moved over to the counter and opened a drawer, grabbing a small clear bag of black rubber bands and shutting the drawer before he walked back over to Lilah. 

“If we can knock out the shading this time too, that’ll save you another session,” he said softly as he looked up. Lilah glanced over at you. “Do you mind if we stay a little longer?” she asked. Changbin turned to look at you as well. You shook your head. “No,” you said softly. “It’s your appointment,” you added with a smile towards your friend.

She beamed and nodded as Changbin turned away. “Alright,” he said moving to the side of the chair and you watched as he pushed a button and the leg rest started to raise, splitting in half. “Is the headrest in a good spot?” he asked as he finished raising the leg rest. Lilah nodded and scooted back into the seat and got comfortable. Changbin moved back over to the tray, using his toe to pull the stool closer.

You watched as he sat on it, the backrest in front of him. “You can move closer,” he commented towards you as he grabbed a glove and pulled it on before putting the other on. You realized your chair had wheels and you slowly scooted forward, moving closer to Lilah as Changbin prepared the tattoo gun.

You didn’t pay much attention to the process as it looked extremely complicated but it was still fascinating to watch. Changbin rolled closer, bringing his tray with him. You watched as he prepped Lilah’s skin, wiping the area with a cotton pad and taking a brand new disposable razor.

You watched with rapt attention as he prepared the area, shaving any hair and wiped the skin again. Once he was ready, Changbin grabbed the stencil he’d prepared and placed it on Lilah’s thigh. He pressed it firmly against her skin, making sure it stuck before peeling the paper away.

“Check the placement,” he said softly, waiting patiently as Lilah hopped up and walked over to the mirror to check it out. “Perfect,” she said excitedly, returning to the chair. Changbin nodded and moved into position. Once he got started, you watched him work.

He didn’t speak much as he worked, focusing instead on tracing the lines of the stencil. You’d been to a few of Lilah’s appointments before but most of the tattoos you’d witness her get were smaller. This was the largest piece you’d seen her get.

It was a large lion’s head, mouth open in a silent roar. You continued to watch silently as Changbin worked, finding the constant hum of the tattoo gun comforting. You glanced up to see Lilah had her eyes shut, mouthing to lyrics to whatever song she was listening to.

The song playing over the speaker of the shop’s intercom was a familiar one, you’d heard Lilah play from her playlist before. It was a heavy rock piece with a lot of drumming. It wasn’t your favorite kind of music but you didn’t mind it. You watched the tattoo take shape slowly, watching the way Changbin worked slowly but diligently. He clearly didn’t like to rush things, something you could appreciate.

After he’d managed to get half of the lines done, you looked up, hearing footsteps behind you. You turned back to Changbin. “Do you mind if I look around?” you asked softly. He glanced up briefly before shaking his head. “Just don’t get in anyone’s way,” he said with a slight smile.

You got up, leaving your jacket and purse in the chair and headed out of the doorway. Across from the room Changbin was set up in was a larger room with two stations in it. The one near the door was empty but the other station had Jeongguk, sitting in a similar stool as Changbin. He was working on an arm tattoo. The client was a young woman, maybe around Lilah’s age.

Her arm was resting on what you assumed was a separate arm rest, inside of the forearm exposed as Jeongguk colored in the line work of a tattoo you assumed he previously had done. His style was much different than Changbin’s but the tattoo was still just as intricate and beautiful.

It was an hourglass design inside a compass. You apologized softly when Jeongguk glanced at you. “I’m just curious to see what everyone else is doing,” you added. Jeongguk smiled and shook his head. “Don’t apologize,” he replied. “I don’t mind spectators,” he added with a chuckle.

After watching a couple more minutes, you left the room and peeked in to see the progress of Lilah’s tattoo. Changbin had almost completely finished the lines. You decided to check the other room. Paxton was no longer behind the counter and was instead coming back from the back of the shop.

You turned to look into the room Minho and Chris were in. Minho was still working on the same tattoo as before while Chris now had Hana in his seat. You leaned against the frame, offering a polite smile to Hana who surprisingly returned it. Chris glanced back and smiled widely.

“Lilah still getting her piece done?” he asked to which you nodded. “I’m just looking around. The boss said I could,” you added with an amused tone. Minho glanced up before going back to his work. You walked over, making sure to stay a reasonable distance away.

The tattoo he was working on was a traditional style dragon with clouds behind it. The lines were thicker than the lines on Lilah’s piece but you could tell it was intentional. “You spying on me?” Minho joked as he glanced back at you. Shaking your head, you moved a little closer. “Admiring your work,” you replied.

Minho chuckled and continued to work. “Next you’re going to tell me you want a tattoo,” he mused. You rolled your eyes, resisting the urge to nudge him as he was working and turned back to Hana and Chris. “You wanna watch?” Chris asked, looking over at you.

You glanced at Hana who shrugged. “I don’t mind,” she added. You walked over and stood beside them. “What kind of piercing is this?” you asked. “Bridge,” Hana replied simply. You pointed at the bridge of your nose and Hana nodded. You nodded and watched as Chris took a black marker and marked either side of the bridge of Hana’s nose.

“Is that where you want it?” he asked, handing her a handheld mirror. You watched as she tilted his head, checking the placement before handing the mirror back. “Yep,” she said simply. Chris nodded, grabbing an alcohol wipe and opening it. He carefully wiped the spot before picking up the needle.

“Alright, he said softly. “Close your eyes. Deep breath in.” You watched as he carefully lined the point of the needle with the mark. “Deep breath out.” As Hana breathed out, Chris pushed the needle in, carefully lining the point with the opposite side to make it even. Once the needle was all the way through, he turned to the tray, opening the package with the jewelry.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he instructed as he removed one of the balls from the barbel and placed the end into the open end of the needle. You watched with morbid fascination as he pulled the needle through, guiding the barbel into the new hole. He removed the needle and grabbed the ball, screwing it on and making sure it was firm and tight.

“And done,” he said simply. Hana opened her eyes, taking the mirror from him to look at the new piece of jewelry as Chris started to clean up. “Be honest,” Hana said, turning to you. “How does it look?” You inspected it a little closer. “It looks really cool. It’s perfectly even, too,” you replied. Hana smiled and looked back into the mirror.

You excused yourself and headed back to Lilah, passing Paxton who glared at you once again. You still didn’t know what her issue with you was but you decided not to dwell on it as you entered Changbin’s station. He’d finished the lines and was now working on shading the lion head.

“How was your trip?” Lilah asked, eyes still shut. “Fascinating,” you answered as you sat back down. Changbin glanced up at you and smiled before returning to his work. “Jeongguk was working on an arm tattoo. It looked like some kind of mandala,” you explained to Lilah. “Minho was doing this really cool traditional dragon tattoo and Chris did a bridge piercing,” you relayed, feeling like a child telling your mother what happened in school that day.

The rest of the appointment passed quickly and soon Changbin was turning off the tattoo gun and setting it down. “Alright,” he said and Lilah opened her eyes. “Let me finish wiping it down and then I’ll cover it. You looked up from your phone, having zone out a while ago while playing some kind of coloring game on your phone. Changbin wrapped up quickly.

As he was finishing, Jeongguk peered in. “We’re ordering from the noodle place down the street,” he announced to Changbin. “You want your usual?” Changbin nodded without looking up as he applied vaseline to Lilah’s tattoo and started securing the plastic. “Get some of those beef dumplings,” he called out. He looked up at Lilah. “You know the drill. Bandage stays on for four days, no soaps except that antimicrobial I told you about, lotion for sensitive skin without dyes or perfumes, blah blah blah,” he added as he got up and started cleaning.

“If the bandage comes off before four days, come back in and I’ll replace it,” he added as Lilah walked over to the mirror, pulling out her phone to snap a picture of it. “And send me that picture,” he added as he noticed her taking another. “I want to add both it and the finished piece to my instagram.”

Lilah nodded and opened her messages to send him the picture. “So what do you think?” Lilah asked, showing off the new ink. You smiled, inspecting it. “I like it,” you replied. “The lines are really clean and the shading is really good. It’s gonna look pretty sick with the color,” you added.

“Does this mean you want to get something?” Lilah asked, wiggling her eyebrows, making you laugh loudly. “No,” you replied. “Absolutely not.” Changbin removed his gloves and tossed them in the trash bin, the snap of the gloves making you and Lilah look over at him.

He had a playful smile on his face. “Is my art not pretty enough for you?” he asked jokingly. You shook your head. “Your art is beautiful,” you replied, catching him off guard. “I just don’t have any desire to get a tattoo,” you explained. Changbin chuckled lightly. “I’m just messing with you,” he replied. “Tattoos aren’t for everyone,” he added. “I get that.”

Lilah thankfully punctuated the subject with her change in topic.

“How much do I owe you?”

You turned to gather your things as Lilah paid Changbin, thanking him once more. “Come back once you’re ready to add some color to that,” Changbin reminded her. She nodded and turned to you. “I’m gonna go see Chris really quick. I’ll meet you up front.” You nodded as you unplugged your phone from your charger and packed up.

As you were pulling on your coat, Changbin spoke up.

“If you ever change your mind,” he said, drawing your attention. “About getting a tattoo,” he added, noticing your confused expression. “I’d be happy to do any work you’d like done.” You smiled warmly. “Thanks,” you said softly, picking up your bag as he leaned against the counter behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’d love to be your first,” he added, an amused undertone to his voice.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you met his gaze. There was something about the way he looked at you. Something in the playful smirk on his face. Before you could respond, you heard Lilah calling your name, pulling you from your trance.

“I gotta go,” you announced. Changbin nodded, the same smirk still on his face. “See you around, Y/N,” he said softly and you turned away, forcing yourself to walk out of the room and towards the front of the shop where Lilah was waiting.

You followed her out onto the sidewalk, Chris locking the door behind the two of you as they set about closing the shop. “Are you hungry?” Lilah asked, linking her arm with yours. You nodded slowly, still mulling over Changbin’s words and playful banter. “Yeah,” you finally replied as Lilah steered you in the direction of the town square. “Let’s get some dinner,” you added.

“Good,” Lilah said excitedly. “Cause I’m starving.”

ⓘ If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging as it helps me out more than you know. All graphics made by me. Content and support banners made using a template by cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All writing and graphics are ©️ kwanisms.

[seolar-system]

Under Your Skin 02 — s.changbin

taglist | playlist

summary: Everything seemed to fall into place for Y/N. She had a loving boyfriend, her dream job, and the bestest friend in the universe. She never thought her life was missing something until she was introduced to Changbin, the town's newest tattoo artist who happens to be harboring an unimaginable secret.

pairing: tattoo artist!Changbin × fem!Reader

genres/themes/au: angst, fluff, smut, slow burn; “forbidden” love, strangers to lovers, supernatural themes; tattoo artist!au, werewolf!au; tattoo artist!Changbin, werewolf!Changbin, established boyfriend!Joshua

warnings: adult dialogue, tobacco use, female reader, mild religious themes as part of the story takes place in a church, sexual content (18+ mdni), smut warnings under the cut!

taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @x-woozi @candidupped @snow-pegasus @brownieracha @hobi-is-golden @avyskai @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @biribarabiribbaem @mchslut @spicxbnny @hgema @likeaboss-duh @oiminho @slut-for-dabi @ughyeka @honey-lemon-goose @skidsflowers @fixation-dump @meadowyin @sleeplessdawn @bristidutta @changbinnss @racha-enthusiast @phobia0922 @sanjoongie @chillllllli @nattisbored @kimseungminsprincess @chrollosforehead @typicalcuriosities @tai-loves-skz @labyrinthonmymind @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @mariesakamari @mamieishere @buttergumz @nxiim9 @emithecharmer @binnies-donuts @v3n0mszn @kazzilla @alexvessey @jihanlovic @thezombiepandaleague @moonl1ghtmuse @blue3ss5

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And if you change your url, YOU are responsible for telling me.

a/n: finally, here's part 2 of Under Your Skin! We are still going strong with the long chapters lol I know the pairing for this series overall is Changbin and he is end game I promise but Y/N is in a serious and committed relationship with Joshua so there will be some action there lol

A huge thank you to my wife, Sky ☁️, for this entire story idea. Without her late night thoughts, as well as her constant hype and support this series wouldn’t even exist.

Also a massive thank you to @icybluehosh for her professional input on all things tattoos. You are a saint, my love and I thank you so much!

To everyone else, thank you so much for reading this story and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! As always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. Header and line breaks made by me. Content and support banners made by me with a template made by @cafekitsune. I do not allow reposts, translations, or continuations of my works. All my writings are ©️ kwanisms.

smut warnings: dom!Joshua, brat!Reader, rough sex, use of pet names (baby, sweetheart, and brat. Don’t question it. He calls her brat as a term of endearment when she’s being a brat), slight dirty talk, counter top sex , suggestive and implied sexual encounter in a church!!! and I think that's all. Of course, pls let me know if I missed anything!

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𝗰𝗵 𝟬𝟮 - 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘁𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗶

wc: 15k

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It had been a few days since the incident at the club and you hadn’t heard from Joshua since that night. He’d texted you once to make sure you had indeed made it home safely. After that it was radio silence.

You weren’t as upset about it as you thought you’d be. You chalked it up to needing some space from one another after that fight.

Instead, you focused your time on work.

A new shipment of antiques had been brought in from your boss’ most recent trip abroad to collect items to resell. The shop was your home away from home. You spent most of your time here as it was your job.

You remembered seeing the shop when you were younger and coming in with your mother. You spent the short time you were in the shop wandering the shelves and looking at all the neat tea sets and other antiques that had been cleaned and restored with care.

When you turned 19, you expressed a desire to work and your parents supported it, saying it would help build character. Your father offered to give you a secretarial position at his company but you had something else in mind.

Your parents were confused about your desire to work at Serizawa’s but when they visited the shop again on the day you went in to apply, they couldn’t imagine you working anywhere else.

Your boss, a man named Isei Serizawa, was a kind elderly man in his late 60’s. His wife, Shinju, was a small woman, also in her 60’s, and spent her life as a stay at home mom, taking care of their two children. 

The couple started the shop back when they first got married. 

Back then it was in a small storefront in Shingu, near Fukuoka, Japan. They spent their life running the shop and living in the small town near the ocean. They had two children who went off to become extremely successful in both Tokyo and Osaka. 

After their children started their own families, the couple moved to Korea and settled in Sejong, bringing their shop with them. 

When you first started working at the shop, you mainly worked setting up the items to be sold and sweeping, manning the front of the shop. Eventually, you started to learn about the work Shinju did and asked her to teach you.

She found it nice to have someone interested in her work, restoring old tea sets and mending broken ones. She taught you everything she knew and as her arthritis started to get worse, she left the restoration work to you.

Mr. Serizawa restored furniture and old electronics, leaving the ceramics to you now that Shinju stayed at home, keeping her arthritis at bay with cross stitch and knitting.

Some time after you started working at the shop, the Serizawas’ grandson, Daniel, came to live with them, moving into their spare bedroom. 

You didn’t know the particulars of why he left Tokyo but your boss did tell you he wasn’t doing well. He was acting out and mixed in with the wrong crowd. 

When you first met Daniel, he seemed troubled and at first he was cold and initially it seemed like he didn’t like you being at the shop or the way the Serizawas treated you like family. Eventually he warmed up to you and came to see you almost like an older cousin.

He also began opening up to you once he started working in the shop when he wasn’t in school.

His grades, which had apparently been dismal at his school in Tokyo, were thriving out here in Sejong. He loved the small town atmosphere and the feeling of community that came with it.

He started doing so well, in both school and his personal life that the Serizawas let him move into the apartment above the shop so long as he kept his grades up and stayed out of trouble.

Since it was summer time and he’d kept his promises to keep his grades up and stay out of trouble, the Serizawas let him go on a school summer trip to Busan to visit the ocean and the island of Jeju. Daniel kept his grandparents in the loop, sending them pictures and letters as well as postcards of his trip.

The Serizawas and even you were happy to see him thriving and having the time of his life with his friends and classmates. He was due to return soon as summer was ending and school would be starting back up.

The ring of the bell brought you out of your hyperfocus and you quickly set the cup you were holding down, wiping your hands on your apron as you called out. “Be right there!

“This is a lot of stuff,” Jeongguk murmured as he followed Changbin into the shop. 

They’d driven past what felt like a dozen furniture shops in town until Changbin mentioned seeing this place and Jeongguk begrudgingly drove along the main street until they found the correct side street.

The shop wasn’t huge nor was it loud or ostentatious. It was a small brick building, nestled between a café and an ice cream parlor with a small alleyway leading between the coffee shop and the antique shop.

The sign was made from black wood, coated in a lacquer that made it shine with gold lettering that read the name ‘Serizawa’s.’ The windows on the front of the shop were large and rectangular, stopping about waist level with a row of planters full of neatly trimmed hedges and pruned flowering bushes.

The front door was the same black lacquered wood with a golden knob. 

Inside the shop was what Changbin could only describe as organized chaos. 

Jeongguk was right, there were a lot of items but they were organized neatly. There were five shelving units, each labeled clearly with all manner of antique items ranging from old typewriters and phones to toys of all kinds.

A series of floating shelves near the door were loaded with various tea sets from different backgrounds and each with distinct patterns. 

Jeongguk was immediately drawn to the porcelain, inspecting them as Changbin looked further around. On the back wall were various pieces of furniture, some on special wall mounted hangers to allow more space to peruse the shop.

A small tile section of flooring was between the entry way and the shelves where some pieces of furniture were displayed, almost like one would stage in a home or apartment. 

Next to the door was a long counter, behind which had lots of small porcelain trinkets and other knick knacks.

Across from the main door was a doorway with a thick and no doubt heavy green curtain. 

Changbin heard a voice call out to them when they first entered and a moment later, footsteps started shuffling from behind the curtain before the material was pulled back and Changbin’s eyes widened as a woman stepped out.

He’d only managed to get a good look at her a few times the other night but he was certain it was indeed Lilah’s friend, the same he’d intervened for when her boyfriend tried to forcibly remove her from the club.

Changbin watched as she stepped forward and recognition passed over her, well your, face. 

“Hey,” you said with a smile as you walked forward to meet them. “Hey,” Changbin said with a small smile. He wasn’t sure if you’d remember him.

“Nice to see you again,” you added as Jeongguk returned to Changbin’s side. ‘Well, she definitely remembers,’ he thought, a little bemused. 

“Yeah, I had no idea you worked here,” Changbin added as Jeongguk looked between the two of you.

A silence fell over the three of you before you finally spoke. 

“So, how can I help you guys?” You asked, looking between them. Changbin was so focused on your face as you spoke that he’d completely missed your question.

Jeongguk discreetly elbowed him, making him sputter before answering.

“Oh, right. I’m, uh, actually looking for some furniture,” he said softly. Jeongguk rolled his eyes and turned away to inspect the shelves some more. ‘Him and those damn tea sets.’

“What kind of furniture?” You asked, tilting your head to the side, reminding Changbin of one of Jeongguk’s puppies. It was cute. You were cute. 'This is neither the time nor the place,' Changbin mentally scolded himself to stop letting his mind wander.

‘Focus, you idiot!’

“Oh, just some accent pieces. Something vintage. Preferably black or red,” he answered, trying to sound casual.

You nodded a couple times, taking in his words before turning to the rest of the shop. “Actually, I think I've got a few pieces like that,” you replied. 

“I could show you if you’d like?” 

Changbin nodded and you smiled, beckoning him to follow as you moved towards the back of the shop.

He followed while Jeongguk stayed behind to continue to look at the tea sets.

“How many pieces are you wanting?” You asked as you led him to the back wall. “Just a couple. Maybe three at most. I’m really trying to find some chairs for the lobby of my shop,” Changbin answered as you both walked towards the back.

“What kind of shop?” You asked, sounding interested. 

“It’s a tattoo shop,” Changbin answered, expecting you to lose interest immediately.

“Oh, the one that just popped up on Market Street?”

Changbin was taken aback that not only were you interested in the shop but that you knew where it even was. He nodded wordlessly, wondering what other kinds of surprises you had.

“Lilah has been talking nonstop about it ever since the last shop closed. I’d never been to that one,” you added as the two of you neared the back of the shop. “The last shop seemed to be a favorite among the locals, what was it called?”

Changbin watched as you stopped, amused as you wracked your brain.

“Ink Moon Studios!” You said suddenly, as if having an ‘aha’ moment. Changbin’s smile widened as you turned to him. “I really liked the name of that shop. What’s yours called? I didn’t see any signs when I last went by.”

Changbin suddenly felt very self conscious. “Uh, White Lotus Studio,” he answered softly. “I like that,” you said, smiling warmly. 

“Maybe I’ll have to come by with Lilah some time.”

Changbin bit back the urge to smile. If you wanted to come by his shop, he wasn’t going to complain. Not one bit.

“So,” you said, stopping to point out a couple different pieces. 

“We have these,” you continued, showing him a couple of red velvet chairs. The wood was a dark reddish brown. “But I also have these,” you added, pointing out a chair and ottoman set.

Both pieces were black upholstery with white painted wood. “This is probably a long shot,” Changbin started. “But do you have anything with black and gold?” 

A smile spread across your face and you waved at him to follow you, leading him back towards the front of the shop.

Back at the staged area, you showed him two of the chairs. 

They were high wingback arm chairs with black velvet upholstery and gold painted wood with carved details. They were exactly what he was looking for and he mentally kicked himself for not noticing them as soon as he came in.

You were excited, showing them off as you explained the work that went into restoring them. 

“My boss just finished these last week. I was really excited when he showed me his plans for them.”

You pointed out the wood trim. “These details are all hand carved. They’re Rococo inspired pieces but obviously they aren’t that old,” you explained. “The gold paint is coated in a layer of epoxy which gives it the shine. The epoxy won’t wear down so obviously the paint won’t chip. The velvet is real and will have to be cleaned by hand with some velvet cleaner and a microfiber cloth.”

Changbin nodded as you spoke, kneeling down to look at the pieces and looking over them, inspecting the wood and looking at the supports under the cushion. “No offense to your boss, but how often do customers complain or return items?”

You smiled warmly again. “No offense taken. I think the only time we’ve had something returned it was a mirror. The frame got damaged when they were carrying it out to their car and Mr. Serizawa offered to fix it right away,” you explained.

“He’s been doing this his entire life and for him, it’s not about the money. It’s about bringing new life into these old pieces and making sure people love them as much as he does.” 

Changbin glanced up at you from where he was kneeling in front of the chair. “Impressive customer service,” Changbin noted with a smile.

You smiled again. 

“My boss strips all pieces down to the base before reinforcing any cracks or weaknesses in wood. He uses high quality foam and upholstery when refurbishing each piece,” you added.

Changbin stood up and walked around one of the chairs, continuing to inspect it.

“And he does all of this in the shop?” Changbin asked as he stopped to look up at you. Nodding in response you continued to speak. “He has a workshop in the back where he does all his restoration work,” you answered. 

“Like I said, he’s been doing this his whole life. He’s had this shop in Sejong since I was a little girl. Before that he lived near Fukuoka and had a shop there.”

Changbin looked up at you again as you spoke. His eyes trailed over your face, taking in your features before looking back down at the chair. He didn’t want to get caught essentially checking you out, though he really wanted to.

He needed to be professional. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable in any way.

Changbin nodded a couple times before clicking his tongue and looking back up at you with a smirk.

“I’ll take them.”

Changbin was immediately entranced by the smile that spread across your face. It was different from the warm and polite smiles you’d given him before. This was a genuine smile. The first he’d seen from you since meeting you the other night.

He’d thought you were pretty before, seeing you at the club under all the neon lights and then again today in the natural lighting that filtered into the shop but the moment this smile graced your face, it nearly took his breath away.

He was convinced he’d never seen someone so stunning.

“Perfect, I’ll go grab the paperwork,” you replied, drawing him out of his thoughts before excusing yourself to disappear behind the curtain.

Changbin watched as you disappeared behind the green material before Jeongguk hissed at him from across the shop. He turned to look at his friend who had been looking at the tea sets the whole time.

“These are so fucking expensive,” he hissed. “Who the fuck would buy something so outrageously priced!?” Changbin’s smile fell and he glared at his friend from across the store. “Knock it off!” Changbin hissed.

Jeongguk looked back at the tea set. “Who would spend almost a million won on this?” Changbin sighed, glaring at his friend. “Stop it! She might hear you!”

Jeongguk shrugged his shoulders. “It’s not my fault they’re priced so high.”

Changbin was staring daggers at Jeongguk when the curtain opened and you returned, carrying some papers, a polite smile on your face. Changbin wondered if you’d heard them bickering. If you had, your face didn’t let it show.

“These are a formality,” you explained as you handed over the small stack of papers. “Basically just going over what was done to refurbish the items and how we recommend you take care of them.”

You smiled at him as Changbin flipped through the pages quickly. He glanced up as you were looking at the price tag of the chairs and writing on a small pad of paper, filling in the boxes and adding the sales tax.

You finished and gestured for Changbin to follow you to the counter near the door so you could properly ring him up.

Jeongguk was still looking at the tea sets as Changbin pulled out his wallet and waited for you to do your thing, tapping away at the register screen.

“Okay, the total comes to five-hundred and fifty thousand won,” you said with a smile. “How much?” Jeongguk asked, whipping his head around. “That’s for both chairs and I gave you a discount since you’re buying both of them,” you explained.

Ignoring Jeongguk’s glare, Changbin opened his wallet, pulled out his card and waited for you to input his total before turning the screen around for him to pay.

The transaction only took a few moments but it was long enough for Jeongguk to interrupt the silence, yet again.

“Can I ask you something?”

‘Oh god, here we go.’

You glanced up as Changbin signed his name. “Yes?”

Jeongguk gestured at the shelf. “How do you choose the prices for these things?”

Your cheeks burned at his inquiry and there was no doubt in Changbin’s mind that you had heard them bickering earlier. He desperately wanted to apologize for Jeongguk’s rudeness but was unable to do so as you started speaking.

“Well, it’s really hard to put an exact price on art,” you started as you printed Changbin’s receipt and stapled it to his paperwork. Changbin thanked you as you handed him his papers.

“Some of those sets are almost a hundred years old,” you continued, leaning on the counter as Changbin put his wallet away, both he and Jeongguk engrossed in your words. 

“That specific set, the one that’s almost a million won, is a rare bone China tea set from England and is about 150 years old.”

Jeongguk’s eyes widened and he looked back at the set.

“The prices are determined by the age, condition, and rarity of each item. We also factor in how much work went into restoring each piece. That set came to us in multiple pieces.”

Jeongguk turned back to face you. “So it was restored in the store?”

You nodded as Changbin watched you. 

“Yes. Everything is restored and cleaned in the shop before we sell it.”

Jeongguk chuckled, looking back at the sets. “I'm picturing a cute little elderly lady in the back, cleaning the tea sets,” he murmured but loud enough for both you and Changbin to hear.

Changbin chuckled as well, shaking his head at the image Jeongguk put in his head. A small giggle came from you, causing both to look in your direction.

“Actually, there’s no little old lady,” you said, giggles subsiding.

“I do all the tea sets.”

Changbin’s eyes widened as did Jeongguk’s.

“Wait, you restore the tea sets?” Jeongguk asked. You nodded with a slight redness to your cheeks. “I do,” you answered.

“That’s so… impressive,” Changbin said, making you blush deeper. “What made you get into this line of work?” Jeongguk asked.

“Well, I spent a good portion of my youth and teens attending fancy parties and soirees and I’ve been to more tea parties than I care to count,” you explained as both men continued to listen.

“I’ve never really liked tea that much if I’m being honest, but I’ve always loved the sets.” A small smile spread across your face as you reminisced.

“And the sets were always so pretty. All the intricate patterns and details have this way of drawing you in.” You were so engrossed in your explanation you didn’t notice the way Changbin was looking at you.

“Both the art and even the soft clink of porcelain brings me a great sense of nostalgia,” you continued softly as both men watched you, especially Changbin, with a deep fascination.

"The Japanese have a word for it. Natsukashii."

Changbin had never heard someone speak so passionately about tea sets. Normally he wouldn’t be interested but the fact that you were in it for the art was something he appreciated greatly.

“I’m sorry,” you said suddenly, waving your hand. “I went off on a tangent there.”

You cleared your throat and turned to look at Changbin. 

“We’ll be open until 8 today, so you’re welcome to swing by any time to pick up your chairs. I’ll go ahead and put the sold signs and grab the plastic from the back to wrap them up.”

Changbin smiled and nodded. “I’ll be back before then with a truck,” he replied, standing up straight before tapping the counter softly with his knuckles. “See you then,” you replied with a warm smile.

Jeongguk finally turned away from the tea sets but not before looking at the set below the one he’d called out for being expensive. “What about this one?”

Changbin could have strangled his friend. 

He knew you were probably up to your elbows in work and he really didn’t want to keep you any longer than was necessary.

You must have been some sort of saint, smiling kindly and moving around the counter to get a better look at the set Jeongguk was pointing at.

Changbin allowed himself to look at it and understood why Jeongguk was so intrigued.

It was a black traditional tea set. The black was broken up but lines of gold. It was extremely striking. The inside of the cups was white with speckled blue.

“That’s a traditional Japanese tea set,” you answered. “It’s about fifty years old. It’s made from ceramic as most Japanese sets are,” you answered. “It’s from Kyoto and comes from a very popular geisha house. The story is that it fell while being transported and it cracked, several of the chawan broke into multiple pieces.”

Changbin glanced back at the set. “What’s the gold?” He asked suddenly.

“It’s powdered gold,” you replied, looking at him, meeting his gaze when he turned to look at you. “Have you ever heard of kintsugi?”

Both Changbin and Jeongguk shook their heads. “It’s something I learned from my boss’ wife. She used to restore tea sets before her arthritis set in,” you explained, squeezing between the two to grab the tea pot.

You turned it and showed them the various lines of gold. “This teapot was originally broken into 6 separate pieces when it came to the store. Using resin and gold powder I attached the pieces together. This is called hibi which means crack,” you said as you set the teapot back on the shelf.

“There are other methods but usually I only do this one,” you continued.

“If a piece is missing, sometimes we’ll substitute with a piece from another set but I have yet to have to do that.”

“So why the gold?” Jeongguk asked, asking the question on the tip of Changbin’s tongue.

“Kintsugi is about displaying the imperfections rather than covering them up. It’s the belief that the imperfections are what make it beautiful. As a philosophy, kintsugi treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object. The imperfections become part of the item,” you explained.

Changbin glanced up at his friend who was deep in thought as he looked at the black and gold set. Before Jeongguk could ask anymore questions, Changbin grabbed his friend by the elbow. “I think we’ve taken up enough of Y/N’s time,” he said gently tugging his friend towards the door.

Changbin turned to you as he guided Jeongguk out the door. “Thank you so much,” he said, smiling at you. You returned the gesture, giving him a small bow. “Thank you for coming in,” you replied, giving him a small wave as he exited.

Once the door shut behind them Changbin rounded on Jeongguk. “First you insult the items and then you won’t shut up and stop asking questions?” He asked as they walked down the sidewalk where Jeongguk’s car was parked.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, lowering his mask. “Okay, I admit, the whole price thing, that was out of line. But I was genuinely curious about the sets! It was actually kind of fascinating. I’ve never seen or heard someone talk about tea sets like that,” he replied as he unlocked the car.

Both men opened their doors and slid into their seats. “She’s passionate about it,” Jeongguk continued as he buckled his seatbelt and started the car, the engine roaring to life. “She’s in it for the art,” Changbin added. 

“I think that's something we both can appreciate.”

You watched as Changbin and Jeongguk walked down the sidewalk and out of sight. Once they’d disappeared beyond your scope of vision, you turned and headed back into the backroom to file the store’s copy of the paperwork away and return to your workspace.

The backroom was where you spent a good majority of your time, taking Shinju’s old station. It was a sturdy desk made of white oak wood in the shape of an L. One of the sides was pushed up against the back wall of the workshop and had an attached cabinet.

Inside the cabinet were various tools you used to restore sets including a vast array of paints and paintbrushes. Not only did you clean and seal cracks in the ceramics but you also touched up any painting that needed it.

It was a lot of fine details and tended to be very tedious but you’d always had a particularly steady hand and a deep love for art to begin with. Normally you painted on canvas in your youth. Now the ceramic was your canvas.

You took a seat on your cushioned chair, grabbing the heavy knitted blanket Shinju had gifted you last year to keep your legs warm. For some reason, the back of the shop always got extremely cold, even in the heat of the summer.

Picking up the cup you were currently working on, you started back up, dipping your brush into the small mug of water before dipping it into the gold paint.

The swirls came naturally as the brush tip glided across the ceramic. It was easy work and it took up a decent amount of time. You listened to the music over the shop speakers, simple classical tunes that were pleasant to the ear.

As you continued painting along the rim of the cup, time ticked by on the clock to your right. You hardly paid the face any attention as you worked. Only glancing at it when you felt necessary to gauge how much time before you needed to start cleaning up.

What felt like only minutes but was probably closer to an hour went by before the familiar tinkling of the bell caught your attention. You set the cup down on the cloth that stretched over the workspace before cleaning the brush and quickly patting it dry.

“Hello?” A familiar voice called from the showroom.

You got up, brushing off your apron before heading to the curtain only for it to be pulled back and the face of your boyfriend appeared.

Upon seeing you, Joshua gave you a smile, one you almost returned before remembering that he hadn’t spoken to you since the night at the club.

Joshua noticed the change in your demeanor, the chill in your stare.

“I come with a peace offering,” he said, holding up a brown paper sack without a logo. You narrowed your eyes suspiciously before beckoning him to join you in the back room. 

Once he’d passed the doorway, you moved out to the showroom, crossed to the door and turned the lock before flipping the small sign that read ‘be back soon.’

You returned to the backroom, letting the curtain fall behind you before crossing your arms over your chest and fixing your boyfriend with a blank expression. You were waiting for an apology.

Joshua understood your body language immediately and set the bag on the small table just inside the back room where you usually sat to eat lunch. “I know,” you heard him say softly.

“I messed up,” he continued, moving to place his hands gently on your shoulders.

“I messed up big time and I am so sorry for the way I acted at the club the other night.” 

Looking into his face, you could see the sincerity etched upon his features. He really did mean it. But you weren’t satisfied. That wasn’t all he had to answer for in your opinion.

“And?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“And I'm sorry for not talking to you since that night,” Joshua added immediately.

You pursed your lips. "And?"

Joshua gave you a confused look until you sighed and shrugged off your cardigan, showing him the now bruised spot on your arm. The same spot he'd grabbed roughly the night at the club.

His eyes fell on the mark and the confusion melted away as he immediately took your arm gently. "Oh my god, baby," he murmured as he inspected the bruise. "I'm so sorry."

"You're lucky Lilah hasn't seen this. Or my parents," you replied pulling your cardigan back on, fixing Joshua with a blank stare. He immediately reached up, cupping your cheek. "I am so, so sorry, Y/N. I really did not mean to grab you like that."

You nodded wordlessly. "I know," you replied. "But it doesn't change the fact that you did. You need to be more mindful of your actions, Joshua." He nodded in agreement. 

"Of course," he answered. "Hold me accountable. What I did was wrong and inexcusable." He took your hands in his, looking into your eyes. "I promise I'll be more mindful and to pay more attention." He gave your hands a gentle squeeze.

Once you nodded, showing that you both understood and forgave him, Joshua pulled you into a hug, swaying you both lightly until you broke the silence. "So, what's in the bag?"

Joshua had stopped by one of your favorite delis, getting you a lunch special with a sandwich and a cup of soup. The two of you sat at the small break table, eating lunch and chatting.

Joshua explained what he had been up to the last few days and answered your questions about work while you finished your food.

He had just finished explaining something one of the project leads had done when the shrill ringing of the phone cut him off. "Oh shoot," you murmured, getting up and crossing the backroom to answer the landline at Mr. Serizawa's work desk.

"Serizawa’s, this is Y/N speaking," you answered politely.

"Hello, Y/N. It's Isei," a voice on the other side said.

"Oh, hello Mr. Serizawa!"

Joshua had gotten up from the table and crossed the room as you listened to your boss speak. You felt Joshua's presence looming behind you and just as suddenly, you could feel his hands on your hips as he reached you.

"I'm not going to be able to come in later to close the shop," Mr. Serizawa started. "Shinju isn't feeling too great so I'm going to have to take her to the clinic." You furrowed your brow.

"Is she going to be okay?" you asked quickly, ignoring Joshua whispering the word "what" into your ear.

"I'm not sure. Hopefully it's nothing too serious but I'd like you to close up early. And please take the deposit to the bank for me. I don't think I'll be able to get it done by noon tomorrow."

You nodded even though he couldn't see you.

"Of course, Mr. Serizawa. I made a sale today so I'll call them and let them know to come sooner to pick up their items," you replied. "I hope Mrs. Serizawa is okay and tell her I'm thinking of her."

"Thank you Y/N. I will keep you updated. Goodbye"

The line clicked, indicating he had hung up.

You immediately set the phone back down.

"Everything okay?" Joshua asked as you sighed, his chin resting on your shoulder. "Shinju isn't feeling great so Mr. Serizawa is going to take her to the clinic," you said as you turned in his arms.

"He wants me to close the shop early," you added. "Which reminds me." You gently pushed Joshua back and moved over to the filing cabinet to pull out the file with Changbin's receipt.

"I need to call him back so he can come get his items," you murmured as you moved back to the work desk and picked up the phone. Joshua leaned against the counter top, watching you dial the number on the receipt.

The line rang a couple times before it picked up. "Hello?"

"Hi, may I speak with Changbin?"

"Speaking, who is this?"

"It's Y/N. I just got a call from the owner and he's asked me to close the shop early. If you want to still pick up your chairs today, you might want to head over here as soon as possible. I'll be closing the shop within the hour," you explained, playfully swatting Joshua's hand as it started to wander.

"Oh, hang on a sec," Changbin said before speaking indistinctly to someone else. You waited a couple moments before he returned. "I'll be by in ten minutes. Twenty at most," Changbin finally said.

You smiled in relief. "Okay, I'll see you soon," you replied. "Bye bye." You hung up and turned to Joshua who grabbed your waist and pulled you toward him. "Who was that?"

"Just a customer. He came in earlier to buy some chairs," you answered, looking at Joshua. "How long did he say he'd be?" Your boyfriend gave you a mischievous grin. You shook your head.

"He'll be here soon," you answered, trying to pull away but Joshua held you firmly in place. "So like twenty minutes?" he asked with a smirk, leaning in to kiss you. You pulled back much too quickly for his liking. "My lunch break is almost over, Mr. Hong," you said sternly. Joshua snorted but leaned in for another kiss.

His lips parted yours, tongue slipping past and just as quickly, he turned both of you, pressing against you and pinning you against the work desk. "Joshua," you warned as his lips started to wander, leaving a trail of kisses down your neck.

"Come on," he murmured. "There's a lot I can do in twenty minutes," he continued, one hand sliding down your hip to the hem of your dress. Why you chose to wear such a short one today, you'd never understand.

Your hand quickly grabbed his wrist as his hand dipped between your thighs. "Joshua Hong!" you chastised, eyes widening at the devilish smirk on his face. "Come on, baby," he urged. "I promise I'll be quick." You shook your head, pulling his hand away.

"No way, mister," you answered. "I'd like to keep my job."

Joshua sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. "You're no fun," he grumbled. You smiled cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the lips before moving to clean up the break table and wash your hands. 

Joshua sulked, watching you clean up and start putting away your painting supplies before setting the tea set you were working on in one of the empty cabinets and shutting the door.

Just as you were finishing up, there was a knock at the front door. You wiped your hands on your apron and ignored your boyfriend's pout to go answer the door.

Once past the curtain, you saw Changbin with Chris standing at the door, chatting amongst themselves. You approached the door, unlocked it and opened it to greet them.

"Hey," you said cheerfully as you let them into the shop as Joshua appeared from behind the curtain. You caught a glimpse of his expression and you could tell he was now upset.

You narrowed your eyes, silently telling him to knock it off.

"They shouldn't be too heavy, Changbin noted as he and Chris moved over to the two chairs. You waited by the door for them to pick up the chairs which they each did with relative ease.

Holding the door open, you let them pass by you as they carried the chairs out to the waiting truck. Chris set the chair he carried down before opening the tailgate of his truck. Each one of them carefully loaded the covered chairs into the bed.

You watched as Chris climbed in, starting to carefully secure the chairs with rope. Once tied down, Chris hopped down while Changbin walked over to where you stood on the stoop.

"Thanks again for giving me the heads up," he said with a smile, one you returned. "Of course," you answered. "I don't know when your shop is opening and I'm sure you'd want to have these chairs now rather than later." Changbin nodded before glancing past you into the shop where Joshua stood, arms crossed and looking unimpressed. Changbin quickly looked back at you.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. Your heart pounded in your chest at his soft expression. He barely knew you and yet here he was, being so sweet and making sure you were okay. You nodded.

