#Changmin fics

[biaswreckingfics]

hi there & congratulations on hitting 3k!!! 🥳🎊🎉 you truly deserved it for being one of the best amazing writers i’ve come across so far ☺️

for the request, may i ask if you could write a scenario for ji changmin, with the song Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic being the inspiration behind the story ><

😭😭😭 thank you so much??? ❤️❤️❤️ I hope you enjoy this or that it's somewhat along the lines of what you're looking for!!

Changmin + Angst

Song Inspiration: Heaven and Back by Chase Atlantic

TW: addiction, substance abuse

The high comes down much quicker than you'd like. The feelings and sensations of existing in the real world start to tingle along your nerve endings. With a sigh, you lean your head back against the bathroom cupboard and close your eyes. While the cold tile underneath you starts to form, you feel wetness on your cheek.

Bringing your hand up to your face, you pull it away to discover that you're crying. Dropping your hand on the floor, you don't hear the front door opening or the subsequent calling of your name. You're too focused on the fact that you've self-sabotaged. Again.

No matter how much you say you don't want to keep doing this, you find that you can't stop. Chasing that amazing high is always too alluring. It's too desirable, and that's one of the many things that scares you.

A figure emerges in the bathroom doorway and you squint your eyes to try and make it out. When you do, you see Changmin looking down at you with sorrowful eyes. This is another thing you hate. You've let him down. Again.

"I want to stop," you mumble, not sure if it's coherent.

He gets down on the floor next to you and grabs your hand, holding it tightly. When his cracking voice penetrates your brain, the tears flow a little harder.

"Please… Please, get some help." His voice is begging, pleading. "I can't keep watching you do this to yourself. It hurts too much."

"Help me," you cry. The thought of hurting him is almost unbearable to you. He's the last person you want to hurt. "I don't know how to stop…"

He pulls you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin. "We'll get through this. I'll find someone that can help us."

[daisyvisions]

Forget About It - (j.cm)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Pairing: ex’s rival!Changmin x afab!reader

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Summary: After spotting your ex at a party, all you wanted to do was forget about him. And thank god Changmin is there to help you do just that.

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word Count: 2.7K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), acquaintances to lovers, oral (f! receiving), face sitting / face riding, cum eating, dry humping, groping, panty sniffing, mentions of alcohol and drinking, mentions of male masturbation, mentions of cheating (but not reader or Changmin), use of weed (smoking and shotgunning), cumming in pants, pet names (sweetheart, good girl), cocky Changmin (but a hot one), reader is sad and Changmin is here to make it all better 😘

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: Belated happy birthday to our best boy kyu! Had the idea in mind before his bday but my brain decided to shut off so I'm happy that I got the chance to finally write this out! Proofread two times (loosely). Not me thinking about Kevin saying "Forget about it" 😭 anyway! Enjoy 💕

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Network & Tag: @deoboyznet

Out of all the things that could’ve ruined your night, it just had to be spotting your ex and the girl you caught him cheating with enter the party.

‘What the hell are they doing here?’ You thought to yourself as you nearly crushed the red plastic cup in your hands leaning against the wall. You didn’t even notice ten minutes had passed just mentally throwing daggers at them from across the room.

It had been just nearly six months since the breakup, a decent amount of time for you to move on from the heartbreak. But all you could feel was the deep ache in your chest as you watched them hold hands from afar, looking at each other like two fools in love. The look he never gave you.

And suddenly, all the bad memories from that time started flashing in your mind. Especially the day of the breakup when you had discovered the pair having sex in his room when you dropped by unannounced to surprise him. You wince at memory of their shared moans being heard from behind the door.

You always knew there was something fishy about their “friendship”. You were just too in denial to think otherwise.

You were starting to feel dizzy, mainly for drinking a little too much tonight but also just seeing them together and happy. So you decide to run upstairs to the guest bathroom, lock the door, and twist the faucet to splash cool water on your face and nape. You breathe slowly and deeply as you lean against the bathroom counter.

“A knock would’ve been nice.” The voice echoing behind startles you, making your body jolt as you let out a light gasp.

As soon as you look through the mirror in front you, you see Changmin’s fully clothed figure lying inside the bathtub, deeply inhaling a blunt before letting out the smoke from his mouth up in the air.

“S-sorry…” You reply as you turn around to meet his gaze.

You knew Changmin. Had the same friends as you, usually at the same events too. You’ve talked here and there long ago, that is until you started dating your ex and he was always insistent on reminding you to stay away from him.

You never understood why, but of course you did anything to keep your ex happy by listening to whatever he told you to do.

There’s an awkward pause between you too as his eyes scan you from head to toe, noticing your disheveled appearance and heavy aura.

“Need some help there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” You shake your head as you try to compose yourself.

“If you say so.” He shrugs before taking another puff, tilting his head up to the ceiling to exhale. Your breath hitches with the way he looks as the cloud of smoke slowly escapes his lips, making smoking appear attractive to you for a moment.

“I too would be pissed as fuck seeing my cheating ex in a party.” Changmin utters out as he stares at the ceiling.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “How did you-”

“You look like you wanted to strangle them from across the room.” He smirks.

“Oh… you saw that?” You feel your cheeks growing warm from feeling embarrassed. He nods at you in response.

“Want a puff? You look like you could use it.” He reaches his hand out with the blunt between his fingers.

“Oh uh. I don’t know how-” You look down as you try to hide your embarrassment from him.

“Hmm… If that’s the case then c’mere.” He motions you with his other hand.

Changmin adjusts himself to sit upright as you walk over to kneel beside him.

“Okay, I’m gonna take a puff then blow the smoke into your mouth. Cool?” He looks into your eyes as he takes the end of the blunt between his lips and starts inhaling slowly.

“Y-yeah. Sure.” You stutter as you nearly squirm in your spot. The thought of his face being close to yours making you feel all shy suddenly.

Changmin leans over the bathtub, his hand gently holding your cheeks together with one hand to slowly open your jaw. He leans closer to your face, keeping eye contact with you as he blows the smoke inside your mouth.

You try hold back the small whimper forming in your throat. His natural confidence making your heart flutter and the scent of his cologne making you feel lightheaded.

“All better?” He whispers as this thumb strokes your cheek.

You slowly nod in response, earning you small chuckle from Changmin before pulling away from you and lean his back against the tub once more.

“…Do you think I could hang out here for a while?” Your voice almost comes out as a whisper. “Not in the mood to bump into them anytime soon.”

Changmin’s heart slightly aches with the way your sad doe-eyes look at him. He wish he could do something right now that would help you forget everything your ex did to you.

He nods and swings his legs over the bathtub to make room for you beside him. He lends out his hand for you to grab as you get up and climb inside, sliding down to sit as you prop your legs over the bathtub as well.

You lean your head back and close your eyes for a moment, the muffled music behind the door playing as you control the pattern of your breathing.

“You know-” You turn your head and open your eyes to look at Changmin as soon as he speaks.

“It’s a shame what you ex did. Wanted to punch him in the face as soon as I heard the news.”

“Don’t you always want to punch him though?” You slightly smile, remembering that Changmin and your ex hated each other’s guts.

“Yeah well, even more so because he hurt you like that.” He turns his head to face you.

“You suddenly care about me Min?” You jokingly ask.

“Always have sweetheart.” He smiles back.

You feel your cheeks getting hot as you catch his eyes quickly flicking down at your lips. His Adam’s apple bobbing as he slowly swallows and soaks in every feature on your face, committing it to memory.

“I never understood why my ex would tell me to stay away from you.” You whisper back trying to break the tension.

“Yeah? What would he say about me?” He leans his head on the side of the bathtub, eager to know what you’ve been told.

“Many bad things.” You chuckle. “Like you’re a cheater, you don’t treat women right, you’re an A-class douchebag, the list goes on.”

“Kinda sounds like he was describing himself don’t you think?”

“Now that you mention it-” you both laugh with each other.

“And… Did you believe any of it?” Changmin looks directly into your eyes.

“N-no…” You whisper, not realizing your body is leaning closer to his.

“Good… Good girl.” His voice goes an octave lower as he brushes the loose hair from your face and tucks it behind your ear.

You feel your whole body is on fire. You’ve never had someone have this kind of effect on you, not even your ex when he was being incredibly flirty. The kind that just sends electric waves through your system, raging butterflies in your stomach, and not to mention the growing heat between your legs.

You try to subtly press your thighs together, attempting to relieve the throbbing ache in your core. But this little movement goes unnoticed by Changmin. He smirks to himself, amused with how reactive you are with him.

“I can make you forget about him-” Changmin suddenly speaks.

“W-what?” Your eyes widen at his vague choice of words.

“Just-” Changmin gently lays his hand on your thigh, slowly rubbing it up and down on your exposed skin. His touch making your core pulse harder than ever.

“-Let me help you forget. Do you wanna forget about him?” He reaches for your chin with his other hand and strokes your bottom lip with his finger, making you lightly gasp.

“P-please…” You whimper.

As soon as utter that one word, Changmin immediately presses his lips against yours. You’ve never felt such hunger in a kiss before, but it was something you wanted to always feel from now on. You kiss him back with the same level of hunger, focusing on how his lips move with yours.

And before you know it, you both move in sync swinging your legs back inside the bathtub. His eager hands holding you by your hips as you climb on top and straddle him. Both your bodies feeling the slight ache of the bathtub’s hard structure pressing but you don’t pay it mind.

His hands sneak under your skirt, placing them on your ass as you wrap your arms around his neck. You deepen the kiss further and smoothly insert your tongue inside his mouth.

Changmin groans at the feeling, squeezing your ass in his hands before mindlessly dragging your hips back and forth again this growing bulge. You moan into his mouth, the friction of his jeans rubbing against your throbbing bud making you so wet you’re sure you’re gonna leave a stain on him after this.

But Changmin would wear that stain proudly he thinks to himself. Any mark you would leave on him tonight he would wear it with pride. Truth be told, he had always found you so beautiful. The way his heart would beat faster every time he would see you, wishing one day that you’d notice him.

So to have you here on top of his lap, kissing him like this with your hands in his hair was more than he could ever wish for. Thank god the weed in his system gave him a bit of confidence to just play whatever cards he had with you tonight. And he was gonna play all of them as much as he could just to have you close to him for as long as he can.

“Wait-“ Changmin mumbles against your lips as he tries to pull away from you.

The way your eyes looked blown out and the sheen of saliva coating your lips was enough to have his cock stirring in his jeans.

“Is there something wrong?” Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“What- No! Nothing could ever be wrong. Just- fuck-“ Now it was Changmin’s turn to stutter.

“Want you to sit on my face” he says so boldly.

“I-uh…are you sure? It’s just that-” You try to look away from his lustful gaze.

“Just what?” He holds up you chin to look at you.

“I’ve never been… You know…”

“Wait… you’ve never been eaten out before?” Changmin’s eyebrows raise.

“Please don’t laugh-“ you cover your face with your hands, embarrassed by your sudden confession. But Changmin holds your wrists pulls your hands away from your face.

“Oh sweetheart…” He strokes your cheek gently.

“I’d be honored to be the first one… Will you let me?” He asks with the most gentle voice. You nod in response.

“Stand up a bit.” As Changmin helps you get off his lap his hands go under your skirt to pull down your underwear, pocketing it for himself at the back of his jeans. He slides down his whole body, his back now fully laid against the floor of the bathtub. You could feel just how wet you’ve become with the cool air hitting your exposed cunt.

You adjust yourself and step over him, positioning your core right above his face before slowly kneeling down. Just as he was about to close his eyes and wait for you to sit on him you stop, leaving a gap between his mouth and your sweet sweet pussy. He could sense your nervousness already.

“Let me show you why he told you to stay away from me-”

Before you even get the chance to reply, Changmin hooks his arms around your thighs and presses you down against his face.

He immediately starts kissing your pussy lips before lapping at your cunt, the feeling of his tongue running through your folds and flicking your throbbing clit before taking it into his mouth and sucking on the bud.

Words are suddenly caught up in your throat as you let out whines and moans. You never thought being eaten out would feel so fucking good.

Your hand instantly finds it place on Changmin’s head, grabbing his short hair in attempt to keeping yourself balanced over him as other hand leans on the ledge of the bathtub. But the vibrations of his groan against your core as you pull on his hair makes it harder for you to keep your composure.

And somehow, best part about this is you can’t even see how Changmin is eating you out since your skirt is covering his face. Being unable to visually see his tongue licking between your folds as his nose nudges your clit heightens the sensation even further.

“Mmm so fucking sweet-” Changmin mumbles under you.

And Changmin is living his best life right now. He can’t believe your ex never did this to you and that he gets the honor of being the first one. He can feel how strained his cock is against his jeans as he continues on.

It doesn’t help that not only do you taste so good, but the pretty moans you give him are just as sweet. And if by some weird turn of events he ended up dying tonight, he would gladly die smothered between your legs.

“Feels so good…” You whine.

Your moans start to get louder and a bit more slurred, signaling to him that you’re close to reaching your high. And without warning, Changmin holds your hips down and grinds your cunt against his mouth.

“Shi- wait, Changmin I might cu-ugh!”

You yelp in surprise, both hands pulling his hair as you feel the knot in your stomach tightening further. The sounds of slurping and his grunting pushing you to the edge of ecstasy.

Your high hits you like a flash of lightning, making you involuntarily close your thighs together, squeezing Changmin’s face as your body squirms from the overstimulation. You hear Changmin moaning against your cunt as his hips involuntarily lift, indicating that he also reached his own high.