"Yeah. We're fine," you answered. Changbin nodded and turned to look back at Chris. "All set?" he asked. The other man nodded, giving him double thumbs up. "All set!"

Changbin turned back to face you. "Thank you again," he said with that same soft smile. "I'll see you around, Y/N!"

With a wave, he jogged around to the passenger side of the truck as Chris got into the driver's seat. Once they were settled, Chris started the truck which roared to life, and the two took off, pulling out carefully onto the main street and heading out of view.

You stepped back into the shop, letting the door shut before you turned the lock and turned, just now remembering Joshua was in the shop, arms still crossed, and an unmistakable scowl on his face.

"What was that?" he demanded as you walked towards him. " What was what?" you asked as you reached the curtain and pushed it aside, letting it catch in the curtain hook. Joshua followed you into the backroom as you moved towards the supply closet for the broom and dustpan. "You know what," he argued.

"He was a customer, Joshua," you said, no longer amused by his behavior. "All the smiles and waves? What the hell was that?" he asked again as you grabbed the broom and started sweeping.

"He was a customer," you reiterated. "I'm nice to all my customers," you continued as you swept the backroom. It took less than five minutes to sweep as it wasn't a busy day and Mr. Serizawa hadn't been in the shop to work on furniture. You dumped the dustbin and moved to the front of the store, Joshua hot on your heels. "I don't like him," he said as he watched you.

"You don't even know him," you retorted.

"Neither do you."

"Chris does."

"You don't know Chris so you couldn't possibly trust his judgment."

"Lilah knows them."

You savored your victory when Joshua fell silent. He couldn't argue with that. "In any case, I think you should stay away from him," Joshua finally said. You paused your sweeping to turn and look at him. "Are we really having the whole control conversation again?"

Confusion was replaced by realization as Joshua's posture relaxed. "I'm only thinking about your safety," he answered. You sighed, turning away and rolling your eyes. "I'll be just fine," you replied.

Joshua said nothing, instead checked his watch and huffed.

"I'd better get back to the office," he announced, disappearing into the backroom to grab his jacket before returning. "Are you going to be okay walking home by yourself?" he asked. You nodded as he approached, leaning in to give you a quick kiss.

"Text me when you get home," he added before heading to the door and unlocking it. "And lock this door as soon as I leave," he added with a faux stern expression. You rolled your eyes playfully and walked over as he exited, closing the door behind him and waited for you to turn the deadbolt.

After checking the door, he waved and headed to his waiting car. You watched as he got in and drove off before flipping the closed sign and pulling the shade on the door window down.

You resumed sweeping until you were certain every nook and cranny was swept. Returning the broom and dustpan to the supply closet, you bagged up all trash and took the bag out to the dumpster in the alley behind the shop.

Once back inside, you locked the backdoor and headed up front to pull the shades down on all the windows and then went behind the counter to count the register for all the cash transactions.

After counting and adding it to the ledger, you headed into Mr. Serizawa's office to access the safe and collect the deposit for the bank. Putting the money in the locking cash bag, you put the bag inside your purse and tripled checked all doors were locked.

You grabbed your jacket, purse, and keys and headed out the door, making sure to lock both locks before heading down the sidewalk towards the bank. This wasn't the first time you'd deposited money for Mr. Serizawa and you were glad he trusted you with such a task.

The walk to the bank took only about ten minutes and once you deposited the money and got the receipt, you were about half way to your apartment when you realized you forgot your phone and your apartment key.

Cursing yourself, you begrudgingly turned back and headed to the shop. It added an additional 20 minutes but soon you had your phone and house key in hand and you were back outside the shop, locking the knob and deadbolt.

You were fiddling with the deadbolt when you heard someone call your name.

Looking over your shoulder, you were met by the smiling face of--

"Jeonghan!" you said as you finally got the deadbolt to slide into place and turned to properly greet the man. He gave you a warm smile. “How have you been?” He asked as you returned the shop keys to your purse.

“I’ve been good!” 

An awkward silence filled the air before Jeonghan spoke.

“You closing up the shop?”

You shook your head before nodding. “Well, sort of,” you answered. 

“I closed earlier but forgot my phone and house keys like an idiot.”

Jeonghan’s expression shifted from warm to confused. “You aren’t an idiot,” he replied. “We all forget things from time to time.” You nodded wordlessly.

“Well, I’d better get home.”

“Would you mind if I walked you home?”

You both stared at one another before laughing. “Go ahead,” Jeonghan continued. “What were you going to say?”

“Just that I should probably head home,” you replied. Jeonghan nodded. “I was going to offer to walk you, but I’m sure you’ll manage on your own,” he stated.

“Yes,” you answered. “But thank you anyway.”

The two of you parted ways after an awkward goodbye and you made the short walk back to your apartment, stopping just inside the door to grab your mail and head up to your floor. 

As you reached the top of the stairs, the front door of the apartment next door opened, your neighbor poking his head out.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said, catching your attention. You looked over to see his normally tidy black hair was tousled, glasses slightly askew. “Are you okay?” You asked, mildly concerned. “You don’t look so good, Wonwoo.”

Your neighbor shook his head. “I’m alright. I just realized, halfway into my shower, that I don’t have any body wash. Could I borrow some? I’ve got a date tonight and you’d really be doing me a favor.”

You tried to hold back your laughter. “I would except I think my body wash might not go over too well with your date. She might think you have a girlfriend,” you answered. Wonwoo stared blankly at you until your words sank in.

“Oh shit, you’re right,” he finally said, eyes widening. “What do I do?”

You finally let out a laugh before shrugging. “If you’re really in a pinch, dish soap would probably work,” you answered. Wonwoo’s face lit up. “Brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that?” You shook your head. “No idea.”

“Thanks Y/N,” Wonwoo said before disappearing into his apartment and shutting the door, leaving you to unlock your own door and enter your apartment, letting the door shut behind you before locking it and looking over your mail as you entered your apartment.

After sorting your mail and going through the important papers, you started your usual nighttime ritual of dinner, a movie, and your evening bedtime routine. Once in bed, you made sure your phone was plugged in and your alarm was set for the next morning.

The next morning was Sunday which meant it was time for church. It wasn’t your favorite activity but you didn’t have much of a choice when it came to attendance. Your mother and father always made you attend in your youth and while you didn’t necessarily believe, your attendance was expected.

The vibration of your phone caught your attention as you sat at your vanity having just finished your makeup.

You sighed, turning to grab your phone as you checked the screen. It was your mother. You swiped the screen, bringing the device up to your ear as you looked over your outfit choices. “Hello?”

Your mother’s dulcet voice greeted you.

“Good morning, dear,” she said soothingly. “Did I wake you?”

You rolled your eyes. “No mother,” you answered as you picked up a hanger, inspecting the outfit. It was a white tweed jacket and skirt set with a gold pattern and a short sleeve white turtleneck.

“I’ve been up for about an hour now.”

“Are you getting ready?” You nodded, resisting the urge to sigh annoyed at her tone. “I am,” you answered. “Picking out an outfit now.”

“I’m sure you’ll select something appropriate,” your mother responded. “Mhm,” you replied, not really paying attention to what she was saying. “How are you planning to get to the church?” Your mother suddenly asked.

You hesitated. “Uh… I had planned to walk,” you answered. You heard your mother tut. “We’ll just send a car to come get you.” You sighed heavily. 

Your parents lived in a gated community on the west side of Sejong, a much nicer area of the city, though most of the city was nice. Your family came from money, as did most of your friends. Your friend group attended the best private schools in Sejong, continuing onto university and never having to worry about how to pay for tuition or books. You knew how fortunate you were and how privileged your upbringing was. 

“I’m perfectly fine walking,” you retorted as you set the suit down and picked up another outfit, a short sleeve ribbed white turtleneck with a black skirt and a split cropped short sleeve blazer. One side was entirely black while the other side and the collar was a black with white plaid pattern.

“Don’t be silly, dear. It would take such a long time for you to walk there. Our driver will come get you. We’ll send Martin.” You knew there was no point in arguing and relented. “Fine,” you answered. “I’ll see you at the church, mother.”

Before she had the opportunity to redirect the conversation, you said goodbye and hung up. “This one,” you said, turning to your closet and grabbing a belt and a pair of shoes to match.

Once dressed and looking up to your own standards of “church ready” you grabbed a small clutch purse and put a few items inside; lip gloss, phone, compact, and wallet. You weren’t sure if you were going to go out to eat after services or if you were going to come straight home but you wanted to be prepared either way.

As you headed out of your apartment, your phone vibrated in your purse. Locking your door before you forgot, you puled the device from your bag and checked the notifications. A slew of texts from Lilah filled the screen.

Lilah🌕: are you going today? Lilah🌕: i don’t know why you pretend to believe Lilah🌕: we could be doing more productive things Rolling your eyes with a slight smirk, you typed a response. You: you know how my parents would freak if I stopped coming You: besides, it’s not that bad

Lilah’s response was instantaneous and you pictured here lounging on her bed, waiting for you to text her back.

Lilah🌕: speak for yourself. You don’t get weird stares when you’re just sitting there existing. All those people follow teaching that tell them not to judge yet that’s all those hypocrites do Lilah🌕: skip services and come see me instead Lilah🌕: I miss you ):

You sighed as you took a break from her messages to head down the stairs. After the last time you tried to text while traversing the stairs ended up with a trip to the hospital and a twisted ankle followed by bed rest and a bulky brace, you learned your lesson.

Once you were on flat ground again, you stopped by your building’s front door and peered out the glass, looking for the car your mother insisted on sending. You saw nothing and instead went back to your messages.

Lilah🌕: where you go? ):< You: i was walking down the stairs lol calm down Lilah🌕: oh yeah. We don’t want a repeat of last time You: i remember thanks lol anyway i can’t skip You: my mother is sending a car to pick me up Lilah🌕: BOOOO. BOO KAREN You: my mother’s name isn’t Karen Lilah🌕: no but your mother IS a Karen You: 🧍🏻‍♀️  Lilah🌕: just tell Jeeves that you don’t feel well and come see me instead :> Lilah🌕: we can order pizza and watch Gilmore Girls! You: ugh i wish but i can’t back out now Lilah🌕: why not? ):< You: because the car just got here

You sighed and locked your screen as a familiar silver car pulled up.

It was definitely one of your father’s, a silver Lexus. Your father loved his Lexuses.

The driver’s door opened and a tall man, who you presumed to be Martin, in a black suit with black sunglasses stepped out, moving to open the back passenger door like some sort of secret service. 

Holding in a chuckle, you descended the steps, smiling as he greeted you with a formal “morning miss.” You thanked him as you climbed into the back, settling in the seat as Martin shut the door and walked back to the driver’s side.

The interior was an off-white leather and rather spacious. Leave it to your parents to send such a nice car to pick you up for church.

Once Martin put the car in gear and pulled onto the street, you returned to your texts with your best friend.

Lilah🌕: boo. Throw up on him You: lilah! 💀 Lilah🌕: what?? He’ll leave you there to go home and change and then tell Karen that he refuses to pick you up ever again. It’s a win-win! You: absolutely not lol Lilah🌕: sometimes you’re no fun Lilah🌕: you already on your way there? You: yeah. It’s so quiet in the car. No music, no conversation, nothing Lilah🌕: not even Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2? Lilah🌕: what has happened to society? How could they not play Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2 You: oh stop it lol 😂 You: i just meant it’s really awkward right now.

The car jostled as it hit a small bump and Martin apologized quietly, glancing at you in the rearview. “It’s not a problem, Martin,” you replied kindly. “Just another sign that Sejong needs to focus on repairing some of these roads instead of the other ventures they seem to be spend on,” you added as you looked back down.

Lilah🌕: you mean Jeeves isn’t the most fabulous conversationalist you’ve ever met? Lilah🌕: absolutely unacceptable. How did he even land that job? You: your sarcasm is leaking through my screen, Li Lilah🌕: good 🥰 Lilah🌕: i’m gonna watch a movie. Text me when the cult meeting is over You: Lilah! Lilah🌕: love you!! ❤️😘

You chuckled as you put your phone away, looking up as Martin pulled up outside the cathedral. You took a deep breath as Martin got out to open the door and you stepped out as members of the congregation started filing into the open doors, some stopping to greet others.

You thanked Martin as you brushed your skirt and looked back up. You didn’t see your parents anywhere outside and figured they must be inside already. Taking another deep breath, you followed the throngs of people entering the building and climbed the stone steps up to the doors.

Inside the foyer were small crowds of people, all speaking to one another. The doors that led into the main room were still closed as no doubt the staff were preparing for the services. You finally caught sight of your parents who were standing off to one side talking with Joshua’s parents, your boyfriend standing nearby and looking like he was part of the conversation.

You squeezed through the crowded foyer, saying excuse me until you reached them. Joshua was the first to spot you as you approached. He greeted you with a smile, breaking from the group to pull you into a light hug, pressing a kiss to your temple before your parents and his noticed your presence.

“Oh good,” you heard your mother say as Joshua guided you over to both sets of parents. You noticed another couple of your parents’ friends were standing in the circle and you could feel their eyes scrutinizing not only you but Joshua as well.

You saw the way the woman, whose name you forgot, looked over you, scanning your outfit and how you had presented yourself. It made you feel like a child all over again and you were showing your parent what you had picked to wear on the first day of school.

“You’ve made it,” your mother said, drawing your attention from the woman silently judging your choice of attire. You weren’t sure why she was judging you so hard, especially when she was wearing what you assumed was a dress. It looked like something she’d probably been wearing since the 1980’s and probably should have stayed there.

“What are you wearing?” Your mother asked softly, eyes looking at your jacket.

You glanced down and then back up. “What?” You asked. “What’s wrong with it?”

You saw the way your mother glanced to the side, probably to see if anyone was looking at you. Glancing back, you saw that no one was. “It just doesn’t seem appropriate for church,” your mother responded before turning as her name was called and she greeted another member of the congregation with your father in tow. You tried not to let her words get to you.

After all, you were used to this. You’d expected the scrutiny but for some reason, it still hurt. You were an adult now and she still treated you like a child.

You felt an arm around your shoulders before Joshua whispered in your ear. “You look nice,” he said softly. The sour feeling that had started to prickle at the back of your throat started to subside, as did the heat of embarrassment.

He always managed to calm you down when it came to your mother.

“Thanks,” you replied just as softly. “I think you look amazing in everything you wear,” Joshua added, kissing your cheek. Your cheeks burned and you mumbled at him to stop though that was the last thing you wanted.

You giggled as Joshua nuzzled your cheek until you heard his mother’s sharp voice calling his name. Joshua looked over his shoulder at her. “We are in public,” she said sternly, fixing you with a steely glare. Like it was your fault for Joshua’s behavior. “You’re right,” Joshua said turning back to look at you, taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head to place a kiss on your lips right as the doors opened.

“Joshua!” You heard his mother hiss. Joshua rolled his eyes with a smile on his lips. “I’ll see you later,” he murmured, giving you one last peck before you were dragged away by your mother who reprimanded you for public displays of affection as she led you and your stoic father to a row of benches about half way into the room. 

You were thankful to be sitting at the furthest end of the row closest to the outside wall as more people filed into the church, filling the rows. Your mother was sat on the other side of your father who merely checked his watch before looking around the room, almost as if he was bored and you were left wondering if he even wanted to be here.

As the rows behind and in front of you filled up, your parents greeted the other members of the congregation, speaking about everything ranging from business to their plans for the week. Your mother talked about upcoming charity events and soirees while your father spoke strictly business and golf.

You checked your phone quickly, seeing Lilah had sent you a couple texts about the movie she was watching and reminding you to text her when you got out of church. You were about to put your phone away when you got another text. One from your boyfriend.

Joshy: put your phone away ma’am

A smile spread across your face as you typed a response.

You: you first Joshy: i can see you 👁  You: well, it’s not like i’m trying to hide from you Joshy: turn around

You looked behind you and saw him a couple rows behind with his parents, staring directly at you with a smirk.

You turned back to look at your phone.

Joshy: hi You: you’re such a dork Joshy: you still love me You: do i? 🤔  Joshy: i’m wounded ): 💔 You: poor baby Joshy: hey. I’m not a baby 😠 You: awww is the widdle baby mad? Joshy: i’m NOT a baby Joshy: you’re the baby Joshy: you’re my baby You: i know 😌🥰 You: okay princess 🙄 Joshy: you really should put your phone away though You: i’m a rebel  Joshy: is that so? You: yes 😈 Joshy: I'm not sure you should be using that emoji in a house of worship 🤨 You: just goes to show I'm a rebel 😎💅🏻 Joshy: okay Rebel Girl, meet me in the basement ten minutes after the services start You: we can’t leave! 😶 Joshy: i thought you were a rebel 🤨 You: i am ):< Joshy: prove it to me You: i dont know Josh… Joshy: either you’re your parents’ good girl or your mine Joshy: you decide You: but Josh ): Joshy: ten minutes. I’ll see you downstairs ♥️

You glanced up as the sermon started, slipping your phone into your purse and placing your hands over it. The pastor’s words seemed to just go into one ear and out the other as you tried to think of a way to sneak away.

Checking your watch you saw you only had a couple minutes left. ‘How the hell am I going to get away?’ You glanced around, eyes scanning the congregation. Most eyes were on the pastor as he spoke, his droning voice no doubt boring into their brains much like it did to yours.

You noticed several kids were either dozing off, playing on their phones, or just flat out asleep. Even some adults were dozing off. You heard whispered voices behind you and glanced back in time to see Joshua whispering to his mother and getting up.

Turning back forward, you stared at the back of the bench before you, wracking your brain until Lilah’s words to you earlier hit you.

‘Throw up on him.’

‘That’s it!’ You leaned forward slightly, dropping your head. Your father merely glanced at you but your mother leaned across him to ask you what the matter was. You lifted your head briefly. “I think I’m going to be sick,” you whispered. Your mother studied your body and so you threw in a fake retch for good measure.

“Go to the bathroom. Do not throw up here.”

You nodded and got up slowly, making sure to move as quickly as possible but not too quickly. Once you were out in the foyer, you turned to the right and headed for the steps that lead into the basement of the church where a few rooms for classes and a secondary set of bathrooms were.

You walked down the hallway, keeping your head on a swivel to keep an eye out for not only your boyfriend but staff as well. You were passing an empty room when you felt a hand grab your arm and tug you into the room, another hand clamping over your mouth to prevent you from screaming.

Your heart hammered as Joshua pushed you against a wall, shutting the door behind him.

You let out a deep exhale as he removed his hand. “Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t want you to scream.” You hit him lightly with your purse. “You scared the crap out of me!” You hissed as he cackled softly. “I’m sorry, baby,” he said as he leaned in, pressing his lips to your cheek.

“Let me make it up to you?”

You felt one of his hands slid up between your legs. “We are in a church,” you hissed as his hand continued under your skirt. “That hasn’t stopped us before,” he murmured, lips ghosting over yours. “I thought we agreed to never talk about that again,” you whispered as his lips moved to your neck, leaving light, feathery kisses that verged on tickling.

“I guess I forgot that memo.”

You rolled your eyes, let out a soft gasp as his fingers made contact with your cloth covered sex. “Joshua!” You warned, though it couldn’t have been much of a warning when your voice was so shaky. Joshua clearly heard the tremble in your voice.

“You sure you want me to stop?” He asked, his hand stopping. You shook your head quickly. “No,” you gasped. Joshua smiled against your skin. “Good girl.”

"Have you seen my charger?"

Changbin glanced up, making eye contact with Minho who was peering into the room, holding up his wall plug but the cord was missing. Changbin shook his head and returned to his tablet.

Minho narrowed his eyes as his boss. "Did you take it?" he asked the younger man. Changbin glanced back up before fishing his phone out of his pocket and holding it up for Minho to see.

"Why would I take an Apple charger for an Apple device when I use exclusively Samsung products?" he asked, lips threatening to twitch into a smirk as he returned the same scrutinizing stare.

Minho only held his gaze for a few moments more before conceding. "What about Jeongguk?" he asked as Changbin pocket his phone and went back to ordering supplies on his tablet.

"Also Samsung," a voice said, causing Minho to turn and look up at the man in question as Jeongguk held up his phone. "Ask your roommate," Jeongguk added as he returned his phone to his pocket. Minho glared in the direction of Chris' station before slinking out of the room like a cat.

Jeongguk snorted as Minho could be heard in the background.

"Give me back my charger you thieving, two-faced Australian bitch!"

Changbin shook his head, holding in his laughter as he finished adding items to his cart. He glanced up as Jeongguk sat on the custom red bench Changbin specially ordered for his last shop.

"Do you need any new needles or bands?" Changbin asked, not looking up as he continued to tap away on his tablet. Jeongguk shook his head. I still have bands from that last order," he admitted and my station is overstocked on needles."

Changbin nodded silently as he proceeded to check out.

Minho and Chris could be heard bickering in the background as Changbin finished filling out the forms and placed his order, saving his confirmation number before setting the tablet on the desk behind him. He turned back to face his friend.

"Did you need something?" Changbin asked, just now noticing Jeongguk held a stack of colored papers in his hands. Jeongguk nodded at the stack, tilting it to show Changbin the front.

"They flyers came in," he answered. Four colors like you ordered," he added. Changbin crossed the distance and held out his hand to take the stack and look over the paper.

It was exactly as he ordered. "Perfect," he murmured. "You still wanna post them around town?" Jeongguk asked as Changbin flipped to the other colored pages. He nodded. "Yeah, where are the other two?" he asked, absent-mindedly scanning the paper.

Jeongguk leaned back and whistled, drawing the attention of the two bickering in the other room. Moments later, Chris and Minho appeared at the doorway, looking equal parts shocked and curious. "You got plans tonight?" Jeongguk asked, glancing over his shoulder at them.

"I was going to see Ari," Minho admitted while Chris shook his head. "We just got the flyers in," Changbin said, holding up the stack to show them. "We wanted to put them up around town," Jeongguk added. "You guys in?"

"Or you gonna make us do all the work?" Changbin asked teasingly. Chris smiled widely. "I'm in," he replied cheerfully before turning to look at Minho who rolled his eyes before a smirk formed on his face. "I guess I can see Ari afterwards," he said, pulling his phone out to no doubt shoot her a text.

"Great," Changbin said, splitting up the flyers and handing one color to each person. "Well split into pairs. Minho and Jeongguk, you take east of main, Chris and I will cover the west side. Check in with the small shops. Ask if they have a business bulletin board. If they refuse, just move on," Changbin explained. "I don't wanna make enemies or cause a scene."

Minho, Chris and Jeongguk nodded. "Wait, how are we attaching these?" Minho asked as Jeongguk glanced at Changbin. "Oh, right," the eldest said as he got up, handing his stack of papers to Changbin and sauntered out of the room.

He returned a couple moments later with a plain white paperboard box and opened the lid, setting it on the bench. He pulled out four staple guns, handing one to each guy before passing out smaller little boxes of staples. "My brother sent these with the flyers," he explained as he opened his own staple gun and loaded the staples into it. 

"Your brother?" Chris asked, tilting his head curiously. Jeongguk nodded as he pulled the trigger, making sure his staple gun was loaded properly. "Yeah, he made the flyers." Minho glanced down at the papers. "He's a talented artist," he noted.

"He's a comic book artist," Jeongguk explained. "So we commissioned him to design the flyers and then print them for us," Changbin continued. "Come on," he added. "The sun's going down and I'd like to get this up with the light."

The four headed out of the shop, Changbin locking up after Minho finally exited. "If you run out of flyers, awesome," Changbin said looking at Jeongguk. "If not, no big deal. Just go around until the sun sets." 

The brunet nodded and motioned for Minho to follow him. Changbin and Chris turned and headed in the opposite direction. It was a mundane and repetitive task, stapling the flyers on the wooden telephone poles, stopping by small businesses and asking them to display the flyers on any bulletin boards they might have.

A few businesses turned them away, albeit very rudely upon hearing the word tattoo. Some business owners were only too happy to help support other local businesses.

Half their stacks were gone as they continued down one of the many side streets off main street, stapling sheets as they went.

While taking a short break, Changbin noticed Chris smiling at his phone as he typed away. Changbin didn't want to pry but he wanted to make an effort to get to know his employees as he would most likely end up being close friends with these guys.

"Lilah?" Changbin asked, drawing Chris' attention. The older man smiled as he locked his screen. "Yeah," he answered. "She's really funny," he added. Changbin nodded. "She's pretty tol," he added, causing Chris to smile wider.

A comfortable silence fell over them before Chris spoke up.

"Her friend, Y/N, is really pretty, too."

Changbin’s heart thumped in his chest at the mention of Y/N's name. He nodded silently. "Yeah," he answered nonchalantly. "She has a boyfriend though, right?" Changbin added, looking at Chris who nodded. "Yeah," he said, sounding slightly bitter.

"Joshua Hong."

Changbin’s mind wandered back to that night at the club. The night he met you and was willing to put himself between you and your boyfriend. It was clear to him then that Joshua wasn't the nicest guy and he got that same impression again when he went to pick up his furniture from Serizawa's antique store.

"You don't like him?" Changbin asked, watching Chris as he contemplated telling him something. Whatever it was Chris was keeping from him, Changbin could tell he was hiding something bigger and he would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn't piqued.

"No," Chris answered, voice devoid of emotion. "From what Lilah tells me, Y/N could do so much better than Joshua," he continued. "Chris stopped in his tracks before turning to look at Changbin who had also stopped. "Why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

Changbin tried to play it off by shrugging. I met her through you and Lilah, she works at that furniture and antique shop. I keep running into her and I've been wondering if she's always so nice."

Chris nodded with a smile. "She's always been such a sweetheart. Ever since I first met her hardly anything gets her down." Changbin and Chris started walking again. 

"You seem to know her pretty well," Changbin noted, to which Chris snorted. "I know what Lilah tells me," he corrected. He turned to fox Changbin with a curious look. "You seem awfully interested in a girl who has a boyfriend," he said, watching as Changbin shook his head once more. "Nah," Changbin answered.

"Just curious as to what her story is. That's all."

Across town, Minho and Jeongguk were just as busy stapling posters to every wooden post they came across.

"Ah my arms are so tired!" Minho whined, shaking his arm. Jeongguk snorted at him. "Are you always this whiny?" Jeongguk asked as he checked his phone. Minho gave him a cheeky smile. "No," he answered. "It's just for you."

Jeongguk playfully swiped at the younger man who dodged him easily. "Just hang up your damn flyers," Jeongguk said as he slipped his phone into his pocket again. "Stop bothering me."

Minho rolled his eyes as he moved to staple another flier to the phone pole. "Yes, dear."

It was Jeongguk's turn to roll his eyes as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes. Minho turned and shot a staple at him. Jeongguk glanced at the tiny metal projectile hanging onto his sweatshirt and looked up at Minho. "Aren't you supposed to be quitting?" Minho asked, narrowing his eyes as Jeongguk pulled out his lighter.

"'Supposed to' being the operative word," Jeongguk answered as he lit the end of the cigarette, taking a deep inhale. "To my credit," he continued as he put the pack and his lighter away. "I haven't bought any more. This is my last pack."

Minho rolled his eyes and continued down the street, stapling another flier to a wooden board covering a vacant building window.

"If you were a good friend, you'd help me finish the pack," Jeongguk jokingly accused as he took another drag. Minho laughed and turned to look at Jeongguk. "I'm not your friend," he retorted. "You're my employer," he added.

Jeongguk chuckled. "Seriously, do you want one?"

Minho shook his head. "I quit," he replied. "I noticed it only made me more anxious instead of taking the edge off."

Jeongguk shrugged his shoulders and took another puff. "Suit yourself."

The two of them continued down the street as the sun started to set behind the hills and trees that surrounded the town.

"Can I ask you something?" Minho asked suddenly. Jeongguk took another drag of his cigarette before exhaling. "Sure," he answered, looking at the younger man as they stopped on the sidewalk.

"How did you and Changbin meet? How do you know each other?"

Jeongguk hesitated, reaching up to scratch his head. "The long story is complicated but the short version is we met at a tattoo convention when Changbin was first looking to open his own shop. I was working a booth as a traveling artist, renting spaces at shops all over. I guess I was trying to find something more stable, " he explained before taking another long inhale of smoke.

"Changbin stopped by my booth and was impressed with my work and we started talking and when he asked which shop I worked at, I told him the truth," Jeongguk explained while Minho listened.

"He told me he was about to open his own shop and asked if I would come work at his place. Initially, I said no but the more I thought about it, I decided to give it a try," he continued.

Minho nodded, watching Jeongguk take another drag. "And that's it?" He asked. Jeongguk studied him for a moment before nodding.

"Yeah, pretty much. Four years later, and we're business partners," Jeongguk concluded. "He's my best friend," he added.

"As cheesy as it sounds, I couldn't imagine where I'd be in life without him," Jeongguk said as he took one last draw from his cigarette before putting it out. Minho nodded in understanding.

"I get it," he replied. "It's kind of like that for me with Chris." Jeongguk nodded in return before glancing up at the darkening sky. "Come on," he said suddenly. "We should head back, put more of these up on the way," he added, waving the lighter stack of flyers in his hand before leading the way down the sidewalk, Minho in tow.

Back at the shop, Changbin was scrolling on his phone while Chris played a music game when the door opened, the bell ringing and drawing their attention. Minho and Jeongguk entered with smug smiles on their faces. Minho held up his staple gun and aimed at Chris before launching a single tiny projectile at his friend.

"We put up all our flyers," Jeongguk said as Chris and Minho got into a staple war. Changbin looked impressed as Jeongguk strolled over and set his staple gun on the reception counter. "You smell like smoke," Changbin accused. Jeongguk shrugged his shoulders.

"My last pack is almost empty," he answered. "Then I'm done."

Changbin narrowed his eyes. "You better be," he said, playfully shoving his friend as Chris put Minho in a headlock which he quickly tapped out of.

Chris laughed loudly before looking over at Changbin and Jeongguk.

"Hey, we're gonna order some pizza and play video games tonight," he announced, drawing the attention of both men. "Maybe watch a movie. You guys wanna come?" Chris looked hopeful as Minho glanced to Jeongguk and Changbin who exchanged looks.

"Sure," Jeongguk answered, turning to look back at the two men.

Minho and Chris' eyes shifted to Changbin who glanced at Jeongguk before answering.

"Yeah, count me in.

You joined the crowd as the congregation exited the church, easily finding your mother and father as Joshua snuck off to find his parents. The sky had started to darken, gray clouds looming overhead.

Your mother turned to look at you and upon seeing you, she looked exasperated.

“You missed the whole service!” She reprimanded. You grimaced at her. “Sorry,” you replied. “I think I emptied the entire contents of my stomach in the bathroom.”

Your mother looked you over. “I was going to see if you wanted to join us for lunch with the Hong’s but perhaps you should go home,” she said as Joshua and his parents joined your little group. “I think we should postpone the lunch,” your mother said, sounding apologetic. “Y/N isn’t feeling well.

“Is that so?” Joshua’s mother asked, eyeing you suspiciously. You nodded silently as your mother felt your forehead. “Yes, she’s sweating and warm. She mentioned getting sick in the bathroom. I think we should wait until she feels better.”

Joshua’s mother nodded, lips pursed as she continued to look at you with that same scrutinizing stare. “Will you call Martin, dear,” your mother asked your father who reluctantly reached into his pocket for his phone.

Joshua interjected. “Y/N’s place is on the way to my apartment. I could drop her off,” he offered. “Maybe make her some soup and make sure she feels better before I head home?” The contrasting looks your mother and his gave you could have been comical.

Your mother was looking at your boyfriend like he was a saint, an angel even, to suggest doing something so sweet. The perfect boyfriend who would one day make the perfect husband. ‘In sickness and in health.’

His mother on the other hand was looking at you as if you were some harlot, trying to entice her son to sin. Like you would lead him directly into the gates of hell or something. She never did like you for some reason.

“If she’s sick, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” she said softly. You didn’t miss the intonation in her voice as she said the word sick. It held an underlying layer of contempt she held for you. Joshua waved her concern off. “I’m sure it’s fine, mother. Y/N probably ate something that didn’t agree with her,” he said.

“She’s always had issues with her stomach. I’m sure you remember that.”

Joshua’s mother pursed her lips again, glaring at you from behind her son.

“Thank you so much, Joshua,” your mother said sweetly as your boyfriend moved to wrap an arm securely around your shoulders. “It’s no trouble, Mrs. Y/L/N. After all, Y/N is my girlfriend and I would be a terrible boyfriend if I didn’t take care of her.” You could have sworn you saw your mother swoon as Joshua said goodbye to both sets of parents and gently steered you towards the door.

“You really don’t have to drive me home,” you said as you descended the steps outside and followed the sidewalk towards the parking lot. Joshua chuckled as he led the way. “Actually, I do now,” he answered. “If either of our parents saw you walking home, they would ask a lot more questions than they are now.”

You cursed mentally, knowing he was right.

“I guess you’ve got a point,” you said with a shrug. Joshua tsked and rolled his eyes. “Just can’t admit it when I’m right, can you?” You shook your head with a wide grin. “Never.”

Joshua scoffed as he led you to the passenger side of his car. “Brat,” he murmured as he unlocked and opened your door for you. “Thank you,” you said, laying heavy on the word so he wouldn’t know what you were thanking him for.

The ride back to your place took a shorter amount of time than the ride to the church. Joshua parked on the street, as he usually did. He had every intention of coming inside to “take care of you” as he put it. As soon as the apartment door shut, he was on you in seconds, one hand on your cheek and the other on the small of your back as he carefully backed you against your kitchen counter.

“Up,” he simply said, moving both hands to your thighs to help you up onto the counter before his lips were back on yours. “I need to go to the store,” you interrupted, pulling away but he shook his head. “I’ll order you groceries,” he answered, lips moving down your neck and stopping to remove your blazer and untuck your shirt.

“Joshua!” You whined as he pulled your top off over your head and threw it aside. “Keep saying my name like that,” he said breathlessly. Your head tilted to the side as his lips continued to kiss down your neck. “Seeing you come undone earlier really drove me crazy,” he groaned, fingers digging into the skin of your exposed thighs.

Before you had a chance to reply, he pulled you down from the counter, turning you to face away before he pressed against you, grinding into your ass. “I had to deal with this the whole ride over here,” he growled. You pushed back against him.

“Must have been so hard for you,” you said, enjoying the way he grew more and more frustrated. “If you don’t stop it, I’ll take you right here.” You hummed in response. “Oh, i’m so scared,” you replied, pushing against him again, letting out a moan at the feeling of his erection grinding against you.

“Fine,” Joshua said, one hand moving to the back of your neck. “Have it your way, brat.” Without another word, he pushed your chest down against the counter, keeping you pinned while the other hand reached to undo his belt and pants.

“You gonna keep me waiting?” You asked teasingly as Joshua pushed his pants and boxers down enough to pull his cock free. “What have I told you about that attitude, sweetheart?” He asked as his hand pushed your skirt up, grabbing the back of your panties and roughly pulling them down your thighs.

“That you’ll fuck it out of me?” You asked coyly.

Joshua wasted no time, ramming his cock into your pussy, making you cry out. He quickly placed his hand over your mouth to muffle your moans. “Precisely,” he answered before his hips started to thrust sharply, hitting your ass with each movement.

Each thrust had you practically screaming into his hand, your own hands trying to find something to grab onto to ground yourself from the force of your boyfriend’s hips. Another loud scream, muffled by his hand, escaped your lips.

“You alright, baby?” You heard him in your ear, his hips slowing to shallow thrusts. You nodded, breathing heavily against his hand. "Good," he replied, resuming the same merciless pace as before, pounding into you from behind, hand still muffling your cries as he took his pent up sexual tension on your body.

It never failed to astonish you just how rough Joshua got in bed. Of course, he wasn't like that the first couple times. It wasn't until you asked him to go a little harder that it came out. When you were both frustrated and needed release, he usually bent you over the closest surface and fucked you so hard you couldn't walk.

That wasn't to say he was always rough with you. For every rough session, he made up for the abuse to your core by showering you in affection. For every scream he'd pulled from you, there were twice as many whispered I love you's as he reverently made love to you.

"Fuck, I'm not gonna last," you heard him grunt in your shoulder. "I'm gonna cum." You whimpered against his hand as he chased his high, taking you over the edge with him as you both came together, you with a squeal as he thrust deeply into your abused hole, spilling his seed inside you, coating your walls.

With one final thrust, Joshua’s grip on you loosened and he had to brace himself against the counter to keep from collapsing on top of you. You panted heavily, cheek pressed against the cool granite of your kitchen counter. You felt his fingers comb through your hair, brushing some of the strands away from your face.

"You okay, baby?" he asked breathlessly. You nodded slowly and wordlessly as you tried to catch your own breath. Joshua leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked, lips brushing against your cheek.

You shook your head, exhaling against the granite. "No," you finally whispered. "Do you want me to help you up?"

Joshua always made sure to ask if you wanted or needed assistance and you appreciated that about him. You nodded and whined as he pulled back, his cock slipping from your pussy.

He quickly redressed himself and then carefully helped you stand before guiding you to your bathroom. He helped you sit on the toilet before moving to start the shower. "I could stay and join you," he offered as he tested the temperature of the water.

You smiled and shook your head. "I'll be okay, Joshua," you answered. He closed the curtain and turned to cross the short distance between you, kneeling down and taking your chin gently in his hand. "You sure you don't want me to stay, angel?" he asked, eyes meeting yours in a loving gaze.

You nodded in response. "Yeah," you said with a sigh. "I'll be okay."

Joshua stood up, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead.

"Okay, sweetheart," he replied softly. "I'll check on you later."

You thanked him as he stood upright, looking up at him from your seated position. His hand moved to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your skin tenderly. "I love you, Y/N," he said as you reached up to place your hand over his and leaned into his touch.

"I love you too, Joshua."

After stealing a few more kisses, Joshua finally left your apartment and allowed you to undress and step into the scalding shower stream. You sighed loudly as the steaming hot water hit your skin. It helped to work out your sore muscles from being bent over the kitchen counter for a while.

After cleaning yourself off, you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself and headed into your kitchen, grabbing your purse and sifting through it until you found your phone. Turning the device on, you saw you had a couple missed texts from Lilah and Joshua.

You answered both before heading into your bedroom area to get changed into some clean clothes. Once dressed you headed back into the living room, about to sit down when there was a knock at your door. You sighed heavily and walked over to check the peephole.

Your neighbor stood on the other side.

You unlocked and opened the door, smirking up at Wonwoo. "Yes, neighbor?" you asked. Wonwoo peered past you into your apartment before looking back at you nervously.

"You alright?" he asked sheepishly. You stared at him blankly, blinking a few times. "Uh, yeah?" you answered. Wonwoo nodded slowly. "I heard you scream earlier and wanted to make sure you were okay," he replied.

Your cheeks burned. "Oh, um," you answered. "Joshua was here earlier," you added softly. Wonwoo's eyes widened and his cheeks turned pink as he realized what he'd overheard.

"Understandable. Okay. Have a good day," he sputtered. "Glad you're okay."

He quickly shuffled back to his apartment, clearly just as embarrassed as you as he shut his door, leaving you to shut your own door and retreat back into your apartment, completely mortified that your neighbor and friend had overheard you and Joshua.

You grabbed your phone and shot a quick text, informing your boyfriend that he wasn't allowed to make you scream at your place anymore. Joshua's reply came minutes later, finding it highly amusing.

Joshy: guess next time I won't cover your mouth 😌 You: 🥲 I'm glad you find this amusing Joshy: I'm just teasing you baby Joshy: but you're feeling okay? You: yes. I'm making some ramen now You: gonna watch a movie Joshy: do you still want me to send you some groceries? You: it's okay. I'll order them later 🥰 thank you though Joshy: of course. Anything for you, my love 💕 You: 💕🥰

You set your phone aside to focus on making your food before settling down on your couch and starting the movie Lilah had recommended to you last week.

It was a decent movie, not the best, but you could see the appeal as you finished your noodles and started working on making a grocery list. You were scribbling a few items down when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table.

You reached forward and grabbed it, recognizing your boss' number and answered it immediately.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Y/N?" Mr. Serizawa's voice came over the speaker. "This is Isei." You sat upright. "Hello, Mr. Serizawa, how are you?"

"Oh, I'm alright. And more importantly, Shinju is doing well," he answered. You sighed in relief. "I'm so glad to hear that," you replied, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder.

"It's been a huge relief," Mr. Seirzawa stated. "But that's not exactly why I called," he continued. "Our grandson is coming back into town next week and we won't be able to pick him up."

You smiled, knowing there this was going. "Any chance you could head to pick him up from the ferry station in the next town over?"

You nodded, mostly to yourself. "Of course," you answered. "I'll pick him up," you answered to his immense relief. "If you want to borrow our car, I can leave the keys at the shop for you."