It’s the way your body convulsed as you orgasmed that made him explode in his jeans, the way your thighs squeezed his head had him nearly fainting from how hot that felt.

Oh he’s definitely replaying this moment in his mind from now on whenever he jerks off.

As soon as you’ve both calmed down from your highs you help each other freshen up, fixing each other’s appearances before heading out of the bathroom.

“You’ve got a little something there-” You point at the liquid at corner of his mouth, instantly knowing that it was a leftover smear of your essence on his face.

Changmin swipes it with his pinky, quickly examining it before sucking on his digit. Humming at the sweet taste of you as he keeps eye contact. He pulls you close by the waist, making you gasp as he leaves a small kiss on your lips.

“Wanna get out of here?” He whispers. You also give him a small kiss and smile, biting your lower lip as you nod in response. “Meet me outside okay? Lemme just freshen up a bit more.”

“Okay. See you outside-” You kiss his cheek before leaving the bathroom.

Changmin stays inside for five more minutes before heading out. As soon as he opens the door, he’s met with the face of your ex.

“Oh! What a pleasant surprise. Was wondering when I would be able to talk to you again-” Changmin smiles.

“About what exactly?” Your ex gives him an irritated look.

“About how sweet your girl actually is. Sorry, your ex-girl.” Changmin pulls out your underwear from his pocket and deeply inhales the wet patch left in front of your ex, staring into his eyes with a smirk on his face. Your ex’s eyes bulge out, knowing exactly what Changmin was implying.

“And by the way…” Changmin steps closer to your ex and leans close to his ear to whisper,

“She tasted absolutely divine. Not that you would know of course.”

[haespoir]

texts w/ boyfriend!hyuck

my silly, goofy boy… i adore him 🫶

[sohnric]

partners in crime – j. changmin

after a series of unpredictable events, you and ji changmin, the foster kid with a shady reputation, become partners in crime. in a world where every choice has a consequence, you two must decide how far you're willing to go as you balance on the edge of danger with the promise of a better life.

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: criminals au. coming of age, slice of life. angst, hurt/comfort. thief! changmin. partners in crime au (duh). slight high school au. inspired by a real case of robbery in a jewelry store here lmao. also loosely inspired by the kdrama extracurricular!

wc: 33k (33.689)

warnings: mentions of alcoholism and juvenile behavior, swearing, changmin's character is a little inconsistent at first. changmin is a foster child, dysfunctional families, financial issues, yn's father is absent. mentions of minors going on dates with older men, a man trying to take advantage of the reader, a physical fight (with the use of a knife), fake gun, robbery and that should be it...?

playlist || teaser || ao3

a/n: i had worked on this fic since december and only finished it at the beginning of may i am so glad it's finally out TT thank you SO much to my best friend @csenke for beta reading this, your comments were what made me feel more secure about this fic to actually post it. i know it's a lot of work and i appreciate you<3 i always wanted to write a fic like this and it's finally here, i hope yall like it hihi taglist: @songchan @luumiinaa

One of the police officers drags you up from the chair by your shoulder, urging you to move outside of the room. The one that’s been sitting opposite of you smiles sadly at you– something akin to sympathy, but not enough to really get through and hit your core– while the other one opens the door and shoves you down to sit at the plastic chair outside of the office. His movements are more stern and strong, tone of voice more stingy when he talks to you– it’s not hard to differentiate which one of them has kids at home, which one knows the tired eyes of a teenager more.

“Wait here until your mother picks you up,” the officer says, a stone cold look making you shiver.

“She doesn’t know that I’m here. You called her and she didn’t pick up, so–”

“I don’t care, young lady. Either your mother comes to pick you up, or you stay here forever, for all I care,” he mutters, sending you another one of his sharp looks before he turns around and disappears back into the room you came from, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud. 

Figure jumping at the sudden noise, you settle deeper into the uncomfortable chair. Christmas will come earlier than your mother, and that’s a lot to say, since it’s March– and it seems that nobody really cares if you stay here forever. It’s not surprising, actually. Not at all. You don’t know what you were thinking anyway, but hey– desperate times call for desperate measures, and you had no other way of going around the situation. You don’t regret trying. You just regret getting caught.

Head resting against the hard wall, intending to rest your eyes closed and maybe take a nap before a miracle happens and your mother somehow starts caring and appears on the doorstep of the police, your orbs are met with another pair sitting opposite of you, silently watching the previous exchange. The intensity of his gaze almost makes you jump in surprise again, only relaxing when you recognise the owner of the dark chocolate irises and visibly shudder, embarrassment creeping up your neck. 

It’s not every day you meet a guy from your school at a police station. Well, it’s not every day you end up at the police station, but being caught by someone who is aware of your existence makes this whole encounter even more uncomfortable.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Ji Changmin chirps, something akin to an amused smirk appearing on his face. His composure is light. He seems to be comfortable with the situation– well, as much as you can read from his blood-smeared face– and you start to wonder how and why your silent classmate from English class would end up at the police station, with a cut on his lip, a bruise on his upper jaw and scraped knuckles on full display, as he rests his intertwined hands in his lap.

“Could say the same about you,” you shrug, biting back at him. 

“Oh please,” he snickers, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’m a regular here.”

The sentence catches you off guard. It’s not every day you meet a guy from school at a police station, but considering his words, it seems like you would meet him here every day, only if you were dragged here by rough hands of a police officer as often as he has.

“Oh,” you gasp, not really knowing how to react to such a confession, “good… to know…?” you mumble, nodding to prove your point.

You expect the conversation to die down– you don’t really know what to talk about with someone you barely know at the most unusual place you could imagine for a conversation. Ji Changmin is one of the classmates you’ve never talked to before, but would say hi to when passing them by on the street. He seems polite and easy-going enough to not feel uncomfortable with when left alone in a closed space together, but aloof enough to not have many friends himself. You barely know anything about him– apart from his marks in the one class you share, since you are often chosen to be the one to hand out graded tests at the beginning of English– and you don’t expect things to change just because you met him in unfortunate circumstances.

At least you know this won’t get out in any way. Not like you have any reputation to withhold in the first place– you’d just hate to have the reputation of someone being chased around by the police. Trying hard to find the light in the things, you thank all higher forces that out of everyone, the one classmate that could witness all of this is the guy with seemingly no friends to tell.

Changmin seems to have different plans, though. For someone that isn’t interested in making bonds with people, he seems to be interested in casual talk with you.

Well, if you could call this casual.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “they always let the kid from the foster house get away with it. They blame it on the trauma, or something, make me sign some papers and then someone comes to pick me up and the cycle repeats itself over and over again.”

The information catches you off guard. Truth be told, you didn’t know that about Changmin– you doubt anyone from school really knows, except for the teachers, and the sudden confession makes you hesitant. You don’t really know why he’s telling you this. If you were in his position, you’re sure you wouldn’t. It seems like everyone has a different measure for what’s appropriate to tell someone you barely know, though, and Changmin seems to enjoy the weird intimacy of the quiet police station enough to dump this information on you.

“Oh…” you say, chewing on the inside of your cheek. Not wanting him to think you’re distressed with the information, disturbed, even, you try hard to think of a conversation topic to discuss with him. “What… what did you do this time, then?” you ask, mentally slapping yourself for being so awkward.

“Tried to pickpocket someone on the street,” he says, chuckling to himself. His eyes move to his bruised hands, shrugging. “Seems like I picked a bad victim. See, he had this fancy watch, so I saw him as a jackpot, but then he swung at me and… here I go,” he says, laughing as if it was a funny story.

He must be a regular here. He is too comfortable with being arrested to not be.

“That’s… unfortunate,” you hum, watching as the boy in front of you shrugs, eyes curious as they land on yours.

“It is… I could buy so much with that money,” he sighs, shaking his head, “what about you, though? How did you end up here?”

“Oh, uhm…” you gasp, scratching the back of your neck, suddenly a little shameful to admit it once you’re asked, “I… I tried to steal something and I was caught by the store owner, so he called the police on me…” you tightly smile, hoping to seem nonchalant.

“Shoplifting?” Changmin chuckles. “What did you want to steal? Designer clothes, or something?” he snickers, obviously mocking you. And it’s valid– you are a teenage girl, after all. You seem to have everything you need in your life, but that’s only because you don’t let anyone even suspect that there is something wrong. To an outsider's eye, they might think there is nothing more you could need to be happy if not designer clothes or jewelry. It’s what most teenage girls get caught stealing– you guess he’s not wrong for making such a guess.

Still, you feel a bit hurt at seeming so vain. Locking eyes with the boy, you shrug. If he’s going to share every small detail of his life with you in the comfort of the walls of the police station, you guess you can unveil at least something to him, desperate to make him feel ashamed for assuming.

“No, actually,” you say, the tone of voice suddenly calm and collected, “I was stealing groceries.”

And it finally seems to down on him– because if you try to steal something, it means you’re lacking it, right? Why would you steal something you can easily buy?

That’s right– you wouldn’t.

Changmin’s eyes soften with the realization, his mouth opening to say something– anything– before he’s cut off by the door to one of the offices opening, the kinder one of the policemen approaching you with a solemn look in his eye, leaning towards you to talk quietly into your ear.

“You can go home now, okay? We’ll let you off with a warning this time,” he says, smiling at you. 

“But my mother–”

“Just go.”

You guess the object you’re stealing makes a difference in the way you’re treated at the police station. Also, you guess it’s good that people still have sympathy.

Usually, you hate the sad looks from people that are aware. This time, you leave the police station comforted, happy to know that you still have a future without a criminal record.

You’ll have to be more careful next time.

Eyes catching the glimmer of the silver chain in between your fingers, you press your skin into the metal and drag your nail over the stones in the pedant. You watch over the glass vitrines situated all around the store, various different shades of gold and silver staring back at you, almost laughing to your face with the prize tags slapped onto them, showing prices worth more than your groceries for the month. 

Contemplating your next decision, looking behind your shoulder to catch the security camera watching you, you think over your next steps. Angling your body so that it’s shielding what you’re doing with your hands, you gently take out the drawer that you’ve taken the silver chain out of, pretending to put the jewelry back where you got it from.

Your movements are careful, calculated. You’ve rethought this plan over and over again, birthed in your mind the moment you saw the sign ‘hiring’ on the glass door of the fancy jewelry store in the town center– made adjustments to it, tweaked it around and tried your hardest to make a good impression on your boss so she wouldn’t suspect anything– but now that you’re actually in front of the important part, the one that’s supposed to help you the most in your hunt for money, you can’t really bring yourself to do it.

Who knows. Maybe you could just keep the job– you don’t make much, though, considering you only work part-time. With the way your shifts are scheduled and the amount of time you have to put into working, you don’t really see the jewelry store as a good source of income– you are barely home and have time for anything. 

And it’s not the kind of money you need. Not at all.

Sighing to yourself, you shake your head to clear it off all thoughts– it’s time to do it. You can be sneaky. You can be uncaught. You just have to put your head to it.

Fingers shaking, you move the chain towards the front pocket of your jeans, ready to hide it in there and then sell it in the pawn shop a few weeks later to not raise much suspicion– when the sound of the front door opening brings you out of your thoughts, making you jump in surprise. Eyes snapping to the customer entering the store, you get ready to sport the kindest, warmest smile you can– to seem innocent and not at all suspicious. However, the grin stops growing mid-way as you recognise the appearance of the customer, smile freezing and turning into a concerned frown. 

This is not how you’d expect a customer of a fancy jewelry store to look.

The person is dressed in black, skinny jeans adorning their thighs, the hood of their jacket pulled over their head and a mask covering the bottom half of their face. Before you get a chance to dwell on it any further, they take out a gun– and they point it to your face.

There’s a moment in time where you feel like everything freezes. A moment in time where you just stare the gun into its eyes and wait for the person to shoot you, a moment in time where you can’t even think. Your brain clears, the only thought present at the tip of your tongue being– this is not how I imagined to go.

Your hands start shaking as you put them above your head, pupils dilating in terror. You guess this is something you should’ve expected when taking the job in an expensive jewelry store, but even though you’re aware a situation like this could exist in your timeline, you don’t really expect it. It’s like that with all bad things in life– you keep telling yourself that there’s no way something like that would happen to a person like you.

There’s no way your father would leave. There’s no way your mother’s world would crumble. There’s no way you’ll be left in charge of everything. There’s no way you’ll have to be the one to steal groceries because you can’t afford to buy food to put into your sister’s mouth. 

There’s no way a man would pull out a gun on you in the middle of your shift.

And yet, it happened. Everything.

In a moment of absolute terror, though, it feels like the world starts spinning again and the force clutching your chest relaxes a little when you stare into the man’s eyes. 

Strange, isn’t it?

There’s a sense of familiarity in his gaze. Something mirroring a weird kind of surprise, a weird kind of recognition. A million different thoughts flow through your brain, eyes scanning his figure– the skin of his hands as he grips the gun that you now recognise to be one of the kinds you use when you play airsoft, not a real one– the lean posture of his figure, but most importantly, the spark in his dark orbs that somehow invites you to do everything he tells you to. Not because he’d kill you if you don’t– but because somehow, you know this might be of gain for you.

Trying hard to play out your previous panic, riding off the erratic heartbeat in your chest, you walk over to the cash register and open the drawer. Eyes meeting with the intruder, you precisely take out the bills stacked in the register, throwing them on the counter in a careless, yet seemingly nervous manner. 