"That's okay, Mr. Serizawa," you replied. "I'll just borrow one of my parents' cars." You heard him sigh on the other side of the line. "Thank you so much Y/N, you're really helping us out here. I'll call Daniel and let him know you'll be picking him up."

You wrote down the details, making sure to double check the time. "Okay, Mr. Serizawa. I'll call my dad right after this and get one of his cars to use," you said before finally saying goodbye and hanging up the line. You quickly put the details in your phone before pulling up your father’s contact info and took a deep breath.

"Here we go."

[seolar-system]

taglist | playlist

summary: Everything seemed to fall into place for Y/N. She had a loving boyfriend, her dream job, and the bestest friend in the universe. She never thought her life was missing something until she was introduced to Seo Changbin, the town's newest tattoo artist who happens to be harboring an unimaginable secret.

pairing: tattoo artist!Changbin × fem!Reader

genres/themes: angst, fluff, smut, 18+ (minors dni. I mean it. go away), slow burn, “forbidden” love, strangers to lovers, supernatural au, tattoo artist!Changbin, werewolf!Changbin, established boyfriend!Joshua

warnings: adult dialogue, alcohol consumption, Joshua being an asshat

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby

stray kids taglist: @cixrosie @hoeforcheol @beomgyusbabygirl @lovestayskzxx @flowerboykun @smhlino @cutiespaghetti @peterparkoure

series taglist: @snow-pegasus @brownieracha @hobi-is-golden @avyskai @i-say-choco-you-say-ice-cream @biribarabiribbaem @mchslut @spicxbnny @hgema @likeaboss-duh @oiminho @slut-for-dabi @ughyeka @honey-lemon-goose @skidsflowers @fixation-dump @meadowyin @sleeplessdawn @bristidutta @changbinnss @racha-enthusiast @phobia0922 @sanjoongie @nattisbored @kimseungminsprincess @chrollosforehead @typicalcuriosities @tai-loves-skz @labyrinthonmymind @spookyauthorspopmusictrash

Red strikethrough means I cannot tag you. Check your visibility settings.

And if you change your url, YOU are responsible for telling me.

a/n: It's finally here! I have been looking forward to this series for a while. I really hope it's as well received and that you all love it. I will warn you all that it's a slow burn fic and I do mean slow burn. Something to note is that Y/N never cheats on her boyfriend. I want to make that known now. Cheating is not included in this series. A couple things before we get started:

A huge thank you to my wife, Sky☁️, for this entire story idea. Without her late night thoughts and ramblings as well as her constant hype and support, this series wouldn’t even exist.

Also a massive thank you and huge shout out to @icybluehosh for her professional input on all things tattoos. You are a saint, my love and I thank you so much!

Edit to add a massive thank you to @playmetheclassics for beta reading and helping me edit this hunk of words. I'm so sorry I forgot to tag you earlier Indi 😭😭😭

To everyone else, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy this series and what I have in store for these characters!

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𝗰𝗵 𝟬𝟭 - 𝗮 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿

wc: 16.5 (she's wordy and I'm not sorry lol)

masterlist || next »»

The faint sound of soft jazz played overhead, occasionally drowned out by the sounds of forks and knives clinking gently against ceramic plates. The air filled with the smell of coffee, muffins and other baked goods, making you wish you'd gotten something to eat.

Coming to this cafe had been your boyfriend’s idea, not yours, but you found yourself enchanted with the small, cozy atmosphere. The light, almost white, wood of the floor and tabletops contrasted against the black painted brick walls of the small space.

Huge rectangular windows dominated the storefront, allowing in as much natural light as possible. The pale wood was accompanied by black painted metal in the legs of the tables and in the chairs and the few bar stools that stood under the white granite countertop.

There were a few potted plants behind the bar and in the corners giving a little life and color to the otherwise nearly monochromatic palette. You glanced down at the mug in front of you. A simple vanilla latte had been your order when you accompanied Joshua up to the counter.

The sprinkling of cinnamon that lay on top of the steamed milk foam couldn't mask the aroma of the coffee that invited you in to take a sip. Although you didn’t want to mess up the foam design, the moment you took a sip, sighing in contentment as the sweet vanilla bean flavor hit your tongue, you knew you’d made the right call.

You heard a chuckle and glanced up across the table, eyes settling on your boyfriend as he smiled at you, having just taken a sip of his own coffee, an iced americano, his go to as of late.

You couldn’t understand why he loved such a bitter drink. You remembered trying it weeks ago and gagged. It was just too strong and bitter for you. You liked cream and sugar in your coffee.

You liked things that tasted sweet. Joshua said sweetness reminded him of you, which is why he asked for an extra two pumps of the liquid sugar in his drink earlier.

“What?” You asked softly, setting your mug on the table. Joshua shook his head, his smile widening ever so slightly as he set his own cup down. “Nothing,” he replied, shrugging his shoulders but the smile remained. “Are you taking the mickey out of me?” You asked. Joshua laughed and shook his head. “That was awfully British of you,” he said and it was your turn to laugh.

“You’ve been watching too many of those BBC shows again, haven’t you?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow. You shook your head. “No, I’ve just been rewatching Doctor Who,” you admitted, looking away and out the window next to you.

The street outside was bustling with people, most of them enjoying the pleasant end of summer weather. Sejong was a smaller town near Daejeon and it was the town you happened to call home.

The quaint small town atmosphere greeted you the moment you pulled onto the main street. The smell of pine and fresh mountain air greeted many travelers who picked this town as their vacation spot, and for good reason.

The town offered a wide variety of activities, from mountain climbing to camping and hiking. It was also close to a lake that was popular with tourists and residents alike.

A hot spring was rumored to be in the area, though you'd never set sights on it, and you'd lived in Sejong all your life, explored much of the forests, and seen many things under the sun and moon alike.

But no hot springs.

You used to enjoy summers in Sejong, especially when you were younger. Spending all day with your friends, going to the lake and relaxing on the shore by the swim beach. You had spent many summers of your youth at the lake, both at the swim beach and exploring the lake's edges with your friends.

Seungcheol and Joshua always led the adventures with you, your best friend Lilah, and Jeonghan trailing behind. Sometimes Wonwoo would join you but most of his summers were spent interning at his father’s publishing company.

When your friend group wasn’t at the lake, you could be found at each other’s houses, or for you and Lilah, you could be found at what the two of you called your ‘secret place.’ It was a small clearing in the woods near the edge of town that was full of wildflowers during the spring and summer months. You’d meet up during the day and sometimes just the two of you at night. It was a pact that only you girls would meet there and that no boys were allowed.

You had so many fond memories of summer you weren’t sure when you started dreading the hotter months of the year. Maybe it was a subconscious thing once you became an adult.

When you’re a kid, summer is a time for breaks from school. Time for friends, staying up late, and partying. When you became an adult, summer didn’t stop the daily grind. You still had work to do. It made you appreciate your parents more the older you became.

“Y/N?” You heard Joshua speak, pulling you out of your thoughts and turning your attention to him once more. “You alright, babe?” He asked, brows knitting g together in concern. You nodded, giving him a smile. “Yeah, just thinking,” you said, picking up your mug and taking another deeper sip of the hot coffee.

Though it was technically summer, you were glad it was ending, and autumn was beginning to settle in. The mornings were cooler, the days were getting shorter, and the nights were getting longer. The leaves barely started to change color, but you already caught little glimpses of yellow, orange, red, and brown amongst the green.

“What are you thinking about?” Joshua asked, and you turned back to look at him. “Just the past,” you said with a shrug, resting your hands on the table before you, fingers wrapping around the warm mug. Joshua shifted in his seat, leaning forward and resting his elbow on the table. “What about it?” He asked softly, resting his chin in his hand.

“Just how much easier things used to be. No worries, no bills, no rent, no traumas.”

Joshua’s expression changed, a frown settling on his face before he reached out to take one of your hands softly in his. He rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, studying your expression before he spoke. “You know it wasn’t your fault,” he said suddenly.

You glanced up at him, eyes meeting his gaze. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” he added. A small smile formed on your face. “I know,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper.

The tender moment was interrupted by your phone buzzing on the table top. You didn’t want to answer it, almost glaring at it for ruining your precious time with your boyfriend. He glanced at the screen, picked up the device, and turned it towards you. Your eyes read the name that flashed across the screen as the phone continued to buzz in his hand. You sighed and pulled your hands away to take the device from him.

You slid the lock to answer and held the phone to your ear. “Hey, Lilah,” you greeted your best friend. On the other side, you could hear her breathing heavily and the sound of objects being moved quickly. “Y/N!” She gasped. “Ohmigosh, I’m glad you answered!” You looked up at Joshua who was looking out the window, his expression unreadable.

It was no secret Joshua wasn’t fond of your best friend. More than once, he’d said he thought she was a bad influence on you which you didn’t understand because Lilah has never once pressured you to do anything you would consider bad. Sure, she was covered in tattoos and piercings, but to you, that didn’t change the fact that she was still your best friend underneath all the ink and metal.

Lilah was the loud, outgoing, energetic one between you. You'd met in primary school when she offered to share her brand new crayons with you and declared you her new best friend.

In middle school, the two of you met and befriended Wonwoo and with him came the others. Joshua, Seungcheol, and Jeonghan were a year older than Wonwoo but still as close with him as they were with one another.

“I’M FREAKING OUT Y/N,” Lilah nearly shouted. You cringed, pulling the phone from your ear slightly.

“Calm down,” you said into the receiver, noticing Joshua glance at you out of the corner of his eye.

He’d never understand why you still associated with Lilah. Especially after what happened between her and Jeonghan. To Joshua, you were too good for Lilah. When she started covering herself in tattoos and getting facial piercings, Joshua knew she’d gone off the deep end and he feared she would take you with her.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, looking away from your boyfriend. “I need you here. Please Y/N it’s an emergency,” Lilah said, voice sounding panicked. You nodded, despite the fact Lilah couldn’t see you. “Okay, calm down, Li. I’ll be right over,” you added, glancing up at Joshua, who glanced back at you as you spoke. Lilah thanked you profusely over the phone until you hung up. You looked up at Joshua, a grimace on your face.

“I know,” he said, giving you a small smile. “Lilah emergency,” he added. You sighed, nodding and turning to grab your bag. “I’m so sorry, Josh,” you said as you got up, Joshua following. You quickly drank the rest of your latte, not wanting it to go to waste. Joshua chuckled as you set the mug back down and turned to him.

He pulled you into a tight hug, resting his head against yours. “Be careful,” he said softly in your ear. You nodded, hugging him back. “I will,” you answered, pulling back and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You tried to pull away, but Joshua wouldn’t let you. “I’m gonna need a bit more than that,” he said softly, hand moving to cup your cheek and pull your lips back to his. You giggled, the sound muffled by his lips.

The way he kissed you always left you breathless and wanting more. That was how Joshua always was. He always left you wanting more. “Josh,” you murmured against his lips. “We’re in a coffee shop.”

Joshua hummed and pulled away. “Okay,” he sighed. “Fine.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips before letting go of you. “Text me when you’re done with Lilah,” he said, moving aside so you could walk past him. “I will,” you said, giving him one last smile before walking towards the door and onto the sidewalk.

The walk to Lilah’s wasn’t long as she didn’t live far from the city center. The two of you had almost moved in together but thought better of it as you lived somewhat different lifestyles. You had a day job, whereas Lilah was a night owl, becoming most active once the sun went down and the moon came out.

You, on the other hand, were a day person. You preferred the sunlight to the moonlight. You were a lot like Joshua in that respect. He preferred the daytime over the nighttime. He felt that there was more to do during the day.

Unlike Joshua, you didn’t see anything bad about the nighttime. Sure, you preferred the sun over the moon, but you couldn’t deny there was a certain beauty to the silvery glow of the moon that contrasted with the golden one of the sun. They were opposites, but then again, so were you and Lilah.

Lilah was your moon, and you, her sun.

You found yourself outside her building after a brisk walk and climbed the steps to the front door, punching in the code and pulling open the door. Lilah had given you the code to her building ages ago. She said for emergencies, of course. You had also given her your code, again, for emergencies.

Climbing the steps up to her floor, you wondered what could be so important this late in the afternoon that she had interrupted the already small amount of free time you got with your boyfriend.

Of course, Lilah didn’t know you were with Joshua.

It was more of an impromptu thing, meeting at the cafe. The same one he’d taken you on your very first date. Your order hadn’t changed since then, but Joshua’s had changed a handful of times in the last two years.

Standing before Lilah’s door, you brought your hand up and gave the wood three sharp knocks. Behind the door, you heard a commotion as heavy footsteps made their way to the door. A smile spread over your face as Lilah threw open the door. Her panicked expression morphed into a smile as her eyes landed on you. “Oh, thank god!” She said, reaching out to grab your arm and pull you into her apartment.

Lilah’s apartment was small, a studio with a partition wall separating the living area from her bed. The walls were a very pale lilac gray with white crown molding and baseboards.

There were two large windows in the living room area, allowing larger amounts of natural lighting in. The view from her apartment was the main downtown square. During the day, it was a somewhat boring sight, the buildings, the people, even the square, but at night, everything came to life according to Lilah.

Her kitchen was small but big enough for her. A pair of folding doors off the kitchen opened to a pantry where her washer and dryer sat. The furniture in the living room was mostly gray and black, matching Lilah’s personality perfectly. The light walls were adorned with numerous posters of bands and movies.

Several framed paintings also hung on the walls, a few of them being Lilah’s own art, but one small canvas that hung on the wall separating her bedroom was one you had done.

A small floral piece you remembered from a wine and paint party your mother had hosted. Lilah and her mother had attended, and you weren’t too pleased with your painting, so you opted to toss it when your mother wasn’t looking, but Lilah took it instead and hung it proudly next to hers.

The normally very tidy apartment was in a state of disarray, as if a tiny tornado had wreaked havoc.

As Lilah led you into her bedroom area, you were convinced the tiny tornado was in fact your best friend. Clothes were thrown all over the place, littering the floor and the bed. Shoes had also been tossed carelessly around the room and you looked around, shaking your head.

“What is going on?” You asked, turning to look at your best friend.

“There’s a party tonight. Chris invited me. You remember Chris, right?”

You, in fact, did not remember Chris. Since Lilah and her boyfriend, Seungcheol, broke up, Lilah had seen a variety of different men. Testing the waters, she called it. You shook your head again.

“I don’t think I do,” you admitted, moving to sit on her bed, pushing some of the clothing aside. Lilah groaned. “Yes you do,” she answered. “He’s the really cute one with the naturally curly hair. Dimples, pointed chin, chiseled jawline,” Lilah prattled on as she searched through her clothes.

“You just described like half the guys you’ve introduced me to,” you joked, watching her. Lilah clicked her tongue in disapproval. “He’s the Australian one!” she added quickly and then it dawned on you.

'A-ha.' Come to think of it, you did remember Chris.

Lilah was right, he was really cute. His accent is what really sealed the deal for Lilah. The moment he opened his mouth, she was smitten. You could remember almost seeing hearts in her eyes as she watched him speak. He’d been there with some of his own friends whose names you couldn’t remember.

You knew the other reason Lilah liked Chris so much was that he was covered in tattoos. Not full sleeves, but you knew that the work on his arms cost at least several hundred.

Tattoos weren’t cheap, and despite trying to convince Joshua of that, he still thought people with tattoos were unemployed and lazy. It irked you to no end because you knew how expensive it was. You’d accompanied Lilah to more than one tattoo and piercing appointment and nearly died upon hearing the cost.

“Oh, that one,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

Lilah nodded furtively, holding up a black cropped shirt. “Yes, that one!” Lilah sighed dreamily, tossing the shirt in her hands aside and picking up a black and white striped shirt.

“He texted me earlier and invited me to a party at the old Firestation. You know the one. Station 6,” she explained as she continued to dig through her clothes. This you also did remember.

Station 6 was the old fire station that was sold after a new, more updated building was constructed. The old station was snatched up by some developer intent on turning it into apartments but found the floor plan weird so he resold it for much cheaper, and a younger team bought it and converted it into a nightclub.

“Apparently Minho told him after Ari told him about it and Minho has been trying to get with Ari for like three months now,” Lilah said as she held up a cute black short sleeve top with an off the shoulder neckline.

“I’m going to pretend I understood what you just said,” you said, holding in a laugh. You knew Chris. The other names were foreign to you, or at least you couldn't picture any faces. Lilah did laugh, instead continuing to dig through the piles of clothes on her floor.

"Just help me, please?!"

You looked around the bed where you sat and grabbed the first thing that caught your eye. It was black, like the majority of Lilah's wardrobe, so it was worth a shot. Whatever it took to satisfy your best friend so you could try and get back to your boyfriend.

“Well, why don’t you wear this?” You asked, holding up the article you'd grabbed off the bed. It was a black leather bodycon dress with a lace up bust.

Lilah looked up and studied the dress from her spot on the floor. “I wore that last time I saw Chris,” she said, shaking her head. “I need something else. I really wanna get Chris’ attention,” she added.

"Something to get his attention," you murmured as you looked around before your eyes settled on a flash of red. Leaning over, you snatched it and held it up. “Hey, what about this?” You asked, smiling as you held it up for her to inspect.

It was a red halter dress. There were three cutouts held together with three chain links extending just past the navel. The back was cut to about the mid back. Lilah sat up and walked forward on her knees. She took it from your hands and inspected it. You glanced around and grabbed a tangled mess of black elastic. “And this?” You asked, holding it up.

Lilah looked up at your hands and smiled. She grabbed the mess and got up, running to her bathroom to change. You got up and started searching through her shoes and pulled out a pair of peep toe mesh booties with lace up front and stiletto heels.

You knew Lilah well enough that if you hadn’t chosen a pair of stilettos, she would have been offended. You stood back up, turning to meet her at the bathroom door.

“So… how does it look? How did I do?” You asked through the door. “I gotta give it to you,” Lilah started, before pulling open the door to show you the outfit.

“For someone who wears exclusively pastels, you sure know how to pick out the sexiest outfits,” she said, adjusting one of the straps of the black harness bra.

She noticed the heels in your hand and smiled gleefully. You handed them to her, smirking as she looked them over. “I’m serious,” she added, stepping out of the bathroom and walking over to her bedroom area, where she began picking up her clothes. You helped, putting things back on the hangers and handing them to her.

“Now,” Lilah said, turning to look at you, a wide grin on her face. “We need to pick an outfit for you,” she added.

You shook your head. “Oh no,” you replied.

“I’m not going, Li,” you said, shaking your head. Lilah pouted and moved to kneel on the carpet beside where you sat on the bed.

“Come on, Y/N! Please!!” She begged. You shook your head.

“No, Li. You interrupted my time with Joshua when I wanted to spend more time with him,” you responded. Lilah stuck out her tongue.

“Please, Y/N? You’ll see him on Sunday, won’t you?” She stated, giving you her best puppy dog eyes.

She was right. You would see Josh on Sunday at church with your families. You only attended to keep up appearances, not because you actually believed.

Realizing she wouldn’t let this go until you gave in to her pleas, you groaned and fell back onto the bed in defeat. “Fine!” You grumbled. Lilah let out an excited squeak.

“I’ve got the perfect outfit for you!”

She got to her feet and rushed to her closet while you sat up quickly, mind racing with images of what she might possibly pick out for you. It was pretty obvious you and Lilah had very different tastes and styles when it came to clothing.

You shook your head furiously. “Oh, no. Uh-uh, Lilah!” You blurted out. “I’ll just run home and change,” you added, getting to your feet. “Nonsense,” Lilah said as she dug into the back of her closet.

“I keep a few dresses in here for occasions like this,” Lilah added as she pulled out a dress. She turned and held it up. It was a baby pink bodycon dress, with a ruffle trim around the top. The short puff sleeves also had ruffles around the cuffs, and the bust had a lace up that fell to the navel. The back was somewhat modest with a zipper.

You eyed it; mildly surprised Lilah had even an ounce of pink in her wardrobe that wasn't neon or hot pink. She held the dress out for you to take but you paused, glancing up from the dress to your best friend. "Come on, please, Y/N?" she whined.

You studied her expression before finally sighing in defeat. "You aren't going to let me leave unless I say yes, are you?" You asked, narrowing your eyes when she giggled mischievously.

"Fine! Fine," you said, taking the dress. "I'll be your wing woman tonight." Lilah danced excitedly, thanking you profusely as she moved to dig through her shoes and quickly pulled out a pair you’d borrowed more than once: white satin pumps with stiletto heels and a silver filigree design on the back.

As she handed them to you, and you took them as you shot her a look. “You were planning this the whole time, weren’t you?” You asked. Lilah ushered you to the bathroom and closed the door behind you. Sighing, you quickly slipped off your shoes, setting them on the closed toilet lid before undressing.

You pulled the dress on, zipping it up with some difficulty. It was a little snug but still fit. Shaking your head and gathering your clothes, you emerged from the bathroom and found Lilah waiting in the kitchen for you.

She smiled widely as you set your folded clothes on the counter and you tried to ignore the look on her face as you pulled out your phone, wallet, and lipgloss from your purse. “You look so hot!” Lilah said excitedly. “Oh stop,” you hissed, heat rising to your cheeks.

“You want to wear one of the other dresses?” Lilah asked, and you quickly shook your head. “No,” you answered. “This is fine,” you added, grabbing your compact mirror and reapplying your lipgloss. Lilah had quickly done her makeup while you were in the bathroom.

She'd gone with a blood red lipstick and dark smokey black eye makeup. “We should head out,” Lilah said, checking her phone. “Do you have a small bag?” You asked Lilah, who nodded and disappeared into her room. When she returned, she was holding a small silver clutch and handed it to you.

Opening the tiny purse, you slipped your things into it, adding Lilah’s phone and lipstick when she handed them to you. “Okay,” Lilah said, combing through her hair with her fingers. “Let’s go.” You slipped on your best friend's heels and followed her to the door.

Outside, the sun had started to set, falling below the treeline. The two of you walked, chatting animatedly, when your phone buzzed in the purse. You fished it out and saw a text from Joshua.

Joshy: everything okay?

You: yeah. Lilah just being usual Lilah

Joshy: dramatic? That’s so like her lol so you staying with her or would you like to meet up and pick up where we left off?

You paused, stopping in your tracks as Lilah chatted animatedly. She didn’t notice you’d stopped for a few moments. “Y/N?” She asked. “Everything okay?” You looked up at her, meeting her concerned gaze. “Yeah, let me just answer this text real quick,” you replied, looking back down at your phone and typing a response.

You: I’m gonna stay with Lilah. Girls night. Sorry babe

Joshy: it’s alright baby. Will I see you soon?”

You: of course. We’ll see each other on Sunday,

Joshy: at church?

You: and after, if you’d like (;

Joshy: Sunday suddenly can’t come fast enough

You giggled, slipping your phone into the purse and joining Lilah, linking arms with her as you walked.

“I think that’s the last box,” Jeongguk said, setting the box he was carrying down on the kitchen counter. Changbin looked up from his phone and back down, sending the text he was currently typing and pocketed his phone.

“Which one is that one?” He asked as he walked over to where his friend stood. “Uhh, kitchen shit,” Jeongguk said, tilting his head to the side to read the hastily scribbled words written in black Sharpie.

Changbin snorted and pushed his friend, who merely chuckled.

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Jeongguk added as he moved to lean over the kitchen island. “Beats sleeping on the road and in shitty roadside inns,” he continued, giving Changbin a pointed look.

“Would you rather sleep in a shitty roadside inn or camp by the side of the road again?” Changbin asked, recalling the first and last time he went camping with Jeongguk. ‘Never again,’ he had told himself the following morning.

“Yeah, no. I’m never sharing a tent with you again,” Jeongguk laughed as Changbin joined him. “Hey, it makes for one hell of a story,” the younger man said with a shrug.

Jeongguk rolled his eyes. “Ah yes, I’ll be sure to regale all the hot babes with tales of how i thought I got bit in the ass by a snake, but it was actually a rock under the base of the tent I happened to roll onto in my sleep,” he said, a goofy grin on his face as Changbin burst into laughter.

“In your defense, it was like three in the morning, and I’m sure it felt exactly like a snake bite in your sleep,” Changbin retorted, making Jeongguk offer him a very rude hand gesture. “I’m just glad things worked out when they did,” Jeongguk finally said softly. “Who knows what would have happened if we didn’t get into this place before the end of the month.”

The smile on Changbin’s face fell slowly. Jeongguk was right. They were cutting it close, but he was lucky to even find this place to begin with. He would have to thank Sungjin again for the heads up.

Changbin felt his phone buzz in his pocket and took it out, heart beating quickly until he saw the notification was from Chris. He visibly relaxed, his muscles no longer tensing, something Jeongguk took notice of immediately.

He waited until Changbin finished texting before he spoke.

“When are you gonna stop doing that?”Jeongguk asked softly. He didn’t mean it harshly. It’s not like he found it annoying. More like it was concerning how his friend tensed up any time his phone went off.

“Huh?” Changbin asked as he slipped his phone back into the pocket of his black cargo pants. “Doing what?” Jeongguk could tell Changbin was trying to feign ignorance but he wasn’t having it.

“You really think she’ll be able to find you? All the way out here?” Jeongguk asked, watching how Changbin winced slightly when he mentioned… her. Albeit not by name. Still, any mention of her was enough to send Changbin on edge.

“You know she hates small towns like this,” Jeongguk continued. “I mean, hell, she didn’t even want to visit Daejeon when we came out for a tattoo convention three years ago!” Changbin knew his friend had a point.

“It’s been what? Almost a year since you’ve seen or heard from her, right?” Jeongguk asked, watching Changbin as he nodded. “Give or take, yeah,” he confirmed. Jeongguk nodded this time. “It’s time to let it go, man. You’re safe. There’s no way she’ll find you out here.”

Changbin exhaled slowly. Jeongguk was right. Changbin knew there was no way anyone from his past would find him out here. It was far from the city. Far from the life he’d lived before. The only thing he brought with him were his problems and one of the few people he could really depend on.

His phone buzzed again and he pulled it out. Chris sure was talkative today.

Chris was the new piercer he’d just hired a couple of months ago when the shop was still being renovated. Chris and Minho had come in, the former being all smiles as he walked in, a certain bounce in his step, while his friend was much more cynical and witty.

[two months ago]

Changbin stood up, admiring his handiwork as he checked the wall for white spots. He’d just finished painting the accent wall near the front of the shop while Jeongguk was working on the large tiger decal he’d started three days ago. Changbin turned to look at his friend’s work.

“Holy shit, dude,” Changbin said as his eyes took in the details and color. Jeongguk was resting on a ladder as if it were the most comfortable place to be, an artist's palette in his hand as he worked on the tiger’s face.

He looked down with a huge grin, one the girls he’d dated in the past said reminded them of a bunny rabbit. Changbin didn’t see what they saw, but that was probably because those girls were trying to woo his best friend, and he was not.

“Looks a lot better than yesterday, huh?” Jeongguk asked as he set the palette on the small tray holder of the ladder and climbed down, hopping past the last few steps and meeting Changbin in the middle of the room to look up at the tiger.

“Yeah, he has teeth now,” Changbin joked. “Doesn’t look like some weird gaping maw.” Jeongguk playfully swung at Changbin with a chuckle. “Fuck you, man,” he laughed as Changbin easily dodged him.

The two were continuing to playfully box at one another until the bell at the front door rang as the door opened.

Changbin turned as two men entered the shop. Both of them were taller than he was but still shorter than Jeongguk. One had dark brown, curly hair tucked under a black plain baseball cap. He wore a simple black tee shirt and grey sweats with black trainers.

He had partial sleeves, all in black ink, decorating his arms as well as a couple on the side of his neck. He also sported a silver barbel on his left eyebrow, a black ring in his septum and a single nose piercing.

The other man, the taller of the two, had longer just as dark brown hair and wore a dark gray shirt with ripped blue jeans and black high top shoes. He had full sleeves in partial color and a single vertical labret piercing.

“Hey,” Jeongguk said, stepping forward. “Sorry guys, we’re not open and still working in here.” The taller of the two raised an eyebrow as the shorter man smiled, dimples appearing on either side of his face.

“You’re hiring, right?” He asked, holding out the flyers Changbin had put up the week before. Changbin looked back up at the man. “Uh, yeah. What kind of experience do you have?” He asked.

He watched as both men pulled out their phones. The taller one showed him an Instagram full of his work. “Do you both do tattoos?” Changbin asked. The shorter one shook his head.

“Minho does tattoos. I’m still learning, but I do piercings,” he answered. Changbin nodded, watching as the shorter man showed him the piercings he’s done.

“You have your licenses and certifications,” Jeongguk asked as he looked over the two men’s Instagram portfolios. Both nodded, providing the necessary documents. Jeongguk looked over the two license and papers before he handed them back and tapped Changbin on the shoulder, nodding towards the front desk.

“Give us just a second,” Changbin said to the men and turned to follow Jeongguk.

“What do you think?” His friend asked, arms crossed over his chest. Changbin glanced over where the two men stood, looking around and inspecting Jeongguk’s tiger wall art. “This is really good,” the shorter man said, smiling at the tiger . “Your work?” He asked, directing the question at Jeongguk, who nodded.

“It’s really good, man.”

Jeongguk turned his attention back to Changbin after thanking the man.

“Well?”

Changbin looked at the two men, giving them the once-over. It was apparent they both knew what they were doing but he needed confirmation. “Let’s give them a test.” Jeongguk nodded and stepped forward.

“What are your names again?” He asked.

“Minho,” the taller man answered.

“This excitable short puppy is Chan,” he added, gesturing to his friend.

“Uh no. Chris,” the shorter man answered.

“Chan is my birth name. I prefer Chris.”

“Okay, Minho,” Jeongguk answered, nodding towards Minho.

“Chris,” he nodded towards the shorter man. “We’re gonna give you both a test.” Minho said nothing but Chris chuckled.

“Okay, but I didn’t study,” he joked.

Minho rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him and his dumb jokes,” he said softly. Changbin let out a low laugh.

“Jeongguk, take Minho to your station,” he instructed before turning to Chris.

“You come with me.”

Chris followed Changbin to his station. “Are there any piercings you aren’t comfortable performing?” Changbin asked as he dug through a box, pulling out a few supplies. He pulled a rolling tray over to him with the toe of his boot.

Chris shook his head. “I’ve done almost everything. Dermals, tongues, nipples, hell, I’ve even done a few genital piercings,” he answered as Changbin set up the tray. Changbin looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“You’re a braver man than me,” he murmured with a smirk.

“I don’t want anyone’s junk in my face.”

Chris shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me,” he said with a grin. “And the smell doesn’t bother you?” Changbin asked as he moved the tray over to his chair. Chris shook his head. “Nah. I always wear a mask and I get it done as soon as possible so I don’t have to smell anything.”

Changbin snorted as he sat on the chair. “Alright. I’ve set you up to do—” he started, but Chris interrupted him. “Nipple? Not gonna lie, I figured you’d already have them done,” he said with a sly grin.

Changbin untucked his shirt and pulled it off. “I just never got around to it. It’s hard to pierce yourself, and Kook doesn’t do piercings,” he said as he set his shirt aside.

Chris seemingly entered his professional mode. His cheerful demeanor didn’t drop as he washed his hands quickly, returning to put on the gloves.

“Kook?” Chris asked as he got to work. “Which side?” He asked, pointing at Changbin’s chest. “Doesn’t matter to me,” Changbin answered. “Right side is fine.” Chris started prepping the area, wiping it with an alcohol pad.

“Kook is my partner,” Changbin finally responded to Chris’ earlier question.

“Oh, business partner or…?” He trailed off. Changbin chuckled as Chris prepared the needle.

“Business. He’s a great guy and my best friend but I’m very much into women,” Changbin answered as Chris laughed with him.

“Hey, no judgment here,” Chris said, preparing the barbel before grabbing the small forceps. “How well do you handle pain?” Chris asked as he carefully clamped the forceps on Changbin’s right nipple.

“I’m covered in tattoos,” Changbin answered with an amused tone. “I’d say pretty well,” he added as Chris picked up the needle.

“You’d think people who are covered in tattoos handle pain well but Minho is the biggest baby in existence,” Chris whispered as he leaned in closer to see what he was doing.

“I heard that.” A voice called from across the hall, making Changbin and Chris both chuckle. “Deep breath in,” Chris instructed. Changbin breathed in. “And out,” Chris said and as Changbin exhaled, he felt the slight sting of the needle.

“You didn’t even wince,” Chris noted as he pulled the barbel through and carefully secured the screw ball on the end before wiping the area one last time.

Changbin picked up his shirt. While Chris cleaned up the used items and removed his gloves, Changbin pulled his shirt back on.

“So, do I get the job?” Chris asked as Changbin moved the tray aside and set the rest of the stuff to be cleaned.

“How are you with painting?” Changbin asked as he tucked his shirt back into his pants. “Uh, I’m no Picasso, but I’ve painted rooms before,” Chris said with a shrug. “And Minho?” Changbin asked as they walked towards the doorway.

“He’s the artist. Much better than me,” Chris answered, following Changbin into the room where Jeongguk’s station was. They turned and watched while Minho worked. Jeongguk had pulled his shirt off and was sitting facing away from Minho while the younger man drew a small flash tattoo.

It wasn’t anything intricate or fancy. The lines were clean, and his hand very steady. “You better not be drawing a dick,” Jeongguk said jokingly. Minho snorted but continued to work.

“Nah,” he replied, stopping for a second to wipe some ink and blood from Jeongguk’s skin, a smirk forming as his response formed in his head.

“It's a butt.”

In reality, it was a small sheet style ghost with a little balloon that read ‘dead inside.’

Changbin held back a laugh as a grin spread across his face. The style was cute and cartoonish, but the sad ghost eyes and the balloon really set it apart. “I know it’s supposed to be a flash tattoo, but you should totally fill that in red,” Changbin said as he leaned over, pointing at the balloon.

“Great,” Jeongguk said sarcastically. “I got a red ass on my back.”

His response had the other three men bursting into laughter.

When he finished, Minho cleaned up while Jeongguk managed to get a glimpse in the mirror. “Hey, that’s pretty neat. I like the balloon,” he said as he looked over his shoulder at the little ghost.

“I almost did the ghost with a ski mask and gun,” Minho answered as he finished cleaning up and washed his hands. “That would have been a good one, too,” Jeongguk replied, pulling his shirt on.

“So,” Chris asked again with a smile on his face. Changbin and Jeongguk exchanged glances. Jeongguk nodded at his friend, and Changbin turned back to the two.

“You’re hired.”

[present day]

The ringing of Changbin’s phone brought him back to the present, pulling him out of his memories. The caller ID told him it was Chris. He answered it, holding the device up to his ear. “Hey,” he answered.

“Alright, I know you said not to call you without asking first, but there’s this club. Minho and I are going. You remember Ari?” Chris said into the receiver.

Changbin did remember Ari. She was the blonde girl that often came to the shop to see Minho. He also remembered the way Minho looked at Ari whenever she was around. It was a fondness he’d never seen in the two months he’d known the man.

“Yeah, I remember Ari,” Changbin answered, ignoring the way Jeongguk looked up, listening in to his side of the conversation. Jeongguk mouthed at Changbin, trying to figure out what was going on, but Changbin waved him off.

“Well, her friend Hana has been in the shop lately, and she’s got an eye for you. She wants to meet you. So the task to invite you to come out with us has fallen to me. Would you kindly grace us with your presence, boss?” Chris explained, ending in an ask. “We would greatly enjoy your company.”

Changbin snorted. If Chris had asked this in front of him, he’d playfully push or swipe at him. “Yeah, I guess I can make an appearance,” Changbin answered.

“Great! What about Jeongguk? Is he free?”

Changbin told Chris to hold on, putting the call on mute before speaking to Jeongguk. “Chris and Minho are inviting us to come out to a club with them. Apparently one of Ari’s friends wants to meet me,” he explained.

Jeongguk bobbed his head from side to side before nodding. “Yeah, sure.”

Changbin unmuted the call and brought the phone to his ear with a smile.

“Yeah. We’re in.”

You’d never been to the old fire station. The brick exterior hadn’t been touched, even leaving up the old Station 6 sign. Heavy bass sounded from inside the building, muffled by the bricks. You followed Lilah to the door and squeezed your way in. Most of the original structure had been untouched.

The entry hallway was crowded with people moving to and from the dance floor, which was the old fire truck bay. You followed Lilah into the old garage and stood to the side while she looked around, no doubt looking for Chris. You instead took the time to look around at the decor.

The brick inside had been painted black, and there was now a second balcony above the dance floor. The floor where people danced was a step down with a raised DJ booth in the far corner from where you stood. The bar was packed, every seat taken. The tables against the railing separating the dance floor were standing only.

The bar stools and the standing tables matched round black tops with black steel legs. The bar top was black quartz and shiny, catching the lights from above as they swirled and painted the dance floor and patrons in a shower of rainbow and neon lights.

“I see them!” Lilah said to you, leaning in to speak in your ear so you could hear her over the booming music. You nodded, showing that you understood. Lilah took your hand and led you past the bar, following the flow of the crowd until she managed to squeeze into a small booth in the far corner.

She sat down, pulling you gently with her, your butt landing on the cushioned bench next to her. You recognized the man next to her. It was Chris. He turned to look at her as she tapped a finger against his tattooed forearm. His shocked expression morphed into a huge grin, and he greeted her warmly and hugged her.

“You remember my best friend, Y/N?” Lilah asked, gesturing to you, and your attention was drawn from the old garage doors that had been left intact, but no doubt the wiring cut so they couldn’t be opened. Chris gave you a pleasant smile. “It’s nice to see you, Y/N,” he said, leaning forward to shake your hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” he added, reaching towards the table to grab his drink.

You shrugged your shoulders. “I didn’t know I’d be coming until about twenty minutes ago,” you replied, nudging Lilah, who gave you a sheepish smile. “I can’t come out without my best friend!” She said with an exaggerated shrug.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention away as Lilah started to chat with Chris. Sitting in the same corner booth were some faces you recognized but couldn’t put their names to their faces. Your eyes landed on someone you’d never seen before. He looked to be about your age, with short black hair with bangs that fell into his eyes. His attention was focused on the girl sitting next to him.

He wore a black fitted button down with the sleeves rolled up, exposing his heavily tattooed forearms. You noticed the way the fabric of his shirt stretched every time he moved. This guy looked like he was born in a gym. You found yourself unable to look away from him.

He smiled, no doubt at something the girl next to him had whispered in his ear. He shook his head and leaned forward, grabbing his drink and taking a sip. He nestled back against the cushion, arm resting on top of the cushion behind the girl.

She was clearly enjoying the attention he was giving her. Your eyes wandered, taking in the tight black jeans and black leather combat boots. The man leaned forward to look at the guy sitting on the other side of the girl. He was equally as tattooed as the first with an eyebrow and lip piercing.

He had shorter brown hair, styled back to show off his forehead. He turned to look at his friend. You could see his mouth moving, not hearing what was being said. The second man, the brunet, nodded before turning back to the girl with purple hair he had been talking to.

The first man stood up and held out his hand to the girl, which she took it excitedly, letting him pull her up, the brunet man following with the purple haired woman.

You looked away quickly as the four walked past, no doubt heading for the dance floor. As you turned to look at Lilah your eye caught another man staring at you. You recognized him as one of Chris’ friends.

You were sure Lilah had mentioned his name before. Min-Soo? Min-young? Minho? You knew it started with Min. He was looking at you, a curious expression on his face. When your eyes met his, he raised an eyebrow and a smirk slowly started to form on his lips. You tapped Lilah quickly, catching her attention.

“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” you said over the music. Lilah held up her finger, telling you to wait a moment. She turned back to Chris to explain where the two of you were going. He offered to come with and Lilah took him up on his offer.

You soon found yourself squished between Lilah and one of the patrons sitting on a stool at the bar. You apologized to the woman but she just smiled and turned back to her friend.

“What are you drinking?” Chris asked Lilah. She glanced at the back of the bar as a bartender came by.

“Whiskey,” she replied. “Neat.”

Chris turned to the bartender to order two whiskies, both neat before he turned to look past Lilah at you.

“What would you like, Y/N?” He asked. Your head snapped to look at him. “Oh, uh…” you trailed off, glancing at the bar before speaking quickly. “Whiskey sour is fine,” you answered.

Chris nodded, turning to the bartender to add your drink to his tab. The bartender nodded, getting to work on your drinks. You turned around to look over the crowd of people on the dance floor, and somehow, your eyes found him again. His attention was on the girl he’d been sitting with, hands on her waist as they danced closely.

Feeling as if you were intruding, you turned away. A moment later, you felt the girl on the stool next to you slip away, leaving the spot vacant but only for a second.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Goody-Two Shoes,” a low but seductive voice said in your ear.

You turned to see the Min-something guy from before. You rolled your eyes as Lilah reached across to smack his arm. “Don’t call her that, Minho!” she said, frowning. His smile widened as he waited for the bartender.

“Enjoying the show?” He asked, and you turned to give him a confused look. He nodded over his shoulder.