“The jewelry,” he mumbles, pointing towards the vitrines with his chin, waiting for you to obey his words. 

It doesn’t take you much to take out the drawers full of silver and gold, letting the man take whatever he pleases, his bag filled with expensive chains and rings, all while he keeps the gun on you to get the full effect. 

You could be given an Oscar for how good your acting performance was in this very moment.

Your eyes lock in another meaningful gaze, one that suggests that all cards are on the table now and you share a secret you will never be able to shake off, before he disappears out of the store into the dark. Acting stunned for the camera, you only reach for the phone when you’re certain he’s far enough to not be caught, dialing 911 and telling the line all about the robbery.

Ji Changmin chose the bad jewelry store to rob.

Or maybe, he chose the best one he could.

You find him sitting on one of the tables with built-in benches at the corner of the school yard, alone and seemingly lost in thought. His eyes are dark, deep as the ocean, the black bangs falling into his eyes only helping more with pushing his mysterious appearance. The tie around his neck is a little loose, since Changmin was never the believer of wearing your school uniform properly, and when you approach him, he barely notices your presence. 

Clearing your throat, you finally catch his attention. The male stares up at you, raising his eyebrows in question, as if to ask you what you want from him. And it’s valid– as you’ve never been the one to talk to him first, since he was the self-believed outcast in the school (and self-preserved too, since he never really made any attempts at connecting with others) – but you think that after your recent encounter, you reaching out to him is not something that shall surprise the boy. More so, he should’ve expected it.

“Changmin,” you hum, as if to tell him that he should be the one to talk to you first, the one to bring up the matter. If you really think about it, he should apologize. If not for making you lose your job (which was mostly your fault, because you didn’t make the attempt to call the police on the thief fast enough), then for the emotional damage and very obvious trauma his little play could’ve cost you, had you not recognised him and the fake gun aimed towards your forehead.

“Y/N,” he smiles, the tug of his lips almost looking ironical. He looks like the Cheshire cat, mischief almost reeking of him as he pats the place next to him on the table, legs resting on top of the bench crossed, showing his casualty. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says, and with that, you know he sees right through you.

He knows damn well why you came. Hell, it would be weird if he didn’t. He also knew that you’d come crawling to him first, almost taking advantage of the fact that he has the upper hand on you with knowing the information you confided him with at the police station. No person that steals groceries is a millionaire, after all. Only someone who desperately needs the money goes ahead and steals something so trivial. 

Maybe it's a bit of an asshole move from Changmin, if you really think about it. You let him get away with it, and now, he’s pretending like you owe him one, not the other way around.

“What do I owe the pleasure to?” he asks, tone of voice laced with irony. He is almost a little too lighthearted for someone who robbed a jewelry store just three days prior, and it suddenly makes you wonder if he’s done this before. How often does a boy like him just run around town and steals things from big corporations? You’re all for the eat the rich agenda– it’s just a little weird to think about how skilled Ji Changmin looked in the act. How calm he was. As if he’s done stuff like this before. As if he was an expert.

Was this his hobby? A way to pass time?

“Cut it out, Changmin,” you grunt, tugging the edge of your skirt down as you sit on the table next to him, covering your thighs, “you know why I’m here.”

“I’m afraid I have no idea,” he hums, pursing his lips and acting out a perfectly staged face of surprise. If you could punch him in the face right now, you’d do it. You didn’t notice the boy to be so smug back at the police station– maybe it was your own distress shielding your judgment. 

“Come on,” you roll your eyes, sighing. “I didn’t let you off just to have you laugh in my face about it. Where’s my cut?” you ask, feeling a little impatient at this point.

“Your cut?” he asks, chuckling. “I wasn’t aware you were the one doing the dirty job, you know. All you did was let me off because you were scared–”

“Of your airsoft gun? Mhm, you are so correct,” you cut him off, noticing his face spread into one of irritation. A crease appears in the middle of his eyebrows at your reaction, his jaw hardening when he sees the annoyance in your eyes. You don’t know what he was thinking– that you’re just gonna leave him off with all the money? He couldn’t be that stupid, could he?

“Look, it was me who did the work, so I don’t understand why you would think that you get a cut,” he shrugs, crossing his arms at his chest. 

“You do understand that I can just walk up to the police station and tell them that it was you?” you say, suddenly turning stone cold and serious. You thought yours and Changmin's little secret could do you something good– now it seems that you were wrong. “They wouldn’t bat an eye before sending you to jail, I bet. They have hoards of evidence of your past criminal behavior, but I don’t think they could overlook this one–”

“Now, don’t get all threatening on me, sweetheart,” he grunts, kissing his teeth. “There’s no reason to get all defensive–”

“Oh really!” you exclaim, catching the male off guard as you stand up from your seat, suddenly too heated to be in his presence. “I do believe that I have all the right to get defensive, though! You know damn well I didn’t do this so you can run with the money and spend it on fuckall! Because guess what, Changmin– I did this to get something out of it. Not everyone gets to go around and do stupid shit for fun, so you best believe that when I basically became an accomplice to your crime, it wasn’t just for shits and giggles.”

The male opens his mouth to reply to you, but before he gets a chance to do so, you continue, running your hand through your hair. “And if you think that I steal groceries for fun, then you’re terribly wrong. So if you don’t let me take the part of money I rightfully deserve by basically dropping the hundred dollars worth of jewelry right into your grabby hands so I can survive for the next few days, you best believe I will do something about it.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of you, the only thing heard around being the chirping of the birds and the sound of the wind hitting your eardrums. Your hair gets in your face from the strength of the breeze, the fabric of your school uniform’s skirt ruffling against your thighs. It’s like the world stopped, something behind Changmin’s eyes changing at seeing your obvious distress. You’re really starting to think this was all a game for the boy. Something to pass the time– something to occupy his bored mind with.

He doesn’t reply to you even after a few seconds, though, which makes you even more mad. The anger is tinted with disappointment and fury as you turn around and shuffle your feet through the school yard, accompanied by the sound of the school bell in the distance announcing your next period. You’re ready to leave the boy there, already thinking of all ways you could go around telling the authorities without ratting yourself out in the process too.

Suddenly, something comes into contact with your wrist, pulling you back. Your legs stumble a bit, but you manage to stand your ground and throw daggers with your eyes at Changmin still holding you in your place. “Let me go–”

“Look–”

“I have class, Changmin,” you grunt, attempting to take your hand out of his grasp, but failing. His hold is firm. Unpainful, but strong. It makes you annoyed.

“Will you listen to me for just a second? Gosh,” he rolls his eyes, dropping your hand as if it was poisoned, shaking his head at your antics. You stare at him with raised eyebrows, waiting for what he has to say after having the opportunity to speak before, but ignoring it altogether and leaving you with the cold shoulder. Did he change his mind in that split second you showed him your back? Did he realize you were serious with your threats?

“Of course I’m gonna give you the cut,” he grunts, scoffing. “What do you think I am? I was just keeping it for some leverage.”

The question sounds a bit ironical out of his mouth, since he spent the last couple of minutes trying to convince you that you have no part in his little robbery and that you have no right for the money he gained from it. The other half of his statement makes you intrigued, though. Not in a good way– just in a way that makes you wonder what the fuck he was talking about.

“Leverage?” you ask, squinting at him in question.

“Well,” he starts, staring at the sky for a split second, as if collecting his thoughts into coherent sentences. Scrambling for something in the back pocket of his pants, he takes out an envelope seemingly filled with cash he’s gained, offering it to you, but retracting his hand as soon as you start reaching for it. “Let’s say I have a bit of a plan for us two. A plan to make even more than this,” he says, pointing towards the envelope.

Squinting at the male, you scoff. As if you would ever agree to something so reckless. If this interaction with Ji Changmin taught you anything, it’s that the boy is not to be trusted. You can’t read him. You can’t tell when he’s joking or when he’s serious, you can’t tell if he’s going to save you or throw you under the bus the moment he has a chance to. And if his plan is anything similar to the ways he’s shown himself to you before, you’re fairly certain that you want nothing to do with his endeavors.

“Yeah, no, thank you,” you say, snatching the envelope from his hand and turning on your heel, ready to leave before he changes his mind again and takes what’s rightfully yours out of your grasp, like the thief he seemingly is.

“Think it over, Y/N. You said you need the money,” he calls after you, not making a move from his previous spot in the corner of the yard. His words sting you a bit, but you guess he’s not wrong– no matter how embarrassed or ashamed you feel of the situation. The outside of the school is completely empty now, everyone back to their classrooms waiting for the lectures to start, letting his words resonate in the stranded field. “I think we could make a very good team.”

Not looking back, you walk through the grass, taking a look at the amount in the envelope. You don’t know the exact ratio he split the money into, since you don’t really know how much he earned after selling everything at the pawn shop, but it’s more than you expected. 

More than you would’ve made with your initial plan.

Still– you want nothing to do with Ji Changmin. This only happened once, and you’ll make sure it never happens again. Associating yourself with someone like him will do you more bad than good in the future, and that’s something you really can’t afford right now. 

No matter how hard he tries to persuade you, you two will never be a part of the same plan.

Lunch breaks are almost always spent alone lately. Or at least that’s how it’s been in the last few months, the last few years. It’s not like you don’t have any friends or acquaintances to spend them with– you’re not that antisocial– it’s just a lot easier to mask the fact that you have no food to put into your mouth when nobody pays attention to whether you eat or not.

The last amount of money you could afford to spend was pressed into the palm of your younger sister when you walked her to school today. There was no way for you to buy something at the canteen, and the last groceries that were edible were eaten last night. There was no way you could satisfy your hunger during the lunch break today, and to spare being embarrassed by the fact that you are barely holding your life together (since you’re 17 and taking care of everything), you decide to spend the few minutes in between classes in the school yard, sitting in the grass at the far corner of the school property.

Your eyes are pressed into your notebook, scribbling away as you try to pass time and ignore the pain in your stomach, chewing on the inside of your cheek in a bad attempt at focusing onto something else. When the sketch of the tree to your right turns out badly the third time in a row, you sigh and scribble all over the little drawing, wanting to see no more of it, wanting it to disappear. The very moment the tip of your pen lifts off the paper, something falls into your lap, the sound of a plastic bag rustling in the wind making you jolt in surprise.

Taking the item into your hand, you notice the sandwich wrapped in a tissue paper staring back at you, as if you wished it to existence and it fell into your lap from the sky with the sheer impact of your thinking. After more consideration, though, you look around and find a raven haired boy looking down at you, an indifferent look adorning his face.

“Changmin,” you hum, acknowledging his presence.

“Y/N,” he nods, taking a seat next to you on the grass, completely uninvited. His invasion of your personal space makes you sigh, but his gesture makes you even more frustrated. Pointing towards the sandwich he threw into your lap, you ask.

“What is this?”

“A sandwich,” he shrugs, “I bought extra, we can share.”

A heartbeat passes of you and him having a staring contest, something inside of you turning bitter at the otherwise nice gesture. Is he making fun of you? Or does he pity you?

You hate both alternatives– you almost can’t decide which one you despise more.

“Look, Changmin,” you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief, “I don’t know what the fuck you’re trying to do right now, but I am not your charity case. Just because you know I’m too poor to buy my own lunch, it doesn’t mean you can humiliate me and do it for me,” you grunt, throwing the sandwich back into his grip. He catches it with no trouble, fast reflexes working on full time.

“I didn’t get it to humiliate you,” he says, rolling his eyes at your antics. It seems to be hard for you to accept actions of service from people– and Changmin somehow understands. He’s been through it with people around him his whole life. They show him any kind of kindness or pity for the fact that his parents decided he wasn’t good enough to keep and threw him into the adoption system, and Changmin feels himself crawling out of his skin. He doesn’t need pity. He hates the considerate looks.

But after years of living that way, he learned to use those instances for his advantage. There’s no excuse as useful to getting him out of trouble as “I’m sorry, I live in a foster home.”

“Yeah? Then why did you?”

Changmin sighs, closing his eyes and paying more thought to how he’s going to reply to you. Speaking with you feels like working with a wild animal– any bad step could shoo you away, or make you attack. He doesn’t want either of those options. Actually, he wants something completely else. “It’s a bribe, really,” he shrugs, watching you and waiting for your reaction.

“A bribe?” you scoff, your chuckle almost sounding amused. “I already told you I want nothing to do with your plan, so you can take your stupid sandwich and fuck off.”

“I’m persistent when I want to be,” he just replies, watching you with an unmoving expression.

Ignoring his antics– as if to test how persistent he really can be– you point your eyes back towards your notebook, scribbling random lines and shapes into the thin paper. There’s only so much silence he can bear before he realizes you won’t pay him a minute of your time, you think, but the more you scribble away and the more the birds around you chirp and the distant voices of kids enjoying their lunch break preserve, the less confident you are in your assumption. Ji Changmin is a strange individual.

“Look, we don’t have to lie to ourselves now, Y/L/N. You know shit about me that could get me to jail, and I know shit about you that you don’t just show to everyone. Involuntarily, but I know that stuff,” he starts, tone of voice almost careful, almost a little caring as he speaks. “You and I both know you need money. And me? Well… I could use some cash too,” he hums.

When he doesn’t get a reply, he continues with his little speech. “You need money and I have a plan on how I’m gonna get it for you. For us. But it will only work if us two do it together. It’s a foolproof plan, but I need you on-board,” he says, clasping his hands together. Glancing up from your paper, you watch him with examining eyes. 