“The way you were eyeing him so hard, I’m surprised someone like you would even be interested,” Minho said, voice low enough that only you could hear him. You looked away.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you answered. He scoffed. “I’m not blind, sweetheart,” he said patronizingly.

“I saw you checking him out earlier. What? Is your pompous asshole boyfriend not doing it for you anymore?”

You felt the heat rising from the pit of your stomach. Before you could answer him, your drink was set in front of you. You thanked Chris, who gave you a warm smile before you turned to look at Minho, a smirk still plastered all over his face.

Taking a sip of your drink gave you enough courage to bite back. “I suggest you get your eyes checked, Min-ho,” you said, adding emphasis to the last syllable of his name before Lilah dragged you away from the bar and back to the booth.

Back on the cushioned seat, you sat nestled next to Lilah as she spoke animatedly with Chris and the girl Minho had been sitting with earlier. You didn’t join in the conversation though you did listen in.

“Good eye, Ari,” Chris said, his eyes on Changbin and Hana as they danced on the dance floor. “She’s really cute. Totally looks like his type,” he added as Minho returned, sliding into the booth and cozying up next to the blonde who smiled.

“I knew the moment we walked into the shop, she’d fall for him,” Ari answered, lifting her glass to take a sip. “They do look really good together,” she added. Chris smiled, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, pat yourself on the back,” he said with a chuckle. Ari smiled again. “Thank you. I think I will,” she said, reaching over her shoulder to lightly pat herself on the back, making Chris and Lilah both laugh.

Minho set his glass down and turned to lean into Ari, whispering in her ear. She nodded and followed as Minho stood up. “We’ll be right back,” she said as she took Minho’s hand and followed as he gently pulled her along.

You watched as they walked past, having zoned out of the conversation halfway through. You felt pressure on your shoulder and turned your head to see Lilah resting her chin on your shoulder. She gave you a smile which you returned.

“You okay?” Lilah asked as a slower song started to play over the speakers. You nodded. “I’m okay,” you answered. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Chris down the rest of his drink before he placed a hand on Lilah’s shoulder.

She sat up and turned as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. She nodded before turning to you. “We’re gonna go dance,” she announced. You nodded wordlessly, taking a sip of your drink. “You should come with us,” Lilah added, looking at you with a peculiar expression. You shook your head.

“You came here for him,” you whispered as Chris stood up.

“I’m your wing woman, remember? Go dance with him. Sweep him off his feet,” you said softly, offering your best friend a reassuring smile.

Lilah nodded and leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “We’ll be right back,” Chris said over the music. You shook your head.

“Take your time,” you half yelled.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you added. Chris smiled and nodded to your drink.

“If you finish that, go get another and put it on my tab. It’s under Bang,” he said as Lilah got to her feet. You nodded as they squeezed past you but made a mental note not to do that . You felt bad if anyone bought you things.

You already had so much. You didn’t need anyone buying you things when you could buy them yourself. You continued to sip on your drink, pulling your phone out to see if you had any text.

Other than Wonwoo telling you he was expecting a package soon, there were no notifications, and it was radio silence from Joshua, leaving you to wonder what he was up to. ‘He’s probably reading a book or catching up on that anime,’ you told yourself with a smile. ‘My goofy weeb boyfriend.’

Once you’d finished your drink, you decided to get another and got up, heading over to the bar, squeezing between two tall men where a very pretty female bartender with baby pink hair smiled at you.

“Hi, hun,” she greeted you, leaning in to hear your order. You got the same whiskey sour and opened your borrowed purse to pull out some cash to pay.

“Let me,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a strange man beside you smiling down at you. He was quite handsome, and tall, with medium brown hair and very prominent dimples.

“I’m Dae-hyun,” he added as the bartender made your drink, eyeing the man suspiciously. “Y/N,” you said politely. “And thank you, but I've got this,” you added, pulling some notes out of your wallet.

“How else am I supposed to get your attention, though?” Dae-hyun asked. “Come on. Let me buy you one drink,” he pressed, but you shook your head. “No, thank you. Really, I appreciate it, but I can buy my own drinks.”

You turned to pay the bartender as she set your drink down, not missing the way Dae-hyun’s eyes scanned your body, a smirk on his lips. “Hey, you gonna buy a drink or just oggle my patrons?” She barked, making the man jump and grimace.

You turned and watched as the man slunk away and turned back to pay the bartender. She pushed the drink towards you and waved her hand. “It’s on the house, honey,” she said with a wink.

You thanked her, putting the bills instead in the tip jar and thanked her again before leaving the bar and returning to the corner booth that still sat empty save for the server cleaning up the empty glasses.

You thanked her as she walked by and returned to your seat, fishing your phone out again, trying to pass the time.

You could have left the moment Chris asked Lilah to dance with him. Your mission had been completed as Lilah’s wing woman, but you sat on the black cushion, sipping on your free drink.

As you scrolled through your Instagram feed, loud giggles announced the arrival of part of the group, and you glanced up to see the blonde girl, Ari, and Minho return.

“You’re still here?” Minho asked as he plopped down next to Ari, eyeing you suspiciously. “You can leave, you know.” Ari lightly slapped his arm. “Don’t be mean,” she said sternly. “If Y/N wants to stay here, she can,” she added, smiling warmly. Her kindness surprised you but you smiled back.

Minho leaned forward to grab his glass and grumbled something you couldn’t hear but Ari slapped his arm again. “Be nice!” She hissed as you turned your attention away as more footsteps approached.

It was the man from before and the girl he’d gone to dance with. You looked away as they sat down, feeling the guy’s eyes on you. You glanced back and met his gaze. This was the first time he’d acknowledged your presence.

You barely got a good look at his face before his attention turned to the girl next to him and you felt like you could breathe, your cheeks growing warm. You decided to chalk that up to the alcohol coursing through your system as Lilah and Chris finally returned.

“Is it just me or is it hot?” Lilah asked as she took her glass from Chris, thanking him before taking a sip. The girl whose name you did know nodded. “It’s really hot,” she replied, looking at the man beside her.

Her eyes moved past him to you and she gave you a blank stare, glancing you over as if she’d just noticed you existed before she turned away when Ari called her name. “Hana, do you want to go back out there? Minho won’t go with me!” Ari pouted. Hana shook her head at Minho and got up.

“I’ll dance with you,” Hana said, reaching out to take Ari’s hand and the pair squeezed past the rest of the group and headed onto the dance floor again. You looked away from them to find the black-haired man looking at you again.

His gaze didn’t feel scrutinizing or patronizing in any way. It was more like he was trying to figure you out simply by looking at you. You turned your gaze away but felt his eyes on you. Lilah and Chris were chatting animatedly next to you about his new job.

“Yeah, I just walked in and showed him what I’ve done. Then I had to perform an actual piercing,” Chris explained as Lilah hung onto every word. “Like, you had to pierce him?” She asked, jaw dropping when Chris nodded.

You glanced down at your now empty drink, trying to decide if you should get another. ‘Ah, fuck it,’ you told yourself as you set the empty one down and announced to your best friend you were getting another.

Lilah whipped around, gently grabbing your hand and stopped you before you could get up.

“Are you sure you can handle another drink, Y/N?” She asked, eyes studying your face, her expression full of concern.

“Oh, come on, Lilah. She’s a big girl,” Minho said as he slid into his seat next to Ari, who had returned with Hana before Hana pulled the man she’d been with up and onto the dance floor again. Minho was giving you a smirk but like Lilah, Ari had a look of concern. You weren’t sure why.

You narrowed your eyes at Minho, wanting to snap back but Lilah gave your hand a gentle squeeze. “Ignore him, Y/N,” she said, turning your attention back to her.

“You know your tolerance better than anyone,” she added. You looked at your two empty glasses on the table and nodded. “You’re right. I’ll just go to the bathroom,” you answered before getting to your feet and adjusting the hem of your dress.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Lilah asked but you shook your head, giving her a smile. “I’ll be fine, Li,” you said before turning and walking away from the booth.

You made your way out of the garage and towards the bathroom, only to bump into someone. The force at which they ran into you almost knocked you over. “Whoa! Sorry,” said a familiar voice as two hands steadied you.

You looked up into the face of one of Joshua’s best friends.

“Hey, Cheol!” You said excitedly, sharing a hug with him. He smiled brightly at you. “I didn’t know you were going to be here!” He said, looking around. “You didn’t come with Josh, did you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Uh, no, I came with… Lilah,” you said, voice dropping as you said your best friend’s name. Seungcheol acted as if hearing his ex-girlfriend’s name didn’t bother him but you knew better. As far as you and Joshua knew, Seungcheol was still heartbroken over Lilah and Jeonghan’s drunken hookup.

It had been only a few months ago at a lake house party. Seungcheol, unfortunately, had work responsibilities so he couldn't attend. You'd gone with Joshua to appease "the party gods" as Lilah put it.

Halfway through, Lilah was much more drunk than you'd seen in a long time and Joshua offered to take both of you home. You went with him to get your jackets and when you returned to where you'd left Lilah, she was nowhere to be found and no one knew where she'd gone. You tried looking for her but Joshua said to let her be.

You felt like you should have looked harder.

The next morning Lilah showed up at your door, hungover and crying. She told you she waited for when you and Joshua went to get your jackets and during the time you were gone, she'd run into Jeonghan, who was also quite plastered himself.

One minute they were chatting, the next, they were stumbling into an empty room, and when she woke up the next morning, she realized they'd had sex. She was an absolute mess, beating herself up about how to break the news to Seungcheol.

When she finally did, she didn't ask for his forgiveness though he was ready to give it freely. She didn't cry, she didn't beg, she simply apologized and ended things, telling Seungcheol that there was no fixing this. What she'd done couldn't be undone or taken back.

According to Joshua, Seungcheol was heartbroken. He'd lost the love of his life and a best friend in one swoop. He didn't handle the betrayal he felt towards Jeonghan well and ended up giving Jeonghan a black eye. Joshua had felt conflicted about the whole thing, wanting to be there for Seungcheol but not knowing who was at fault .

You knew that Lilah and Jeonghan messed up but Lilah was your friend. Seungcheol was Joshua’s friend before he was yours. So you'd distanced yourself out of respect not only for Lilah but for Seungcheol as well, not sure if he'd even want to see you.

Judging by his response upon seeing you now, you knew he didn't hold you accountable . He was his usual cheerful self.

“Oh?” He asked, lifting his glass to his lips to take a sip. You nodded, unsure how to recover from the awkward silence between you. “You don’t have a drink?” He asked, noticing your empty hands. You shook your head.

“I just finished a second. I’m on my way to the bathroom,” you replied, gesturing towards the hall that led to the bathrooms. “Want me to get you one?” Seungcheol asked. You shook your head. “No, that’s okay,” you answered but Seungcheol cut you off. “Speak of the devil,” he said, a smile forming on his face.

You turned to look at who Seungcheol was looking at and your heart nearly dropped into your stomach.

Joshua was walking over, a smile on his own face, until he caught sight of you. His smile faltered for a moment before he turned his attention to Seungcheol. “We were just talking about you!” Seungcheol said, greeting his friend. Joshua looked from his friend to you. “Were you now?” He asked, to which Seungcheol nodded.

“I thought she came with you,” Seungcheol admitted. “No. She didn’t,” Joshua said, his eyes not leaving yours. “Well, I’ve got to use the restroom,” you said quickly. “It was nice catching up with you, Cheollie,” you said, giving him a smile before walking away to head for the bathroom.

Joshua muttered something to Seungcheol before following you, grabbing your arm a little too hard and turning you to face him. “Sorry,” he muttered, noticing how you winced in his grip. “I thought you were having a girls night,” he said, his voice back to normal volume since the music was now muffled as you were no longer in the same room.

“I am. I came here with Lilah,” you answered, eyes darting to the side where you saw another familiar face. “I thought you meant you were staying in,” he said, drawing your attention again.

“You know, a girl's night, like, movies and pizza or something,” he added. You shook your head. “No, Lilah wanted to come see Chris, and I said I’d come with her,” you replied. "Be her wing woman of sorts," you added with a laugh.

Joshua’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Who the hell is Chris?” He demanded, sounding suddenly angry that you were talking about another man. 'Oh boy, here we go.'

You didn’t like the tone of his voice.

“Chris is one of Lilah’s friends ,” you stated. Joshua crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t like it,” he said quickly. “Don’t like what?” You asked, also not liking the direction this conversation was going.

He was stalling you, and you really had to pee. “I don’t like the idea of you and Lilah alone with some strange man,” he countered. You rolled your eyes. “He’s not some strange man, Josh,” you retorted.

“He’s her friend and he happens to be a very nice man,” you added. Joshua scoffed, now his turn to roll his eyes.

“Nice people don’t hang around these places, Y/N,” he replied, and you had to give him a deadpan blank stare.

“Are you saying you aren’t a nice person?” You asked, making him realize his contradiction. He was getting frustrated with you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut as he breathed slowly. “You know what I meant."

You saw his eyes flicker from you to something behind you for a moment before turning his attention back to you. “So then I’m not a nice person?” You inquired, trying to get him to admit he was making bullshit up. Joshua rolled his eyes again. He was over this.

“You know damn well what I meant, Y/F/N Y/L/N,” he stated, clearly annoyed with the banter you were giving him.

“Oh-ho-ho,” said a voice as the owner slid up beside you and draped an arm around your shoulders. “Busting out the government names are we now, Joshua Hong?”

You glanced up to see Minho, a smirk on his face. Joshua glared at the younger man. You could see that the simple action of putting his arm around your shoulders nearly set him off.

Joshua didn’t like it when other men looked at, let alone touched you. He was about to grab Minho by the collar when you shook Minho's arm off your shoulder.

“What are you doing here, Minho?” You asked, looking at him. He tore his gaze from Joshua’s, giving you an uncharacteristically warm smile. “Lilah was wondering what was taking you so long,” he said before looking back up at Joshua.

“I volunteered to come retrieve you,” he added, linking his arm with yours if only to set Joshua off further. You pulled your arm from his.

“Well, I still haven’t been to the bathroom,” you admitted.

"Well, why did you say so?" Minho asked, gesturing for you to hurry. “I’ll wait here. I promised Lilah I’d retrieve you and retrieve you I shall,” he added, causing you to roll your eyes before excusing yourself and hurrying down the crowded hallway.

Minho looked back at Joshua as you disappeared, his smile falling quickly. “Who the hell do you think you are?” Joshua asked, gritting his teeth. Minho was not easily intimidated, especially not by men like Joshua Hong.

“No,” Minho said, taking a step forward and prodding Joshua in the chest with his finger. “Who do you think you are?” Joshua was taken aback. “What?” He asked incredulously.

“I saw that,” Minho stated. “The way you grabbed her like that. What makes you think you can act that way?” Minho demanded, his voice low so only Joshua could hear him. “She’s my girlfriend, Lee. I don’t think it’s any of your concern—” Joshua started but he was cut off by Minho once again, who jabbed him in the chest with his finger.

“She may be your girlfriend,” he repeated. “But that doesn't make her your property,” he added. “You don’t get to grab her and throw her around like some kind of rag doll." Joshua opened his mouth to retort but was cut off once again by Minho's external monologue.

"You know, I've always wondered where those bruises come from,” he added. Joshua’s eyes widened. Minho could see he'd hit a nerve. "It all makes sense now."

“How dare you accuse me of abusing Y/N,” he snarled. A hand came between the two. “Gentlemen,” a voice said. Joshua looked down and noticed a much shorter man with black hair pushing him and Minho apart.

“This is a public space,” he added, glancing from Minho to Joshua.. “Let’s not cause a scene.”

“Who the hell are you?” Joshua asked, albeit very rudely.

“Changbin,” the raven haired man replied. “Seo Changbin,” he added, holding out his hand for Joshua to shake. Joshua looked down at the man’s tattoo covered hand and chose to ignore the gesture, instead looking at Minho and narrowing his eyes.

“Stay out of my relationship, Lee Minho,” he spat angrily before turning and walking back to meet up with Seungcheol and their friends, leaving the two men standing there. Changbin looked at his older friend.

“Okay,” Changbin said, jerking his thumb behind him in the direction Joshua had gone. “Who the fuck was that?” He asked. Minho held out his hand in a grand gesture. “Joshua Hong,” he replied.

“Sejong’s very own pompous asshole boyfriend,” he added, causing the younger man to snort and roll his eyes. “Wait… boyfriend?” Changbin asked, suddenly confused.

“Who’s his girlfriend?”

In the women’s restroom, you opened the stall door having finished your business and approached the sink, washing your hands quickly as you glanced up at your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your makeup seemed fine despite the fact you had been crying just a few minutes ago.

You hoped no one would notice.

Your eyes caught sight of a red mark on your arm and glanced down at the spot where Joshua had grabbed you. “Shit,” you whispered, moving to dry your hands and inspect the mark.

If Lilah didn’t notice the makeup, she was bound to notice this. According to Lilah, Seungcheol had done the same thing a few times, grabbed her by the arm much harder than he intended to.

‘He must be really mad, if he grabbed me this hard,’ you thought as you finished drying your hands. You quickly rid yourself of that bullshit thought and shook your head quickly. ‘No,’ you told yourself.

‘It doesn’t matter how mad he is. Nothing gives him the right to grab me like that.’

Giving yourself the once over one last time with a quick nod to your reflection, you pulled open the door and stepped out into the hall. As you wound your way through the crowd of people, you were knocked backwards into someone and turned to apologize profusely.

The guy turned, and you saw it was the guy from the booth. The one Minho had caught you staring at. “Sorry,” you muttered.

“Someone knocked me over.” The man looked over and noticed several much taller guys crowded nearby before his eyes returned to you and nodded.

“You alright?” He asked, taking you by surprise. ‘Why is he asking me if I’m okay when I’m the one who bumped into him?’ You wondered but decided against asking him that very thing. “I’m okay,” you answered with a nod.

The smile that formed on his face almost took your breath away. “Then no harm done,” he said softly, turning back to the girl leaning against the wall that he’d been previously kissing. You turned away as they went back at it.

‘Awkward.’

As you headed out of the hall, you saw Minho standing in the same place you’d left him. He was looking over the crowd, clearly agitated but you couldn’t discern what had him scowling like that.

‘He… actually waited?’

Minho must have sensed someone was watching him and turned to find you standing a few steps behind him, watching him with a peculiar expression. Perhaps you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you.

After witnessing your encounter with Joshua, he wasn’t going to leave you to walk alone when that asshat was still in the building, probably waiting for you to appear so he could swoop in and do more pompous asshole boyfriend shit.

Minho’s expression softened as you approached him. You glanced around only after realizing Joshua wasn’t anywhere in sight. You wondered what Minho could have said or done to get Joshua to leave but thought better than to ask.

“Where did Josh go?” You asked as soon as you were within earshot. Minho shrugged his shoulders. “Why do you care?” he answered. You glared at him. “‘Cause he’s my boyfriend,” you retorted, your words failing and expression softening as he offered his arm for you to take.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” You asked suspiciously, taking his arm all the same. “Don’t get used to it,” Minho said as he led you back to the booth, stopping at the bar to get another drink. “What are you drinking?” He asked. You shook your head. “I shouldn’t have another,” you admitted.

Minho dramatically rolled his eyes with an equally exaggerated sigh.

“It’s not every day I’m offering to buy you a drink so pick something,” he urged, waving his hand. “Fine, a Singapore sling,” you answered. Minho gave you a once over before his lips spread into a wide and slightly mischievous grin.

“Oh, I think I’m gonna like this new you,” he said before turning to tell the bartender, leaving you to silent combust as heat spread across your face.

‘What does that mean? The new me?’

Once the drinks were made, Minho led you back to the booth. You thanked him again and sat next to Lilah.

“There you are!” She said, throwing her arms around you. “I was getting worried!” You patted her on the head, chuckling as you looked up to see Minho leaning across Ari’s lap to speak to Chris.

You noticed the urgency at which he spoke and that his eyes flickered to you and back. Chris asked him something you couldn’t hear, and Minho nodded quickly before speaking again.

Whatever their conversation was about ended as soon as Lilah pulled away from you. “Ooh, what’s this?” Lilah asked upon noticing your new drink, clearly not remembering that she suggested you not get another.

Not giving you a chance to answer, she took it from you and took a sip. Her face scrunched up as she swallowed, handing your glass back to you before she gagged. “What the fuck is that?” She asked as you rolled your eyes.

“A Singapore sling,” you answered, raising the glass to take a sip. “Well it’s disgusting,” Lilah answered. Minho snorted, but it seemed only you heard him. “It’s not that bad, Li,” you answered softly.

“Yeah, we can’t all have the taste buds of a child,” Minho quipped. Lilah and Chris both turned to look at him. “You? Sticking up for Y/N?” Chris asked, looking shocked but amused while Lilah looked just plain shocked.

Minho snorted again in laughter. He held up his drink in a silent cheers, directed towards you. “More likely than you think,” Minho said to his friend before sending a wink in your direction. Your cheeks burned in embarrassment as he took a drink and both Lilah and Chris exchanged glances as you took a sip of your drink.

“What happened when I sent you to check on her?” Lilah asked, turning to look at Minho again as he lowered his glass. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Chris looked mildly amused and surprised at the direction the conversation had turned.

“What does that mean?” Lilah asked as you glanced over to the dance floor, trying to ignore the conversation unfolding next to you. An RnB song with heavy bass had started playing, so only couples were on the floor now.

“Y/N,” Lilah said, drawing your attention away from the dance floor. “Huh?”

“What exactly happened that took you so long that I had to send Minho to fetch you?” Lilah asked. Your stomach dropped. ‘Shit.’ You tried to feign a smile and lighthearted expression but could see Minho looking at you from behind Lilah. The scowl you had seen earlier before meeting back up with him was back.

“Oh, uh, I ran into Cheol,” you answered softly, looking down to pick at the hem of your, well actually Lilah’s, dress.

“Oh,” Lilah replied, her curious expression dropping and a blank look crossing her face.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Cheol,” Minho said softly, nodding along. “Oh, and Josh,” he added with venom in his voice. You glanced up to see he was looking out at the crowd with a sour expression.

Lilah laughed at the look on Minho’s face. “You look like he pissed in your cornflakes,” Chris said, nudging his friend with a laugh.

“What did he do to you?” Lilah asked, noticing his sour expression wasn’t going away.

Minho shook his head. “Not me,” he replied, eyes moving towards you.

He wondered what it was about Joshua that you loved so much that you shook your head as subtly as possible, clearly not wanting him to bring up what he’d witnessed. Something he’d sent guys to the ER for. Something he would gladly do to Joshua, given the chance.

It was then Minho realized Lilah was still waiting for him to speak. “Then who?” She asked. Minho inhaled and exhaled deeply before shaking his head, forcing a smile.

“Nothing,” he replied. “He’s just a prick.” He raised his glass to his lips and downed the rest of his drink.

‘A dead fucking prick if I catch him doing that again.’

You silently thanked him for not bringing it up as Lilah rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be mean for no reason, Minho,” she said before turning to look at the dance floor. “I have my reasons,” Minho muttered, but Lilah didn’t seem to hear him as he stared into the bottom of his now empty cup.

A new song started playing, something more upbeat but still with a lot of bass. Lilah smiled, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “Y/N, you wanna dance?” she asked, looking at you with a smile. You looked up, eyes wide. “Uh… I don’t know Lilah,” you said softly.

But of course, she didn’t listen. Lilah never listened.

Instead, she took your drink from your hands and set it in front of Chris turning to face him. “Can you watch these for us, please?” She asked, bringing her hands together almost as if in prayer.

When Chris nodded, a fond smile on his face, Lilah thanked him and squealed with delight. “We’ll be right back,” she said before standing up and grabbing your hand. “Come on,” she said, pulling you out of the booth and towards the steps despite your blatant protests.

Once on the dance floor, nestled in the crowd, you finally let loose and danced with your best friend. She always knew how to cheer you up. One song turned into another, and soon, you were dancing to a third song. Lilah always brought out the best in you. She always knew how to have fun, no matter the circumstances.

You were holding her hand and dancing, swaying to the music when you felt two hands on your hips. You turned quickly and found yourself face to face with none other than Joshua.

“Miss me?” Your boyfriend asked softly, smiling when your surprised expression morphed into relief that it was him and not some creep.

“You weren’t there when I got back from the restroom,” you replied, pouting slightly.

'Oh god. Is that what alcohol did to you?'

You felt his hand cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch, your body following his lead.

“Sorry, baby,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “I had to take care of something,” he added. You pulled back, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away a little. “Wait. No. I’m still mad at you,” you added, looking at him with a serious expression.

Joshua’s free hand came up to caress your other cheek. “I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he said, eyes flitting back and forth between yours. “Truly. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, well, it really hurt,” you continued. He pulled you closer, closing the distance between your bodies. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he replied.

Lilah moved to your side and looked between the two of you. “What do you mean you hurt her?” She asked, voice suddenly full of anger. “It was an accident,” Joshua said, turning to look at your best friend. “I didn’t mean to grab her so hard,” he added, gesturing to the red spot on your arm.

Upon seeing it, Lilah’s expression twisted into a scowl, and she reached between the two of you. “Hands off,” she snapped, trying to pull you away from Joshua and interject herself between the two of you.

“Lilah,” you started, but she cut you off. “No,” she said, pointing at you. “He doesn’t get to grab you so hard that he leaves a mark,” she said, nearly shouting the last part at Joshua, who glanced around nervously at the people around you.

A crowd was starting to form. “He doesn’t get to do that and then get off Scot free,” Lilah said angrily. “Lilah,” Joshua said, drawing her attention. “I know you mean well, but please stay out of my relationship with Y/N,” he continued.

“No,” Lilah snapped back. Joshua’s expression shifted from shock to anger. ‘Fuck,’ you mentally cursed. ‘This is not good.’

“Cheol pulled the exact same shit with me,” she spat, standing between you and Joshua. It had been a long time since you’d seen Lilah this angry, and you knew the alcohol wasn’t helping any.

“He’d grab me so hard that I’d bruise, and then he’d apologize, saying he’d never do it again,” Lilah continued as Joshua tried to interrupt. “I’ve seen plenty of bruises on Y/N’s arms to know the signs,” she argued.

You glanced around and noticed Minho and Chris had gotten up. The black-haired newcomer had also gotten up and was watching the scene from the railing. Minho tapped him on the shoulder and nodded. The newcomer stood up straight and followed.

‘Shit.’ You turned back to Lilah.

“Come on,” you said, trying to pull her away from Joshua. “Let’s not do this here.”

“Just because your relationship failed does not mean you need to involve yourself in mine,” Joshua snapped back angrily. “Oh, shut the fuck up, Joshua Hong. You think you’re so high and mighty,” Lilah spat back. You rushed between your best friend and boyfriend, using your body to block them from each other.

“Lilah, don’t do this here,” you pleaded, gently pushing your friend back and trying to break up the escalating fight before anyone got in trouble or seriously hurt. It was not above Lilah to start a physical fight when she was drunk and upset.

“No!” She shouted. “I’m so sick of this shit! He’s just like Cheol! He thinks he’s so goddamn untouch—!”

“Lilah,” Chris said, his hands gently grabbing her around the waist. “I think you promised that you and Y/N would go get pancakes with us,” he said in her ear. “We should go do that,” he added.

Minho, who now stood between you and Lilah, chimed in. “Yeah,” he added. “I think pancakes sound good right now, don’t you, Y/N?” Upon hearing your name, you glanced at him, confusion was written on your face.

As far as you could remember, neither you nor Lilah promised to get pancakes with them. Minho gave you a very pointed look. ‘Oh!’ You understood quickly and played along.

“They’re right,” you said, looking at Lilah. “We did promise”

Joshua stepped forward, moving to grab your hand, but a hand shot out, grabbing Joshua’s wrist. You glanced at the person standing on the other side of you. The man with the black hair and tattoos.

The same one you couldn’t help but stare at earlier and was knocked into outside the bathrooms.

“A promise is a promise,” he said, fixing Joshua with a calm stare. Joshua pulled from his grip. “Don’t touch me,” he snapped. The man held his hands up to show he wasn’t a threat. “My apologies. I just don’t like seeing guys mistreat their partners,” he said, making Joshua round on him furiously.

“Excuse me?” Joshua asked, fixing the man with a bewildered stare.

“Who the fuck are you to accuse me-?” The man cut him off.

“Not accusing,” he said simply. “I’m just saying what I saw.”

Joshua scoffed and chose to ignore what the dark-haired man said. “Yeah, whatever.”

“Y/N,” you heard your boyfriend call your name, attention turning to focus on him as he spoke. “Come on,” he continued. “I’ll walk you home.” You hesitated. ‘Should I really go with him? He’s pretty upset…’

You must have taken too long for his liking because Joshua called your name again. The tone of his voice didn’t sit right with you, so you shook your head. “I think you should take time to cool down,” you finally answered.

‘Fucking finally,’ Minho thought as he looked up from your face to Joshua’s. He had to say he was impressed with your defiance when all he’s ever heard is how obedient you usually were. Could it be the alcohol? Or had you finally had enough of Joshua’s shit?

“Don’t worry mate,” Chris said, the Aussie in him jumping out. “We’ll make sure she gets home safely,” he added, arms around Lilah as he kept her from lashing out at Joshua.

If Joshua was angry before, it was nothing compared to how pissed he was now.

“As if I'd trust any of you,” Joshua said with a scoff.

“I’d trust us more than I’d trust you right now,” Minho said with a shrug. Joshua glared at him, his anger building. The smug grin on Minho’s face wasn’t helping to quell his fury.

Before Joshua could answer, you spoke up, your voice broke through his concentration. “I’ll let you know when I get home,” you promised, no doubt hoping it would be enough of a solution, but Joshua shook his head.

“No,” he protested. “But I really want to get pancakes,” you continued.

“Then I’ll take you to get some,” Joshua replied, taking a step forward. You shook your head. “Another time,” you heard Minho say as he rested his arm over your shoulders. “Don’t worry, Joshy. She’ll be fine with us,” he added.

Joshua’s fist clenched tightly at how too cozy Minho looked with his arm around your shoulders. He’d punched men for lesser things.

“No,” he refused again. “Y/N,” he said, looking from Minho to you. “Come here, now.”

Now it was both you and Minho who didn’t like his tone.

“She’s not some dog you can command,” Minho spat, taking a step forward, but the dark-haired man stopped him. You decided to speak up.

“I’ll see you on Sunday, babe,” you said, reminding him that even if you went to eat pancakes with Lilah’s friends, he was still your man.

He glared at Minho. “If you try anything,” he warned. Minho rolled his eyes. “As if,” he said with a snort. “Don’t worry, Hong. Your precious little princess is safe with us,” Minho added. Chris began leading Lilah away from the group and towards the exit.

Minho’s arm over your shoulders pulled you back, and he wordlessly guided you away from Joshua and towards the exit as well. You glanced back at your boyfriend, and you could see he was more than upset.

He was outright furious.

The air outside the building was cooler than when you entered, and it felt nice after being in a crowded club with such an intense and heated situation. You walked silently beside Minho as you followed Chris and Lilah.

“Wait, are we actually getting pancakes or was that a cover?” You finally asked. “I mean,” Minho started.

“I wouldn’t say no to breakfast right now. There’s that 24 hour place by our apartment,” he added, looking towards Chris.

Chris had stopped walking and was still supporting Lilah’s weight. She was very intoxicated, the drinks she’d consumed finally catching up to her. The almost-fight and her anger probably didn’t help. Knowing her, you felt she would barely make it home before passing out.

“I’d love some breakfast too, but I think this one might be a little too far gone to make it there,” Chris said, nodding at Lilah, who was currently humming, eyes shut as she swayed to music only she could hear. You took a step forward.

“I’ll take her home,” you offered, moving to help support Lilah. “You sure?” Chris asked, looking at you as you took Lilah’s arm and pulled it over your shoulders, your arm going around her waist.

“Yeah. If you guys wanna go get breakfast, I can take her home,” you replied.

“What about you?” The dark-haired man said suddenly, prompting you to turn and look at him. All eyes were on him.

“What about me?” You asked.

“I think what Changbin means,” Minho started, eyes looking at the dark-haired man. ‘So his name is Changbin.’

“Is how will you get home?” Minho continued, turning his gaze to look at you. Shrugging, you looked back at him. “I’ll just walk,” you replied. “My place isn’t that far from Lilah’s.”

“And if your boyfriend is waiting for you at your place?” Changbin suddenly asked. Your eyes fell on him again, confused but also surprised. ‘Why is he being so… protective?’

“Then I’ll just—” you started but Minho cut you off. “I’ll walk you home.” Your gaze fell on him, now properly shocked. ‘Who is this? ‘Cause it’s definitely not the Minho I know.’

“Then I’ll take Lilah home,” Chris said, taking Lilah from you. “That way, you get home much faster,” he added. “But what about your breakfast?” You asked, eyebrow arching. “Eh, we can always get it some other time,” Chris said, shaking his head.

“I’d feel a lot better if I knew you got home safe,” he continued, starting to lead Lilah in the direction of her apartment.

“Wait,” you said quickly, running after them, pulling your things from Lilah’s bag and handing it to Chris. “I almost forgot I had her stuff,” you admitted. Chris took the bag and thanked you.

“We’ll get breakfast another time, I promise!” He called as he continued to walk, leaving you, Minho, and Changbin alone on the sidewalk.

Changbin looked down, checking his watch. “I gotta go,” he said quietly. “I promised Hana I’d be back to pick her up,” he added. Minho nodded before gesturing him off.

“Go ahead, tell Ari I’m sorry,” he said. Changbin nodded.

“I’ll explain everything,” he replied as he walked backwards a few steps. “I’ll walk Y/N home,” Minho said to which you shook your head in protest.

“I’m fine, really,” you replied.

“I can walk myself home.”

Minho rolled his eyes and waved Changbin off before walking towards you, gently grabbing your arm and turning you in the opposite direction.

“Where do you live?” He asked as you walked together. “Just a couple blocks west of Lilah’s apartment,” you replied. Minho nodded, pulling you along.

“Let’s get going then,” he added.

You glanced back as Changbin walked in the opposite direction, back towards the club and disappeared around the corner but not before throwing one final look your way with an expression you couldn’t read.

You and Minho were left in the empty street alone, walking down the sidewalk toward your apartment. Silence fell between you as you walked and you wondered if you should say anything to break the tension.

This was the third time he’d gone out of his way to do something nice for you and you felt you should at least acknowledge that so he didn’t try and use it against you later.

“Thank you,” you finally said softly, not noticing the way Minho looked at you. “For what?” He asked after a beat of silence.

You took a deep breath. “For back at the club. You didn’t have to intervene, you know,” you continued. “Joshua is always like that. He doesn’t pay attention to his own strength.” Minho scoffed. “I’m probably just as strong as him and I’ve never once grabbed anyone hard enough to bruise them, Y/N,” he continued.

“That’s not normal,” he added. “And you shouldn’t have to put up with it.”

You glanced up at him. “It’s not that big of a deal,” you muttered. Minho stopped, pulling a hand from his pocket to grab your arm carefully.

“Stop making excuses for him, Y/N. I told you before he’s a pompous asshole and I’m not taking it back.” You glanced down to where his hand was still on your upper arm. It was a right contrast from the way Joshua had grabbed you earlier.

“If someone loves you, and I mean truly loves you, they don’t hurt you like that,” he continued, his hand dropping from your arm. You said nothing, only nodding slowly. When he realized you weren’t going to speak, Minho let out a sigh shoving his hand back into his pockets.

“Come on,” he said quietly, nodding his head in the direction of your apartment and continuing down the road. You followed behind him, not even noticing how he glanced back at you, a small fond smile on his face.

‘If she wasn’t so up Hong’s ass… maybe then.’ He shook the thought from his head as you struggled to keep up with his long strides. It was almost cute. ‘In another lifetime,’ Minho thought as he glanced skyward briefly.

You must have regretted not bringing a jacket now that the sun had gone down and the temperature had dropped. As you brought your hand up and rubbed your arm, quickly following Minho down the street, he stopped and sighed. ‘Why does she have to be so helpless?’ He wondered, unzipping and removing his jacket.

“Here,” he called out, holding his jacket towards you.

You glanced from him to the jacket and back.

“Just take it before I change my mind,” he continued. You took it carefully from him and pulled it on. “Thanks,” you muttered, zipping it up. Minho said nothing, only humming in response as the two of you continued down the street, silence falling over you once more.

The moon had begun to rise over the tops of the trees, casting a silvery light over everything.

You glanced up, eyes taking in the few stars you could see in the inky midnight blue sky. You were so preoccupied with looking at the stars that you ran into Minho’s body, colliding with him and a loud ‘oof’ leaving your lungs. Minho chuckled, looking at you as he stood still. “You know,” he said softly, turning to face you fully.

“You really should watch where you’re going,” he continued, a smirk starting to appear. You rolled your eyes, thankful for the dark which concealed the way your cheeks burned.

“It’s not like I was expecting you to just stop like that,” you murmured.

“What were you looking at, anyway?” Minho asked, ignoring your words to look towards the sky.

“The stars,” you answered simply, glancing from his face to the shimmering white dots in the blackness of the night sky. Minho’s eyes fell to your face as you stared skyward.

“The stars?” He asked, the smirk on his face growing. You nodded. “The further from the downtown area we get,” you explained softly.

“The brighter they shine.” Minho’s gaze softened slightly as he watched you.

“Alright Galileo,” he sighed loudly, making you tear your eyes from the stars.

“I said I’d walk you home but if I had known it was going to take three hundred years, I never would have offered,” he groaned teasingly, turning to start down the sidewalk before glancing back at you, the mischievous grin back on his face. You hurried after him, following his path down the sidewalk.

Before long, your building came into sight as the two of you headed to the door. Upon reaching the steps, you turned and removed Minho’s jacket and handed it back to him.

“Thank you for letting me use it,” you said as you held it out for him to take. He gave you a rare warm smile as he took it. “I’d never hear the end of it if I’d let you freeze,” you heard him say as he pulled his jacket back on. “Hey, at least it’s warm,” he mused.

“Thank you again for this,” you continued, ignoring his remarks. “You really didn’t have to walk me home, but I appreciate the gesture all the same,” you added. Minho gave you another rare smile. “Meh, don’t get used to it, princess,” he countered. “I don’t exactly like you,” he reminded you.

“But I absolutely loathe Joshua Hong.”

You rolled your eyes. Whatever beef the two of them had was none of your business so you didn’t care about what he thought of your boyfriend. “Goodnight Minho,” you replied as you turned to head up the small staircase to your front door and unlocked it with your keycard, giving Minho a tiny wave before letting the door shut slowly behind you.

Once upstairs and inside the safety of your apartment, you started to undress, sliding out of your, well Lilah’s, dress and letting it fall to the floor.

You moved into your bedroom area and grabbed a clean sleep shirt, pulling it on over your head and letting the material fall to your hips before moving to climb into your oversized queen bed, practically diving under the covers and pulling them up to your chin.

Your eyes slid shut before you even had time to register your exhaustion and soon the room was filled with the sounds of your snores as you drifted deeper into slumber.

[seolar-system]

— KOREA'S MOST WANTED (BLACKWATER) : SUNBOKI

🎥 : The Cypher! Seo Changbin x fem. reader

TROPE. part of the “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe, friends to lovers, enemies to lovers, criminal! au, ‘The Gunsman’ (Christopher Bahng) is a coworker of ‘The Cypher’ (Seo Changbin), fwb

WORD COUNT. 8.2k words

WARNINGS. murder, guns and other weapons, descriptive violence, mature themes, alcohol, blood, lying/hitman activities (??), smoking, cursing allusions to sex/drugs

PLAYLIST.

AUG'S NOTES. one of the many pieces in the ‘Korea’s Most Wanted’ universe, please welcome ‘Blackwater’!! the story of binnie, our skilled hitman known as The Cypher! i hope this is enjoyable, though i know it certainly won’t hit as hard as channie’s!!! enjoy :)

SYPNOSIS. The Cypher leaves his mark even when his presence is gone. Though, you knew Seo Changbin, not The Cypher. Not until an act upon feelings led to unwanted discovery, in which the question lies: Who really is the man you’ve fallen in love with?

or alternatively :

If everything goes to doom, let it be with you.

CRIMINAL #0003 — SEO, CHANGBIN.

CRIMINAL RECORD

Changbin has been convicted of murder using a baseball bat and is described to be aggressive and out of control. Please proceed with caution.

⭑ REWARD

⎯ CRIMINAL FILES (additional cases)

There are many things you remember from him.

He smokes. You don’t like the smell.

His favorite shirt is a worn one.

He believes everything has a purpose, including the goldfish bowl he keeps below his bed, filled with used packs of Marlboro cigarettes.

You also remember his bad habits, and his good ones.

He is an intricate man, after all.

You remember his hands. Stubby fingers, bruised knuckles he never talked about. Dirt and grime smeared in the creases of his palm.