He repays you with eye contact, as if speaking to you through his orbs. There’s a hint of understatement in the air, an aura of a connection you don’t quite comprehend yet, but suddenly, the presence of him in your personal space feels less invading and more… alleviating. Like you’re not judged, like you’re not pitied. 

Your stomach churns and Changmin chuckles, offering the sandwich back to you. There’s a moment in which you contemplate your next decision, knowing that if you take the food from him, it’s your own way of sealing the deal. You have no idea what his plan is, you’re completely unaware of what you’re getting yourself into– for all you know and predict, it’s not going to be the most legal thing under the sun– but the more you think about it, the more you come to the conclusion that with the way your life is going right now, maybe you don’t have that much to lose.

“So? What do you say?” he asks, eyes lighting up when he notices your lack of resistance. “Will you at least hear me out?”

The wind makes his raven bangs move, revealing his forehead. He looks like he has a thousand tricks up his sleeve, hundreds of ways to get his way, no matter what he wants. He looks as sly as a fox, messy exterior with his tie loose around his neck, dress shirt a little wrinkly around the collar. Ji Changmin looks like he’s bad news. Like he can never bring you any good. 

You should stay away.

Still, you take the sandwich into your grasp, hand fishing for the food in the green plastic bag. Biting down into the seemingly homemade lunch, you avert your gaze into the sun. 

“What is it, then?”

“So.. what do you do for work?” you ask, twirling a strand of hair around your finger as you sit facing the man you don’t even remember the name of, a plate of fancy food in front of you almost untouched even though you’ve been starving for multiple days now. Truth is, you don’t really know which fork and which size of spoon to use when having those meals, since you’ve never been to such an expensive-looking place before– and even though you think your current date doesn’t really mind, you don’t feel like adding public humiliation to the list of your worries.

“Oh, I do real estate, honey,” the man replies, smiling at you with something sly in his eyes. Everything about the male sitting currently in front of you irks you a bit. The very obvious power imbalance in between the two of you, the age difference, the different social class… The fact that he only sees you as a young girl to spoil and get to do something more for him– no matter the fact that you’re underage. Judging by the way he kept getting into your personal bubble the moment you arrived at the restaurant, you’d even say he was enjoying the fact. 

You were told to act gullible and stupid. Men like him like that, apparently, and so, despite your best judgment and everything you know about life, you do just that. “And what is that?” you ask, eyes big and curious, putting on your most innocent face.

“Buying land and then turning them over, renting places, all kind of stuff,” he nods, “a lot of money gets around in this sphere, sweetie,” he adds another sugary nickname to the mix, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up all alert, disgust slowly creeping up your neck, but thankfully never reaching your mouth.

“So you’re a landlord?” you ask him, the last remains of your personality shining through as you bat your eyelashes at him, trying hard not to focus on the chest hair peeking out of his opened dress shirt. It’s quite difficult to do when the golden chain around his neck blinds you with every movement, the surface illuminating in the beams of the sunlight. 

God. You should’ve chosen a more attractive male to trick, at least.

The male laughs in shock, not really anticipating such a title. Maybe he’s offended, but still, he doesn’t let it show as he looks you over– mainly your cleavage and the girly way you managed to style your hair today– before he sighs, as if disappointed, yet happy to show you that you were wrong. “Not really, no. I’m a real estate investor, actually.”

Gasping, showing that you now completely understand what he’s trying to explain to you– that he’s basically a landlord, but hates being called that because it isn’t such a fancy title– you take another sip of the champagne in your glass. You’ve never drank before, and quite frankly, you hate the taste of alcohol on your tongue, you despise it with everything in you. If it was your choice, you would’ve ordered orange juice, or something– it seems that the man in front of you would hate nothing more than if you sat in front of him without a tall glass in between your fingers, and so you satisfy his sly looks and leave a lipstick stain on the rim of the champagne flute.

The breeze plays with your hair, sun kissing your exposed shoulders as you bathe in its light. You wore your prettiest sundress today– the one that you only grew into this year after inheriting it from your older cousin– and while you did feel pretty when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you’re not really satisfied with what you’re currently doing. Nothing makes you hate yourself more than working for money like this. Nothing makes you loathe your reflection in the mirror more than hanging out with old rich guys for monetary gain– no matter how beautiful you feel with the dress you got from your cousin three Christmases ago and the sandals you’ve owned since 15 and had thankfully not yet grown out of.

There’s one advantage to sitting outside of the fancy restaurant, though– and that is the fact that your plan is going smoothly. The man’s bag is on the chair next to him, just like Changmin predicted, and although it took you some time convincing him to sit at the table on the edge of the veranda, you’ve done your part in entertaining the male, making sure he’s as distracted as he can be.

Eyes averting to the right, seeing your accomplice with the hood of his black hoodie over his head, a mask over the lower part of his face, you lock gazes in what seems to be some silent kind of communication. One wouldn’t notice him if he hadn’t tried hard enough, but Changmin’s been standing on the other side of the road for as long as you’ve been sitting in the restaurant, keeping an eye on you. He’s dressed all in black, looking all mysterious, but not eye-catching enough for anyone to be suspicious of his presence. 

Raising your eyebrows at him only in the slightest manner, making sure your date doesn’t notice you nonverbally communicating with the teenager on the other side of the street, you get your reply from Changming almost immediately, a nod of his head sent your way to start your little plan.

Ready, yet a little stressed of executing it, you clear your throat and focus all your attention back on the male in front of you again. He’s currently talking to you about something you have yet to grasp, not really interested in the first place– but doubting you’d know what he’s talking about anyway. After hearing a part of his little speech, you conclude that he is mansplaining something to you, and although the fact would make you infuriated with any other male in your presence, you think this is a perfect opportunity to dibble more into your little school girl play. (As if it was a play in the first place.)

Nodding at him, showing that you’re listening, you put on your best doe eyes as you reach over the table and enclose your palm around his. You haven’t watched enough movies about this to know how to flirt with a man, but you think it comes to you naturally as you part your lips the slightest, biting on your lower lip in a sensual manner. It’s inappropriate, not at all something you should be doing at your age with a man at least twice your age, but you can’t help it– if you need the plan to run smoothly, you need all his attention on you and you only.

And it works. It does, you conclude as the man runs his thumbs over your hands and gently pats your leg with his under the table, feeding into your actions. His eyes are focused on your lips and you suddenly pray for Changmin to work quicker– fast enough for the man to not find an opportunity to kiss you, at least. Your brows furrow the tiniest bit, on purpose, of course– to look more dumb, to look more in love and enchanted with the male in front of you– when you notice a figure in black passing the two of you, their hand slipping easily into the opened contraction of the male’s bag.

Changmin works fast. It seems easy to him, you can see it in your peripheral– there’s no wonder that he’s done this countless times before. You wonder why he likes this kind of adrenaline. You wonder how he even taught himself– how he even came to the conclusion that he should try something like this in the first place. Either way, you must admit that it’s kind of admirable. Kind of cool.

You see Changmin taking out something from the man’s bag, and just as silently and unsuspiciously he came, he also disappears. You let the man play with your fingers for a bit more until you’re sure that your partner is a safe distance away from the restaurant on the other side of the street again, before you lock eyes with him, being let off with a victorious crinkle of his eyes.

“Will you excuse me?” you hum, tone of voice laced in sweetness, puckering your lips as you cut the male off, something about an annual turnover hanging in the air as you don’t let him finish. “I have to use the toilet,” you say, already breaking contact with him.

Unsuspecting, the male only nods at you, letting you off. You can almost feel his eyes watching every move of your ass as you walk back to the building. As your feet enter the interior of the fancy place, you don’t even aim for the bathroom– Changmin checked it before you arrived to the restaurant, chewing on his lower lip in distress as he announced to you that there’s no windows in the stalls– and so you take yourself straight to the other side of the room, taking the other exit out. “Look, it’s even easier, Changmin. I’ll just walk out the other way,” you reassured him, concluding the last step of your little plan.

Feet shuffling through the red velvety rug, you pay no attention to the waiters watching you as you walk through the big dining hall, escaping through the other door without looking back. Ji Changmin is standing on the other side of the street, taking off his initial place as soon as he saw you safely inside of the restaurant, waiting for you to rejoin him and celebrate the end of your successfully finished mission.

Running towards him, a smile breaks onto your face. Changmin stays in his place, not going as far as reaching you midway. 

“Did you get it?” you ask, raising your brows at the male.

Wordlessly, the boy shows you a leather wallet, taking it from the right pocket of his zip-up. A gasp escapes your throat at the realization of just how easy this was– just how fast you gained a stack of cash you can use to survive another week. Sure, you still feel a bit weak in your knees, you still feel like your blood pressure is a bit high, but the thought of the green notes soon secured in your hand makes it all worth it.

“Let’s get out of here before he notices,” Changmin says, tugging down his face mask and reaching for your elbow, dragging you to the opposite direction, away from the restaurant.

Somewhere along the way, you start to run. There’s a sense of childlike wonder in you. A sense of excitement you shouldn’t feel from stealing money from someone unsuspecting. Sure, you could argue that the rich person in the restaurant doesn’t need the money like you do– he has enough of it to not even notice its absence– but it was still morally wrong. 

It was still a crime. But hey– you’re only 17 with a seemingly big weight on your shoulders. So if getting the money you need in an illegal way takes some of the pressure off your back, you think you’re not so wrong for being excited about the success of your little plan.

Changmin catches up to you, his face mirroring a weird mix of annoyance and disbelief. He understands, though. The adrenaline of your first act of successful crime is a moment one doesn’t forget. “Wasn’t that hard now, was it?” he asks.

And when you lock your eyes with him again, a foolish laugh escapes your lips. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was the way to go around things.

Maybe it was good to accept his offer. Something about the inkling in his eyes tells you that he won’t betray you. 

Standing in the middle of the aisle, your eyes soaring from the pack of gummy worms you wanted to buy for your little sister and the chocolate bar you’ve been wanting to eat the whole week, you roll the coins in the palm of your hand around, as if counting them over and over again is going to make more money magically appear in your possession. Ji Changmin (who for some reason decided that by being your partner in all things illegal, he has to be glued to your hip at all times when he has nothing interesting to do), standing next to you, sighs at your composure and clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

“Y/N, Y/N…” he hums in disapproval, almost sounding disgusted at the fact that the logical thing hasn’t appeared in your brain yet, “I see you need a bit of a lesson in shoplifting, yeah?” he whispers into your ear, his breath hitting the side of your face and making you jolt away from him.

“What?” you whisper-shout, punching him in the shoulder. “Don’t be ridiculous. What we do is already enough. I’ll just pick one,” you say, rolling your eyes at the fact that your new friend always somehow finds a way to make everything an illegal act. It really must be his hobby at this point, no?

“Whatever you say, sweetie,” he shrugs, but the more he watches you move your eyes from the gummy worms towards the chocolate bar, noticing the sparks behind your eyes every time you eye the rich cocoa treat wrapped in red plastic and the fondness behind your gaze when you eye the sour worms, the more he’s convinced that you’re going to go with his previous proposition. Once the temptation is there, it’s hard to resist it.

And he’s right. A mere second later, you eye him with pleading eyes– as if to silently say ‘okay, you win. Now teach me how to do this thing,’, and that has the boy chuckling at your antics.

“Okay, newbie,” he nods, patting your back. “First thing first, the number one rule of shoplifting is: always choose a gas station. Check! Why? Frankly, the people working here are underpaid university students that could care less about the company they work for, so as long as you’re not too obvious with it, nobody is going to run after you.”

Nodding, showing that you’re following, you wait for the actual tutorial. “Step two,” he says, voice loud enough only for you to hear in the empty store, “look casual. Walk around a bit. Pretend you’re contemplating your choice of treats– check. Wow, Y/L/N, it seems to me that you are a born natural!”

Rolling your eyes at his useless comment, you sigh. Changmin seems to get the hint that you want to know how to actually shoplift, and not how to prepare to do the thing, and so with his next tip, he is a bit more specific, which you welcome with open arms. “Okay, okay. So, now you wanna look for the cameras. Try to look for any blind spots,” he says, casually glancing around the store.

You follow his motions, trying hard to stay as unsuspicious as you can, and before you can say anything or try to find the blind spots he was talking about, the serpent-like boy tugs you by your forearm into another corridor. Your hands are now covered by the regals, only the tips of your scalps visible under the security camera, and before you know it, Changmin ushers another order into your ear. 

“Now, take the more expensive thing and put it into your pocket,” he says. That has you pointing a sharp gaze to him, question marks accompanied by exclamation points striking into his skull, which has the boy utter out a quick explanation to your very confused state. “Trust me. Putting it into your bag is way more suspicious,” he hums, looking around the gas station and pointing his gaze towards the energy drink stand in front of you, acting as if he was contemplating on buying one for himself.

Hesitantly glancing behind your shoulder, finding the coast clear, you chew on the inside of your cheek before you swiftly put the pack of gummy worms into your pocket. Clearing your throat to signal to the boy that you’re done with the task at hand, he turns his head to you and raises his brows, smiling. “Are you ready to pay, finally?” he asks, his voice now a little louder. You think it’s to not cause any more suspicion, since the two of you have been murmuring amongst each other for the past few minutes. 