He has a ferocious temper, but is also kind hearted. A juxtaposition of many things all at once, scrambled together in the scars by his ribs, the details carving him physically as opposed to his mind—intricate and delicate, too frail to touch.

Amongst many things you could recall from him, after he left, you allowed him to take himself with it. You bought air fresheners to rid of his smell, and always donned new t-shirts, ones lacking holes gaping at the armpits, without stretched collars.

Slowly but surely, you got rid of him, and yet, he stays. 

Seo Changbin can never stay somewhere for too long, but he still resides in your apartment.

Like an apparition, roaming about whenever it pleases.

Here, and yet not.

Maybe that’s another bad habit you forgot to add.

“And as for the next week, we’re expecting warm temperatures in the east–”

Accidentally pulling the wrong cord, the weatherman’s voice abruptly cuts off. From your couch, a groan resounds in response.

Rising up from your squat on the floor, your slippers squeak as you walk across tile, stained and scratched a distasteful baby blue as you throw a kitchen towel at the man.

His hand covers a lighter, held up to the cigar dangling from chapped lips.

Leasing the cheapest apartment in Seoul came with a price. That, along with letting him linger around.

“I told you not to smoke in here, the ventilation sucks,” You grumble, wandering around to the window, trying to budge the halfway broken glass coverage up to no avail.

Of course, Changbin, the man in question, doesn’t listen, eyes drawn to the panties peeking from beneath your big t-shirt (his big t-shirt) instead.

Quickly snuffing the lit embers against his palm without so much as a hiss of pain, he stuffs the remnants in his pocket to dispose of afterward, walking on up to where you continuously try lifting the unwavering window.

“Bin, help.” Managed as a grunt between heaving breaths, your expression pinches in irritation.

Alternative to the request, he scoops you up, big palms wrinkling your shirt as his hands wander upward, effectively hoisting you into his arms. Wordlessly does his face tip down to litter kisses along your neckline, pulling you flush against him.

“Don’t wanna,” He grunts, humming along to your hand reaching behind for him, holding his kiss to your skin, lips parted whilst staring ahead dazedly.

Control. The one thing you hate when it comes to Changbin. The thing his lips render you unable to gain a semblance of.

As for him, he likes that face on you. Likes when he kisses you a lot, when your lips get all puffy and kiss-bitten. Likes when you drool while he stuffs your face into the mattress those nights you were supposed to ‘just have a drink together’.

He’s always been a fan of your lips.

Then again, if you’re listing his worst habits, you might as well confess one of your own.

You can’t say no to him, not even when the window remains unopened, smoke mogging the air when he takes you on the couch, ignorant to the thin walls as usual.

“Y/N, c’mon,” Changbin groans, his bottom lip jutting outward in a pout unfitting to the man’s disposition.

His hair’s a mess from your tugging, looking honorably disheveled. You can't say you look any different, if not worse, leaning against your doorframe.

“You know how we end up. I let you in and thirty minutes later we end up fucking,” You cross your arms over your chest, eyeing him up and down. 

Obviously wracking his mind for an excuse, he mimics your crossed arms, tongue poking into his cheek—an action that would’ve caused you to fold any other day if you weren’t attending a friend’s birthday party tonight.

It’s true, and serves as an additional factor keeping Changbin’s mouth closed. Each time, without fail; wrapped around your finger, you wrapped around his.

“But–” 

“Nope! Bye!” Interrupting his impending words, you hastily close the door, awaiting an entourage of incessant messages a few minutes later, full of frowny faces and helpless pleas.

Who knew such a man could behave so pitifully?

Yet, no such messages notify your phone, failing to buzz on the bathroom sink while you clean up your mascara with a q-tip, leaning over the faucet, face pursed with focus. 

It’s not often you get the excuse to go out, and with Dixie’s being the party spot in particular, you won't waste the opportunity of attending one of Itaewon’s most frivolous clubs.

As for you and Changbin, the understanding rests on your lack of commitment. He wanders, you wander. He isn’t one to put down roots, and you respect that.

Granted, the sex is mind-blowing, so it wouldn't be a surprise if the frequency of your nights are accompanied by him, but it’s never shackled that way. 

Although, that isn’t your goal tonight. Earlier today was enough to satiate, and your newfound goal consists of enjoying free drinks and the obnoxious bass blasting through your ears, numbed amongst the sea of bodies crowding every side.

Upon arriving at the entrance, you flash your phone in the bouncer’s direction, displaying an invitation before he unhooks an old-fashioned barrier rope—allowing passageway into masses of sweaty bodies and the nauseating stench of alcohol overtaking everyone’s inhibitions.

Navigating around to the private booths, it doesn’t take long to find the crowned birthday queen by the squeals of laughter and enthusiastic clinking of beer bottles, an expansive array of liquor displayed on any surface available the moment you walk inside.

It’s a relief, surrounding yourself by happy faces and busied chatter, senses buzzing each shot you take, unsure whether it’s vodka or water entering your system at a certain point.

“So, how’s that hunk of muscle doing?” Sabina piques, her overlined lips pursing, huge hoop earrings dangling from heavily pierced ears.

In the blue-tinged lighting, she looks ethereal, dark skin practically glittering with her recently applied perfume.

If you’re drunk enough, you might’ve considered switching sides for this absolute angel. This girl was gorgeous and quite literally everyone’s wannabe-with or wannabe altogether.

“You guys aren’t exclusive, right?” The birthday girl, Margerie, adds, slumping on the leather cushions, her stiletto heels propping on Sabina’s thighs. 

These two have been your ride or die since college, and you're more than happy to spill every aspect of your life’s complications and delights at any chance to who you like to refer to as your big sisters.

“Mhm, he stops by on a daily basis.” 

Swishing the clear liquid in its glass, you watch the deceiving concoction catch light, periodically looking back to them.

Sabina barks a loud laugh, one that ushers everyone else into laughter as well. Infectious.

“On a daily basis?” She chokes, slapping Margerie’s calf. “What? Gettin’ his daily head?”

Safe to say she earned a threat after that jeer.

“Well, I respect your decisions, but I think ya’ll would be great together, y’know. Don’t think we don’t see the way he looks at you,” Margerie snaps her fingers, the two sharing an agreeing nod you dismiss with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

“Oh please, you met him once at a bar and he was already wasted, you can’t base his love for me on that!” You interject indignantly, immediately shrinking under the girls’ scrutinizing stares.

“Um, yeah, we can.” 

Your silence beckons either of them to burst into laughter again, assuring you their words were all in good fun while you playfully grovel, rising up to excuse yourself to the bathroom and assuring your giggling, now drunken messes of friends you’ll be back soon.

Unfortunately, you end up walking in on a couple certainly enjoying the booth’s privacy, earning your hand slapping over your face while blindly stumbling in the opposite direction.

Even better? The next room you accidentally approach leaves you dizzy with the overbearing reek of nothing short of hard amphetamines, the cherry on top in your sad pursuit of a simple bathroom break.

It’s just your luck getting lost, but at least you’ll have funny conversations to bring back to girls.

However, your continuous search is cut short when a booming echo is heard in the main club, and you watch in horror–having finally escaped the maze of the booth section to peer through the joint doorway–as a bartender’s head slams onto the countertop, a pool of blood cascading around him.

In a fit of panic, outrageous gatherings of people ram themselves out the doors, screaming as they go, trampling each other with only one goal: escape.

All you can do is stare, frozen in your spot, eyes frantically flitting between the now-dead bartender,—bullet-hole puncturing straight through his head— the surging crowd, and whoever the assailant is, where they may be.

Yeah, you’ve certainly lost a need for the bathroom.

Instantly, your heart ascends to your throat, wobbly, unsteady feet climbing back through the booths, desperately slamming open doorways in your search before a “Psst!” breaches your ringing eardrums.

Sabina, holding an utterly wasted Margerie against her shoulder, crouches down behind a door, gesturing for you to rush over and claiming a second exit should be near the back. 

Police sirens blare in the distance, and through repetitive words of encouragement to your petrified frame from the older girl, you escape from the first exit in sight, gasping for the air unwilling to enter your lungs.

“I already called a cab for this gal right after hearing the shots,” Sabina relays, rubbing soothing circles on your back as she regards a very much intoxicated Margerie. 

“You,” She points in your direction, brows lifted. “Call your man. And don’t tell me he’s not your man, he will come and get you.”

All you can do is nod, hands fervently scrolling through your contacts, pressing onto his number as you bring the phone to your ear.

The line crackles for a moment before you realize he picked up, sounding rather out of breath for some odd reason. Must have been at the gym, although it is pretty late.

Ignoring any questions, you get straight to the point.

“Binnie,” You urgently whisper, voice breaking a bit.

The man in question immediately perks up at your tone, nudging the screen closer to his ear with his shoulder, using his teeth to get rid of the gloves on his hands.

“Mm? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” He quips, concern evident.

No matter your relationship status, he still cares. For you, for your safety.

Ah, he makes no-strings difficult.

“I.. I need you to pick me up, I’m really scared right now.”

Stifling, you wave a very wasted Margerie off in her taxi, craning whilst awaiting his response, Sabina remaining beside you.

“Send me the address, I’ll be there,” Changbin soothes, pulling the magazine from his pistol and stuffing it in his ‘gym’ bag, washing his hands in the sink of the exact bathroom you’d be searching for.

And when your text comes in after he hangs up, his face contorts into that of surprise upon finding you in the same location he was at: Dixie’s.

Because while you were partying, Changbin was completing a job.

No, The Cypher was completing a job requiring the death of a certain someone, a certain bartender who just so happened to be the murder you were a first hand witness to.

As you said before, Changbin isn’t someone to lay down roots. Soon enough, he leaves again—claiming he has extra work to do where he can’t stop by. 

You let him. Let him grab his things, give you a tiny kiss on the cheek, voice all gruff and gravelly from his early wake-up.

And then, like he was never here, he’s gone.

It’s a rhythmic pattern, in and out, in and out. You’ve never discussed his occupation nor what it entailed. Then again, why would you? What he does isn’t your business, your relationship isn’t like that to begin with.

After Dixie’s, you’ve been distracting yourself from the thought of what happened, not discussing nor bringing up the instance as if it never existed. You think it’s better that way. 

Busying yourself with grocery shopping, you nudge the cart forward, debating on picking up a specific bag of chips Changbin favors. 

Shaking your head and dismissing the thought, you stay ignorant to your inner contemplation—also ignorant to the man you were thinking of who stood right outside, leaning against the brick wall on the side of the building, phone lifted to his ear. 

.

.

. 

“Bahng, get to the point, you know I hate this entire collaboration,” Changbin sighs, crushing his cigarette below his heel.

“Get over it you big baby, you aren’t The Cypher for no reason,” Bahng replies, voice filled with amusement, earning Changbin’s frown.

“I took care of Hyeonseok, but his group will be after me soon.” 

Huffing into the phone, Bahng cracks a laugh, leaning back in his office chair, heeled dress-shoes propped on the oak desk. 

Hyeonseok has been his target for a while now; title of the bartender he disposed of a few nights before. Part of an underground trafficking deal The Gunsman, real name Christopher Bahng, dealt with. Hence why, when Hyeonseok’s organization dropped in stock, they fled the agreement and left The Gunsman to hire Changbin, his alias The Cypher, to hunt them down as a result.

Messing with The Gunsman’s plans never ends pretty, Changbin knows this over the time he’s worked with him, responsible for the majority of the messes. A joint collaboration for mutual benefit. No master and his servant, no owner and his dog. The flesh-colored scar along Bahng’s back serves as that reminder.

“Don’t worry, ‘got my friend to take care of that.”

Changbin raises his brows, flicking his lighter on and off as he watches the lit toe of his shoe burn before stomping it out all the same.

“Oh? Gettin’ tired of me?”

Bahng snickers. “I’m throwing out bills at this point, ‘paid an assassin this time—he had a ball with it. Strange guy named Lee Minho.”

The man grunts in response, simply marveling at the many connections he hones. If anything, Bahng might have a bullseye fashioned on his face—such a prowess not going unnoticed in the world of crime.

Another reason why Changbin kept his work strictly solitary, not wishing to rise to such heights in a dangerous market leaching to wipe him off the radar nor place you in a threatening position whatsoever.

From the start, he vowed not to become carried away with someone else. Roaming here and there, resting overnight at old motels or at bus stops left ample time for love. 

Then he met you, and bits and pieces of that philosophy sank down the drain.

If possible, Changbin wouldn’t mind making things official, but of course, that thought was a fever dream, an unachievable feat for a person like himself. Get yourself in this mess, don’t expect to get out. 

That was a lesson he learned when he started work as a hitman. You don’t shed remorse, don’t sympathize. Complete the work, get paid. Failure to do so results in death. 

Simple instructions. Some clients prefer leaving traces, others a quick shot to the head—like Hyeonseok. Changbin doesn’t mind. Though, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t like to make things messy.

Within the course of his work, he’s included many additions to his collection. Customized masks and gloves, a nail-embedded baseball bat (his personal favorite). 

Yet, the one thing he’s stressed was keeping you out of it. His business, his job, his past. For your safety as much as his.

Sure, he does gain identity crises when thinking about it too much, but then again, there’s no getting out of this mess—might as well quit fretting.

He’s never liked how feelings affect a person anyway.

Tonight, he’s got a job in Hongdae. Thirty year old man, responsible for meddling in government business.

That’s another funny part of his job, the concept that even those who hold a high and mighty position hire The Cypher.

It gives him a good idea of the evil within people—a delegate the public say are “too kind to kill” despite hiring him to sand down the other party’s delegate’s kneecaps the evening prior. Petty business owners getting back at their opposing forces, people holding grudges.

Changbin has seen it all.

Assumed to be another delegate murder, he makes his trip quick, arriving at the front desk of the apartment complex, pushing a business card toward the woman working there. 

“Here for Mr. Gun-il,” He quips, the woman quirking a brow as she studies his fake ID before gesturing toward the elevators where he nods in thanks, pulling the puffer jacket over his concealed holster, black in color like the rest of his outfit.

Slipping the mask over his face and pulling the hood over his head, he knocks on the man’s door, cocking his gun hidden by his forearm.

Make it quick, he repeats to himself, allowing his victim to open the door with a confused expression prior to lining the weapon with his head, no later his target dropping to the ground in the doorway, bullet hole punctured directly through a once-intact skull.

Boring, he thinks. Using the nail embedded bat usually strapped to his back would be preferred, but then again, the only authority granted belonged to the one paying. Receive the cash, do the job, move along. Bahng usually condones his gallivanting when it comes to victims, another reason he lingers as a vulture to his picking of corpses.

Tonight’s score is a nothing less than exorbitant. 800,000₩ (600$).

Changbin stuffs the gun back into his holster, beginning off to disappear behind a corner before a different door opens, a loud scream ringing through the hall. 

Walking past police cars on his way out, he fishes his phone from his pocket, texting the client his request has been completed.

And just like that, The Cypher begins his cycle again.

Ignorance is only bliss until the afterglow fades, and then you’re sticky and sweat-ridden with lies.

Or, bloody and sweat-ridden with lies. 

Though, that was a truth yet to be uncovered, hidden between careful folds of sheets layered around your frame — cheek currently slumped upon your pillow as you sleep.

Peaceful, if only.

Divergent to your rest, The Cypher returned in the midst of your sleep after his earlier job, utilizing the tiny silver key you’d scolded him to keep in his pocket to carefully ease open the door.

Usually, you’d be the one out here, reprimanding him over not getting enough sleep.

Careful footsteps make through the oddly silent household, tentative hands long-since cleaned of their earlier grease stains from gun-cleaning nudging open your door.

And then, he sees you.

Ah, so pretty.

You look.. so soft. So perfect. The prettiest thing, he believes. Fast asleep, precious.

And then, if only for a moment, a fretful thought breaches the forefront of his mind.

Love. That unintelligible feeling starting to gnaw at his heart.

Love when he sees you sleeping, that’s what it is. Love even when you’re angry at him, or when he slips up. Love at your scolding for his smoking (which, of course, only makes him purposefully smoke more).

A feeling he can’t allow himself to feel, forbidden within his line of work. A reopening to the healed and healing scars littering his body, and, worst of all, a feeling he can’t find himself hating.

Equally careful footsteps crouch to sit upon your bedside, mattress dipping beneath his weight.

A heavy index reaches to carefully drift down the slope of your nose, a perfect nose, then to your perfect lips, smiling at the warm plume of air sifting upon his finger when you exhale.

“‘Morning, sweetheart,” He whispers gruffly, watching your brows scrunch together, that telling sign you’re fighting against awakening — something that makes his grin widen.

“Nn..” Huffing your dismay, you shift to your side with a grunt.

And again.

Thump. Thump.

He can’t be… this happy. Seeing you in the morning; watching you, someone he loves, waking up.

No, no, this isn’t right.

But then again, he’s always been a troublemaker. What makes this situation different? What makes you different?

Easy. You’re you. No, you’re everything. All of it accumulated into a heart bigger than any person he's ever met. 

A heart that now lies in your chest, in his love, whose hands currently reach up for him. Wordless, beckoning.

He obliges.

Tender hands reach right down after you, letting your fingertips feebly hold his face as he wraps his arms around your body, ushering you into his chest.

“Hey.. Hey, waking up f’ me?” He hums, head tipping down to press light, chaste kisses along your jaw, one hand thumbing at the skin of your lower back, the other holding onto your head, carding through soft tresses with a tenderness terrifying to even The Cypher.

“Binnie..” You breathe dazedly, eyes fluttering open to gaze at the man before you, bleary from sleep.

“Just woke up?” He murmurs, as if he hadn’t watched you rouse. An excuse just to hear your voice again, ridden with grogginess.

Mm, so pretty.

Your hazy nod serves as a reply, head burying into his shoulder as he hoists you up into his arms, clinging to him like a koala while he makes for the kitchen.

You’d like to say he fixed a decadent breakfast, wearing an apron tight enough it fit snug around his biceps — but you’d be lying about both. In fact, he sucks in the kitchen, bad enough you had to overview eggs to ensure a fire alarm didn’t go off or your apartment wasn’t reduced to ashes.

So.. leftovers from your dinner are arranged beside a burnt platter of eggs, spanning the counter in takeout boxes and the low rumble of a microwave rotating in endless circles.

“Don’t give me that look.”

Grunted between spoonfuls of rice, the stare he fixated you with made your urge to ram your head into the nearest wall unbearably tempting.

“What look?”

“You know what look.”

“..No, I don’t.”

“The ‘come hither’ look, ‘let me get between your legs for just five minutes’ in which turns into twenty, then an hour. No.”

The pouty face you’re granted from The Cypher is more than enough indication you were right.

Purely physical was the initial agreement. No strings, just sex. And you were okay with it.

Yet, ignorant to his identical predicament, the side of your bed is unusually cold at night without him in it.

It should be normal, a way to cool down on hot nights.

But the breeze now has a chill to it as the evening comes to its close, and oddly enough the stench of cigarette smoke drowned in poorly applied cologne becomes a smell you miss.

And, ah, it’s become so easy to miss him. The wandering visitor who became someone missed. Someone important the moment you learned his name.

And maybe; maybe the next step is now. Without thought of repercussions.

Reckless, just as he always preferred it.

That’s.. what your afternoon consisted of. Pacing about the flat, brows drawn in mixture of frustration and contemplation. 

As usual, just as quick as he visited did he leave once more — the untouched plate of noodles the only indication of his presence.

If he isn’t going to make the move (which, by your standards, would like never happen), why can’t you?

Burst in and shout your feelings? And then what? He replies?

And fearfully, if only for a second, you wonder if your belief in him feeling the same way was foolish all along. A daydream of yours. 

It may all end or begin in a flash. 

Scribbling on a piece of notebook paper ripped from some unused sheet, you decide to take that chance.

When he gets home from wherever he’s off to, he’ll see it. He wouldn’t have to reply if it wasn’t reciprocated, and if he did, he could simply say the words back.

Yet, your intentions were quelled just as quickly as they configured. For when your hands anxiously unzip the gym bag, every ounce of thought simultaneously evades your head.

Blood.

Horrifically dark, oozing. Some fresh, others dried.

Guns, more guns. A baseball bat once porous, now drenched in old blood.

Weapons.

Fresh. Why would it be fresh? 

The tremble of your fingers is instinctual, involuntary in each prickling nerve sending your mind into overdrive. Questions, questions, questions. 

He doesn’t cook, no animal blood. No butchering job, no accidental cut upon his body.

No, this isn’t his blood, but someone else’s.

And realization hits harder than a freight train.

It’s hard to register a scream ripping from your throat, the croaking utterances of disbelief and horror nearly foaming from parted lips a mere fairytale to the epinephrine pumping through your veins. 

Fingers doused in a cold-sweat, it takes you far too long to hold your phone in your hands, shaking grip scrolling blindly to his number.

Where are you? Your text demands, heart pounding as his typing indication begins to bubble.

Hm? I’ll stop by later, angel.

I wasn’t asking.

You’re unsure if the bile rising in your throat was from his nonchalant answer or the dread numbing your bones at the thought of seeing him again. A thought you staunch to the back of your brain along with any other sensible ounce of logic as he sends his location without another word.

.

.

.

Just where the hell is he?

You’ve been driving for at least forty minutes, nothing but densely packed cornfields occupying either side of you, the almost eerie illumination of a harvest moon bathing your vehicle in an orange glow. Expansive, yet desolate. 

Each mile passing feels like those cornstalks leer closer, staring you down, taunting your anxiousness to their utmost extent as dusk falls into a blackness and you continue onward, finally able to take a deep inhale upon turning into what appears to be a parking lot.

Parking lot to a warehouse, more specifically. And suddenly, the loom of cornstalks feels inferior to the ominous atmosphere this building exudes. A random warehouse in the middle of nowhere? Both trusting your gut and logical thinking keeps you on edge.

Angling into a vacant spot closest to the exit, your hands flex upon the steering wheel, an essentially fruitless attempt to ground yourself.

But each time your eyes close you’re met with that same blood spatter that irrevocably sends your mind into a nearly unheralded spiral, responsible for your footsteps surging to what you believe is the entrance.

“Excuse me– -ma’am you can’t–” One of the assistants begins as you storm inside, your trembling fist grabbing the man by the back of his shirt and yanking him around to smack him hard across the face, an action garnering collective gasps erupting from witnesses alike.

“You lied to me,” You seethe, teeth clenched, tunneled into an inferno of fury. “Seo Changbin, you are a liar! A sick, sick liar! A sick,sick man!”

Screaming without resolve, Changbin grasps your arms in an attempt to steer you away from a highly confused Gunsman, observing the scene unfold.

“Y/N, sweetheart, can we talk about this a little late–”

“You were the one at Dixie’s, weren’t you? You killed him, the bartender.”

Your words stop him in his tracks, and right then and there, every suspicion of yours is confirmed. 

“I’m not stupid, I see the random bruises you get, the wounds. And your gym bag is a fucking joke! You hide your guns and weapons in there, huh? So what, you wanna take this somewhere else? Give me a real good explanation of how this is all a coincidence, how your disappearances for days just so happen to align with new murders?”

Caught in a fit of hurt and panic, your hand fastens on the pistol you’d snagged from his bag, currently hidden under your shirt, strapped to your side. A precautionary measure in the midst of your concussed mind’s haggard state. 

Pulling the weapon and extending it in front of you, you bite your lip between your teeth, fighting back the tears filling your eyes.

“No more. I won’t let you lie to me any more,” You whisper, watching Changbin’s pained expression as he glances from the gun to you, well capable of disarming you in an instant.

Yet, he doesn't move, doesn’t grab your wrist and propel himself forward, twisting the appendage out of socket and pummeling the enemy to ground as he would anyone else. Instead, he simply stands there, fixing you with a stare you can’t bear seeing.

“And you,” You abruptly begin, turning to point the gun at The Gunsman. “What? You two discussing who’s next? Who gets in the way of this operation of yours?”

With horror, Changbin rushes toward you, well aware having you get on the wrong side of Christopher Bahng is a one way ticket to hell. But his attempt is futile when you spin back around, pressing the muzzle to his chest, eyes blazing wildly.

Slowly, The Gunsman stalks toward where you hold the gun against Changbin, surveying your internal debate on who to point to.

“You won’t do it,” He begins, and you redirect your attention for only a split second before the man’s hand grabs the barrel, the strength of a single hand alone nothing less than chilling as he pushes down on the gun till it rests down, facing your feet.

Changbin spares his superior a testing look, one warning the man to go easy.

This time, Bahng emphasizes his words again. 

“You. Won’t. Shoot. Him,” The Gunsman murmurs, expression neutral despite how intimidating standing before him feels.

Whatever this man’s association is, he is not someone to be messed with. You can tell that part right off the bat.

And somehow, as much as you would’ve loved lifting up the gun to his head, both his terrifying stare and your internal knowledge you can’t manage to pull the trigger keep you at bay.

“Now,” He presumed, sparing Changbin a glance out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what your relationship is with him, but I assure you, this operation of ours is running just fine, and will continue to do so with or without your existence.”

You swore you’ve never heard such a harrowing threat in your life, Changbin murmuring an irritated “Bahng..” you could barely hear with how loud your heart beats in your chest.

Changbin’s gaze flitting over to you as you back up, he reaches forward again only for you to beat him to it, gripping his collar and dragging him inches from your face, noses mere centimeters from touching.

“If that’s the case.” Regarding The Gunsman with a sharp glare, you peer back to Changbin’s eyes. Eyes you swore you knew in and out, when he kissed you, comforted you. When he cried, when you cried. 

Turns out you had no idea what rested inside those eyes after all.

“Then I guess you don’t need me here anymore, right? Had your fun with me, huh Seo Changbin?”

Ah, you hate how his brows crease, a sadness you refuse to pay mind to painting his features.

“Good.” The word interrupts his sentence. “Hopefully I don’t get in the way of your work and you don't get in the way of mine.” 

Your grip tightens.

“Because show up in front of me again and I will kill you with my bare hands.”

Uncharacteristically, you’re the one setting fire to things tonight. 

The drive back fills with an unnerving silence only you could break, but your lips refuse to open, and you won’t force yourself to speak.

Photographs, traces, all of it flickered into ashes, consumed by embers in a once clean trash can, now a hell-pit engulfing everything thrown into its belly. You don’t bother to keep what’s left behind. 

Location turned off, number blocked on each and every device.

So it’s hard explaining why you went back again. Staving down any ounce of nervousness in your frame while stepping through those warehouse doors once more, turning to that same assistant from last time who fixes you with a stunned look as you demand to see Bahng. 

His name you remembered without trying, those muddy pools for eyes not as dark as Changbin’s, yet littering goosebumps overtop skin lacking cold.

.

.

.

“And why should I do that?” He utters, cocking his head.

This place is nothing short of a luxury resort. Though the things likely occurring behind closed doors deems unspeakable.

Seperate floors kept specifically as parking lots for foreign cars you can’t name, expenses of such a place a number uncanny for any even slightly wealthy person to wrap their head around.

Bahng adorns that same white collared shirt rolled to his elbows, long black pants drifting down to shined dress shoes, the first few buttons loose to unveil milky glimpses of his collarbones. 

However little you may know of him, it feels as if he can read you like a book—all your secrets, your thoughts, laid bare. 

Your request? Keep Changbin away. Out of your life in hopes his name will be something you forget.

Hopes.

A futile wish.

“What’s there to lose? My life? You’ve seen how little he cares, and I doubt you do either.” You hiss, denying the ache in your chest when you say that, the way your lungs squeeze for more air despite breathing normally.

The Gunsman pokes the skin of his cheek with his tongue, leaning his head back. From this angle, a prominent Adam's apple protrudes from his skin, strands of dark hair falling back at the action.

Abruptly, he breathes a laugh.

“Sure.” 

You have to crane to ensure you heard him right, his expression saturated with an unsettling levity. 

“I’ll keep him busy for a while,” He adds, eyes surveying where you begin backing up with a short nod.

“And Y/N?”

You turn.

“If he didn’t care for your life.” He points to the deer-head mount on the wall. A burly stag with curling antlers, gazing ahead in its eternal puppetry. “He would’ve gutted you long before now.”

Perhaps that’s his way of assurance.

You make an effort to swallow. 

It seems The Gunsman was true to his word, oddly enough. 

Changbin doesn’t haunt you every step, doesn’t rest as the factor keeping you inside for the day in fear of confrontation. The Cypher is gone. At least, gone from your world.

Any text hasn’t been received, no phone ringing when you arrive home. 

Your bed is cold, your nights are lonely.

And you’d be a liar saying it was enjoyable, saying each day was like a breath of fresh air without him by your side. 

Because just as you’d spoken before, with ease Changbin became someone important the moment you learned his name. The first person your eyes land on when gazing through hundreds of others. The hands you crave to be wrapped around you as winter dawns, ones you can complain about in the summer months when it’s already hot.

Was it selfish to want forever?

Was it idiotic, sitting outside your car at the gas station, scrolling through old texts and willing yourself not to cry?

How troublesome that he’s become someone missed.

“Don’t go looking for him.”

Your head whips from where you stared at your phone, landing upon the man leaning against the gas pump. 

If anyone was supernatural, it’s him.

Black Trench Coat, always shined shoes. A bit taller than Changbin.

The Gunsman.

“You told me you didn’t want to see him again, right?”

Your mind fumbles for an explanation. How he found you, how he knew your finger hovered tentatively over the keyboard of a number you swore to stay blocked.

How hypocritical. All of it.

His voice is low beneath the streetlight, barely gracing audible volume. Yet, you hear every word clear as day.

Keeping your gaze trained on the man, you watch him walk forward, watch your skin crawl as he nudges his coat to the side, revealing a pistol his hand fastens upon.

“And I’ll let you know I don’t like people who go back on their word.”

The remark coming from barely moving lips, you flinch back at the feeling of the cold muzzle pressing against your abdomen, gulping down your fear.

“..Why?” You stifle, trying your hardest to stave down the deafening trill of your heart in your chest. “Why are you dealing with his business for him? Why.. Did you agree to help me?”

The gun clicks and you close your eyes.

“Think of it as a favor, for both him and yourself since I’m feeling generous. As for my advice,” He leans forward, his breath fanning over your cheek.

“Take it.”

Just then do you hear the shot ricochet, and your hand rushes to your side, waiting to feel the warm blood, inhale the metallic stench.

Except, there’s no blood, no pouring bullet hole, and your mouth gapes when he lifts the gun up, a crooked smile fastening on plush lips as he shrugs his shoulders.

“Looks like it landed on a blank, lucky you.”

And like that, he turns on his heel and begins walking off, hurried departure willing the words from your throat. 

“Is.. Is he okay?!” 

Your hands clutching your clothing, The Gunsman spares a glance over his shoulder, cocking a brow.

“You should be worried about yourself, The Cypher can handle himself just fine. You’ve seen it firsthand yourself, no?”

Of course you had. In the lies, the deceit. Changbin would’ve lived his life just fine without you. But love can float a boat just as fast as it can sink it, and you overflowed those gaps in his boat enough he drowned down with you.

Voluntary or not you’re unsure.

And the man walks away. No update nor reminder. Characteristic of The Gunsman. Or, what you know of him.

Concise and chilling. 

Smoothing a bloodied glove through his hair, The Cypher sits down on the leather chair, sifting through his pockets for a lighter to spark the cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Went well I see,” Bahng acknowledges, surveying the crimson stains blanketing his clothing, a few drops clinging to his forehead.

Changbin only grunts.

“And the lady?” He mutters, a hoarse intone.

“Still wanting nothing to do with you,” The Gunsman snickers in response, reveling in the glare he’s given.

“How ‘bout the spitfire? That new hire you got, The Assassin?” Changbin is hasty to change the subject, observing his superior lift his arms behind his head, clicking his tongue thoughtfully.

“Lee Minho’s a force to be reckoned with, that’s for sure.” Is all he ends with, an amused sort of coil winding his lips upward. 

“He’s got a new job at those apartments by Dixie’s Club, actually. ‘Higher ups assigned it to him the other day, said they needed to cut off loose ends.”

Changbin feels his heart stall in his chest. 

“Who’s the target?”

Though he wouldn’t normally inquire upon other’s missions, he can’t help the inkling of anxiousness constricting his chest from voicing itself louder than routine.

So when The Gunsman mentions the floor you’re on, nonetheless your room as the apparent locations he overheard, The Cypher’s never moved so fast in his life. 

He made a point to stay out of your life, to keep you from seeing him, thinking about him. That’s what you wanted. Or, what he knew you wanted.

And as much as Changbin’s never been one for the rules in the first place, he can’t help but think he’d make an exemption to those few laws he followed if your name was involved. 

This case was no exception. 

All reasoning rushes past deaf ears, the engine of Bahng’s Bugatti Divo roaring to life, blue underlights nearly glowing in October’s night as he presses down on the accelerator, watching the speed race up.

Though no speed can beat the rampant pace of his heart, the rush of his mind.

Despite Bahng’s evident profit, just like Changbin himself, the two still serve as pawns of a chess match. There will always be an overseer, a Higher-up.

The word makes Changbin’s lip curl.

This world is cruel, that’s been known.

138 mph.

His eyes catching high skyscrapers of Seoul’s inner city bring the tiniest glimmer of hope spurring in his ribs, already aching with each breathless squeeze of his lungs beckoning every ounce of oxygen possible.

Urgency accompanies that hope.

162 mph.

The squealing of tires barely register in his mind, soaring past traffic and pedestrians alike.

198 mph.

He couldn’t begin to explain why or how you’d become a target. Who had taken the deal, who promised the pay. Maybe you were a witness, an accidental eye caught by an unfortunate stare in return.

He sure as hell knew they’d be disfigured till unrecognizable if Changbin got his hands on them.

214 mph.

His thoughts are stilled as his foot slams upon the break, lurching forward so hard in his seat he’s surprised the airbags hadn’t inflated. 

Without even looking, he was led straight to your apartment.

Lacking directions, instructions. Muscle memory. Instinctive.

His calves burn running up the stairs, failing to register whether he even locked the car upon ramming himself through your door. Partly open upon arrival.

Shit, he’s too late—

No lights illuminate the iron of knives apart from moonlight streaming through the still unbudging window. For a moment, he’s eternally grateful for never having it fixed.

On one side of the room do you stand, kitchen knife held in a trembling, white-knuckled grip. At the other, stood right beside the tiny kitchen table he could remember like the back of his hand is Minho, The Assassin, wielding a blade. 

Meager light glints off a metal spine, and, amidst his once unwavering focus does Changbin serve as an interruption.

Right on time. 

A slash aims his way instantaneously.

Trained well.

But Changbin had anticipated it, and the strength of his forearm subdued the extended tip, poised and ready for nothing short of a kill.

“Sorry to ruin your party, but this one’s mine,” Changbin gives The Assassin a nod, met with feline-like eyes narrowed his way.

Think.

Think.

In the many pawns, The Gunsman, The Cypher, and The Assassin are irrevocably equals. A term he’d once cut his tongue off using, no less thinking of.

Although, just like before, he’d make an exemption to those few laws he followed if your name was involved. 

Attacking would be too obvious that there were personal matters involved, and after all, this was simply for profit, a matter Changbin should know better than anyone.

Eyes perceptive, he has to violently wrack his head before words come pouring out.

”The pay is yours. I want to be the one to kill.”

A silence, nearly unnoticeable nod, and he’s right out the door as if he was never there to begin with.

The Assassin.

Fitting.

The moment his eyes aren’t locked on Minho, they’re on you, watching your knees buckle beneath your weight as you begin for the floor.

His hands are scooping you up synonymously, hugging your temporarily unconscious figure closed prior to a hasty—yet fretful—once over for any injury.

None.

His eyes flutter closed, a barely perceptible: “fuck” in utmost relief resounding around the now hushed apartment before your eyes spring open, the cacophony of your knife tumbling to the tile and unsteady inhales and exhales disrupting believed peacefulness.

Wide eyes, a visage too panicked to register a thing as you hyperventilate.

“Y/N, Y/N!” He shouts, grabbing your shoulder and causing your inhale to catch in your throat for a moment, mouth hanging open, eyes stuck fearful.

“I need you to breathe, okay?” He nods, making a point to keep eye-contact as he demonstrates for you. 

“In through your nose.” He breathes in, and you mimic the action, barely registering who crouches in front of you. “Out through your mouth.”

Again, you mimic. Again and again and again for nearly thirty seconds till your brain calms itself, if only slightly.

Coughing, you lean over, The Cypher patting your back as you come to your senses, blinking up at him in an attempt to understand what, how, why everything happened.

The man invading your apartment, trying to kill you. How, in the end, the one you’ve avoided most came to your aid, now sitting in front of you.

”Alright, sweetheart. ‘M gonna need you to close your eyes for a moment, okay?” 

This, you can understand. And whether it’s the adrenaline, exhaustion, or both, you comply.

Lip bit between his teeth, The Cypher lifts your knife from the floor, slicing his palm with only a stifled exhale and letting the blood drench between tiles, splattering the floor. From behind him do you whimper, and his uninjured hand finds your hair to stroke in assurance.

Pretend.

The thought he used to get The Assassin away. Now he just had to convey a convincing scene. 

His blood proved suitable.

Tying a piece of torn clothing from his shirt around the wound does he crouch down right in front of you, hands forming makeshift blinders on either of your face.

”Listen to me carefully, hm?” He whispers, watching those beautiful eyes blink at him worriedly.

Even after only a few weeks, it seems you only grow more beautiful.

”I’m going to back up, and you’re not going to take your eyes off me, okay?”

Fervent nodding earns a feeble grin cracking at his lips, and with that do you exit the room, ending up on the rooftop of the complex — brain scurrying to catch up with past events, nevertheless one foot in front of the other.

The Cypher, usually unmoved, nervously fidgets with his fingers, breaking the silence as he backs up. Wind gusts strands of hair in his eyes, but they stay on you. 

As if they’d look anywhere else, anyway.

You’d been glued since leaving the apartment, and he’d grown accustomed just like always. Cruelty belongs to the world, burns belong to reality.

Must everything good hurt so horribly?

“I know the last thing you wanted to do is see me after everything I’ve done, and I’m sure you think I was the one behind it but I want you to kno-“

His words are cut off in your kiss, melting into the contact, hands unsure of whether to touch you as his index lingers centimeters from your jaw. 

However, your arms snaking around his neck, pulling him closer atop the rooftop is enough indication, and Changbin spares no expense, feeling like a starved man as he chases after your lips. Teeth tugging the skin of your bottom lip, he finds himself savoring the sigh you echo against him.

Resting there for a few seconds, he finds himself involuntarily smiling when you pull apart and smack his chest, a frown contorting your features.

“Don’t ever do that again,” You grumble.

���What, save your life?”

This earns a roll of your eyes, something he hadn’t realized how much he missed. That, amongst other things.

“I’m.. gonna stay over at Sabina’s till I’m sure that guy’s gone,” You spin on your heel to look at him, and he merely nods his head, quick to catch the keys you throw his way.

Yours. The keys you ensured he kept with him at all times before.

Seems you kept a spare.

So it’s a simple phrase that grasps your footing still. Steps that are usually so sure, confident.

“I love you too.”

For a moment you wonder if your psyche is playing tricks on you. If he really said it, really responded to the note you never got to give him. The note meant to reside below a dumbbell, not weaponry.

Because written on that note in scribbled, anxious ink, we’re three simple words. And yet, they weren’t simple at all. 

I love you.

“When all this shit’s over,” You whisper, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him into your lips if only for a second.

A second too short.

And he thinks, gazing at you while you walk away, you’re likely the only person capable of rendering The Cypher speechless.

There will be a lot to go over, a lot to think about. His kindness doesn’t change the fact he’s a hitman, The Cypher. 

His kindness doesn’t change the fact you love him either.

That much is known, shared.

Odds.

“Pay me a visit.” 

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[seolar-system]

resonance (scb x f!reader)

pairing: android!changbin x heiress!reader

genres/aus/rating: romance, angst, smut, arranged marriage, e2l (a little bit), sort of cyberpunk au, 18+

summary: Perfection - an idea that’s been drilled into you from birth. As the sole heir to the empire known as Miroh Labs, you’ve watched technology and tradition collide. However, your family’s latest venture is one that puts your own fate in limbo – ambitiously arranging a marriage to an android of their creation, known as C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N. Grappling with the idea of marrying a machine, you come to realize Changbin is more than a set of intricate codes – the profound depths of his abilities are capable of changing the fabric of society, and you, forever.

warnings: strained parent child relationships (OC's parents are jerks), mentions of past abuse (very mild and not described in detail), class differences, failed past relationship references numerous times, cameos from Chan, Jisung, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Yuna (ITZY), fair warning OC is a lot, Changbin is precious, self-doubt and negative feelings, arguments, alcohol, blood and injury, swearing, genetic engineering, talks of self-determination and agency, Streetlight my beloved makes an appearance

word count: 12k

a/n: happy (belated) bday to my beloved Changbin (almost a month later, nice)! i hope this is enjoyable and worthy of someone as wonderful as Changbin seems (i might have slightly fallen in love with him while writing this, don't look at me). the lovely banner is by Sarah (@caelesjjk). I hope you enjoy!

smut warnings under the cut!

smut warnings: sexual tension (lots of it), making out, kind of hatefucking?, sex outside (against a railing), clothed sex, dirty talk, brief nipple play, thigh riding, fingering (f!receiving), unprotected sex (just because Changbin can doesn't mean you should), honestly more mild than the warnings imply

It’d been years since you’d seen candles - forgotten memories of birthdays past that faded into oblivion. Their warm, nascent glow had flickered much like your own life had, the comfort of past years giving way to the bright, grating pixels of the lights that illuminated New Domino - bright pinks, vivid greens, cool blues and silvers. Lights that greeted you from your window when you went to bed every night, reminding you that no matter how much your life stalled, the city never would, much of it your own family’s doing.

The years before Miroh Labs, your family’s company, took hold of the city,  became difficult to recall — before the towering skyscrapers blocked out the sun, neon lights replacing its rays, technology weaving itself seamlessly into the fabric of your lives, like the patterns on your dress.

Picking at the threads – you wonder if someone had put love and care into intertwining each one, meeting perfectly to create the image of a flower. But the thought quickly dispels — knowing that a specialized machine was behind it, or an android doing the work that was once meant for humans. 

Resonance, your family prided themselves on saying. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – only it’d progressed beyond anyone’s wildest dreams. Systems had advanced from being motherboards connected to screens to full blown humanized machines, who not only had to ability to perform human functions, but excel at them when it came to speed, efficiency, and cost. 

The thought of it made you sick to your stomach. As the presumptive heir to Miroh Labs’ empire, you’d seen firsthand how ambition had slowly given way to greed, your family creating and creating and creating, giving no mind to how their projects always seemed to end up in the hands of the city’s elite.

You’d been to the outskirts, the fringes of society failing to catch up with the advancement of the inner city, a ruined wasteland where people struggled to find work to bring home food for their families.

But they had candles, you muse, smiling lightly to yourself, remembering how you’d passed by a home once, devoid of any electricity, a single candle flickering in the window, the family huddled around their only source of light. It had brought them closer in ways that you could only dream of.

Which is why the intimate setting of the dining room shocked you today – lights dim, candleglow every prominent. Except instead of comforting you, it felt strangely eerie, casting shadows on the faces of your parents, seated at the head of the long table, your own chair pulled out at the very opposite end. 

Of course - your parents spared no opportunity to turn even the simplest of dinners into a boardroom meeting. Wincing, you feel the chair screech as you slide it across the cool tile, the sound grating your ears, which have begun to ring, pain throbbing at your temples.

The food is untouched, grave expressions on your parents’ face, and it’s your father who breaks the deafening silence.

“There’s a new project we want you to be a part of—”

“Forget it,” you pick at your plate. “I’m not interested. It’s not like I can contribute anything useful anyway.”

“This one’s different,” your mother’s voice cuts you off, and it’s softer, more gentle than you’ve ever heard it. For a moment, you could believe she actually cared.

Your father’s footsteps reverberate against the tile, walking over to your side of the table. A picture is set in front of you – a man. Dark curly hair, full lips, a strong jaw, the faint hint of muscle underneath his shirt. But it’s his eyes that pierce through the page – stark hazel. Your throat feels tight, closing in on itself.

“New employee?” you ponder, even though you know it’s not the answer.

Hazel eyes were for androids — no human would have eyes so piercing, ones that could glint in the darkest room, or pale in the brightest sun.

“___, meet C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Advanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. Our pride and joy.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the words, knowing they’d never applied to you – you with your rebellious streak, your lack of achievements, your failed engagement to a man that was far too good for you. 

Hyunjin’s face flashes in the back of your mind, and you fight to keep your expression from shifting.

“C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N was created for a very specific purpose you see — he’s been built and programmed to be the perfect companion. To provide all the qualities that one would normally seek in a spouse. Although humans are falliable, C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N is not. But we need a beta tester.”

The reality of what your parents are proposing dawns on you, horror creeping up your spine.

“No–,” you begin to protest, but you’re cut off by a wave of your father’s hand. 

“The announcements have already been uploaded to the city-wide servers. Starting tomorrow, news of C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N’s launch will go live, along with your engagement announcement. The wedding will be held in a week’s’ time.”

You look despondently to your mother, hoping the pain in your eyes is enough to dissuade her. Were you really that worthless to your parents that they’d hand you to a hunk of scrap metal, dooming you to loneliness for the rest of your life?

Your mother shakes her head. “___, dear, this is the least you can do for us, and for Miroh Labs. Especially given everything that’s happened.”

They always wielded it against you — the fact that you were hard to love. You hadn’t been enough to persuade Hyunjin to stay, and they’d experienced the fallout from whispers all around New Domino. Now, you were barely human in their eyes, not even equal to, and probably lesser than this machine they’d fabricated, one whose fate had become irrevocably intertwined with yours. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.

When Changbin wakes, everything is a blur. While his lungs don’t burn for air, his circuits are driven haywire anyway by the new environment - the harsh gleam of fluorescent lights, the gentle whirring of motors, the coolness of the metal table. It hits him all at once, and he’s tempted to close his eyes again, to return to the darkness of being powered down.

A figure looms over him, a taller man in a lab coat, his eyes gentle and full of concern, almost as if he’s holding his breath looking at Changbin.

“Hello C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, my name is Chan. I am one of the lead research developers at Miroh Labs. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Changbin feels his system boot up, gentle heat spreading through the center of his body, all the way to his fingertips.

“Good morning, Chan. I am C.H.A.N.G.B.I.N, Computer Human Andvanced Network Growing By Intelligent Nexuses. How may I be of assistance?”

His voice reverberates through his speakers, a monotonous tinge resounding against the empty walls of the lab, and he watches Chan’s face twist,

“Do you know why you’re here right now?” Chan asks, curiosity in his gaze.

“I am an advanced computer-human android, programmed to fulfill the role of a partner. My duties and capabilities include companionship, emotional support, and assistance with domestic tasks, designed to blend into one’s life seamlessly.”

As he speaks, Changbin notices his sensors blinking, watching different parts of his arm, chest, and the rest of his body light up as various programs are activated. 

Chan slides something in his direction – a sheet of paper with a picture on it. He takes a look at it, his cameras analyzing the woman in the photo. Everything from the colour of her hair to the tiny mole on the back of her hand, to the way she smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, perhaps evidence that something is different with her psychology from normal humans.

“This is ___, the next in line to be CEO of Miroh Labs. You will be her future companion,” Chan sighs heavily. “The family has already gone live with the announcement for the wedding, we only have a week to prepare.”

Changbin’s sensors beep, red lights blinking while he processes what Chan is saying, and Chan looks on, a deep furrow in between his brows.

“A w-week?” Changbin, stutters, and Chan already wonders if there’s something wrong with his circuitry. That couldn’t be possible though, the ___ family had tasked him with working on this for the better part of nine months, dedicating each and every hour of his spare time to this endeavour. He brushes off the thought, knowing that there was no way your parents would proceed unless everything was guaranteed to be perfect. After all, the motto of Miroh Labs was to create a more perfect world.

Changbin straightens, legs swinging over the edge of the table as he rises, standing slightly shorter than Chan.

“I understand my responsibilities, Chan. I assure you I will carry them out to the best of my abilities, until ___ is nothing less than satisfied.”

Chan looks at the android in front of him, his face softening. For a moment, Changbin looked as real as him – from the way his hair curled to the strong lines of his body. He almost reminded him of a younger sibling, and a protective instinct washed over Chan.

“I know you will Changbin. But there’s also something you should know.”

Changbin looks up with anticipation at Chan, wondering if there was a new program Chan wanted to add, and whether that meant he had to wait before he could meet ___.

“Please don’t tell anyone I’m telling you this, but should you ever decide that this is what you want, or that you desire to do something different, to be somewhere else, there’s always a way out. You’re more than just an android Changbin.”

Changbin’s processors began to hum. More than just an android? It didn’t make sense to him. His programs were designed to be the best, to cover every single duty one could expect from a partner. What more could there be? Still, Chan’s words sparked intrigue, and he saved a recording of them to his memory, just in case they would be useful later.

“Alright then Changbin, shall we get started? There’s a lot we need to go over about ___ before the wedding happens. Her favourite colour, favourite foods, the layout of her apartment … these will help inform your programs to adapt even more perfectly to your duties,” Chan’s voice is calm and even, with no hints of the darkness of the previous conversation in his tone at all.

They tour around the laboratories, Chan introducing him to the new world he was now expected to be a part of — from the windows, Changbin looks out onto New Domino, watching the hovercrafts zip down the neon-lit streets, and the skyscrapers graze the clouds, a dense fog covering up the skyline. 

Changbin listens intently as Chan goes on, his motors continuing to whir and sensors lighting up as each new piece of information is revealed — the new dimensions of his existence seemed vast and overwhelming, and he worried whether he’d be up to the task, knowing what happened to androids who were faulty – they were deprogrammed, becoming no more than scrap metal to fuel the fires of those on the fringes of society. Shuddering at the thought, Changbin knew he had no choice but to succeed. All he could hope was that you would accept him too. 

Goosebumps rise all along your arms — you feel the thorns of the roses prick your fingers as you clutch the bouquet in your hands tighter, listening from behind the door as the muted whispers of the guests fill the ceremony space. You can hear cameras going off, preparing yourself to be met with a grand scene - shimmering lights, velvet drapes, everything bathed in opulent hues of gold and silver. 

There’s an uncomfortable buzz – everything had happened so quickly. From the invitations going out to the details being finalized, you’d had little to no say in any of it, the uncomfortable lace of the dress you could barely voice your resistance to scratching against your skin, setting it on fire. For once, you wished you could down a glass of champagne or two to keep the nerves at bay. 

A pit settles in your stomach once the door opens, and you’re blinded by the twinkling lights of crystal chandeliers. Heart pounding in your ears, you move automatically without thinking, heels clacking against the polished marble floor. Everything around you is a blur – senses in overdrive, it all melds together. The bright flashes of the photographers, the uncomfortably cold temperature of the room, even the soft tones of the piano becoming grating to your ears.

The only thing that remains clear is the figure waiting for you at the end. You suck in a breath – seeing Changbin for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how stunning of a specimen he was. Of course, he’d been designed to be crafted to perfection, but he was beyond flawless. 

Clad in a black tux, the fabric hugs his broad, muscular, frame and tapers at the waist, highlighting his athletic build. His dark hair is swept away from his forehead, exposing the prominent angles of his face. The put-togetherness of his appearance must only serve to highlight the chaos of your own, the makeup doing little to cover up the lack of sleep you’d dealt with ever since that fateful meeting with your parents. 

Coming up to the altar, Changbin extends his hand in your direction, and you’re shocked when you feel the warmth of his hand. Sparks jolt where your skin makes contact, and for a moment you forget that he’s not human like you, a jumble of circuits and running electricity. But it floats away when his posture goes rigid once again, with no hint of emotion on his face. 

Mechanical – that’s how every bit of this felt. From the brittleness in the officiant’s tone as he droned on about the sanctity of marriage, to the pointed stares and light din that surrounded what should have been a sacred moment – two souls joining together as one. But Changbin didn’t have a soul. And you weren’t sure you did either. The two of you were just glass figurines, put on display for everyone to ogle, cogs in the machine of this elaborate public spectacle that your parents had crafted. 

For a brief moment, you wonder if Hyunjin’s somewhere in the crowd, eyes widening as you search frantically for him, the one person who could have been your out, your chance at a normal life. But not a single face stands out to you – a crowd of strangers looking back at you. A bead of sweat pools at the base of your neck, and you suck in a breath.

You feel fingers wrap around your own, Changbin’s hand coming to clasp around yours, and it takes a moment for you to reorient yourself to the scene going on around you. The officiant is asking you to join hands, ready to repeat the vows that will join you and Changbin together. 

Changbin’s eyes bore into yours, the hazel containing more depth than you’d imagined for an android. 

“Are you ok?” the words are whispered so quietly you may have almost missed them. In fact, you believe you might have missed them, unable to believe what’s coming out of Changbin’s mouth. His voice is deeper than you’d expected, gravelly yet with a pleasant tone, far from the flat and monotone affect you’d expected. 

Either two things could have been true in this moment: 1) Changbin knew you better than you knew yourself, or 2) he was malfunctioning, a slip in his meticulous programming. But androids weren’t people, they weren’t capable of feeling for people. They were only capable of completing the tasks set out for them. 

You drop his hand, lips parting, unable to croak out a reponse for fear of arousing suspicion. But the moment is over before you’d even had a chance to respond, buried underneath his calculated rigidness once more. 

The knife twists deeper in your gut when your lips curl around the “I do”, the words sounding as artificial as Changbin’s own, sealing the vows that doomed the two of you to a loveless existence by each others’ side.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you pull the heavy diamond earrings out of your ear, setting them on the cool crisp marble of your bathroom counter, rubbing at your burning earlobes. Alone in the comfort of your bathroom, you feel like you’re finally able to breathe again. And that’s when it all hits you, the gravity of what had just transpired weighing on you with the force of a heavy boulder. 

Throat closing in on itself, you struggle to breathe, doubling over as tears fill your eyes. Fingers, shaking, you fumble with the laces of your dress, until the tightness is removed from your rib cage and you can finally breathe again, the dress falling to the floor.

If Hyunjin was here, he’d help you take it off, his fingers dancing delicately across the skin of your back. He’d remove the pins from your hair gently, pressing a kiss to your head in the spot where each one of them had been, until you finally grew tired of his teasing, pulling him in to meet your lips. If Hyunjin had been here, your wedding would have been full of love and joy and laughter, the most vivid of paintings come to life. But you’d lost him, and now yourself. You were alone.

A distant clanging jolts you from your misery, and you slip into your pyjamas, softly padding out from your bathroom to see what the commotion was about. Immediately, you’re hit with the aroma of savoury garlic and herbs, stomach rumbling in response. You’d barely eaten anything the whole night, scared that whatever you tried to would just come back up due to the gnawing feeling in your gut.

It hits you that you were no longer alone in this apartment — there was another being here now, one who’d managed to crawl inside the walls that you’d kept up. Changbin had no choice but to be here with you, to see you at your most vulnerable and exposed. 

The hallway is dark as you make your way to the kitchen, pausing when you see Changbin bent over the stove, a crisp white apron around his waist. He’d changed too, clad in a comfy pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt that showcases his wide shoulders.

The grumbling of your stomach gives you away – Changbin turning to see you at the threshold, his face lighting up in a smile. You notice how it doesn’t reach his eyes, restrained and polite – like the ones that littered the billboards of New Domino, promoting the latest breakthroughs.

“Dinner is almost ready,” he assures you. “I made aglio e olio.”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise at the Italian dish he’d mentioned — one of your favourites, but it sours when you think about how he’d probably been trained by the researchers to know your preferences. If it had been another person, maybe he would have made kimchi jigae or maqluba. It meant nothing.

“Smells great,” you manage to croak out, grateful for the hot meal. In a few moments, the table is full of two steaming plates of pasta, Changbin taking his place at the other end. You’re grateful he doesn’t try to sit next to you, allowing you to eat in piece. Silence passes, filled only with the clanging of forks, and you watch Changbin bristle in his chair. He pauses every few moments, like he wants to say something, but holds back, until you can no longer take it.

“What is it?” you spit out, uncaring at how harsh the words come across. Changbin doesn’t flinch, but you watch lights run across his arm, whirring emanating from him, like he’s trying to process your actions. You let out a heavy sigh.

“Did you enjoy the meal?” he asks, and you’re taken aback. You hadn’t expected such a simple, yet earnest question. You’d half-expected him to ask you to rate his skills from one to ten, like the surveys that popped up whenever you dined out at a fancy restaurant.

“It was delicious,” you refuse to lie. The pasta had quelled the burning hunger you’d felt, making you considerably less irritable, and Changbin whirs to life again, processing what you’d just told him.

You help him clean up, the two of you working in tandem to clear the table, carefully skirting around each other. Shadows dance across the wall from the city lights reflecting through the window.

Warmth emanates from Changbin, as you feel his heavy breath fan the back of your neck, startled by how life-like it actually felt. You realize you’re caged behind his arms as he puts the dried plates into the cabinet above you, the air growing thick with something you couldn’t name.

Turning around, you’re pressed against the hard planes of Changbin’s chest, and you lurch at the way your body comes to life against his, nipples peaking in the cold air. 

A light flickers at Changbin’s temple, and he studies you curiously, watching the way your chest rises and falls, the way your breathing quickens.

His gaze lingers on your lips, leaning in closer. But before he can meet yours, you’re pulling away, shame and guilt in your chest. This wasn’t real. None of it was. And the sooner you learned to accept it, the less miserable both of you would be.

“I’m tired,” you whisper into thin air, turning your face away from his. “I want to go to bed.”

You swear Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment before he straightens, responding with the mechanical tone you’d expected all along.

“Of course, you must be exhausted from today.”

You falter, not knowing whether he’d follow you into your room. Now that you were married, it was expected you’d share a bed. Stepping away, you’re relieved when he doesn’t follow.

Staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, your mind replays everything that had happened – the fake fanfare of the wedding to Changbin asking if you were okay, to whatever had just happened now. Changbin couldn’t have wanted to kiss you, right? He lacked his own desires. Someone had probably told him that was what couples did. 

The softness of your sheets and the light streaming in from your window did nothing to quell the turmoil arising within you – your room no longer felt like the safe refuge it had once been, where you could shut out the rest of the world. 

In the silence of the night, the weight of what your life had become settled heavily on your chest. Once full of warmth and love, it was now cold and unfeeling, as clinical as the hallways of Miroh Labs. 

For a brief moment, you hear steps come towards your bedroom, before they retreat. The hallway light flickers, before it’s turned off, and you’re able to retreat into the darkness once more.

No, you’d told your parents when they’d brought up the idea. Absolutely not.

As usual, your pleading fell on deaf ears. The invites had already been accepted, your dress had been arranged, and a night filled with mindless drivel and booze chatting with the city’s elite waited for you and Changbin. 

You hated it – this pretending. At home, it was easy to accept, the way you and Changbin moved around each other, the uneasiness of that first night permeating every interaction you’d had after. But out here, in New Domino, the pretending had to happen. You had to play the part of a couple in love.

Changbin took to it easier than you’d expected. You’d nearly stumbled the moment you’d stepped out of your room, watching him turn to you with hands tucked into the pockets of yet another black tux. You briefly wondered if it was the exact same one he’d worn to the wedding – it wasn’t like there was a need for him to have different outfits, since his clothes never got dirty. 

You hoped Changbin didn’t notice your gaze lingering on just how good he managed to look – outshining even your emerald silk gown. You wait for the same from him – a falter, a nod, some sort of acknowledgment that he was just as taken by you. But it never comes, his arm slipping stiffly into yours. 

The car ride to the gala is silent, a sea of nerves and anxiety filling the space between you two. The lights from the city pass you by, illuminating Changbin’s face in a strange, yet beautiful glow. 

However, you barely acknowledge it, lost in thought while watching the cars speed by on the freeway. Before long, the glittering lights of the manor greet you, and it feels as though you’re transported back in time. As much as the upper echelon of New Domino loved their androids and their hovercrafts, nothing could replace the value of a night full of egregiously expensive liquor and brainless chatter about how far society had come, knowing they’d done little to contribute to it besides emptying their pockets.

Changbin lingers by your side, and you’re painfully aware of his scent – the one he’d chosen for tonight. Black leather and sandalwood saturate the air in between you, and you notice the stares from other guests as the two of you weave through the crowd, you in search of water to clear the pounding headache that had begun to form at your temples.

For how out of place he is, Changbin dances the dance of your peers well – meeting their fake smiles with a polished one of his own, waving and happily introducing himself to anyone that passes by.

It shouldn’t bother you that none of it directed at you – you told yourself you didn’t want his affection, that he could never give you what he desired. So why did it bother you when he stops one of the hostesses for a glass of champagne, watching her face turn sour when he swerves to hand it to you?

You down the drink before he can even blink, moving away from him and further into the throng. Your head is buzzing, and you feel the alcohol come straight back up, rushing to the bathroom when you hear it – a soft whisper, but it cut through the music like a blade.

“It’s almost amusing,” a woman says, “to see such a flawless machine with someone so... human.”

“You know what happened with her last engagement, right? Hyunjin left her for another woman…”

It’s too much to bear, bile rising in your throat, before you feel a hand on the small of your back. If Changbin was human, you’d almost expect his knuckles to turn white with the force he uses to grip your waist. 

“I suggest you keep your unwanted comments to yourself,” Changbin seethes, watching the guests turn pale. You sway under his touch, head spinning from the combination of alcohol and Changbin coming to your defense, before he’s leading you away, the crisp night air from the balcony nipping at your backs.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you gently, while you watch the same light at his temple flicker. 

None of this was okay. None of it at all. But you didn’t want to make him understand how much was wrong with you being here with him, when it should have been someone else, someone you actually had loved. 

“It’s fine,” you clear your throat, peeling his hand from your waist. His touch continues even after you’ve removed his fingers, and you shiver. 

You were used to it – the stares, the whispers. They’d followed you your whole life, the cuts left in their wake eventually turning into hardened scars. You didn’t need defending, least of all from him.

“I’m going to leave,” you tell him, stepping away. “You’re free to stay. Please don’t let me ruin your evening.” 

“I can go with you,” his voice echoes from beside you, “I was getting tired anyway.”

A sick, twisted laugh bubbles from your throat at his insistence. Changbin didn’t get tired, he couldn’t get tired. He wasn’t like you.

“Stay,” your voice is resolute. “That’s an order, Changbin.”

Changbin turns to face you, recoiling at the red rimming your eyes, the bags underneath them becoming even more prominent when the lights of the manor illuminate you from behind. 

You don’t know what possesses him to reach for the single strand of hair that has managed to escape your polished bun, but he watches you suck in a breath, lips parting in surprise.

Your paralysis slowly melts away and you’re pushing him away without realizing it, walking away without another word. You don’t dare to turn around, knowing your heart would twist when you found Changbin looking at you again with that same blank expression – the one you’d come to know all too well.

Dawn is is barely trickling when you slip out of your apartment. Passing by the living room, you notice Changbin in the corner, standing against the wall. For a moment, he looks so peaceful you would almost think he’d fallen asleep. However, you take one look at the outlet and realize he’s powered down for the night, free from his duties of following you around. A pang of annoyance rattles through you. It should have been romantic, knowing Changbin had no point to his existence if it didn’t revolve around you. All it did was made you sick to your stomach instead. 

Curling your jacket tighter around you, you duck your head down, few vehicles on the streets due to the early hour. The city seemed eerie yet peaceful at dawn, the dim rays of sun barely breaking through the clouds, casting everything in a soft orange glow. Such a stark contrast from the bright neon and gray that tinged its walls at every other time of day.

With only the sound your heels slamming against the pavement to keep you company, your walk slips into a run as your coat flies behind you, the wind whipping through your air. The city is soon left behind, tall skyscrapers giving way to modest brick houses, plumes of smoke wafting through the air.

Fire. You smile at the thought of it. Fire meant happy homes, with happy families. Families who relied on each other, who loved one another.

The haze that had clouded your head last night seems to have subsided, head clearer from the fresh air. But thoughts of Changbin cease to depart as easily, and it leaves you to wonder exactly where you stood with him.

He cared, more than an android should. For a moment it almost seemed like maybe he–

You shake the thought away, rounding the corner, shoulders immediately slumping in relief when you see the worn-out sign of the clinic.

“___?” a voice calls out to you. “Is that you?”

“Hello Jeongin,” you smile at the younger boy who bounds down the steps when he sees your figure standing outside, hair windswept and cheeks flushed as he comes to a halt next to you.

“Noona, what are you doing here?” he asks, and you feel yourself shrink underneath his sincere gaze.

“What do you mean? I always come by this time every week,” you raise an eyebrow, watching Jeongin bounce on the balls of his feet.

“But noona, you’re married now.”

You freeze at his statement, not realizing that the news had reached here too. Jeongin’s eyes are alight with excitement, and you know he’s going to ask questions that you don’t have the heart to answer.

As if he can sense your trepidation, Jeongin ushers you inside, the warm smiles of the elderly patients you’d come to know and love greeting you.

Before long, the two of you are at work, you helping them fill out their paperwork while Jeongin works to check their vitals and bring them back for the doctor to see them. All the while, you’re regaled with stories about their lives, including lost loves, mischievous grandchildren, and fond memories of a time that has since passed. 

This is why you loved coming here. It reminded you that away from the hustle of New Domino, actual life existed. Life imbued with meaningful moments, connections, and people. Something that society seemed to have forgotten. 

“You have such a beautiful smile,” one of the regulars, Miss Choi, pinches your cheek affectionately. “It’s such a shame we didn’t see it in any of your photos.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, shoulders tensing. “I guess Jeongin must have shown everyone.”

“Of course dear, you looked lovely. And such a handsome groom too!”

She titters, and you ponder about whether or not she knows the actual details of your wedding, of who Changbin really was. Even if she did, would she understand it? Even though he’d long since passed away, Miss Choi had a husband who’d loved her, who was capable of loving her. She wasn’t a victim of someone else’s greed, of their ambition. She’d never understand the kind of abyss that New Domino had become, and if she did, she’d probably be horrified. 

You pat her shoulder, hoping she can’t see the way your breath hitches, before you’re rushing to the back, curling in on yourself as sobs wrack your entire body.

Jeongin is by your side in seconds, a steady arm on your shoulder, and you lean into the younger boy, someone who despite not having spent that much time with, had become your one of your closest friends. 

“How much of it did you hear?” you mutter, looking at the floor.

“I heard enough,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry, noona.”

You don’t know how long you stay glued to Jeongin’s side, unable to stand upright, the two of you failing to notice the figure watching from outside the window. 

. . .

Changbin hadn’t meant to follow you. He’d heard you slip out in the morning, not having powered down completely last night. After what had happened at the gala, his processors had gone into overdrive, replying everything – the whispers of those awful guests, the way you leaned into his touch, to your harsh words telling him you didn’t want him around.

Changbin wonders if he’d already failed at his task – it seemed like you didn’t care for his companionship, no matter how hard he tried. The walls you had built were too high for even his sophisticated technology to penetrate, and he hums, wondering if this meant he’d be deprogrammed. 

Chan’s words from before echo in the back of his mind – what did he mean an alternative? Was there another task he could be useful for, even if you didn’t want him?

Not wanting to dwell too long, he trails a safe distance behind you, watching you break into a run, limbs heavy with fatigue, your breathing labored, until an unfamiliar neighbourhood materializes, the grandeur of luxury boutiques and high-end restaurants fading into older buildings.

Finally catching up to you, he watches you embrace a younger man, the two of you walking into a battered, broken down building together. Heat floods Changbin, his gears kicked into overdrive, struggling to make sense of what he was witnessing. Did you already have someone else? Was this Hyunjin, the one who’d left you?

The air turns crisp the longer he lingers outside the door, waiting for any sign. He gets it when he sees a leaf fall, your figure appearing in the window, hunched over like you’re in pain. The same man from before is by your side, offering you his shoulder to lean on.

Changbin doesn’t know what comes over him — he’s at the door before he can think, even rationalize what’s going on. 

He waits until your figure materializes from the back, wanting to see who the new entry was. Your lips part in a silent gasp when you see Changbin standing there.

It’s like he’s malfunctioning, gears whining and lights glinting, his jaw tense when Jeongin comes up behind you.

“Noona,” he hears the other man whisper. “I think you should go.”

You nod wordlessly, motioning for Changbin to walk with you, the two of you ignoring the many eyes that follow you, making your way down the dimly lit street.

The wind whips around him as Changbin jogs behind you, watching as you push through the crowds of passerby. You walk and walk, and he follows, watching the houses disappear behind him as you go higher and higher, eventually stopping when the road ends.

The view isn’t even comparable to the one from your penthouse – it’s even better. From the hill, he can see everything – the houses you’d passed on your way, to the bright lights of the city center, to beyond the horizon, where a mass of dense clouds covers the horizon. Which is exactly where you’re looking, and Changbin can’t help but look too, wondering what lies past their cover. 

“I used to come here with Hyunjin,” you break the silence. “Before everything fell apart.”

“We’d just sit here and look at the sky,” you continue, words crashing into each other as you rush to get them out. Changbin doesn’t know whether he should reach out for you, but decides against it, not wanting to startle your trembling figure.

“We’d look at the sky and wonder about what the future would look like — a million different scenarios. Sometimes we’d be rich, other times poor, living in the city, living out of it. But we always had each other. Until he decided to leave.”

“We should get you home–”

“Am I really that hard to love?” you blurt out, and Changbin freezes, the naked truth of why you’d been so cold finally exposed to him. 

“___, it’s not, you shouldn’t think like this–,” Changbin struggles to analyze this, something far beyond the limits of what his data sets had compiled. This was different, this grief was beyond the depths of his understanding. This yearning for something else, someone else. 

“Can you make it go away Changbin? This emptiness that lives inside me. This feeling that my life has never been mine, will never be mine?” you taunt him, knocking against his chest, scoffing when you hear the hollowness of metal.

“You can’t, can’t you? You’re just an android–”

“I’M NOT!” Changbin screams, his circuits devolving into chaos at the sharb jab of your words, Chan’s words coming back to him. “I’m not! I’m not! I’m not.”

He feels sparks inside him, his words stilting as he struggles to get them out. His fingers grasp at the back of his neck, searching for the one button he knows can end this, can put him out of his misery. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

He doesn’t even notice how close you’ve become until he feels your breath fan against his lips, like that first night.

“Prove it,” you whisper, eyes off to the side like you didn’t expect him to listen.

But he listens.

Changbin surges forward, seeking your lips, and you stumble for a brief second, thinking you’ll hurtle off the hilltop, before his arm comes up to wrap around you, your hands tangling in his hair in an instant. The wind howls around you both, yet a shiver ran down your spine, blood pounding in your ears.

His lips were softer than you’d expected, and you capture him with your teeth, drawing him in, a moan bubbling up in your chest. 

He feels so real. This felt so real. 

Changbin can hardly think either, kicked into overdrive, the feel of your hungry mouth against his, the fervent swipe of his tongue against your lips. You knew this was a bad idea, that it would complicate everything, but you didn’t have it in you to care, hands roaming everywhere, slipping  underneath the hem of Changbin’s shirt to trace circles against his hard stomach.

A strangled sound escapes Changbin’s throat, and the two of you part, flustered and trembling, Changbin resting his forehead to yours. Your fingers card through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and he moves again, roving down your jawline, lapping at your skin. Despite it being freezing out, a thin trail of sweat trickles down your neck, and Changbin doesn’t miss the opportunity to taste you, teeth grazing as he goes.

“Let me show you,” he rumbles into your chest, voice raspy from the lack of air. 

The cold metal of the railing juts against your back as Changbin lunges, his arm locking you into place. Your cry of protest turns into a gasp when he nudges a knee in between your thighs, spreading them apart. 

“God, just fucking touch me already,” you seethe, gasping when he thumbs at your nipples through the fabric of your shirt, the swollen peaks stiffening when he tugs them with his fingers.

An ache begins to build between your thighs when you look into Changbin’s eyes, their laser-like focus on you and you only, and that’s when his fingers slip underneath your skirt and straight to where you need him. 

“Say please,” he whispers, and for a moment, you imagine the same desperation in his tone that colours yours.

Even when you don’t say anything, he knows from the tremble of your lips and the slight nod of your head that you want this. 

The moment he swipes his fingers against your core, Changbin curses, palm meeting the furious grinding of your hips.

Your hands ball into fists, feeling the slick leak out of you, and you whine, a warm flush settling over your body, evidence of its betrayal.  

“Pretend all you want,” Changbin hisses. “Pretend you hate me. Pretend you don’t see me. But we both know you want this.”

You try to hold your resolve, your wet cunt leaking even more, walls fluttering around his fingers. One wrong move and you’d go hurtling over the railing. But Changbin’s grip on you is like a vice, which only makes you squeeze harder around his knee. 

He changes his pace, circling faster, harder, and your head goes hazy from the stimulation, your hands grabbing fistfuls of Changbin’s shirt. When you feel yourself teetering on the brink, body flushing with anticipation, it all stops. 

Panting, you look at Changbin, his dark eyes surveying you hungrily, and you hear the clink of his belt, quivering as you try and spare yourself from being utterly wrecked by the sight of his cock.

“Look. at. me,” he grabs your chin and turns your head towards him, your eyes fluttering from the delirium of it all.

Gripping your thighs, he sinks you down onto him. You cry out as the initial pain subsides and you feel his hips snap up into you, pubic bone rolling against your clit.

“Changbin, I, shit-, it’s too much!” you plead, shamelessly rocking aginst him as he sets a brutal pace, the sounds of skin slapping and your breathy moans echoing bouncing from the walls.

Changbin says nothing, planting a messy kiss on your lips, prodding his tongue into the seam of your mouth to taste, and you anchor your palms against the railing, allowing him to roll his hips upward, the two of you moving in tandem.

The fire in your abdomen reaches a peak, a new wave of arousal suddenly washing over you as you feel your hips jerk, coming undone as you collapse against Changbin, stifling a groan against his throat.

Lifting you off of the railing, Changbin’s arms reach around your body to press you against him, his lips ghosting your forehead, and you feel something wet against the side of your face. Tears.

“Changbin–”

You wobble to your feet, head swirling with emotion, but he’s already pulling away, the faint outline of his figure the only thing you see as he heads off into the night.

Sighing, you pull your glasses down onto your face, hoping they can diguise the fact that despite your best efforts, your night was absolutely restless, swimming with thoughts of Changbin.

After leaving you on the hilltop, he’d vanished, leaving you to make your own way home. And now, not even a day later, your parents had decided to add to your headache by summoning you for a board meeting. 

You expected them to ask for updates on your relationship with Changbin, to pry into your life, pretending like they cared. It was what they’d always done.

But you never expected this.

“I–, I don’t understand,” you gnaw at your lip, biting down so hard the skin may break. In front of you, the powerpoint gleams brightly. You can read the words off the slide, but you struggle to actually process them. And what they mean.

The beta testing was successful. Although people responded rather tepidly at first to the idea of a human-android relationship, we’ve gotten more positive feedback and requests to expand than ever. We’re on the verge of a new breakthrough here at Miroh Labs. And we want you to take charge of it. 

Your father’s words have been echoing ceaslessly in the back of your mind, ever since he uttered them the moment you walked in.

The news has you deeply unsettled. You’d thought that this was some kind of social experiment, that you and Changbin were some freaks of nature, two outcasts in society brought together as a spectacle for others. You’d never anticipated it would come to this. 

Miroh Labs wasn’t just looking to change the future of human-android relationships. No your parents twisted plan took it a step further – they sought to create models beyond Changbin’s capabilities as a companion, ones who would be equipped with the ability to reproduce. 

We’d never have to worry about birth rates or a weak genetic pool again.

Looking out the window, you look out onto New Domino, the blueprints reflecting onto the screen, clashing with the holographic displays outside, a stark contrast to the storm that was brewing inside the boardroom. 

Face illuminated by the blue glow of the screens, your breath comes out in short, uneven bursts. Your mother reaches out, watching your handles tremble, but you yank them away before she can clasp them in hers,

“Don’t touch me!” you hiss. “Was this all a fucking joke to you? Playing with my life, my emotions, so you could turn me into some kind of laughingstock for whatever sick idea you had?”

Standing up, you clutch the the documents to your chest.

“I’m done,” you declare. If you’d asked seven years ago, maybe you would’ve have done it, so desparate to please everyone around you that you’d say yes to whatever came your way. But now you knew better than to trust anyone. It’d only end up in heartbreak, and you refused to be a part of this sick and twisted legacy. 

You needed to talk to Changbin. 

. . . 

The soft thud of shoes at the entryway feels louder than ever, knowing that you’ve been lying on your bed for the past eight hours, willing the tears to stop. But they never did.

Heartbeat pounding in your ears, you prod your aching limbs to get up, soreness flooding your entire body when you stand. Padding softly out into the hallway, you gasp when you see Changbin there, standing solemnly against the window.

He knows you from even the quietest sound, head turning when you come up behind him. There was so much you had to talk about, so much to address. But you couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

You reach behind you to grab the papers you’d stolen,and Changbin’s eyes widen with surprise when you push them in his direction, confusion marring his handsome face. 

The two of you stand there while he reads, a multitude of moments passing in silence.

“I don’t get it,” he protests. “This seems like a logical progression. Shouldn’t you be happy?”

“You don’t get it, do you Changbin?,” you declare firmly, doing your best to overcome the wobble in your voice. “This changes everything.”

You hear Changbin whir, temple lighting up with red, and for a moment, all there is to fill the silence is the sound of clicking and beeping. Was this it? Had Changbin finally reached his limits.

You’d been thinking about this for hours, about how to tell Changbin, how to break the news to him. You had no idea where you stood without, about how he felt after what’d you’d both shared at the lookout. And despite the thousands of theorized and calculated ways you’d thought of in your head, telling you that this didn’t matter, that it wouldn’t hurt him, you still choke back a sob.

“Don’t you understand? They want to change everything, to alter what it even means to be human? If an android can reproduce with a human, then what’s the point of marriage? What’s the point of falling in love? It all just becomes a stupid commodity, a race to see who can pop out babies the fastest, who can engineer the most perfect spawn. All the meaning from life as we know will be gone.”

Changbin’s eyes flicker for a brief moment, hurt and confusion settling on his face.

“What are you saying ___? Look at me. Please.” 

The words come out in a desperate whine, Changbin lifting your face up to his, searching your eyes for a spark of emotion, but all he finds are hollow pools of emptiness.

You take a moment to respond, knowing that what you have to say will be the end of this, will probably drive a stake through the farce that had been your marriage.  

“You’ll never understand Changbin. You can simulate every single emotion and fulfill every task. Hell, even if they upgrade you and you’re somehow able to reproduce, you just won’t get it. Because you don’t know what real love is like; all you know is the substitute. And it will never be enough.”

“This isn’t fair,” Changbin chokes out, recoiling. “All I have ever done is my best. All I can ever do is my best. Why is that not enough?”

“I’m sorry,” you look at him, tears blurring your vision. “I wish it was.”

“A-are you going to deprogram me?” Changbin hums, and all of a sudden, his sensors go haywire, every single one lighting up and blinking until they devolve into chaos. Your heart lurches seeing him like this, reaching out for him, but he slaps your arm away.

“Do you know what the worst part of this is ___? It’s not you, or whatever you think you feel. Because you’ve never fucking known what you wanted. No, it’s that, for one fucking night, you had me convinced. Convinced that I was something more than just a hunk of scrap metal to you. Convinced that there was some sick, twisted part of me that actually thought you could love me.  But I don’t want you to lie to yourself anymore. I want to leave.”

You don’t say a word to him as he pads out of the kitchen, slipping his coat over his shoulders and tying his shoes. 

As he slips out the door, you hears his voice, so quiet that you’re almost not convinced it’s real.

“Forgive me.”

The moon shines on the dark streets, it’s gentle light almost swallowed by their neon glow. Changbin runs, heart pounding in sync with his frantic steps. 

Taking in a deep breath, he watches the city melt away again, the night air becoming colder, heavier with the fog of polluted smoke, until he’s there again. The hilltop. Looking out onto the city, he marvels at how it had once been a place full of so much intensity, maybe even love. He thinks back to the feeling of your lips on his, to the way you’d gasped his name. But now he feels nothing but emptiness. 

Maybe he deserved that emptiness. Maybe you were right, maybe he could never be more than what he was – an automated program. Maybe it was better that he’d never see you smile again, never get to watch you hum contentedly when you took a bite of food that you loved, that he’d never ever have the chance to even say that he loved you. Because he wanted to, not because he had to. 

“Changbin?” a voice calls out to him. “Is that you?”

Turning, he watches as the lithe figure of Chan comes into view, face furrowed in confusion at the sight of an android wandering alone on the streets. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Changbin feels himself shrink, embarrassment cutting deep into him like a knife.

“I had to leave,” he feels himself heat, drive replaying the memories of his last conversation with you. “I had to go, I didn’t know what else to do–”

Changbin clenches his jaw, body tense as he fears Chan’s response, wondering if the other man will laugh at his stupidity. 

Androids don’t get choices. 

Surprisingly, the look on his face is one of understanding. Chan motions for Changbin to follow him, the two of them heading out into the lonely night.

. . . 

The flickering lights of a warehouse come into view, casting long shadows on the ground. Changbin turns to Chan, body going rigid, and the lights cast an eerie glow on Chan’s face, the other half bathed in the darkness.

Stepping through the door, he’s surprised to find it more cosy than industrial, a clean, fresh scent overtaking his senses, one that reminded him of your apartment. It smelled like home. Something that Changbin was unsure he’d ever find. 