Humming, feeling a buzzing in your fingertips, heart quickening– you’re really doing this– you nod and let your friend lead you to the counter. You’ve tried shoplifting before, of course, but the last time you did so, you were dragged by your hair to the police station, so you think you have all the right to feel the tiniest bit paranoid when trying for the second time. There is stress settling to your shoulders when you awkwardly shuffle to the counter and put the chocolate bar in front of the cashier, but when you notice the fact that Changmin was right and the clark was barely paying attention to the store at all– there was Candy crush turned on their phone behind the POS machine– the nerves seem to fall off a bit.

“Cash or card?” the girl behind the counter asks– she is chewing on a gum and her neon pink hair is falling into her eyes. She seems a few years older than you, but she seems to be still in college. There are dark circles under her eyes– she seems tired. Not letting yourself to shield your next actions with the usual waterfall of empathy, you clear your throat and try to speak up with the most casual voice.

“Cash,” you peep, taking the hurdle of coins back from your pocket– the one that doesn’t currently hold a pack of gummy worms– and quickly count the sum of money you need, putting it onto the counter.

“You need a receipt?” the cashier asks, completely uninterested in her job. You can tell she has this situation rehearsed– she must have been working here for a while.

“No, thank you,” you nod, taking the chocolate bar into your grasp and spinning on your heel, following Changmin on his way outside of the gas station. Before the door closes behind you, the boy heaves out a cheerful ‘Goodbye!’ which has you mirroring his actions, yet your walking still speeds up with the weight of wanting to be outside and done as soon as possible.

You never know. What if she noticed and a policeman will come and catch you at the last minute for stealing those gummy worms? You can’t afford getting a criminal record– this won’t land you any job in the future.

As soon as your figure moves outside of the building and you’re sure you’re not being followed by anyone and there’s no police cars parked in front of the gas station, you feel the weight of the situation finally leave your physical form, your breathing finally becoming more normal. Changmin glances at you over his shoulder, a grin spreading over his features, patting your shoulder like a proud father. 

“See? Wasn’t so hard now, was it?” he asks, having you roll your eyes at him.

“I’m sorry, man,” you snicker, “I still have some PTSD from that one time…”

“It takes a few tries to perfect the art, I get it,” he says, nodding as if to admit your struggle. It’s hard to believe Changmin has ever failed at anything he tried before– in all situations you’ve encountered with him, he seemed completely capable and knowing. It’s as if he’s been doing this his whole life– and for all you know, he might as well have been.

“Well, not everyone takes joy in doing illegal activities like you clearly do,” you sigh, having the boy look at you with furrowed brows.

Unknowingly, you lead the boy towards your house. He doesn’t seem to mind walking with you, and although you did just commit a crime, you’re happy with the comfort of not having any committed against you– a girl in her school uniform walking home in the evening is an easy target for all men who’d love to take advantage of you and fulfill their dark fantasies. It’s funny to admit that you feel safer with Ji Changmin walking you home, but it’s also a natural cause of the fact that you two have been working together on fake dates with rich men for a few weeks now. (So far, you’ve gone on three. They all worked and went by the plan. You suddenly question why you didn’t say yes to this plan earlier.)

“Living in the foster home makes you fight other people over everything, Y/N-ie. Over food, old donated board games, treats, clothing, parents…” he chuckles at that, a bitter tone coating his words, “my point is… If you don’t take what you want forcefully, it will be taken out of your grasp one way or another. And if that piece of candy is stolen from you by an older kid at the foster home, you’re gonna have to find a way to get yourself one as well,” he explains. 

You feel a little embarrassed for assuming. Changmin doesn’t reveal much about himself to you. Neither do you. For this reason, you’d describe your relationship with the raven-haired boy like something similar to being coworkers. You don’t tell each other about your personal lives, you don’t talk about your issues or intentions. All you know is that the both of you need money, so you’re willing to work together to get it.

The sudden confession hangs an uncomfortable air of vulnerability over the two of you. It’s strange– hearing him chuckle so bitterly about his situation, seeing the shift behind his eyes when he realizes what he just said. You don’t really know what to say back to him– do you console him? Do you try to play it off, ignore what he’s just said? Before you have any chance to take action, though, the boy clears his throat and does damage control on his own. (Which is probably for the best. You wouldn’t want to overstep any boundary– so you’ll act according to his.)

“But after a while, it became kind of fun, yeah,” he laughs, shrugging. “I like the adrenaline rush.”

“You’re a freak.”

“A freak with useful tactics,” he points a finger-gun at you and winks, making you roll your eyes at his misplaced pride, but laugh along with him nonetheless.

It’s good to make fun of your situation sometimes. Didn’t someone say humor is one of the most useful coping mechanisms? Or maybe a sign of unhealthy coping mechanisms? Well, one way or another– you have to cope with it some way anyways. A little joke never hurt anyone.

“Half of that is mine, by the way,” he points towards your favorite chocolate bar in your grasp. “I earned it by helping you get it,” he says, content face beaming at you in mischief.

His features are a little sharper under the yellow lampposts, his dark hair falling into his eyes making shadows appear under his eyes. He looks like a cunning fox– much like always– but you think you’re growing used to the charm. “What?” you huff, face scrunched up in frustration. “I bought this, actually, so–”

“So you’re telling me you would’ve chosen the chocolate bar, had I not opened your eyes to the wonders of shoplifting?”

“What does that even have to do with anything–”

“Exactly what I thought,” he nods, taking the chocolate bar out of your grasp and tearing it open, not even sparing you a chance to defend yourself, “if I wasn’t there, you’d buy the gummy worms, so the fact that you bought this is my work and I deserve a half of your treat, thank you very much.”

“How can you even be so sure–”

“Y/N?” a thin voice calls for you, making you stop the little petty argument you’ve been having with your crime partner and look around, noticing both facts of the reality at once– one: you’ve reached your street, and two: your little sister is watching you from the doorway of your house, big eyes worried and hair tousled. 

She’s still wearing the clothes she wore when you sent her off to school in the morning, and by the way she keeps chewing on the inside of her cheek, you know that she hasn’t eaten. She always does that when she’s hungry and doesn’t want you to know. A pit opens up in your stomach at seeing your sibling in such a state, and although it’s not as uncommon as you’d like to say it is, you know you have to put up your big sister act.

“Aerin-ie? Has mum not come home yet?” you ask, watching as the little girl walks out of the house and through the pathway of your house, standing only a few meters away from you.

“No,” she shakes her head. You’re not surprised by the answer. Maybe, you’re not even disappointed anymore. You learned not to have any expectations when it comes to your mother.

Sighing, you nod, chewing on your lower lip. “Go inside, we’ll eat something together and then you’re going to sleep, you have school tomorrow, okay?” you hum, tone of voice compassionate and gentle, the way you always talk to your sister ever since the issues started. There is no room for quarrel between siblings when you’re too busy making sure your little sister is eating well and going to school. There’s no room for sibling fights when you’re more of a motherly figure now.

“Okay,” she nods, but doesn’t move from her spot in the middle of the yard.

“Well? Go–”

“Is that your boyfriend?” Aerin asks, pointing towards Changmin. You momentarily forgot that he was still here, so when you finally take in his silently standing figure, it almost makes you jump. Waving your hands around in panic, not wanting your young, gullible sister to get any ideas, you eagerly try to take her out of her lapse of judgment.

“God, no. No, no, that’s–”

“Hi! I’m Changmin!” the boy suddenly waves, smiling at your little sister. “I go to school with your sister.”

Aerin watches the boy with big eyes, as if scared. You understand her– Changmin doesn’t seem as the most approachable of people (although his smile does feel unusually warm and contagious right in this moment)– and she didn’t have much experience with male figures in her life to feel secure with any new men entering her life. Not that Changmin will be entering her life anyway– but you get the gist of it.

“You do?” she hesitantly asks.

“I do. Tell her to study more, because if she keeps it up this way, she’s going to have to go back to school with you and retake all the lessons for smaller kids,” Changmin hums, poking fun at you. 

“Hey!” you thunder, kicking the boy into his shin in a weak attempt of defending yourself. “That’s not true!” 

Hearing your sister laugh at your misery– an action you never thought would warm your heart up so much– you lock your eyes with Changmin only for a split second, and in that, you come to some sort of mutual understanding. You talk without words– you learned something about me today, I learned something about you today. Your secret is safe with me. 

He doesn’t know the full truth of it all– quite as much as you don’t know about his life, but somehow, this evening brought you two a little closer. You moved from being coworkers to now being coworkers who know more backstory about each other’s lives, and you don’t really find yourself hating it.

“Y/N got something for you,” Changmin muses, pointing a finger to your pocket. 

Somehow, he has it all figured out.

“Oh, right!” you gasp, taking the gummy worms out of your jacket and offering them to your little sister. Her eyes light up instantly, that kind of joy you only feel when you are 12 and presented with your favorite treat, and you get a solemn feeling on your insides comforting you– you’re doing all you can. She’s smiling. She’s still mostly unknowing.

“I heard they’re your favorite,” Changmin keeps talking to your sister. It’s a surprising sight– how welcoming he suddenly seems.

“They are! Y/N, can I have some?”

“After you eat dinner,” you nod, seeing the little girl furrowing her brows and opening her mouth to protest, a sense of blissful normality shielding you all from reality. 

“But–”

“After dinner, Aerin. Now let’s go inside so you can sleep,” you hum, walking over to your sister, “you get fussy in the morning when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Something about your hand on her shoulder has the little creature moving closer towards your house, the two of you walking alongside each other through the pathway. Looking behind, you wave at Changmin. He offers you a gentle smile– one you haven’t seen on him before. It moves something within you. 

He doesn’t know much, but somehow, he understands.

Before you close the door behind you, you mouth him a silent ‘Thank you’. The boy salutes you before he disappears into the dark.

“Do you want some lemonade or something?” you hum as you enter your house, tugging uncomfortably at the hem of your short skirt, throwing the knock-off purse Changmin got you from the donation bins at the foster home into the corner of the entrance hall. It’s midday, you are supposed to be at school and having your lunch break, but instead, you’re tiredly slugging home with your classmate tailing your back, done with yet another date.

“I’m good,” Changmin shrugs, “I’ll just have some water.”

“Amazing choice,” you nod, pointing towards the tap in your cluttered kitchen, “didn’t feel like making you a fucking lemonade anyway,” you sigh, watching as the boy helps himself to a glass of tap water and you get yourself a taste of the old coffee your mother must have made herself in the morning before leaving, furrowing your brows at the bitter taste.

After you’re done chasing down the thirst that’s accumulated in your throat, you walk upstairs into your room, followed around by the boy. There was a silent agreement between the two of you to let him stay over at least until the acceptable time to come back into foster home was– if he came before school ended, he’d get in trouble. (You wonder why he’s afraid of this and not the fact that he was dragged from the police station multiple times, but you choose to not question him anymore.)

It’s strange to have him in your house. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, per se– you just wonder how much your living conditions say about you. It’s very clear that you don’t live with your father. He left shortly after your little sister was born and you haven’t seen him since– you wish you could say you don’t mind, because you never really had a good relationship with him anyway, but the truth is, maybe he was the whole reason for the downfall of your quality of life. The mess all around the house suggests that nobody has time or energy to clean it. You try your hardest to keep it relatively clean on most days, but it gets significantly harder when you also try to bring food home into the house. 

If Changmin makes anything out of the state of your living, he doesn’t mention it.

Settling into the mattress of your bed, totally uninvited, he squints at your ceiling. You, on the other hand, turn towards your wardrobe and take out some comfy clothes– the preppy mini skirt you were dressed in before you left to meet up with another rich old guy was starting to get on your nerves. Turning your back to Changmin, you slip your blouse over your head and put on a big T-shirt, one of the clothes you got at the Dollar store when you grew out of your last pajamas, and after you dress yourself in comfortable sweatpants, you walk up to the boy with an outstretched hand.

A mutual understanding falls over you as he puts the leather wallet into your hand. Opening it, you flick through several credit cards, squinting at the owner’s ID– by the birth year on the card, you calculate that he was even older than he told you he was– before you count up the money and cut it in half, throwing the rest into Changmin’s lap. 

The more often you do this, the more you wonder how it keeps working. It’s surprising to see just how many wealthy men are carrying cash around and being reckless with their belongings. Changmin almost never has any trouble with stealing their wallets– either when they’re not looking, or when the man foolishly leaves to the bathroom and leaves his bag behind on the chair. It’s like they’re inviting you to do it, at this point.

The more often you do this, the more you start hating yourself, though. There’s only so much objectifying you willingly submit yourself to before it makes you want to crawl out of your skin. If there was a better way to do things, you would. 

Sighing, you open your sock drawer and sit cross-legged on the floor. Taking out the sock balls and unraveling the items of clothing onto your thigh, putting bills into them and rolling them back into neat balls, throwing them back into their designated place very un-Marie Condo style, you hear Changmin ask a question after minutes of watching you in silence.

“What do you need all this money for, by the way?” he asks. “Except for keeping your sister alive, of course.”

The question has you halting your movements, looking up at the male with a blank look. You two never discuss deep things– you two never talk about your lives and the reasoning behind your actions. You just do things and don’t think of consequences– you just get as much money as you can without telling the other one what you need it for. 

Locking your eyes with him, you shrug. There’s a hint of understatement behind his orbs that shows you that maybe you can trust him. Maybe him knowing isn’t that bad– what could he possibly do with the information? You two know about each other’s crimes far too much to betray each other, you think.

“I… my family… we have debts,” you say, nodding to yourself. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you chuckle before speaking up again. “My dad left shortly after my sister was born and then we couldn’t really afford paying for the house anymore. My mum refused to move, though, so she got another loan to cover the previous one, but it’s…” you drift off, remembering the day you found out the harsh truth only a few months ago.

You hear your mother’s sobs as you walk into the house after your classes, making your heart drop to your stomach. It’s not every day you hear your mother cry, since she tries hard to pretend everything is okay even though it’s not– and the empty bottles of alcohol waiting by the trash can every day are the clear sign of both that and her not really handling it well. This feels different, though. The crying doesn’t sound like someone pitying themselves once again– the crying sounds like someone in such a deep despair, hopeless and lost.

Socked feet shuffling through the house as you take your shoes off at the door, you find your mother crouching above the kitchen table, a glass in her hand. There’s a sheet of paper staring back at her from the void, the scene almost appearing in front of you in grayscale. You didn’t expect your life to change so much in such a simple afternoon. You didn’t expect to grow up with a click of a finger.

“What happened?” you ask, carefully approaching the wounded animal of your mother. You learned quickly after she picked up drinking that you need to handle the fragile woman with care. A bad word and she could break– an incorrectly crafted sentence and she could turn into a volcano, erupting with screams and swearing, cursing you out.

No answer reaches your ears, though, so your only resolve is to take the paper into your hands and read it over. And now, you’re no expert in legal things and contracts, but it doesn’t take a lot of knowledge to recognise a loan contract. It’s a company you don’t know, though– one of the not famous ones, one of the fishy ones that give you the money quickly– and before you even get a chance to read over the fine print at the bottom of the page, you already know you’re in deep, deep trouble.

The knowledge of trouble only intensifies when you come home to strange men escaping your house one day. There are no groceries in the fridge for a few days after, making it vastly clear to you that your mother simply couldn’t afford to get food for her kids to eat. 

It only takes one crying fit and an argument with your mother to find out the harsh reality– your mother fell for a loan that is too difficult to handle, one that makes you pay back fast and with big amounts monthly. She already had a warning. 

If she is late with her payment again, you lose everything.

“It’s… it’s difficult to pay it back,” you conclude, watching as Changmin only nods in understatement. The air around you is suddenly too heavy, but you figure the whole truth won’t hurt anyone. Maybe the weight on your shoulders would feel lighter if you finally tell someone– however selfish the sentiment feels. “If we don’t pay it back within the next few months, we will lose our house. My mother fell for a loan shark,” you say.

“All the years of her telling us to not fall for scams, and then she does this,” you mumble, trying to make fun of the situation. 

“Y/N, that’s–”

“I was also thinking of leaving one day,” you add as you cut him off, not letting him psychoanalyze you or make you feel like he pities you. “I was thinking of getting enough money to settle all of this and then just… move out. Disappear. I need to get away from this house before it suffocates me,” you bitterly laugh, seeing the boy shift his eyes from the ceiling back at you, pressing his lips into a tight line.

“I get you,” leaves his mouth after a heartbeat of silence. Never in your life have you feared being judged as much as in this moment. It’s strange to face your biggest fear– being vulnerable with someone, opening up to them about everything you’re going through– and find that it wasn’t at all as difficult. It’s strange to face your biggest fear and realize that maybe, you had nothing to be scared of in the first place.

It’s strange to hear that you’re understood. That somebody gets just how hard it is to breathe every day, walking through the house you grew up in, but which is now haunted. If it was anybody else, you’d try to argue with them. How could they understand? How could they possibly know what is going on inside of your head on a daily basis? How could they get the extent of how far you have to go every day just to survive and keep your sister out of the mess, totally unknowing?

Ji Changmin may not know everything about you, he may not be in the same situation, but still; he knows how you feel. Coming from a background like that, you don’t get to keep a lot of freedom either.

“It’s… it’s a work in progress. I don’t really have a plan either, I just… I just know I need to save up enough to sort things out, move out and leave everything behind. I can’t… I can’t keep doing this forever, y’know,” you shrug, snickering to yourself.

Changmin hums in understatement, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looks so out of place in the middle of your white sheets, dressed in his all black attire. The contrast of his clothes and the brightness of your laundry cuts through all major parts of your life as well– where there’s anxiety, there’s also Changmin’s ability to turn everything into a joke. Where there’s mess and confusion, there’s Changmin’s calculated plans and thought-out strategies. Where there’s loneliness, there’s also Ji Changmin’s sheer presence next to you during the lunch break. It’s strange, just how quickly you found comfort in the serpent-like boy. It’s unfamiliar. The novelty of it all both scares you and comforts you all at once.

The boy is silent for a while before he speaks up, processing the information. As if knowing that there’s nothing he could really say to make you feel better about the situation– or fearing that anything he could utter out would make it worse– he entrusts you with a secret of his own.

“If I don’t get adopted before I turn 18– which, let’s be real, with my history and everything, won’t happen– I age out of the system and I’m all on my own,” he says, shrugging, “I’ll need money to get on my own feet. To leave, too. Fuck, I need to leave that house and this town. I need to start over somewhere where they won’t know every single thing that happened to me in the past.”

You hadn’t realized just how much your plans align when you first nodded to this agreement. You think it adds a sense of reliability now. Both working towards the same plan, knowing that if you fail, the other’s fate is at stake as well. 

Before this, you didn’t know just how serious it was for Changmin– you didn’t know if he needed the money on reckless spending, on buying drinks and cigarettes to chase down his boredom, or if there was a greater sense of ironical responsibility behind it all. Knowing that there’s so much on the table, so much of both of your future’s that are at risk if you don’t try your hardest to make your lives better– because no one else in the whole world will help you, it seems– brings a greater sense of alliance hang in the air between the two of you.

Shared secrets, plans, view of life. Shared responsibilities, burdens, desperation. That bonds two people like nothing else does.

“You can count on me, Y/N,” Changmin hums, tone of voice barely louder than a whisper. Your eyes don’t meet in the confidentiality of it all, but your heart still squeezes on itself. “I’ll get us out of this town even if it’s the last thing I do.”

The low murmur of the school cafeteria lands into your ears as you stand in the line for food, Changmin’s tall figure in front of you turning to face you, an annoyed sigh heaving out of his throat. “Now I remember why I never fucking go to this place.”

“Oh, right,” you nod, shrugging to yourself as if to show your absolute fury with the fact that you’ve been standing in the line for more than 10 minutes now, a third of your lunch break already passing by like a flash, “it was never because I was too broke. The line was always the problem.”

The male in front of you snickers at your ironic remark. You’re convinced you could count the amount of times you’ve been to the school cafeteria to buy lunch on the fingers of one hand. Most of the time, you take whatever remains of food you can find at home with you. Lunch money is reserved for your little sister only– and even that is on special occasions. Usually, you try to buy her the cheapest things you can find at the store downtown– the retailed bread that’s too old to sell at original price now, but still fresh enough to eat– but when you figure you have enough money in the week to spend, you give her enough to buy lunch at school. For you, buying your own warm lunch at school feels like a holiday. You’ve lived through more Christmases than cafeteria lunches, you think.

“Starting to doubt if it’s even worth it anyway,” Changmin fusses, folding his hands at his chest. You don’t think you’ve ever met a more impatient person than him. If things take too long, he gives up on them– like the line in the grocery store the other day. You made the mistake of inviting him to buy groceries with you, but when he realized the self-checkout lines were too long, he just carried your groceries out without paying, grinning at your shocked face the moment you unsuspectedly got out of the store. ‘It’s okay to steal from big corporations,’ he justified. ‘They won’t feel the loss.’

“Changmin, this is my first time buying lunch this year,” you sigh, “have some patience. Of course it’s worth it– it’s a celebration of our hard work.”

“Does this feel satisfactory?” he doubts, pointing a thumb behind him to show the line in front of you two– which, just by the way, moved a ton, meaning it’s gonna be your turn soon. 

“Not yet,” you admit, chuckling to yourself, “but the feeling will come once I bite into the soggy, half-cold pizza. Trust,” you point a finger to him and poke him in his stomach, that has, just by the way, growled in hunger three times since you’ve taken your place in the line for food.

“Of course you chose to get lunch on pizza day…”

“What do you have me for?” you scoff. “I have some culture.”

“Says the person who hasn’t seen Train to Busan before. Girl, you’re the farthest thing from cultured, trust me.”

“You call Train to Busan our national treasure?” you ask, blinking at the boy in pure confusion. You don’t trust a man like Ji Changmin to be the film critic of modern age, to be fair, but you think even this opinion is quite far-stretched.

Changmin furrows his brows at you, clicking his tongue. “You’re only saying that because you haven’t seen the movie.”

“Well, I haven’t been given the opportunity to watch it, so I don’t see how that’s my problem.”

The line finally moves and lets you two get your lunch. The lady behind the counter looks even less pleasant than you remember her– with more gray hair and a more tired expression on her face– and the food isn’t much either even by looking at it. Still, you feel a sense of satisfaction run through your veins when you look at the sad-looking plate. You earned this pizza. This soggy, bad, a little shoe sole-looking pizza. You put a lot of effort into buying this plate, and although it doesn’t necessarily represent the determination, at least it represents the morality of your earned money– and you know what, at the end of the day, you think that’s fair.

Walking away to one of the empty tables in the cafeteria, carrying your tray in both of your hands and following Changmin’s lead, you feel your stomach churn at the image of the pizza on your plate. It sure doesn’t look great, but it looks edible– you still consider it to be a reward.

However, before you get a chance to sit down and bite into the meal, your side suddenly comes in contact with something firm, yet soft, the impact of the hit making you stumble and fall over to the hard linoleum. The tray of food you’ve had in your hands is knocked out of your grasp, falling to the ground with a loud noise, and the force in which you hit the floor makes your butt sting in pain. The moment comes by like a blur, and before you even get a chance to register what happened, a train of apologies lands into your ears.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to–” a boy a little shorter than Changmin (that’s just standing by your side, looking a little taken-aback, but still uninterested in the commotion, not at all trying to help you out), stutters out. You recognise him to be your classmate Eric Sohn– one of the people you’ve never really spoken to before, because you had no reason to do so. He is a loud extrovert, a people person, a bundle of never ending energy. He’s charismatic, but not someone you would find yourself hanging out with (not that you really hang out with anyone other than the criminal by your side anyway)– and a little inkling in your brain tells you that one of the reasons for this fact is Eric’s high social status. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, offering you his hand to bring you back up to your feet.

Wincing in pain as you take his grasp and get back into a standing position, you wonder if he was running– there was no way the sheer force of him walking would send you to the ground. Once you take a closer look at the boy, you notice his blushing cheeks and an incredibly guilty look on his face, notifying you of the fact that you haven’t replied to him yet, still too shocked by the events. “I’m okay, yeah,” you nod, eyes shifting to the plate on the ground. It didn’t break, but your pizza slice is very visibly on the ground– and no matter how desperate you are for food right now, you consider it too contaminated to be eaten.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I wasn’t looking where I was going– oh god, your uniform is all dirty,” he points to your white button-down, now stained with the last remains of the soup that was seemingly in one of the plates your classmate was carrying.

“It’s… it’s okay–”

“I’ll pay for you to get it dry cleaned!” he stammers, eyes wide and bangs falling into his eyes, the boyish, panicked aura around him making you feel kind of bad for him. Which is strange– you are the one in pain and without lunch now. Not him.

“No, really, it’s okay, Eric… It was an accident–”

“And your lunch is ruined! God,” he grunts, scrambling to pick up all the dishes from the floor, cleaning up the mess. “I’ll get you a new one. Just… wait here, I’ll be right back!” the boy assures you, running off with the trays and plates, aiming for the area designated for discarding them. 

Like in a trance, you take a seat at the table, following Changmin. Scratching the back of your neck, you sigh and aimlessly stare at your companion, watching as he eats his pizza. Casually speaking the fact into existence, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, the male decides to make you choke at his words. 

“You should get on that, Y/N,” he notes, snickering.

“Huh?” 

“You know what I mean. Man’s rich as fuck, Y/N,” he says as he swallows down the bite, shrugging. “He’d fit perfectly into your little plan,” Changmin schemes, pointing a finger at your face.

“Stop being ridiculous,” you grunt, “why would I do that? He doesn’t even like me, so–”

“Oh, as if,” Changmin rolls his eyes, speaking with his mouth full, “he looked at you as if you were Jesus fucking Christ, Y/N. He clearly has a crush on you. And, respectfully, any man would want to get with someone like you– why do you think our plan is working so well? You’re hot enough, that’s why,” he shrugs, making you blink at the male in surprise.

Hot enough? Did Ji Changmin just call you hot? You’d rather not focus on that part of the exchange.

“Shut up, Changmin,” you sigh, “besides, I’m not doing that to him.”

“Why not? I thought our motto was ‘eat the rich’, no?” 

“Yeah,” you grunt, nodding to the boy, tone of voice ironic, showing him just how stupid he sounds right in this moment, “but it’s ‘eat the icky old rich men’, not ‘eat unsuspecting, innocent rich’, Changmin. Got it?”

“You’re missing out on–”

“I said no,” you cut him off, pointing a finger right in the middle of his forehead. Something about your authoritative tone gets the point across, making the boy sigh.

“Jeez, okay, if you really say so…”

Opening your mouth to continue on with the sentiment, you’re quickly cut off by Eric’s voice coming from beside you, the boy suddenly appearing at your table. “Here,” he says, a bashful look on his face as he puts the tray in front of you, two slices of pizza and a box of orange juice settled on the red plastic dish, “I’m really sorry again! And…” he starts, scratching the back of his neck, “and here is my number, so if you want me to… uh… pay for the cleaning of that, or whatever, just… let me know, okay?” he smiles awkwardly, pointing to a piece of paper settled under the juice box, having you blink up at him in surprise.