“Come sit here, Changbin,” Chan motions to a sofa. “Now do you want to tell me what you were doing roaming around at night like that?”

“You told me once that if I decided this life wasn’t what I wanted, that if I wanted to be more than an android, there was a way out. Is that still true?” Changbin’s words sound hollow to his own ears, and he watches Chan flinch in surprise.

“You’ve heard about the project.”

Chan bristles, reaching over to wrap an arm around Changbin, pulling him into a hug, and Changbin collapses against his shoulder. He was so tired.

“It’s not about the project,” Changbin mumbles into Chan’s shoulder, and Chan pushes him away gently. If he wasn’t mistaken, Chan could almost imagine Changbin’s eyes glimmering with tears. “It’s ___.”

Changbin can’t stop the words from spilling out, and he tells Chan everything. Everything from how cold you’ve been, to those little moments of warmth he’d come to live for, ones where your exterior of ice melted into something kinder, more gentle. He tells him about that night the two of you had shared, the one where your walls had come crashing down. And how he desperately wanted them to keep coming down for him every single day. He didn’t know whether or not he was capable of love, but he wanted it with you. And yet, you didn’t feel the same. You told him you couldn’t. 

Chan listens to it all, and without saying anything, stands up. Changbin looks at him despondently, wondering if he’d just made a fool of himself, but Chan motions to one of the doors, telling Changbin softly that he’ll be right back.

A few tense moments pass, and Changbin wonders if he’s been abandoned. But then Chan comes back, and he’s not alone. With him is another person, slightly shorter. His long, brown hair curls around the base of his neck, chubby cheeks wide in a huge heart-shaped smile. If Changbin didn’t see his hazel eyes, he would have also assumed that he was human, just like Chan.

Another android.

“Hello, I’m Jisung.”

Changbin’s eyes widen at Jisung in front of him, wondering what someone like him was doing here on the outskirts, where most people were too poor to own an android.

“Jisung used to be a domestic android,” Chan explains. “He worked for a family in New Domino that wasn’t very kind to him.”

“They took advantage of me,” Jisung has a far-off look in his eyes. “In many different ways. But that’s why I ran. Chan-hyung found me in a coffee-shop one day and brought me back to live with him.”

“How did you, I mean, how could you just leave like that? People need you,” Changbin is perplexed at the sight in front of him. 

“Do they really?” Jisung counters. “Think about it, Changbin, what do they need us for? To make their lives easier? So they can sit back and reject every sense of responsibility they have towards others? The system we have is so flawed, and there’s so many others out there like me and you who suffer because of it.”

Chan nods his head in agreement. 

“Why should you and Jisung have to pay the price for the mistakes of others? Why are you left questioning your identity, your own existence? You could be so much more in society than an end for other people’s satisfaction.”

“I make music now,” Jisung has a soft smile on his face. “Chan-hyung showed me how to use a production software, and now, I can go out to shops, walk around the neighbourhood, and use that inspiration for something beautiful. It’s not much, but it’s better than what I had to live for before.”

“Aren’t you scared, though? Of being deprogrammed, of being replaced?” Changbin can’t help the question from spilling out, his mind flashing back to how you had Hyunjin before him, and how easily you leaned into Jeongin, the employee at the clinic. Who was he compared to them?

“Life is so much more than living in fear, Changbin,” Jisung tells him. “If you just take a chance, maybe you can see that.”

And Changbin wants to believe him, to believe that he can leave this all behind, to start over again. But that would also mean leaving you behind, and that’s something he’s not sure he live with.

As if he can sense Changbin’s trepidation, Chan lays a reassuring hand on his shoulder again.

“You’re smarter than you think, Changbin. You’ll figure things out.”

You stare up at the ugly popcorn ceiling of the gallery. For being a space dedicated to showcasing the beauty of art, it paled in comparison to its inhabitants, cold concrete floors along with walls filled with cracks and peeling paint.

It has to be that way. Otherwise, would you even focus on the art?

The words bring a soft smile to your lips when you think of the last time you’d heard them. They ring true when you look at the painting in front of you – bold, dark colours interspersed with flecks of white. You get what the artist was trying to go for - the brightness of snow gleaming against a hillside, the snowflakes tiny pearls of brightness against the inky black backdrop of the night sky.

Lost in your study of the piece, you fail to notice the footsteps behind you, only turning when you feel a shadow loom over you.

“That one’s new,” Hyunjin says, coming to stand next to you. “Me and Yuna went to Interlaken last winter, you know I had to paint it.”

You bristle at his voice, an uncomfortable feeling bubbling in your chest. You’d always imagined this, meeting him again. What you’d say, what you’d do. Somehow, your dreams always ended with him taking you back. But now, that no longer felt right. 

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” you breathe out, realizing how stupid it sounds. Hyunjin literally worked there.

“I heard about the wedding. Congratulations.”

“Nothing to congratulate me for.”

“___,” Hyunjin croaks, and you stiffen at your name tumbling from his lips. “I’m sorry.”

There was a lot Hyunjin had to apologize for – leaving you suddenly, ending years of a relationship in one single moment, only for him to turn around and marry your best friend months later. A friend you no longer spoke to.

But it all seemed trivial now – it seemed like the past had consumed you, your demons chasing and chasing until they’d cornered you, leaving you with nowhere to run, no one to to turn to.

You’d had Changbin, and now he was gone. And you were alone, like you were always mean to be.

Your lips purse into a straight line, giving no indication that you accept Hyunjin’s apology.

“___ please, I know I can’t ask you to forgive me for what I did. I know it’s unforgivable. But please, you have to move on. You deserve to be loved. To have love.”

You’re unsure how much Hyunjin knows about you, or even Changbin, but the bitter regret in the his voice tells you that you weren’t the only one with wounds who’d been festering for longer than they should’ve.

“It feels like I’m trapped,” you finally admit out loud. “I’m trapped and there’s this lead weight that’s crushing me, and I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t even breathe— god, I just want to breathe, Hyun. And I lost the one person that was my chance to live again.” The words come out as sobs, Hyunjin raising a concerned eyebrow, and you shake your head, dismissing his suspicions.

“You care about him. The android.”

“Don’t call him that. He has a name.” 

You bite your tongue at the grating response, mouth filling with the taste of blood. Changbin’s words from that night echo in your brain – I’m not, I’m not, I’m not.

He wasn’t. 

Hyunjin sees the heat rush to your face when you mention him, the way your entire being changes – your once despondent body coming alive with emotion. And he knows that what you felt for him will never compare to now. Fate had steered you on opposite courses, your destiny intertwined with Changbin’s, his with Yuna’s. 

“You know what you have to do then,” are his last words to you before you hear his boots tap against the cold concrete, walking away.

. . . .

The abandoned railway station lay forgotten at the edge of the city, a silent witness to years of decay. The iron tracks were tangled in weeds, and the once-bustling platform was now a graveyard of rusted metal and cracked concrete. The setting sun cast long, melancholic shadows, painting the scene in shades of orange and gray.

Changbin feels the cold metal of the bench against his back, and cards his fingers through his hair. He wonders if the disheveled strands, or the stains and threabare seams of his clothes, make him look more real. More human. 

Holding the flyer in his hands, he stares at the face on it, in disbelief that it was once his face. So composed, so put together. So much had changed since then.

Finding Jisung and Chan had been a blessing, but it wasn’t enough. The emptiness remained, filled with thoughts of you, and he wonders if he’ll ever see you again. Whether you even thought of him. 

The hum of an approaching vehicle broke the oppressive silence. Changbin’s head snapped up, his eyes widening as he saw headlights cutting through the dusk. 

They’d found him. He had to run.

Miroh Labs had always been a prison – your prison. A cold, glowing fortress against the backdrop of New Domino, a place once full of so much promise. The place where you thought you’d prove yourself. But now it was time to let it go. 

Chan is waiting for you at the entrance, lips parted in surprise when he sees you approaching. You don’t blame him for thinking that you’d bail. The plan had come together in mere hours, chaos unfolding the moment you’d returned to your apartment, going through every paper, every file as to how you could set your plan in motion.

Somehow, Chan seemed like a person you could trust. You briefly remember Changbin mentioning how Chan had been the first one to see him, shocked at how many of the little details about his presence you’d actually committed to memory.

It scared you, putting your heart and life on the line like this. But it had to be worth it – for the chance to live again, to love again.

“You ready for this?” Chan asked, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to your mess of emotions. His eyes glinted curiously in against the backdrop of darkness. voice steady and reassuring.

You nodded, full of determination. It was now or never.

“I am. I’ll take care of the security systems. You get to the servers.”

Chan gives a quick nod, before disappearing into the building.

You freeze, realizing you should have asked Chan if he knew anything about Changbin, where he was, what he was doing. You just had to hope this worked, and that you would be able to later. That was the only way.

The maze of the building is one you slip through easily, the long, dark hallways familiar to you from years of roaming around. You knew every door, where every secret was hidden. And how to shut it all down.

Fingers dancing across the keypad, you find the one you’re looking for. Booting up the system, the lights from the screens bathe the room in an eerie glow, and you begin to type.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered to yourself, eyes darting between the screen and the shadows outside. “Almost there…”

Your phone pings to life with a text — shoulders sagging with relief when you see it’s from Chan.

At the servers. Starting data extraction now.

You shoot a reply back quickly – two mins and i’ll initiate the shutdown sequence.

The two minutes pass by in agony, heart pounding out of your chest at the feeling that you could be caught at any time, that this could end.

The lab’s lights began to flicker and dim, casting an eerie glow over the deserted corridors. It worked.

You tiptoe silently out of the room, breaking into a run when you hear the sirens. You run and you run until you’re far enough away, Chan waiting for you a few blocks away.

“We did it,” he smiles, teeth glinting in the moonlight. “We got what we needed.”

He pauses when he sees you tremble, sobs wracking your entire body. You don’t know why the tears started, but they refused to stop when you think about everything – about how you’d just destroyed your family’s entire future, about how you were free, about Changbin.

His name slips from your lips without even thinking, and Chan freezes. 

You hold your breath momentarily, waiting for the bad news to come. But all Chan does is let out a deep sigh of relief, the corners of his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile.

“Come with me.”

When Changbin wakes, it’s like the first time all over again. Senses assaulted by a bright light, fear strikes him in the worst way possible. How long had it been since he powered down? Weeks? Months? Had he been captured? Was this the end?

His systems go haywire with the possibilities, until he feels something. A breeze, ruffling his hair. He was outside. 

The abandoned train station materializes amidst the fog of his muddled senses, his fingertips coming away with rust when he brushes them against the old, dilapidated bench. Relief washes over him. He was okay. He’d live another day.

The crunching of gravel startles him from his reverie, and he feels someone plop down next to him on the bench.

Turning to meet his company, he nearly short-circuits when he sees you, face illuminated by the sun’s rays. You’re smiling. At him. 

Changbin tries to form a coherent thought, but everything is jumbled and clunky. The sun. The air. You. You. You.

You offer him something, and he pales when he sees it, an earbud extended to him.

“I need you to listen to something,” you say softly, and his hands shake as he accepts it, watching you hit play.

The first few melodious notes ring in his ears, and a shiver goes down his spine when he realizes what you’d chosen to show him.

Like a streetlight, like a streetlight

At the end of a lonely day, standing vacantly

In the middle of the lonely night, I try my best to smile brightly

It was the song he’d been working on with Jisung and Chan, the first thing he’d had of his own. The first step he’d taken to becoming himself, to becoming just Changbin. He closes his eyes, losing himself to the music, a tear slipping out at the last few notes, when he feels the weight of your head rest on his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Changbin,” you sigh, voice wavering, whisper so low he can barely hear it among the reverberations of the final note.

“I want to fix this,” you say again, more resolutely this time, turning so his forehead meets yours. And you feel the dam break, tears flooding both of you as you collapse against each other.

“Wherever you’re going, I want to come with you. I want to show you that you’re more than enough. Because you showed me the same. Please tell me it’s not too late.”

Changbin nods, his tears mingling with a smile of hope. 

“The song. It’s for you. It’s for us. For what we had and what we can still have. I can prove it to you.”

“You don’t need to prove anything, Changbin. You’ve done enough.”

And he had. Somehow, despite having no heart of his own, he’d managed to re-start yours, to show you that you didn’t have to live in the city’s shadows, under the iron grip of your past. That you could be more.

Hope fills your chest – it’s bright and vivid, the force of your love for Changbin knocking you back like a supernova.

Changbin’s fingers brush away the tears on your cheek, shining in the sunlight, and his gaze drops to your lips. You don’t know who leans in first, the next thing you feel being the soft press of his lips to yours. The skin is slightly chapped, but you melt into his touch anyway.

Soon the kiss becomes heated, the roughness of Changbin’s jeans dragging against your thighs as you push yourself onto his lap, prodding the seam of his lips with your tongue. 

Here with Changbin, you realize you’d never really been weak at all. Neither of you had. Not like the world saw both of you. 

Resonance. The ability of an object to match another’s frequency – the ability that you and Changbin now possessed to know whatever the world threw at you, wherever it took you next, you’d come out of it choosing each other every time.  

a/n pt. 2: they are totally fucking after this btw (i don't make the rules)! all jokes aside, I'm so sorry if this sucks. I genuinely haven't written anything plot driven in over 8 months so I know there was a lot more I could have done and improved on. If you read this, thank you for giving it (and me) a chance. As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

tagging: @jellyleggz

[seolar-system]

DAYS OF CANDY. seo changbin

pair. bouncer! changbin x fem! reader (+ seungmin, chan, minho) | genre. slight gang activity, bad boy, infatuation at first sight, angst, smut | warnings. profanity, brief violence, depictions of toxic/abusive behavior, mentions of murder, mental struggle, age gap (unrelated to plot), unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, generally flawed characters | word count. 14.9k | in the same universe as route 66 and midnight diner but can be read as standalone.

synopsis. a lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls.

It was an ordinary night, when you made the wrong choice.

You’d heard of the reputation Route 66 had built for itself, knew how hard it was to get past the two infamous bouncers at the door, and of that one incident on the 16th of February, the one that made it on the news and forced the club to shut down for a whole month. The owner, Bang Chan, refused to give any statements, and the entire ordeal was soon forgotten, swept under the rug by people that refuse to acknowledge the existence of gang activity in their city.

You had a high school friend that worked there as a bartender, someone you’d been quite close to once, but drifted apart from when you first got together with your boyfriend. Minho still called you sometimes—he hated texts, hated how impersonal they were, and would rather hear your voice instead—just to see how you were doing, if you still worked at the same retail store you started at right after graduation, and that he hopes you’re doing okay, that he’s only a phone call away if you ever need him, and you know you can always just come visit me, right?

You knew that, wished you could say it was easy for you to do that, but that was merely denial talking. You worked a full time job that took up most of your time, and when you weren’t selling clothes, you were washing and folding them, you were consumed by a man that refused to let you take one step away from him, an apartment that felt more like a prison than a refuge. There had been a social life once, but that seemed lifetimes ago now, nothing but a distant dream. There had also been a time where your boyfriend was your whole world, and you’d love for nothing else but to be in his presence always, stuck to him like glue, but that had also withered away somewhere, and died. 

Freedom seemed like paradise now. Being alone, elsewhere—you prayed for it every night before going to bed, even in your sleep. It was detrimental that something gave, and soon. You wanted to call Minho again, wanted to ask how he was doing for once, and not the other way around. No more rushed interactions, or seething looks; hands as fists, skin on skin, anger as teeth—

There was a birthday party at Route, your boyfriend’s brother was turning twenty-eight, and had invited seemingly every person he ever came across. Of course, that wouldn’t run on 66; all who entered that door had to be handpicked especially by the two men guarding it, and that was no easy task. You’d been once, a quick drink with a coworker on a regular Thursday, which turned out to be a confessional session with Minho until two in the morning, at which point he declared you entirely too drunk to return home and left his shift early to take you to his house and let you sleep it off in his bed.

Lee Minho was a good friend. He cared for you like no other man had ever done in your life, and it was not an obvious thing for him. You had to earn his respect, his time; not everyone could do it, certainly not many were willing to, and even fewer actually succeeded. It was effortless with you because you actually tried, you took the extra mile, and you never demanded anything of him. You just were, orbiting around him, once a sun to his planet, now an old survival instinct. He had lost many family members over the years; you’d held his hand as his parents passed away, held him when he cried, stayed on the phone on graduation day as he told you he wouldn’t show up, and could you pick up his diploma for him?

Many times you wondered where it all went, how it came to this. He’d been your closest friend for so many years, but as you stare at your boyfriend already picking a fight with the brown-haired man you’d come to know as Kim Seungmin, you realize that you let him go—let it all go—for a stupid, stupid boy that had sucked the fucking life out of you, and could just not stop doing it to anyone he ever interacted with. You’d been so naive, so incredibly dumb. 

It made sense now, what you really had to do. But how you did it—that was your first mistake. You thought you were destined for a mundane life, an ordinary existence. No one could’ve prepared you for this.

“Say, should I call the cops on you, or fuck you up myself?” An extremely muscled man appeared through the underground bar’s entrance, black locks falling over his forehead, obscuring dark eyes. “I’ll be nice and make it your call.” 

He locked eyes with you for a single moment, before his hard face turned its attention back to your boyfriend currently gripping your arm so tight it felt like all blood circulation had stopped. His strong arms flexed, the skin veiny, rock solid in the white button up, and his chest looked ready to pop out of that black vest with the business tie, all formal, all currently stirring something incredibly dark within you.

If you had a voice, you’d beg him to make that call, plead with him for a chance at freedom. But you didn’t, you couldn’t possibly find it at that moment, as the other man flashed his gun discreetly, a deadly warning to your boyfriend’s ominous words. You had to give it to him, no matter how sick to your stomach it made you—he had ways to hurt people, ways to make them disappear. He liked hurting you the most, his precious girl. Sometimes in ways that couldn’t be visible to the naked eye.

“Time’s ticking, fuckface,” the seemingly older guy threatened, getting closer to his target’s face. You whimpered, looking down to hide your discomfort, but not before you noticed him studying the movement. “Let her go.”

“Fuck out of my face, before you regret it,” your boyfriend snarled back, and shook you forward, yet refusing to release you. “You go inside, find my brother and tell him these two assholes are giving me trouble.”

Brown-haired boy laughed as the other one smirked. “Are we giving him trouble, Seungmin?”

“I don’t believe so, Changbin.” But both guns were glinting in the night sky, their intentions clear.

Changbin stood with both arms crossed in front of him, menacing, terrifying. “We just wanna be your friend, pretty boy. Let the girl go, so we can chat and braid our hair, yeah?”

If he’d only loosen his grip, then you could tug and pull away. Your brain’s autopilot had been turned on since before you left the apartment, there were responses but no reactions, and you were pretty sure both men could tell you’d been through this many times before. You always made it very apparent, in hopes someone would finally help you, someone would dare. It wouldn’t always be like this, but you had to make it happen. The man’s attention on you whispered of many things, but freedom—freedom was the first one promised.

“You’re the funny one, aren’t you?”

The smirk widened, a hand resting on the metal against his rib. “Perhaps we should let the pretty thing next to you decide that one. Last warning.”

You saw the exact moment you vanished from your boyfriend’s mind, his touch leaving you at once, murder written across his face as he got close to the bouncer, a punch ready to land, the violence you were so accustomed to coming to a climax, finally, a firework taking flight, a missile bomb launching—

The sound of clicking, multiple gasps from behind you, and then you saw it. Smooth black underneath his jaw, Changbin’s finger on the trigger, head tilted, smile wicked, sinister, his friend mirroring him, standing a breath away, on the ready—they were going to shoot, they were going to do it, they’ve done it before, you can smell it off of them, the gunpowder, the crime, the sin. You almost reach out, but for what? You wouldn’t stop it, you didn’t care to. You’d let it happen and slip past his caving body to find Minho, to announce you were free, to drink yourself oblivious and swear you’d never again become prey for men to feast on.

The end, so close.

“Walk away before this gets ugly,” Changbin stated, contained anger and ice cold amusement both evident in his tone. “We turned away your entire entourage, there’s nothing for you here.”

“Johnny, maybe you should go—”

The malicious eyes were on you again, once beautiful, holding so much in them, and you remember yourself wishing you could drown in all of it, for as long as possible, until eternity ceased. You loved this man once, with all your heart, but he was nothing short of a stranger to you now, and if he had died just moments prior, the thought of being glad for it scared you to your fucking core.

What sort of person had you become next to him? No more.

“I should go?” he asked incredulously, and his lips curled. “Fuck it, stay here for all I fucking care. No one will ever come back for you, (Y/N),” he spat, pointing a single finger at you, already walking backwards, away from you, forever. “Remember that.”

Both bouncers moved in front of you, hiding you from your, now, ex boyfriend’s view once and for all. You hadn’t even realized how much you were shaking until Changbin reached a hand out to take your fingers in his, his touch warm, the rings he wore cool against your skin, a juxtaposition. The red neon signs above your head made you dizzy, the weight of what had just happened pushing on your shoulders, tearing you from the inside. Three years of your life, given to a man that had left you as quick as a bullet.

Perhaps you should’ve killed him yourself. Now the moment’s wasted, there will be other victims, more misery—and your stuff, all of your things were in that apartment. Who was going to retrieve them, where were you supposed to go?

Was this a bad idea? If you pushed past them, maybe you could yell out, try to reason…until you figured how crazy that sounded. Still, a sick part of you wasn’t ready to be abandoned by him, and could not stand the thought of being alone. Tears blurred your vision, and you squeezed Changbin’s hand one time, eager for direction.

“Is Minho working tonight?” you question quietly, the music from inside the bar slipping through the cracks of the steel door.

Seungmin had gone back to his post, profiling people and opening the door for them once he received their money. Changbin had pulled you to the side so gently you’d barely noticed you’d been moved. The metal was gone, and its owner was searching to meet your gaze, to ask if you were okay, but to no avail. Your eyes were glued on his boots, the leather of it, the shoelaces tying up to black pants that fit snugly around toned thighs. He was handsome, a faint thought that shouldn’t have crossed your mind at a time like this, but you couldn’t look past it, either. He smelled of amber and he’d just popped something in his mouth.

You look up just in time to make out the red of his lollipop. Raspberry. It clicked against his teeth as he sucked on it; you were so near to him the stick of it was grazing your lips. You faltered, and took a step back. He let you, but he never once let go of your hand.

“He’s not, sweet thing,” he replied softly, giving you a curve of a smile. Draped in red, he appeared dreamlike. “No one’s gonna hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.”

You nod, but you can barely hold his gaze. He chuckles, sensing your struggle. Your throat is dry, your heart in shambles; you could really use a drink or two, before you made another terrible mistake. You needed to call Minho, let him know of your situation. Perhaps he would understand, and let you stay at his place until you figured what to do with your belongings, and the lease on your name. You couldn’t risk going yourself, but Changbin, maybe, if you could find the guts to ask something like that of him—

It didn’t feel right to involve your other friends, the ones not related to weapons and abuse, the ones that will never know what has happened to you, what will always remain part of your story, no matter if you’ve escaped for the time being or forever. Johnny was the vengeful type, and he certainly would not let it go. Anger had made a monster out of him, and everyone would pay for your insubordination. He didn’t take well to change, certainly not when it involved you. It was simply a matter of time.

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling deeply. The bouncer in front of you rested his hands on your arms, rubbing soothingly there, waiting for you to speak, to tell him what to do.

“I have to go, I need to—I’ll—thank you,” you stumble through your words, turning to leave, hysteria bubbling in your chest, anxiety for what would become of you. “How could I ever repay what you did for me…”

“You can start with your name.”

Your eyes snapped to meet his. His mouth was moving, tongue rolling the lollipop around, and his hands dropped from your skin, as if he sensed how overwhelmed you felt. You were grateful for that small action, though a part of you wanted it, no, needed it, back. It felt grounding, real, like if it wasn’t there you’d float away somehow, incorporeal, a ghost. 

Before you can even think about it, your fingers reach for his forearm, and his warmth wraps around your bones at once, the skin there, so human. Changbin seems alarmed, but remains patient with you, understanding. Your mouth is dry, but you try to swallow anyway, and his weight shifts, his gaze never drops, Seungmin is calling him—

“Yes, Kim?” he answers, but the connection is not tethered.

“The boss wants you in the back. Hey, beautiful, can I see an I.D—”

“He can wait,” he grunts, and that’s it. He’s back in your world, the one where your hand on him is the only thing keeping him alive, your eyes staring up at him the only way he’d prefer to die.

Fuck him, he’s the one in trouble, isn’t he?

“Sure, he can,” you distantly hear the brown-haired man mutter to himself sarcastically, after the two girls entered through the door. “He’s widely known for his patience.”

It brings you back to Earth. “You should go,” you encourage, smiling awkwardly, fingers unwrapping themselves hesitantly.

Changbin shakes his head, takes the stick out of his mouth. He faintly smells of red syrup. “I really fucking shouldn’t. Where are you gonna go? Do you have a place to stay?”

“I’ll figure it out, you honestly don’t have to worry about me, I can—” But you could do what? There was no way for you to finish that sentence.

He straightens his back, and it somehow makes him taller, more formidable. There’s something unreadable swimming in his expression, something between anger and compassion, and it knots your stomach, because the last thing you want is for someone to feel sorry for you. This is why no one knew, why you never said anything—you hated the pity, the charity that would come out of something like this.

A victim. You weren’t one.

“You’re with me. I’d be the last person that saw you tonight, and if something were to happen to you, I wouldn’t be able—” he stops, sighs. He looks back to where Seungmin is standing, and brings those thunder eyes back to haunt you. “Just. Please, answer the question. Do you have a place to stay?”

It’s not what you expected. This man cares, he’s like Minho. But unlike him, there’s an edge to Changbin that you’ve never seen on anyone else, like he’d tear himself apart to help you, do whatever was physically possible to make sure you’re safe. It was kindness, pure and unfiltered, and a sense of principle that no one has ever shown you before. It felt warm, like him. So, you accepted.

“(Y/N),” you blurted out, moved by his persistence. He blinks. “My name is (Y/N).”

His smile is a thousand watts. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

“She’s Minho’s ‘special girl,’” Seungmin declares, eavesdropping. “All I know about you has been against my will, darling, know that.”

Changbin smirks, and lights up, digging his elbow in the bouncer’s rib. “He means he’s charmed,” he says apologetically, rubbing his neck.

A smile breaks out on your face, and you wonder how is it possible to feel at home with two people you’ve practically just met? Your heart was beating right out of your chest at the thought of spending more time with them. So much so that you nearly forgot all about the bad.

It still lurked though, waiting for the right moment. For both of you.

“Another one, is it?” Bang Chan commented teasingly, counting money against the counter. “Are we collecting them or what?”

You blushed, as Changbin sprung out to wrestle his boss in your defense. Route 66’s owner laughed a throaty sound, and surrendered, coughing and fixing his black button up. You noticed his square jaw, the sharp gaze—the girl staring at him from up on the stage. There were questions, but for some reason you had no voice to ask them.

“It’s nothing like that, Bang,” the bouncer next to you stated, rather embarrassed. “The party of twenty that we sent off? She came with one of them.”

To that, Chan perked up. There was another girl working the bar, smaller and much quieter looking than the first one, and she smiled at you when she caught your eye. You smiled back politely, and turned back to the man talking to you. The place was dark, drenched in neon, but you could still make out his face, it was so sculpted.

“You’re Minho’s friend, yeah?”

You stuttered, shy. “Y-Yes. I thought he’d be here today.”

Chan measured you. “Personal day,” he explained simply, but his fingers were still moving across the bills. “Why’d you bring her to me?” he addresses Changbin without bothering to properly look his way.

“She has nowhere to go. He was violent with her.”

You heard the hum all the way where you stood. It sounded disinterested, and for a moment you felt yourself questioning what you were exactly doing there, with a bunch of strangers that didn’t owe you anything, but then you remember the black-haired man’s words, and you remain in your place, uncomfortable.

“Take her to 103,” the owner declared. “I’ll contact Lee, see if he answers. The room has been paid for the weekend, so rest, okay? If you need anything, tell Lover Boy here. I’m sure he'll oblige.”

Changbin audibly groaned, slapping his palm over his face. “Can you shut the fuck up?”

“Just saying, baby.”

“I’m going through the back door,” he ignored the pet name, grabbing you by the wrist. “Let Min know.”

Chan was already tuning out, the girl you saw earlier now whispering to his ear. She moved like a cat to you. Or a snake. It felt mystical to watch her.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s already aware,” was his last comment before you rounded the corner to the storage room.

There were two bikes parked in the back. Both a shiny black, though one was longer, vintage. The alley was dark, the bushes along the line of the club’s property well-kept. Your arms unconsciously folded over your upper body.

Changbin mounted the aged motorcycle, turning the ignition switch, the angry roar of the engine and bright lights making you flinch. The chain hanging from his pants dangled, the metallic sound drawing your attention, before your eyes traveled to his biceps, displayed in full force with the way he hunched over the handlebars. You desperately tried to hide it, but your breath was stuck in your throat, your heart jumping at the view.

He was ridiculously attractive, and this wasn’t like that. He’d made it clear, and you— you’d just got out of a messed up relationship. You didn’t need this. And yet—

“Come here, will you? I promise I won't bite.”

Of all things, this was bad in a completely different, yet just as torturous way. You still did it anyway; you passed your leg over the seat, you put your arms around his muscled body, leaning into him, and if your nose caught his burning scent or the berry flavor of his candy you told your silly heart to suck it up and turned your cheek. But ignoring it was futile—there was this intense sizzling between you, and it’d be a flat out lie to say he didn’t feel it, because at every red light, every all-way stop and traffic junction he squirmed and cleared his throat in a manner men only do when they’re rock hard and in need of relief.

“We’re not too far now,” he spoke after a while, taking a left turn and readjusting your hold with one of his hands. His long fingers were cold but sure in their touch. “You okay?” His head turned to show his profile, the soft, dark curls bouncing in the wind, and what was the question again?

“It’s a nice night,” you comment, not able to form any other coherent sentence.

He nods, and takes off again, this time speeding down the road, making passes on cars, taking yellow’s, and never once looking back after that. The sky was pitch black, not a star in the city, and most businesses’ had closed for the day, leaving gas stations and fast food places all on their own, though even those were sparse and far between wherever you were going. There had been a moment, though small, where you doubted his intentions, doubted these people and their words. But these people were Minho’s people, and there was never any doubt about him.

You really wished you had taken your phone with you. It seemed like a good thing to have in a situation like this. The thought of where it is, or rather whom it’s with, made your skin crawl, and your mind wander. What was Johnny doing right now? Had he left the apartment already?

Staring at a spot on Changbin’s vest, you realized he’d just entered a parking lot, a motel named ‘Starlight’ coming into focus, its teal color and neon letters hard to miss. He killed the engine and waited for you to get off, before demounting himself. You lingered a bit as he adjusted the stand of the bike, and cracked his neck. Thin black ink ran down the side of it, lightning or veins, you couldn’t quite make it out from your distance, but before you could analyze it further, he motioned for you to follow him, extending a hand and recognizing what he’s doing.

Your eyes met as his jaw clenched, and his arm fell. It felt like intuition or will, and he was rejecting it all. You should’ve felt glad he was repressing himself, but all you felt instead was empty. You shouldn’t want this, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s just being nice. He’s just being kind. And it was those things, but it was something else, something that was neither your fault nor his; attraction, maybe, or just the simple fact that he felt like the calm sea, enveloping you with the promise of peace. And freedom—he set you free. Call it naivety, and perhaps it was.

You didn’t care.

That was your second mistake.

“It’s not much, but Bang’s family has owned this place for forty years,” he explained to you as he greeted the older man at the reception desk, and got the key that opened ‘Room 103.’

You climbed the rusty metal staircase to the first floor, and followed him closely as he passed the rooms by, all the way until the end of the hall. The breeze was colder up there, but you could spot a tiny star or two. You were far, so much farther that you’ve been in years, and it felt good. Nothing for miles, no one close to you to know where you were, to look for you. No one that cared enough, anyway.

“You won’t kill me, right?” you ask almost absentmindedly, the sky too mysterious, too beautiful to look away.

Changbin unlocked the door and chuckled to himself, forcing his head not to turn your way.

“Not if you behave,” he couldn’t help the suggestive tone, though. “I’m kidding, sweetheart,” he softened up and quickly added when he heard your breath catching in your throat.

He stepped aside to let you walk in the room you’ll be spending the night in, and hesitated to trail behind you. A lot of things happened in motel rooms, even more happened between him and girls like you, girls that ride on his bike and have him by the balls. His dick was so hard it was painful to walk, and there was no excuse for it. He was awful, but there was no intention to go through with anything. He’d bid you goodnight, leave his phone number on the nightstand, and walk out. That’s how it should happen, and that’s how it will happen. You’d been through enough, it was clear to see. 

Changbin was not going to force his own bullshit life on you.

“In case of anything you can call me immediately. I’ll answer,” he told you as you sat on the bed and fingered the phone’s cable. “If you want me to go get your stuff, say the word,” he added, sensing your uneasiness.

Your chest expanded and your lips curved, but the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I don’t want to put you in any more trouble, Changbin. This is enough. Thank you.”

The bouncer shook his head, furrowing his brows in refutation. “You haven’t put me through anything, sweet thing. Let me do that for you, yeah? I’ve dealt with many assholes in my life.”

“Don’t you have to go home? It’s late, I wouldn’t want to keep you—”

“Don’t have one,” he cut you off, and smiled faintly to relieve the tension his words carried. “Tell me where yours is, I want to make tonight easier for you.”

You couldn’t help the pregnant pause after that. Your mind ran, the simple fact that he’d told you something so personal like it was nothing festering into a million different thoughts, all ending with the same question mark. Where did he live, then? At the club? Not possible, right? Then, where? Would he want to spend the night there, with you? You had nothing, even this much was borrowed, but perhaps he could share it with you. If it was allowed. You knew it was risky, and that you couldn’t ignore this for long.

It’d be wiser if he left now and came later when you were asleep. You had to remind yourself this was temporary. If you were to engage in these feelings, they’d take you somewhere you’d have to deal with for way longer than a couple of nights, and you weren’t sure that was a good thing.

He looked like he was thinking the same thing.

The tattoo on his neck was definitely lightning striking, the black of it creeping before cracking down on him, and disappearing underneath his collar—underneath. You wanted to see, run your fingers on it, figure out where it reached. It wasn’t normal, and it certainly wasn’t sane.

But you wanted to, nevertheless. It was a hungry want, an inevitable want. If it didn’t happen right now, it would happen someday, soon, as soon as you both stopped fighting it, a primal instinct. It was because of how he looked and what he’d done for you, how freedom would now seem like a raspberry lollipop and a smooth gun.

“I need to go,” he said, his eyes flitting from yours, body turning away. “I need to go before I do something I regret.”

His pleading tone tugged at you. You put your tongue between your teeth so you wouldn’t respond. He’ll go bring you your clothes and your phone, and he’s going to leave you alone. You ran it over three times in your mind, before it sounded convincing enough to go with.

“You can stay,” you manage to get out, and then you realize it doesn’t sound right. “After, I mean. If there’s nowhere else to go.”

Despite his best intentions, Changbin can’t help but melt at your words. Bless your heart, sweet thing. I was right to help you.

“I’ve had my fair share of Starlight nights, sweetheart. I’m sure you need your privacy,” he leaned by the dresser to write something on the pad by the TV. “You don’t gotta worry about me, yeah?”

It still didn’t feel right with you. “Thank you can’t possibly be enough.”

With a hand opening the door wider, he gave you one last smile and a quick wink, before popping the lollipop back in his mouth.

“It’s enough for me. I’ll be right back.”

Babel is playing on TV, a half forgotten movie about people on vacation, but you can’t even bring yourself to focus on the actors’ faces, much less their words. One line sticks out to you then, ‘Why did we come here?’ but before the weight of it registers, you swing the door wide open, throwing yourself out into the cold night.

The roaring sound that drove you away from your old life. That unique black paint on an expensive, vintage motorcycle you couldn’t stop thinking about. You’d never been on a bike before, had never trusted anyone enough to get near one. It had surprised you; how easily you trusted Changbin, how blindly you followed him into fields of darkness. He could’ve turned out dangerous—he could’ve threatened you. Any sane person would’ve kept their distance, assessed the situation, and gone home. A boring, uneventful life is a life nonetheless. There were bad parts, sure; decisions that were made that could’ve been prevented, people that took advantage of your kindness, but overall—it was fine, it was manageable.

Somehow, you refused to acknowledge the abuse, even then. You protected the part of you that wanted to deny, that wanted to go home and forget about it all. Johnny told you, though, he did—“no one’s coming for you, no one.” Meaning you’re unwanted, meaning you never mattered anyway, silly girl, and what are you talking about? You’ve no home, no returning.

The black-haired man carried a duffel bag across his torso, keys jingling between his fingers. You’d been smothering in that strange room, inked paper on the nightstand, fingers pressing on the digits again, and again, and again. Dialing, then putting the receiver down, a game with no winner. A phone call away, he’d said, but it’d been three tortuous hours and he’d been nowhere to be found. You were stranded in a motel outside of town, no way to escape. Your mind ran, and it ran fast, so to see him walking towards you, to witness him staying true to his word, when no other man had been able to, when nothing was for certain, and fear crept like an ocean wave—it shocked you; shook you, hand over mouth, feet pulling you back to the confines of that space he left you in, door left ajar, only so your lungs could fill with sharp wind, with bright stars peeking their way through.

Changbin was hurt. You saw that, too. He will come to you, face swollen, and you’ll deny, deny, deny.

Because that could’ve been you. Because it would’ve been bad for real, and you will never, ever admit that to yourself. Because that game did have winners and losers, and you were so obviously losing, every.single.fucking.time.

Your love had been a bad love. You don’t blame this man for condemning you.

“Sweet girl?” His voice is rough.

He pushes the thing separating you, and there it is—a cut above his brow, an angry gash on his cheek that will bruise later—you knew this, you did—blood on his white sleeve, scratched up knuckles. You’ve learned to look for the injuries first, but when did that start? Since when have you been covering, hiding, alert, so very sensitive to your own body, to reds and blues and purples?

What the fuck is wrong with you?

The only thing you can say— “I’m so sorry,” head low, quivering.

Changbin finds you on the bed, a reprimanded child, and stares. He looks an ugly sight, that much he knows, but it had nothing to do with you, everything to do with the motherfucker that got to call you his. That apartment had been a mess, beer cans everywhere, smashed picture frames and mirrors—it hadn’t come easy, losing you, it was clear to see, but your ex boyfriend wouldn’t give you up without a fight, and it was far from over.

Still, the bouncer pushed through the door frame, and searched for your belongings. Landed a good punch or two, missed a few, knocked out some teeth. He’d dealt with monsters before, and he wishes he could truly tell you what he’d meant, why he said it. Not much scared him anymore, nothing stopped him. If you have nothing to live for, you go all in. Every moment matters, yet doesn’t at all. An avalanche, a landslide. A suicide mission.

Changbin had seen war, and had returned from it. Retrieving a phone was childsplay to him.

He nears you, drops the bag with your stuff right next to you on the mattress. He crouches in front of you, and despite himself—he grabs your hands. How devastating it is—to know you’re going to lose your heart. How thrilling. He searches for the pretty eyes that looked at him back at the bar. He wants to talk to the girl he freed, the girl that offered what was offered to her. 

The selfless one.

“Nothing to be sorry about,” he consoles you tenderly. “Did a good deed for a girl that’s worth it. No tears, yeah?” Your tongue comes out to wet your petal lips, and you meet his gaze. He smiles at you, masking the wince it elicits out of him. He wants to keep smiling for you, nevermind the ache, nevermind the effort.

“You should see the other guy.”

You laugh at that, still half crying, and Changbin can’t help it, doesn’t want to. He wipes the tears away, cradles your face in his big hand. You’re so warm under his touch, so beautiful. He wants to do everything for you, wants to stay beside you as you tackle life. But he’s got nothing to provide, even less to his name—he doesn’t deserve you, doesn’t think anyone does. You’ve been through a lot, your sadness tells him. It ripples through his chest, tightens his gut. He’ll stay if you keep him around, though.

He’ll stay, aware of what he can’t have. He sees himself in you, strangely.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, afraid to touch the liquid fire blazing on his features. “Thank you. Thank you.”

He thinks to tell you he can’t really feel pain, not anymore, but you don’t seem ready for that. Instead, he shakes his head, deflects. He reaches for the bag of food, and doesn’t tell you about the nasty stares he got from the people at the overnight deli, either. They don’t know him, they only see what they want to see. Chan taught him that. And fuck them, anyway—that was Seungmin.

“Eat something. Try to get some sleep,” he balances himself on his boots. “Your phone is in there,” he nods at the bigger bag. Misses your skin on his. “Is there— What else can I do for you, sweetheart?”

He’ll never forget the way you looked at him then. For the remainder of his days. 