Before you get a chance to protest, Eric pays you two his goodbyes and rushes out of the cafeteria, cheeks red and an expression a little alarmed. You’re not an expert in body language, but the more you think about it, the clearer it gets. 

Ji Changmin is right. Eric Sohn does clearly have a crush on you. 

If that even means anything…

The house is silent. Your naked feet clad through your room as you open your drawer, fingers reaching for the soft fabric of your socks. It’s gotten a bit chilly, so you automatically go and try to warm yourself up with one of your thick garments. Fingers unraveling the sock ball, prepared to find dollar bills inside– already knowing you’ll take a part of it and give it to your sister in the morning so she can get some lunch at school– a momentarily shock washes over you when you find the sock ball empty.

Confused, you furrow your brows and check the insides of the socks. You remember very clearly that you put some of your money into this specific pair just a few days ago. 

Or maybe you didn’t… You’ve been tired the last few days. You could be remembering it wrong. Maybe this particular sock ball didn’t have money in it in the first place.

Still, you reach for another sock ball, hands a little shaky as you look through it. When you notice the lack of bills inside, your heart starts hammering against your chest, sweat appearing on your forehead. Searching through another one and another one and another one, you find all sock balls empty. There is no money where you hid it. It’s all gone.

Thousands of won gone. Vanished. Nowhere to be found.

Where could they go? Who could’ve taken them? 

In the few seconds that pass before the fact that all of your money is nowhere to be seen fully settles into your brain, your feet react on themselves and drag you out of the comfort of your room, making you jog downstairs. Reaching the living room, finding your mother laying on the sofa with a bottle of rum next to her on the ground, you feel the amount of patience you’ve had with her slowly overflowing, frustration taking its deserved place in your body as you scream at her sleeping figure.

“Did you take my money?” you yell, watching as your mother slowly opens her eyes at you and blinks in confusion, the alcohol haze around her stinking and making you sick to your stomach. The woman looks at you with zero ounces of sympathy behind her eyes, no words escaping from between her lips as she continues to wordlessly stare at you.

“Mum! Did you take my money?” you scream, clenching your hands into a fist, chewing on your bottom lip in frustration.

“I needed the money,” she says, a groggy voice cutting through the silent house.

Running your hand through your hair, an amused chuckle leaves your throat. “Did you use it all? Is it all gone?”

“I needed it,” she only adds, turning on her side and proceeding to ignore you, which makes fury hammer against your chest with more force than ever before.

“You needed the money. You needed it,” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “For what, mum? You needed the money to give to Aerin so she could have lunch? You needed the money to buy groceries? To pay for the bills when a man comes to our house and tells me we haven’t paid enough for our electricity bill? You needed the money for all of that, right?” you chuckle, frustration making you kick your foot against the side of the couch. 

“Or did you need the money to buy alcohol, mum? Is that what you needed it for? Is that more important?” you bite, watching as your mother looks at you with stern eyes, the words finally entering her bubble and getting to her heart.

“Don’t speak to me like that. I am your mother.”

“You’re only my mother when you want to scold me!” you yell back, your words resonating through the silence. “Why won’t you be my mother when I need to feed my sister? When I need to take care of the house? Why aren’t you my mother when I need you?!” you scream, a sob involuntarily dragging out of your throat as you finally verbalize the words you’ve been biting back since this whole situation arised. 

“I brought you to this life. I raised you!” she screams back, merciless words stabbing you in the back like daggers coming for your heart. “So when I say I needed the money, I have every right to take it!”

“Do you?!” you argue. “Do you. Did you earn that money, mum? Because the last time I checked, you got fired and the only person trying to keep this family afloat is me!” you scream, watching as your mother sits up in her place, a tired sigh escaping her throat.

“Don’t you dare yell at me!” she gestures with her hand. 

“Well, then don’t take what’s not yours! Because now, I’ll have to work my ass of to get all of that back, because you won’t try to get your fucking life together–”

“Don’t swear at me,” your mother drags out, tone of voice stone cold and serious. It sends chills down your spine, a teardrop trail down your cheekbone and towards your jaw. You have a staring contest with your mother, one in which you question just how much impact your argument has on her– if she recognises the fury and anger and translates it as grief, just like your insides have been doing for so long now. 

Behind her glossy eyes, there’s not much for you to read, though. You lost that ability a long time ago. It’s one of the things you mourn the most.

“Y/N?” you hear a small voice call from behind you. It has you snap your head around and watch your sister shrinking away in the doorway behind you, holding on to the wall. Aerin’s eyes are glossy and scared, shaking from you to your mother, her little face morphed in anxiety as she chews on her bottom lip in nerves.

That has your fury dissolving– at least on the outside. You can’t afford to fail at protecting your sister from everything. Wiping your own tears harshly, you clear your throat and move to her hunched-over body, placing a comforting palm on her back, leading her upstairs to her bedroom.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” you hum groggily, sniffling on your way to the top of the stairs, “it’s okay. Me and mum just didn’t… we had a bit of an argument, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

As you cover up your sister with the duvet on her bed, she looks at you with watery eyes, a little voice shaking as she inquires. “We don’t have money?”

“Of course we do, dummy,” you snicker, shaking your head. “We do. Don’t you worry, Aerin-ie. I’ll take care of everything, yeah? Get those worries out of your head.”

“But you said–”

“Let the adults deal with this, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.”

“But you’re not even an adult yet,” Aerin furrows her brows, restless eyes not closing as she tries to wrap her head around the situation. No child ever should worry about things like this. And she’s right– you’re not an adult yet either, but as the older one of you, you think it’s your responsibility to take care of things. Just because you can’t afford to not worry about your situation doesn’t mean you will let your sister down and drag her with you.

“That’s right,” you sniffle, laughing airly as you rub her upper arm through the fabric of the duvet, “so that means I can still share a bed with you, yeah?” you force a smile to your lips, watching as your sister nods and scoots over in her place, letting you hug her from the side and snuggle into the warmth of her sheets.

“Everything will be alright,” you whisper into her ear, trying hard to provide her head with some distraction.

It’s kind of ironic, if you really think about it. Both of your parents failed you, but you were only truly hit with the reality of your mother’s betrayal. Who is your father if not the first man to ever disappoint you, right? You came to peace with the fact a few weeks after he left for good– you thought you didn’t need him. You could be good without him.

It seems like your mother needed him more than anything, though. Sometimes, you wish she chose her children instead.

Holding your little sister to your chest, you decide to do everything to protect her. You’d do anything it takes if it means she won’t have to worry about her future. If that’s your responsibility, then so be it– you are more than willing to carry it.

“I don’t think this looks right,” you mumble as you stare at your reflection in the mirror, furrowed eyebrows on full display as the girl staring back at you doesn’t look half similar to how she usually appears. 

You’re wearing a skirt you bought from your savings last month– wanting to treat yourself to something nice– and a cropped shirt that shoves a trace of your skin in the midriff. You’re wearing your old shoes that admittedly throw off the whole look a little– but you don’t have anything else to wear, so that’s what you’re going with. The outfit wouldn’t be the strangest thing about your appearance today– although you’re not the one to wear skirts casually, with the only exception being your school uniform.

The thing that is throwing you off the most about your apparel is the coat of makeup on your face. You and Changmin walked into a drugstore after your classes were over, trying your hardest to make you look the most enchanting you can. You did your makeup with the testers, going through three different lipstick choices before your companion was satisfied, and only when you finally escaped the fluorescent lights of the store and looked at yourself in the daylight is when you realize just how different your face looks to its usual.

“It does,” Changmin shakes his head, standing up from his place on your bed and walking over to your figure, prompting a finger below your chin to angle your head a little, staring at you from up close. His eyes glaze over your skin, making your throat dry out from being so closely examined. “You look different, but it doesn’t look bad.”

“It doesn’t look good either,” you sigh, escaping his gaze and turning around in your place, watching yourself in the mirror once again. The male leans against the desk behind him, communicating from your behind.

A sigh escapes Changmin’s throat at your words, rolling his eyes. “Be serious for once. You look good.”

“My face is all cakey,” you frown.

“You only notice when you see it from up close,” Changmin says, “and I don’t think Eric’s gonna look at you from up close. He’d shit his pants.”

“You’re not helping.”

“That’s because you won’t let me help,” he grunts. “No matter how many times I tell you that you look good won’t change the fact that you won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I don’t look like myself.”

“You do!” he runs his hands through his hair, shaking his head in frustration. “You always look pretty, it’s just… today you look like you put more effort into your appearance,” Changmin huffs, his voice growing a little more quiet at the end of the sentence. Your eyes meet with his in the full-length mirror, watching as the tips of the boy’s ears tint a pink hue, the warmth spreading to his cheeks at the compliment that just so casually slipped through his lips. “Which– which is good, because you wanna look like you put effort into a date with a rich boy, y’know?” he adds, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

His words comfort you a bit. Trying hard not to meet his gaze in the mirror– because you suddenly feel a bit bashful under his gaze– you nod to yourself and focus on the hem of your skirt for the thousandth time, making sure it fits right against your skin. “How does one act on a date? I’ve never been on one.”

“You go on dates every week,” Changmin snickers.

“I meant real dates. The dates you have with people your age,” you roll your eyes, watching as the boy cheeses and shrugs to himself.

“Well,” he starts, “he already likes you. Like, a lot. So making him fall for you won’t be a problem, because I’m quite certain it already happened.”

His words have you feeling a little bad for Eric Sohn. He’s just an unsuspecting teenager that just so happens to be born into a rich family. He likes you– quite obviously so– and you’re going to break all the trust he has in you and use him for your own personal gain. It’s not morally good to do anything like this. You should be ashamed of yourself.

But then again, you think of all the paths you have to take just to survive. You lost a lot of money, and you need to get it back again– and you need to do it fast. 

There’s no time for you to feel bad for Eric. You have to think of your sister first.

“I think you just have to pretend you like him back. Like… listen to him when he talks about boring stuff. Smile a lot– he’ll go crazy over your smile. Don’t be too touchy on the first date, or else it would come off as you being too eager, but if you manage to get a casual touch in without being too clingy, that’s bonus points,” Changmin hums, listing off all advice he can think of.

“Just be yourself, honestly. You have the guy wrapped around your finger anyway,” Changmin shrugs. “Let him pay for everything. Abuse the power you hold, Y/L/N.”

Nodding to yourself, you take a mental note of everything Changmin told you. “I don’t think it’s really fair to him, still.”

“Well, when was ever life fair to you?” he asks, tone of voice suddenly more sincere, more tender than the usual way he speaks to you. It has your eyes meeting again in the mirror, an unspoken understatement making you feel a tinge of bittersweetness in your insides, your gaze communicating the words you can’t quite materialize into existence.

The eye contact is broken as the male stands up from his place and pokes your exposed midriff with his finger, laughing at seeing you squirm before he dives into your bed sheets once again, a muffled yell sent your way from the cushion of your pillow.

“Go get him, tiger!”

“Why don’t we finish this at my place?” the man– you think his name was Baekho– asks you with a suggestive smile on his face after he pays for your dinner. 

This man was particularly hard to get to. He seemed smarter than the others– keeping his belongings close to himself, paying more attention to his surroundings. You and Changmin didn’t manage to go along with your initial plan, which made you tense on the inside as it was– his suggestion only made your heart drum harder against your ribcage, the self-preservation instinct within you telling you to run.

“I am actually not really feeling well, so I’ll head home,” you nod, a stern smile fighting its place onto your lips. 

“Don’t be silly,” the male opposes, shaking his head at you like you would at a child when it does something wrong and you can’t believe a human like that will someday grow into a fully functioning adult, “the night is still young, baby.”

Standing up from your place, following his motions, you turn your head sharply around and send a look full of worry to your companion. Changmin raises his eyebrows at you in question, but for the sake of your secrecy, you don’t pay him much of an answer in fear of where an explicit call for help would lead you. 

“Thank you so much for the dinner, really,” you try to seem welcoming, you try to play it off and put up a nonchalant facade, smiling at the man that towers over you, “but I really should get going.”

“Let me give you a ride home, then,” he insists, glazing your elbow with his hand, making you shudder at the action, acid hunting your tongue.

“That won’t be necessary, I don’t live far–”

“Oh, don’t be stupid. Let me show you my car,” the male grunts, harshly gripping your elbow and dragging you away from the restaurant.

One of the biggest mistakes you made today was the fact that you chose to meet with this man in the evening. Most of the dates you go on happen in the afternoon, providing you with more sense of safety– you should’ve known that this gathering would end differently to all the other ones you’ve been to. You get dragged away into one of the poorly-lit alleys, no cars in sight, and you swear you can feel the imprint of his hand burning on your skin.

“Please, let me go so I can–”

“So you think you can just go on a date with someone like me, bribe me to buy you dinner, and then leave me nothing in return? That’s not how it works around here, sweetheart,” the male grits through his teeth, dragging you along the alley despite you trying to wrestle your way out of his grip.

He’s stronger than you, and he’s taking that into advantage. The danger in your chest hammers stronger than any time before, alerting you of the fact that if a miracle doesn’t happen, you’re going to either die tonight, or be marked by the events of this date forever. Oh, what a foolish idea it was to go along with this. You should’ve known this was bound to end in a disaster from how well it’s been going since the start.