Someone who could care for him, like his brothers, but a girl. You. His own girl. He’d seen the others, how easy it’d been for them. Destiny, or fucking love at first sight, that bitch. He saw and waited patiently for his turn, fists clenched, teeth gritted. The possibility knocks at his heart, beats at his scalp. It could be anyone, but it’s you, he’s sure of it. Until you, there’d been no one, no real prospect. He knows this by how much he wants to stay, by how your fingers felt on his own, how your eyes melted into his. There was attraction on both ends, yes, but he was in no rush.

No rush, and yet one touch from you—

“Where are you gonna go?” You don’t make a move to check your phone, or even make sure Changbin had picked up the right clothes. You just stare at the bloody spot on his shirt, and plead for this to happen.

The amount of self restraint he possesses surprises him. He curses it.

“I’ll figure it out. That’s what I do.”

“Stay.”

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out of him. It’s ironic, really; he would kill to spend the night with you, and there’s no reason why he can’t, except you’ve been hurt so fucking deep, the scars are visible to him without even being there, and how is that even possible. He knows because they mark every part of him, similar ones, and they never heal. They just remain open, gushing, pouring out, and what else can he do but repudiate their existence—it’s haunted him for years.

He’s ashamed of his own homelessness now. Embarrassed of what he’s done, how it’s cost him, how it’ll continue to do so, unless he makes a choice. The choice. But how to take your own life?

“You and I both know how that’ll end, sweet thing.”

You’re a dream; you blink, and then you’re moving, up and closer, hand reaching out, attempting to grab, to hold onto, to insist. You’re stubborn, of course you are. There’s a flame in you he likes. You know how to survive, yet your softness is intact. He wishes he could say the same thing. He wishes he could hold you with no hesitation, no doubt in his mind.

But Seo Changbin ruins things, and he does so knowingly, despite himself always. Especially pretty girls like you, girls that don’t know any better. He’s seen it happen, he’s terrified of it happening again.

“It doesn’t have to,” you say, and he desperately wants to believe it. He’ll even wrap his hand around yours, pretend for a moment or two. “It’s just sleep. You’ve done so much for me. Please.”

He sighs, hates himself for falling into your words only because they sound sweet to his ears. He knows you’re wrong, knows his nature, knows what’s taken place in this very room many times before, and even then, even fucking then—

There’s no shame in him, truly.

“Sweetheart…” he studies your face, memorizes the creases, the lines, the smoothness of your cheeks. “You need someone that can take you home. Someone to take care of you good.”

“You did. You have.”

“I’m crooked. You don’t know what I’ve done… what I’m capable of.”

“I trust you,” you press on, squeezing his fingers, and it’s because of that gesture that he caves.

His lips curve sideways, and he’s itching for candy again. Your words are bitter, are syrupy, and clean, ambrosial. It’ll sting like a bitch when you leave, when you find out the truth. ‘Cause you will, sooner or later. You’ll have to.

Changbin nods, admitting defeat to humor you. “You impossible fucking girl. Fine. A compromise, then.”

You’re elated. You’re glad he’ll be safe, at least for tonight. The least you can do for him.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep,” he states, putting some space between you again, and pushing curly hair away from his face. “But you gotta promise me right now that you’re going to eat.”

You don’t miss a beat. “I promise.”

His voice drops, then. “And that you’re never going back to him. Or to that apartment. Hell, I’ll find you a job, one where he can’t fucking find you,” his jaw clenches, hands busying themselves with the blankets, throwing them on the bed, anything to release the tension building up. “I’m never letting that son of a bitch near you again.”

“He’ll sure as fuck be damned if he ever steps foot on Route, I can swear that.”

It felt strange to think yourself separate from Johnny. To think you could exist without him and him without you. The bad was there, but there’d been good too, once. It never outweighed and it didn’t matter, anyway, it’d settle in your brain someday, but your heart felt uneasy just by the mention of him. You’d spend so much time convincing yourself you weren’t a victim, that you forgot to see it for what it was—a codependent, extremely toxic environment.

You had to remind yourself that the bruises on your side were still real, and that they would take at least a couple weeks to disappear. For some reason, you hoped Changbin would never see them.

You hoped he would kiss all of them better, away.

Changbin had you shower, and change, staying outside the door the entire time, staring directly at your face and nowhere else. He supervised as you ate, and tucked you into bed after you’d brushed your teeth. No one had done any of this for you before, and you kept trying to communicate that to him. He’s plenty capable of taking care of you, of anyone that comes his way; he’s generous, he owns a heart that beats, that bleeds. That’s more than some people can claim, certainly more than what you’ve encountered, and for that you’ll never forget him, no matter if he decides to keep away from you, to land you softly on your feet and disappear without a trace afterwards.

He changed you, in some way, and that will always belong to him. How many people can say that?

There were dark circles forming around his brown eyes, wrinkles on his previously perfectly pressed button down. The tie around his neck was coming loose, like he’d tugged at it a few times already. This man had really fought for your honor tonight. He fought for you like one would for his own country; for freedom, for release. For prideful reasons, and yet so utterly selfless in the act. It was all for you.

But what did he get out of the deal? A transaction had yet to be made. You wanted to give something in return. Even as he turned off the lights, and lowered the volume on the TV, even as he made sure all windows in the small room were locked, you thought and thought. What could he want? What was missing from his life? You wanted to learn more about him. Sleep was not of essence at that point.

Knowing him was.

“How did you meet Bang Chan?”

Changbin lifted his head, a mass of muscle sitting on a tiny chair in the corner, a figure hard to miss, demanding to be acknowledged, to be seen. He held his phone in one hand, the bright screen illuminating part of his rugged face. Who was he texting? Is there anyone waiting for him, somewhere? The knot in your stomach turned and turned. You kept him here without thinking, too blinded by your own feelings.

“That’s a complicated question to answer,” he said a few moments later. You couldn’t make out his expression, but his tone sounded clipped. “He found me, or I found him. We’re both high school dropouts. I was working on cars, bikes, just any… thing, really, trying to get by, and one day he came by looking for a job. Shit happened,” he chuckled at that, but there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, a lot of shit happened. And five years later, here we are.”

“Doesn’t sound complicated to me.”

“Because I saved you the bullshit middle that no one wants to fucking hear, or remember.”

You clasped your mouth shut, immediately turning apologetic. You didn’t mean to assume, only to figure out. He seemed to sense your silence, its reason, and you heard him exhale through his nose in mirroring remorse, saw him lean forward on his forearms.

“I’m sorry, sweet thing,” he half whispered. “You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

You closed your eyes, let his voice wash over you in the silence. “I’m sorry, too.” For this. For things you had no control over that happened to him. For things that will continue to happen.

“Ask me more.” An invitation.

You obliged. “And Minho?”

“At the bar. He was the first person Chan hired.”

“How old are you?”

There was a ghost of a smile in his gruff voice now. “Twenty-seven.”

Your heart fluttered. You put a hand over your chest, above the blankets, hoping, wishing your breathing would even out, your thighs would stop pressing against each other. He said nothing, spoke only when prompted, when so many quiet things ran between you, muttering, electricity through a cable, buzzing, excited, dangerous, eager.

“Changbin…”

A pause. “Sweetheart.”

“Do you— Do you like me?”

Another exhale. Inhale. He looked ready to pounce. To run for the hills. You focused on his face.

“More than I should,” he replied honestly. “More than I’m allowed to.”

Your eyes involuntarily closed again, the tension thick, hovering above you like a cloud full of rain. You wanted it to pour, to smash down on you, to crack you open and overflow you.

You wanted him to come closer. To stay forever.

“I allow you,” you murmur. “There’s nothing holding you back.”

Another one of those signature breathy laughs of his you’d grown to want more of. They stretched his handsome face, widened his molasses eyes. This man didn’t laugh a whole lot, that much was obvious. But when he did—God, was it a sight to behold.

“That may be so, darling,” he mutters hoarsely. “I’m holding myself back. You don’t want to deal with the shitshow that comes with me, and I’d never put you through it for the sake of having you.”

A heartbreaking realization. Perhaps you heard wrong. Tears swell up, chest heavy. You beg for sleep now.

“I’m not worth it,” you assume bitterly.

He taps his boot on the carpeted floor. He’s impatient, a bird taking flight. You truly meant it. You’re not holding him back; nothing is.

“Because you’re worth it,” he croaks, voice full of something you can’t quite pinpoint. “Because you’re laying there, so fucking close, and I can’t touch you. I’m afraid to even get near you.”

You swallow, throat dry, all choked up. What does it mean, that you’ve never wanted anyone as much as you wanted this strange man? What does it mean that you had to come out to the desert to find out?

“Why don’t you have a home?”

Changbin springs up, carrying a terrifying purpose in his stance. He’s going to walk out, he’s going to leave, and it’ll all be your fault. You’ve cornered a lion, and it will show you its teeth.

The truth is he’s suffocating. Jesus Christ, he’s never felt this before in his entire goddamned life.

“I burned it down.”

And no matter what he does, he can’t not want.

He’s out the door the next, phone on speed dial, pressed against his ear.

Minho answers a beat before voicemail. His voice is unassuming, a little drunk, a little slurred. The bouncer leans his temple against the cool of the wall, listening to the wind brush past mountains, past roofs and rock and still awakening man-made trees, and he wonders how helping has ever worked in his favor.

How he does it regardless, all knowing. This has been the worst one yet; worse than revenge, worse than faking your own death. His heart was involved this time. This thing he never compromises, this thing he forgets that exists sometimes, bigger and more fervent than ever.

It came back to bite him in the ass, full force.

“Can’t I have one single fucking day to myself, Bin, what is it now—”

“Take her. I beg you—take her.”

There was background noise on the receiving end. Perhaps he was in one of those parties of his again, the ones Seungmin warned him against. Changbin had no use for caution, no reason why he should be scared. What the bartender was into—he had no interest in it, could care less for it, unless Minho was having a hard time there. Besides that, he had enough to worry about, enough on his plate. Always on the brink of overflowing, yet never quite. 

This was different. This was the almost that could tilt it all over.

“Take who, Changbin? Are you drunk, too?” His friend laughs, he knows nothing. He didn’t answer his phone to Chan.

“(Y/N). She came to Route with her boyfriend. All Hell broke loose, so I brought her to Starlight.”

“You’re fucking serious.”

Changbin rolled on his back, fist against his mouth, staring up at the night sky, at the stars you were so transfixed by. They had no reason being so bright; of reminding him of innocent eyes, and rose petal lips. He searched in his pocket for a lollipop, unwrapping it with his teeth. Cherry flavored, the color of your cheeks getting out of that shower.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of your legs, those silky things that carried the rest of you. He wanted to wrap them around his neck, he wanted to run his hands up and down the length of them, feel the skin there, and up, up, up, to your cunt, to your fucking soul—

“I don’t know what to do with her, Minho. With myself. I’d never seen her before, I never thought—”

“You said Starlight, right? I’ll be right there. Give me about forty minutes.”

“Don’t— Fuck, don’t really take her, Min, yeah? I just… I need you, man. She needs you, too, I think.”

His friend the problem solver. Similar to Bang Chan, but different in texture. Where the owner was rough leather, the bartender was velvety soft, safe to fall on. With Chan you never knew, it was calculated, it was for the Greater Good, it was give and take. You called Minho, he’d rush over, scold you later.

“I’m fairly sure she’s in good hands, Bin. Keep an eye out, yeah? You’re dealing with the Sharks now.”

He saw that. The tattoo on your ex’s neck. Chan knows how to deal with those better, no bloodshed, no mourning. Changbin just keeps them out, turns them away. If they don’t listen, words don’t matter to him, they don’t count. He’s got a shiny gun under his vest for that. It’s best you never find out, that you never know.

But you will. That’s inevitable, too.

He popped the candy in his mouth and waited. Johnny, was it? His threat rang in the bouncer’s head, shit he’s heard a million times before. Only thing was before he had nothing to lose. Now, he has you. He found you or you found him, that’s how people enter his life, so what? Why the fuck would he give you up? Changbin has killed for his chosen family. 

What’s once more? No motherfucker is immortal, himself included.

Only difference is that Seo Changbin doesn’t legally exist anymore. He’s dead. Nothing more than a goddamn ghost.

He won’t dare go back in your room, not without Minho. Your friend will know how to handle you, this, how to better—properly—take care of you. If anything, you’ll choose to go with him, stay over at his place for the time being. Changbin will still trail after you like a surveillance shadow, recording all your steps, memorizing the movements that make you, your nose scrunches, your gentle hip swings. You move like water where he’s nothing but fire. He can only be put out by you, can only diminish himself, evaporate on contact. 

None of it changes the way he feels about you.

He’s not sure how long he stayed out there, awaiting the familiar sound of the MotoTec Cali the bartender owned, but he saw it before he heard it, his thoughts too loud, overwhelming every one of his senses. Minho pulled up next to his own Davidson, taking off his helmet and kicking the stand in place. The motel’s sign shone brightly against his pale complexion, and it took his friend a couple of seconds to make out Changbin’s figure on the balcony, leaned over the railing, candy sticking out of his mouth like usual.

“About fucking time,” the black-haired man muttered under his breath.

“Talking shit?” Minho joked loudly, and climbed the stairs. He was obviously tipsy.

“I’m just glad you made it in one piece, Lee.”

Minho’s face was glowing, but his eyes were dilated, worried. He glanced towards the door, and then back at his friend, at his injured state, assessing the situation.

“Me too,” he agreed, before growing serious. “Is she okay?”

Changbin nodded. “She’s fine, he didn’t hurt her.” He took the lollipop out of his mouth, lip stinging. “He pulled a number on me, though.”

“Yeah, no shit. Johnny owns a boxing gym. Don’t underestimate him.”

The bouncer scoffed, spitting on the ground, a piece of his mind on what he thought about that. “He’s a bitch I left moaning on the floor. I got a few of her things from her place,” he neared his friend, lowering his tone, “I’m not— I don’t want her going back there, Minho. Chan let her stay here for the weekend, but you… can you take her in? Until I find her some place nice?”

The burgundy-haired man furrowed his brows, tilting his head in question. “You’re going to find her a place? What’s it to you?”

“Fuck you.”

Minho smirked, and patted his friend on the back, quietly opening the door. “You better keep her close, Seo Changbin, eh? She’s precious to me.”

You were asleep, hidden under a pile of blankets, stirring momentarily only to turn.

The two men looked at each other, then looked back at you. Should they wake you? Best to let you rest. Minho needed to talk to you, though, despite the bouncer’s disapproval, followed by a backhanded slap on the sternum. They went at it soundlessly, before Changbin shook his head and pointed an accusatory finger the older’s way.

Minho sat by you, fingers tangling in your hair fondly, caressing your head. You hummed, not all there. He tried again, this time shaking you softly, hoping your eyes would open just enough to recognize him.

They did.

“Minho?” You mumbled, unsure.

“It’s me, pet. Wake up for me, will you?”

You sat up abruptly, rubbing at your eyes. Changbin glared at his friend, arms folded over his massive chest, leaning against the window broodingly.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, but wrap your arms around him anyway.

He hugs you back tight, breathing in the fresh scent of your hair. “Bin called me. I got worried.”

“I…” you look at the man by the door. His expression softens upon noticing your stare. “I’m okay, Min, I… I left him. I did it. Changbin helped me.”

Minho smiled encouragingly, pulling back just a bit to look into your eyes. “Did he now? I’m so fucking glad, pet, that’s great news.”

You nodded, but your lips curved downwards, concern spreading across your features. “But it’s  not, really, is it? Johnny’s vengeful, he… well, you see what he did,” you turned towards your battered savior once again, biting on your lip thoughtfully. “I don’t want him coming after you, I don’t—”

Minho shushed you, bringing you into his arms, hand rubbing on your back soothingly. “Trust me, baby, we can take care of ourselves. We deal with people like him more often than you’d think.”

“Don’t we, Changbin?”

The bouncer said nothing, but the smirk on his face was in full effect. His gaze ran down your soft cheeks, to your exposed neck, to the shirt falling off your shoulder, and he felt his blood boiling, his dick getting hard all over again at the mere sight. Cursed to know, but unable to follow through, his body betraying him…

Heaven and Hell were teaming up against him in the form of you; the sweetest thing he’s ever come across, the only thing that could genuinely threaten his very existence.

“He’s going to take you to work tomorrow, okay? Let me make some arrangements, and I’ll come for you Monday. You can stay with me for as long as you’d like.”

His heart shouldn’t have stopped the way it did when your eyes snapped to meet his, full of surprise, questioning, scared. You thought he was getting rid of you; that you’d been a burden to him, and he was gladly wiping you off his hands and onto Minho’s. Couldn’t be fucking further from the truth, but how was he supposed to voice those words?

I’d put you in my pocket if I could. I’d fucking carry you on my shoulders, if it meant I’d be able to keep you. Fuck his damned heart, his sappy brain. Truth of the matter was—you’re his girl now. A dead man claimed you, and once that happens, everything acquires meaning, everything matters.

He’d have to live vicariously.

“Thank you,” you said, and that was that. You were disappointed, your lids heavy with sorrow, and Changbin would have to talk to you, he’d have to explain.

He couldn’t bear seeing you this way. Not when he first laid eyes on you, not now that he knows what that stirring in his chest meant. Your sadness wrapped around his throat like a chain, squeezing, choking.

Minho noticed the tension between you, felt it in his bones. He couldn’t quite understand how the two of you came to be so close in the few hours you’ve known each other, but he won’t pretend to know how a heart works, its inner secrets, the way it just seems to pick and keep picking. He rises from the bed, leaning to kiss your forehead, and he thumbs your chin, smiling down at you one last time.

“Get some rest. You’ve nothing to worry about, you’re cared for.”

You nod only so he won’t insist, and with that he turns to leave. Changbin passes an arm over his shoulder in goodbye, but his eyes never leave your frame. You’re curling into yourself, blanket over your body, trying to shrink, to make yourself smaller so as to not take as much space, so as to not become too much of a responsibility.

He was getting angry for you. Angry that this seemed to be a familiar practice for you, a trauma response. He wanted to beat that fucker’s face in, gauge his eyes out, tear his arms off. Murder came easy, but this? What he was fantasizing about?

You had to be a specific kind of fucked up to do that, and Changbin has never claimed to be a good person. He was the man you went for for your dirty work, the gruesome stuff, the things no normal person could handle. He did it if it was right, if the intention behind it was justifiable. Scum was meant to be cleaned off, and people like Johnny were just that. A smudge on his bike. Dirt under his shoe.

“Keep me updated,” Minho tells his friend, and waves at you, before the door closes and you’re left alone.

You don’t speak.

Neither does Changbin. Not at first.

But your being angry with him? He decides he doesn’t like it. Not one fucking bit.

“You understand why you can’t come with me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

You lay back down, turning away from him.

“I understand.” Soft, weak.

He cracks, scatters to reach you, to not let you slip through his fingers. He wants your eyes on his again. He wants your naked shoulder, the curve of your face imprinting on his palm. He realizes, violently, that he needs you. That if he doesn’t have you he’ll go fucking crazy, insane, absolutely ballistic. The pull you have on him is too strong, the attraction too big, the feeling so intense it makes him want to tug at his hair and scream at the world for shunning him.

You don’t need more than a few hours to fall in love, it turns out. A girl can smile at you and that’s…it—you’re done for the rest of your life, now. No one had warned him about that, but he had witnessed it. In the way Seungmin looks over at the bar, even when the door is closed, like he can see right through it. How Chan doesn’t seem a separate person from that woman; how when she’s around, he’s alert, astute, awake to everything.

Fuck him to Hell, he should’ve paid attention. They don’t call it Route 66 for no reason, he’s sure of that now.

“Don’t make me say it, (Y/N),” your name on his lips sounded important, sounded real. He whispered it again in hopes you’d look at him again, in hopes he’d get to hold your hand once more. “You don’t want someone like me, you don’t need this… Minho knows you better, he’ll—fuck,” he pressed the heel of his hand into his eye, suddenly exhausted. “You’ll be okay there. I won’t have to worry.”

For a while, you left him alone with his words echoing back to him. It scared the shit out of him, how terrified he was of never seeing you again, how each passing second of your silence sliced through him like a knife.

Then, you mercied him. You spoke.

“I didn’t mean to be ungrateful. You’ve done so much for me, and I’m incredibly indebted to you, Changbin,” you kept that same tone from before, and he had half a mind to forcibly turn you, to swoop you in his arms and never let go. 

“I just don’t know how to shut my heart to you. I don’t know why it’s telling me to stay, why it’s pointing to you so desperately…”

He did it, then. Passed his arms right under you and brought you close to him, closing the gap that’s been eating him alive. You gasped, hands clasped against your chest, and looked at him, looked at him, looked at him. He drank you in, nose nuzzled against your neck, taking every inch of you in, strong arms tightening around you, lips on your skin.

Lips on your skin. He groaned, and dug his face at the nape of you, ashamed of his weakness, afraid of his inability to control himself. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away. But you… he had no defenses left. He should’ve left when he had the choice.

There’s no choice now.

“The things I want to do to you, sweet thing…” he gravelly muttered. “I’ve been lonely my whole fucking life. I never expected to find you, a thing like you. A girl for me, just for me…” One of his hands traveled up to your cheek, keeping it there, your body fully placed on his lap now. You were consumed, engulfed in flames you had no intention of extinguishing. “Do you feel how hard I am for you, darling?”

His hot breath fanned across your face, raising goosebumps. You nodded, mind jumbled, words long gone. “Yes,” you managed out. “Yes.”

“You think I’m nice,” he continued, his deep voice reverberating through you. “You think so highly of me, don’t you?” He turned your face so his mouth can face yours, with every thought of kissing you, of tasting you. “Give me permission. Tell me I can,” he whispered, eyes flickering, pitch black with desire.

You whimpered, tears stinging. “You can,” you exclaimed. “Please—”

Changbin devoured you. He grabbed your face roughly, fingers bruising in the best way, and attacked your mouth, tongue pushing past your red lips, conquering, spreading like wildfire. You felt dizzy, able only to hold onto him for dear life, and he held back just as unyielding, a solid body against yours, moving with you.

He came back up for a breath, a drowning man at sea. He swept some hair away from your beautiful face, and stared at your swollen lips, the way they called out to him, but he’d already gone too far. There was nothing more left to do but drown, and just as well. Changbin never much cared for living anyway, he’d gladly die for this.

“What am I gonna do with you, sweetheart, hm?” he tore off the blankets, shamelessly running his gaze down your body, your curves, all the ways you could bend. His cock twitched in his pants, restrained, in need of attention. He wanted you wretchedly, hopelessly.

“Half of me wants to tear you apart, the other half wants to tuck you into bed and leave you alone…” he trailed off, licking his lips, thirsty for anything you would give him. “I know right from wrong, I know this’ll be so fucking wrong—tell me to leave you alone. Tell me to stop, baby.”

You said nothing. He inhaled, steadying himself. He had to get a grip, fast. He was losing his entire fucking sense, his mind. He didn’t want it to be like this, not with you, not here. But you were so soft, you smelled so good, felt so good, your skin warm, his heart beating against yours. It had been so hard to resist you, so hard to pretend… Changbin had never been good at lying, always going after what he wanted.

Habits were hard to break.

“You need to stop this, beautiful, I have no strength, I always fuck everything up,” he rasped, fingers creeping under your shirt already, finding their way up to your breasts—so plump, perfectly fitted for his hand, God, he was so full of you, and how to quit you now, there was no way, no fucking way—

“Don’t,” you whisper to him, and kiss his jaw, the faintest peck. “I want this, Changbin.”

“But you don’t know what I’ve done.”

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” you fight back defensively. “I care about what you did for me, and that was everything. It’s everything.”

He’d never even realized how much he’d been suffering with the weight of his actions. It all came crashing down on him now, all because you were on the verge of unlocking him, of getting as close as possible, and what if he poisoned you? What if he infected you with the shit he’d committed, with the terrible fucking crimes that followed him everywhere?

Not you. Not to you.

“I’ve killed people, sweetheart. I’ve buried them with my own two hands.”

Not the earth shattering, ground splitting, apocalypse inducing revelation he was expecting it to be. And perhaps, somehow, it wasn’t. Because he was telling it to you, the girl made for him, the girl put on this earth for him to find, his girl. And his girl would understand, because she’d see right through it. He hoped she would.

He was right.

“Why?” was the only thing you asked.

So, he told you. He figured might as well lay it all down for you to do as you like. If you hated him and never wanted anything to do with him after it, he’d have to suck it up and live with it. He’d still do as he promised, that wouldn’t change. He would protect you with his life, he was obligated to now.

“Some asshole did a hit-and-run on our friend Felix a couple years back. It left him paralyzed from the waist down. Chan swore to find the guy who did it, to make him pay,” Changbin held you close as he spoke, afraid if he let go you might run off. “I took it personally. I hunted the fucker down, destroyed his car—you don’t need to hear the rest. I knew it’d be a lifetime in jail for me, there was no saving grace if they found me.

“So, I died. I faked my own death, burned the house I’d just bought down. Chan held a funeral for me, with a fake body, a fake death certificate… My family thinks I’m dead,” he chuckled, against his better judgment. This was no time for laughing. “They think their son is dead. Their son is a fucking murderer.”

The last thing he expected—you hugged him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his vest, gun heavy in its holster, a concealed weapon he’s had to carry ever since he started working at Route, a thing that binds him to the Devil, a thing that has nothing to do with you, that shouldn’t even belong in your world.

Changbin was rendered speechless.

“I don’t care,” you choked out. “You’re a good person that did a terrible thing, and I will never hold it against you. If you’re trying to scare me away, it’s not going to work, Changbin. I dated a killer for most of my adult years.”

“And you want to live with a new one?”

You slapped him. He let you, because he deserved it, but grabbed your wrist afterwards, fiery gaze meeting yours. It was a low blow, a punch to your character, and he regretted it immensely. He just couldn’t stop himself, couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

Please see this. Please understand why I shouldn’t be the one for you. I never had to be careful with my words, I’ve never cared this much for anyone.

It didn’t matter. You were the one to kiss him this time, hard and bravely.

You kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him, and your lips, your soft lips—they were sending him straight to Hell, six feet under and worse, to where he can never find his way out, to where he’d eternally be unable to crawl out. He didn’t need a prophecy for this, didn’t need to navigate through a game to get the girl.

He just had to look into her eyes, learn her name. Make her stay.

Changbin wishes he could say he knew how to be gentle, how to blossom under your hand, open up to your touch. His inexperience messed with him, angered him; he was supposed to treat you differently, he was supposed to take care of you, he’d promised. But you drove him crazy, your every move sliced him, dug into his ribcage and turned. 

Call it an old habit. Or self preservation.

He wanted to see you. All of you. And then he wanted to be the one doing the turning, the slicing.

“You want this?” he breathed down your throat, pulling your head back by your hair. You had a beauty mark just under your ear. He wished to kiss it, wished to lick it. Take it as his.

Your mouth opened, your heartbeat irregular.

“There’s no going back if we do this, sweetheart,” he stated menacingly. “I’m not an easy man—I will burn myself to the fucking ground for you.”

None of it was painless to say. Every second near you required a considerable amount of effort. His own personal Odyssey.

“Changbin…” Pleading. For him. For what you want him to give you.

“No,” he growled, pressing his body on yours. “You need to know this. You need to know what you’re getting into. I don’t get sweet things like you in my life, I have no fucking clue how to deal with something good like you, and it sure as Hell won’t be easy letting go of you, if you choose to leave. Do you understand, (Y/N)? Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”

You whimper, completely surrendered to him, and he can almost smell your wetness, your desire for him. He thrusts his erection against your hip, and breathes deeply through his nostrils, nothing but softness, nothing but heat radiating from you. That’s for him, too. Goddamn it all.

“I’ve never had someone like you before, either,” you confess softly, your eyes wet.

Changbin wastes no time, then. He grabs you by the waist and turns you to sit on him straight, eyes boring into yours, legs on either side of him. You steady yourself on his shoulders, lashes fluttering, mouth swollen. He digs his nails on the soft skin, then drags his hands downwards to your dips, your ass. You inhale sharply, your hips unconsciously rubbing against his growing bulge.

“Show me how you like it,” he mumbles, drawing circles above your pajama bottoms. “Show me what to do, darling.”

Biting your lip, you reluctantly grab one of his big hands, and guide it to your breast. He feels your hard nipple through the thin material, wants it between his lips, his tongue sucking—he wants you in his mouth like his favorite lollipops. Wanted to switch the candy for you. You couldn’t be any worse than sugar, but maybe you were.

Maybe he was screwed either way.

“Unbuckle your belt,” you command, and your sweetness has suddenly turned saccharine.

This is the girl that was begging him to kill her piece of shit boyfriend with everything in her back at the club. The one that wasn’t afraid of the gun pointed.

He wanted to challenge her. That one. “Do it for me.” Let me feel your hands, beautiful girl.

You did. Slowly, carefully. Changbin wasn’t even aware he was holding his own breath, until his chest felt ready to explode. Still, he didn’t dare. Couldn’t, with the way your fingers went for his zipper. He was really fucking about to sink himself into you, after humoring himself he wouldn’t touch a strand of your hair. 

What a fucking hypocrite.

His cock was rock hard, red, and leaking. You run a finger over the head of it, gathering the precum there, and neared it towards your mouth, your eyes lifting innocently to meet his own. Changbin couldn’t look away, you had him completely fucking hooked. Fucking witch. He was scared of himself, then; scared of what he might do to you.

This wasn’t normal. Wasn’t for the faint of heart.

“Taste it,” he rasped, breath bated. “Put me in your mouth, sweetheart.”

Your lips curved, the finger disappearing between your lips. His eyes almost rolled to the back of his head. He wanted to draw blood. He wanted to punch something, and keep punching it until it died.

He wanted to fuck you into the mattress.

“I can think of something better,” you whisper to him, leaning close to his ear. His eyes follow you, cock throbbing, needing you there, needing you on. “Undress me, Changbin.” 

The Devil finally comes to collect.

Your shirt goes first. His hands reach behind your back to unhook your bra, rushed in their ardor, and he feels no more than a mere teenager, creaming his pants for the first time. You have him delirious, raving. Will it always be like this? This spinning, this dizziness with you. He feels like he hopped into a dance he doesn’t know the steps to. Uncharted waters. He hates it.

He shakes off the holster strap from his shoulders, wants that gun as far the fuck away from you as possible, and bends to take your nipple in his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, wanting a reaction from you, anything that would tip the scale back to him. He needed the little control he had before, needed it for what was left of his sanity. You were a dream, spread across his lap, begging him to touch you, to fuck you. No girl had asked before, none had tasted him like this.

Changbin was a giver, but you weren’t letting him give.

“So fucking beautiful…” as he dips his head in between your breasts, as he hooks his thumbs under your bottoms and panties and pulls. You lift for him, and shrug them off, passing your leg over him again once you’re fully naked. “Too beautiful, fuck me.”

He kisses you. Grabs your face and crushes his mouth on yours. He’ll get you to understand, he’ll show you. You moan against him, and it shoots all the way down to his dick. He wants to make the first move; he wants to grab his length and shove himself inside you, wants to bottom out and fuck the shit out of you. It’s an animalistic urge, one he’s not sure you deserve. You’re worth so much more—to be laid down, to be caressed all over. To be made love to. But Changbin wouldn’t know where to begin, and he’d mess it all up. So, he does what he knows and whispers to you, hopes this tether running between you is enough. Hoping his feelings for you are enough.

“Stop me,” he begs one last time, thinking that this could somehow be fixed, could be suppressed, and halted. “You can still run, sweet thing.”

You shake your head and press your fingers on the side of his face. He blinks, heart jump-starting. You actually want this. Him. You want him.

“I’m not going to,” you hush his demons, destroy his defenses.

The room is dark, the TV has stopped its programming. Changbin closes his eyes, listens to the white noise, the static. It luls him, resets him. You reach between you and grab him. He curses, or hisses, and wraps his arms around you tighter. Don’t do this, you don’t understand, you don’t fucking understand, not yet, and I…

You push him inside you, and he groans, forehead falling forward, touching yours. Your breath ghosts over his features, and he feels you stiffening up. He has to move, but there’s not one ounce of strength in his fucking body. So much for all this muscle—it’s useless against you.

“Changbin,” you choke out, hips rolling, demanding friction.

He snaps out of it. “I got you, baby, relax, I have you, I promise.” You meet halfway as he feels you working on his cock, and he thrusts up, hard, slamming you down at the same time.

You cry out and he loses it. Taking in every inch of your euphoric face, he fucks into you forcefully, almost violently, needing to find something in you, to conquer it, to keep it. His dominant hand falls on your ass, slapping, and you bounce down harder, mouth agape, brows furrowed. He loves you like this, this image of you, so free, so eager. Your pussy drowns him, envelops him, a perfectly fitted glove, and he makes sure to graze your walls, to mark his name in there, to have you come back for more, to keep you.

That’s what he’s looking for. To keep you. For you to want him to have you. If you moan out his name one more fucking time… Jesus Christ, has he ever fucked another woman before? You’ve erased them all, you’ve eradicated all memory of them.

You shudder, a thin strip of sweat forming on your chest, and he licks it all his. You taste salty, you taste sweet. You smell like soap, like vanilla. And like him, your juices mixing together, your musks tangling. He won’t last much longer, but he wants you to come first. He wants to watch you cum, coming undone on his cock, on him, while he holds you, while his fingers rub circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. He wants you filthy, wants you his, wants you forever, like this.

Just like this.

“Look at you, sweet fucking girl, taking my cock so well…” He bites his lip, tastes metal, but doesn’t care. “You ride me so good, baby, let me see you. Fuck yes. C’ mon.”

You’re so warm, half there, eyes shut, focusing on that feeling in your gut, low in your belly, and he can’t wait. He can’t wait for you to flood him, to taste you. You’re loving his fingers, he sees it, as soon as he touched your clit your back arched, your hips loosened. Fuck, he wants to flip you around and take you on all fours. Wants to screw you from behind, have you come like that, too. You’re everything he’s ever dreamed of, everything he will ever need.

“I’m so close, I’m so close, please!” your breath hitches, and Changbin grabs you by the throat, watches how you open your eyes wide, afraid. It sends him over the edge—you send him over the edge. It’s okay, my pretty girl, let it out, it’s okay, goddamn you, let me hear you, listen to that pussy, you’re so fucking wet…

“You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you? I can feel it,” he mumbles over your lips, his fingers tightening their hold just slightly. “You’re gonna make a mess for me.”

“Yes, yes!”

“That’s my girl,” he smirks, and thrusts one, two, three—

Your entire body stiffens and shivers. He blows as you fall limply on top of him, and he shushes you, fingers sliding up to your hair, pushing back, lips connecting with your temple. You make no move to push him off you, to take him out. You really wanted this. You wanted it as much as I did, sweetheart.

He transfers you on the mattress, laying you down gingerly, and is immediately met with cold, with emptiness. What were once old friends, now bitter enemies. He wants to get used to the warmth, to the gentleness you offer. He wants to call these things his, as well.

Most of all, he wants to take you in his arms again. Wants to stick his body close to yours and fall asleep. Something so simple, yet unattainable. Until now. Until you.

Changbin pecks your shoulder as you come down from your orgasm, then presses a hand between your legs, feeling for the stickiness. He slides a finger up your labia, and brings it to his mouth, sucking the clear liquid off. You turn to look at him, knees folding, pulled towards your torso.

You turned shy again. He smiles without meaning to.

“Wanted a taste,” he defends himself. “My fingers will have to do for now,” and he winks at you.

You blush, red spots spreading across your cheeks, and bring your hand over your mouth. Precious. Cute. Changbin lifts your hand from its place and places a kiss on your soft mouth. Thank you, and he wishes you can somehow hear it in his head.

Then, he tucks himself back in his jeans, and straps back up, letting his head fall, his hand rubbing his neck. It wasn’t just exhaustion—his heart was physically hurting. He just had sex with the girl of his dreams. He came inside of her, and laid with her.

She asked him to stay. Twice.

But the truth remained—he had killed, he needed to pay for his crimes. It was only a matter of time before the police pieced everything together, and there was no amount of paying off Bang Chan could do that would keep all of them away. Some people were pure from birth.

Like you. He hoped you would be the death of him so he’d never have to deal with any of it. But that doesn’t sound like Seo Changbin, either. What is there left to do except wait it out, then? He had this golden opportunity to spend some time with a heavensend girl. He couldn’t possibly fuck it up.

He had to take care of her first.

“I have to make a call, sweetheart.”

He didn’t sleep a wink.

Instead, he watched your rib cage expand then deflate, eight hours of it. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to wake you up or not, so he just let you be. If you missed a day of work—well, you deserved a day off after what you went through, didn’t you?

And, either way, it didn’t matter. If they gave you trouble, Changbin had already found you a different job. A better paying one, too, if he was to merely guess. And an apartment, close by to the bar so he could reach you fast if need be. All was ready to go albeit your consent and personal information.

Minho had texted him about an hour ago to ask about you. The bouncer sent a ‘she’s sleeping’ and left it at that. Your friend didn’t have to know about what he’d done, or how you liked it, despite blessing the two of you.

Changbin was regretting it all a little too fucking much. For your sake. If he had no morals, no conscience or basic fucking decency, this would’ve been just another lay, just another poor girl he’d saved. But you weren’t, and this wasn’t.

Wasn’t what? A relationship. A mistake.

Yeah, sleep sure as fuck hadn’t been an option.

Just before the clock struck eleven o’clock, you stirred, stretching your arms in either direction of you, your mouth opening and closing. The sun had been well up in the sky, a warm day with a slight breeze.

Changbin had covered you with multiple blankets, but they had all managed to sneak down to your feet. You were still naked, except for your panties. His cock stirred, and he cleared his throat, messing the mop of curls on top of his head.

Fucking get a grip, asshole.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

He saw you blink up at the ceiling, before you lifted your head to the sound of his voice. Your eyes met and—your lips curved sleepily at him. He smirked back fondly, but didn’t dare get up from where he was sat the entire morning.

“How did you sleep?” You asked, pulling a thinner sheet over you, your cheeks rosy as you rested your head on your arm.

“Great,” he lied. “How about you, love?”

“Okay.” But your face was positively glowing, your eyes sparkled.

His chest clenched. He rubbed a hand over it, trying to appear casual. There was nothing casual about the way you made him feel just then. He never stayed after sex, he never saw how the women he took to this motel looked the morning after.

And he didn’t want to. He just wanted to keep staring at you. He wanted you to look at him back, always.

“What time do you have work?”

Your eyes widened, hands immediately jumping to find your phone, to check the time.

“Fuck!”

Changbin sat back, arms crossing over his chest, watching you run around the room panicked. He’d never get used to the sight of your breasts bouncing, or the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. It was all very endearing, very lovely.

Lovely. Nothing had been lovely before. Fucking Hell.

“Don’t go,” he teased you. “I can think of a few things we can do here.”

Half way in a pair of jeans, you looked up at him like he’d grown two heads. His laugh was throaty, genuine. Your eyes, though. They betrayed you.

“I still have to work, Changbin,” you retorted with an obvious voice, head going through a T-shirt. 

“Just sayin’, sweetheart. You look fucking hot.”

You blush, but otherwise ignore him.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re mounting his motorcycle, your body pressed against his. He can’t help but think of last night, of the way your cunt squeezed him deeper, how your nails dug into his neck.

How was he going to go without you for a whole day? After knowing what he does. After having had a taste?

He needed a fucking shower. He needed ten minutes without you so he could get his head straight.

Every time he closed his eyes—there you were, your velvet skin, your breathy voice moaning out his name.

“If anything happens, anything at all, you call me,” he says for what seems like the tenth time.”Immediately.”

You all but groan, gaze flitting guiltily to the entrance of the clothing store you worked at. “Yes,” you reply for what, also most likely, is the tenth time. “I will, Changbin. I promise. Please.”

He nods his head towards your workplace. “Go. Be careful.”

You turn to run, but then stop on your tracks like you forgot something. Changbin leans against his bike, eyebrows raising. He has no time to register what is happening, or why possibly—you kiss him straight on the mouth, bruisingly, and grin widely at him.

He’s dumbfounded. Touches his lips to make sure he’s not hallucinating. Yesterday wasn’t a dream, then. You still wanted him. He drops his head so you don’t see him smiling like a fool.

“I’ll see you later!” You call out.

“I’ll be right here, darling.” And he meant it.

From the corner of his eye, a shark out of water. Prowling.

tags. @ughbehavior, @streetlight-s, @cb97percent, @j-0ne25, @danyxthirstae01, @lix-ables, @koorminii, @choinsaw.

a/n. literally no one asked for this to be so long, and yet it is and i’m so sorry. i do hope you still give it a chance, since i worked quite hard on it. i left it as an open ending, in case i want to add a second chapter to it, but as it stands, the story is finished. hope you like it, and as always, thank you for reading lovelies! 💕