Trying to kick around in the male’s grip, huffing and screaming out– but knowing nobody’s going to hear you in the buzz of the nightlife– you gulp on nothing and try to use all your adrenaline for getting yourself out of the situation. 

“Stop squirming, you know it’s not going to help you–” 

The male suddenly grunts, a wince of pain flashing through his eyes. 

A miracle happens. Ji Changmin with his mask pulled up and his cap down low shielding his face appears in your point of vision, a bloody knife in his hand. When your shaky pupils look around, taking in your surroundings, you notice the man crouching down and holding his leg, growling like a wounded animal. 

Too shocked to do anything yourself, you let Changmin drag you behind him with his arm, shielding you from the man. You faintly notice him launching after your companion, but before he has a chance to fight with him, Changmin puts the knife up, threatening the male. You haven’t seen him fight anyone before– only heard of the quarrels he’s gotten into in the foster home or on the streets– but something about his swift movements and the kicks aimed at your attacker makes you feel a little safer, a tinge of relief flowing through your veins. He looks like he knows what he’s doing. He seems to have the situation at least partially under his control.

“Run!” you hear Changmin yell at you, only paying you attention for a spare second as he looks at you over his shoulder. 

You do as you’re told, but still keep looking back at your savior, watching as he kicks the man into his crotch area and slices the knife against the skin of his upper hand before he stabs him again, the pained groans echoing against the walls of the alleyway. There’s something terrifying about Changmin’s skills, leaving you wondering where he learned all of this– but before you get a chance to ponder on the origins of his self-defense skills any further, you hear his voice calling for the male.

“Don’t follow us, or this will end up worse,” he growls, still threatening the male with the pocket knife. “Try to go after us and I’ll tell the police you’re a pedophile– she’s only 17. You heard me?”

When the male doesn’t give him a reply, Changmin lets out a satisfied snicker. “That’s what I thought.”

Changmin runs up to you and drags you by your hand, tugging you out of the alleyway. The bloody knife is quickly hidden in his pocket as you charge through the streets, making sure you’re as far away from the man as possible. You stumble a little over your feet, making Changmin hold onto your hand a little stronger, dragging you behind a corner of a 24/7 bistro on the end of the street two blocks away, hiding you from the sight of the main road by the shade behind the building.

“Shit, are you okay?” he asks, looking you over with examining eyes. His shaky fingers take ahold of your chin, turning your face around to see any possible damage, letting go only when he’s sure there are no bruises on your cheeks, gripping your shoulders instead, breathing heavily. “Fuck. I’m so sorry,” he sighs out, his composure faltering a little, the contrast between him from a few minutes ago to now so big it leaves you weak in your knees.

“I’m okay,” you nod, barely registering the shakiness of your own voice.

The words have him tugging you close to him, arms wrapping around your body. He holds you as if he’s making sure you’re still there, all intact and alive, a hand sneaking into your hair petting it in an affectionate act you’ve never received from the male in the months you’ve spent working with him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault,” you choke out. The previous sense of danger slowly evaporates out of you, heart relaxing, your brain getting the signal that you’re finally safe and sound. Closing your eyes for a minute, you allow yourself to mold against his figure, foolishly adjusting to the way his grip around you brings you a sense of newly found serenity and calm.

“Kinda is. We’re never doing this again,” he says, and if you tune in with his body hard enough, you feel a slight tremble of his arms. 

“It’s fine, we can–”

“No,” he sighs, “there’s other ways. Safer ones.”

And it’s kind of strange– the way Ji Changmin demonstrates that your safety matters to him more than the money gain you’ve been both chasing after for the past few months. The things you two do to get by are never morally right and never the safest options, but when he lets go of you and holds his face in his hands before giving you a head pat, you know what he means: he’ll rather take the harder way than to leave you so vulnerable ever again.

Your shoes get discarded at the doorstep and your feet are quickly put into the guest slippers that reminds you too much of the ones you see in fancy hotels on the TV– the white, thin footwear you wear only to be polite, since they do nothing to keep your feet comfortable or warm, your heels thudding against the floor with as much force they would’ve if you wore only your socks. Eric takes off your coat and hangs it in the hall, like the true gentleman he was raised to be, and leads you into the house.

The ceilings are high, walls are various shades of white and cream, floors either mirror-like marble or expensive, hard wood. The whole house looks like it was taken out of a furniture catalog or made for one, everything fitting together in a simple, yet polished beauty. The decorations are simple and sleek, but they still make the whole place look put together. The floors are clean, not a speck of dust on either of the bookshelves you pass when the boy leads you into the common area, not a single mug misplaced or a dish forgotten in the sink. The air is fresh in the spacious rooms, yet it’s still quite overbearing, not letting you breathe.

“Do you want anything to drink?” he asks, almost a little nervously.

“Just water is fine, thank you,” you smile, agreeing. Your throat is suddenly dry, almost begging for the cold liquid to splash down and hydrate it a bit before you completely choke out.

Eric nods, leaving you alone in the living room. The big plasma TV seems to be framed against the wall, like an artwork in the gallery, and although it still gets a look full of awe out of you, you find the sentiment a bit ridiculous to look at. You feel like you’re in the Truman show– everyone’s watching your reactions through the camera, laughing at the fact that this is the first time you’ve set your foot into a place filled with so many expensive things, making you scared to even move in fears of breaking something more than your yearly rent. You must look like a deer in the headlights, clueless and shocked at the state of your surroundings, and it suddenly makes you self conscious as you decide to walk around the room and focus on what you’re here for– the plan.

Eyes scanning the contents of vitrines, the crystal glasses and expensive wine bottles, you try hard to mentally calculate the worth of everything in the house– you find yourself failing, though, since you can’t even tell just how much each thing costs, too far out of your league to even assume the price tag. There’s a particular display of jewelry you recognise from back when you worked in the store, scoffing when you add up the prices of the chains you once sold to an old man wanting a gift for his wife’s birthday– something about the number of digits making you feel just the tiniest bit infuriated.

How come some people have so much, yet you have so little? What makes them deserve it and makes you work tirelessly to afford a living? Why can they afford vacations in Greece and Dubai, yet you keep gluing together the last remains of your money to buy groceries for your sister?

It’s ridiculous. It’s frustrating.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you move towards a wall filled with pictures– each framed in a white or silver frame so they fit together like a jigsaw puzzle for your eyes, aesthetically pleasing each guest that’s ever crossed the threshold of the house– gazing at the memories captured on the photos. 

You recognise the little boy on all of them to be Eric. There’s a girl, a few years older than him, but undoubtedly his sister, with her arm around his shoulders, a silly smile plastered on both of their faces so similar the resemblance is uncanny. There are a few pictures with all 4 of them on the wall as well, sun shining into their eyes as they all squint into the camera, posing in front of various monuments. A few of the mementos are from the beaches of Europe, some are from the hiking trails of Asia, and the one with Eric’s hair longer and in little curls, very obviously one of the most recent ones with how much he resembles the boy currently in the kitchen fetching you with a glass of water, standing on a surfboard, was taken in the waves of the american west coast. You remember him saying something about having family there, so it’s not unusual for him to visit often.

A knife laced with the green poison of jealousy cuts you somewhere into your abdomen. It’s not only the expensive luxuries he gets to experience that make you long for a life like his– it’s also the carelessness, the joy. It’s the care you see in his parents’ eyes on the pictures, the obvious love shared in the photographs– they’re taken not to boost their privilege, but to remember their happiest moments. You wish you had something like that. A functional family. One that cares for each other. One that doesn’t put obstacles under each other’s feet.

“Here you go,” Eric’s voice wakes you up from the slumber, making you jolt and take the glass of water he’s offering to you into your grasp, taking a sip.

“Thanks,” you nod, smiling. 

Watching Eric from under your eyelashes, you notice his eyes glazing the frames you’ve been focusing on before. Licking his lips, the boy speaks up with a voice laced with genuine absurdity, pointing towards the wall. 

“You must think this is just ridiculous,” he notes, scratching the back of his neck. Eric Sohn isn't stupid– although he grew up in luxury, he can still recognise the imbalance of resources the two of you have. You don’t know why he is being self-conscious about it, though.

“Not really,” you note, shrugging, “it’s just… quite unbelievable, to be fair.”

“Yeah,” he snickers, “we don’t really go on many vacations anymore, to be honest. We used to go on many when I was a kid,” he says, making you recognise the fact that most of the pictures did indeed look older– back from when Eric was younger. 

You never really went on vacations when you were little. There was always something that got into the way– your parents either had a fight just in the middle of the summer, or you simply didn’t have enough money to travel anywhere, since you were surviving from paycheck to paycheck. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you start to wonder about the difference it makes to miss something you once used to have, and the desire for something you never got to experience. Which one is worse? Or are they not really comparable at all?

“My dad started working much more, so he doesn’t really have time. My sister got married, so she has her own family to worry about,” he shrugs, trying hard to play it casual– somewhere in the depth of his dark orbs, though, you notice that he’s battling away the fact that it upsets him. “I was really close with my sister,” he chuckles, pointing towards one of the picture frames where she’s putting up a peace sign behind his head, photobombing their own picture together, “I miss her sometimes.”

The role of the older sister is perhaps the one you try your hardest to keep. Will your little sister miss you the same way Eric does now with his own sibling? Will it hurt her less or more? Will she resent you? You can’t imagine a world in which your sister hates you– do you choose to protect her always, or do you take a step forward so you can breathe too?

“Does she visit you at all?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he hums. “It’s just not the same. That’s alright, though,” he shrugs, pressing his lips together into a tight line, “little Eric had a very happy family, at least. Can’t complain about that.”

And when you lock eyes with him, the sympathy oozing into the spacious, silent, almost lonely-looking place, you recognize the reality of it all– that no matter how fortunate you are in life, no matter how much money you have, there will always be struggles. Life always has its way of finding your weak spots and hitting where it hurts, strangling you and leaving you breathless in the battle of it all. You either don’t go on vacations at all, or you once did and now you can’t– either way, it hurts to think of what ifs and to remind yourself of all that once was and is now wasted. 

For the first time since you met Eric Sohn, you start to see him as human. You start to see him as someone with his own life, his own emotions, his own struggles. 

Maybe Changmin was wrong to tell you to get closer with the male. Now, having the insight to his thoughts, having the image of his once so idyllic life that’s now so far away, lonely, makes it harder for you to think of what you’re supposed to do when the time comes– mercilessly, completely selfishly. 

You’re not so sure you can proceed with the plan anymore. 

You miscalculated your abilities.

“Do you really need to write it all down?” you squint at your companion, feeling at least a little comical when you watch him scribble down a list onto a lined sheet of paper, blue ink twinkling in the sun. 

“Yeah,” he nods, totally focused on the task at hand. “So we don’t miss out on any important information. Everything’s useful.”

A sigh leaves your mouth at that, making you shaking your head in disbelief. Changmin is currently laying on his stomach in the grass, not a picnic blanket in sight– just his bare shirt against the ground– and as you sit cross legged against the tree in the very corner of the park, enjoying the breeze playing with your hair, you start to wonder just how innocent and carefree you must look to the rest of the people. Just two friends enjoying their weekend in the park. Nothing else. No shady business going on– you promise!

“So you said there was a bunch of jewelry?” Changmin asks, tapping the glitter pen against his chin. You don’t really know where he came across one, but you don’t dare to ask. You know he was eyeing one of the fancy glitter gel pens in the dollar store when you last went to buy a notebook for class with him after school, so you guess you know the source of his newest shiny toy. He’s like a crow, you think. Both with the love for anything that glimmers and the love for stealing.

“Yeah,” you hum, “like at every rich person’s house,” you shrug, not really knowing what his deal was.

“Okay, good. Visible? Unprotected?”

“Are you asking if it was locked like in a jewelry store?” you snicker, rolling your eyes at him. “Because if so, the answer is no, Changmin. Who in their right mind has their personal belongings locked in their own home? Right. No one.”

“Just making sure. I don’t know how it works with rich people, I’ve never been one of those,” Changmin hums, not paying your sarcastic remarks much mind. “But this is good, it works in our favor. What other valuables have you laid your eyes upon during your visit?”

You try to think back to the day you went over to the Sohn’s mansion. You didn’t really see the majority of the house– since Eric didn’t give you a full tour and you didn’t really think it was appropriate to ask for one– so all you know about the stuff he has at home is from the living room, the entry hall and his bedroom. 

“A game console of some kind? I don’t know, dude…”

“A PS5?”

“God, I dunno,” you mumble, furrowing your brows at the boy. “Do I look like an expert?”

“Right,” he sighs, licking his lips. “Well, we can only assume. Next?” 

His glitter pen scribbles the words ‘PS5 (?)’ into the notepad right below the words ‘expensive jewelry’, making you chuckle. You really don’t know what he’s trying to achieve over here– well, the main goal is clear, you’d say– you just don’t really know why he has to have a complete list. It’s not like you’re going to rob his house of everything. You don’t have the capacity to do all that.

“Well, I don’t know. I doubt you want me to carry out his plasma TV or something, so I think this is all I can really give you right now,” you mumble, shrugging. “As if this whole thing isn’t totally immoral in the first place.”

“Y/N, sweetie, I told you to forget about morals long ago.”

“Not everyone is morally gray by default, Changminnie. It takes a while to recalibrate,” you say, rolling your eyes at his phlegmatism. If only you could live your life with Ji Changmin’s mindset. You bet handling a lot of things would be much easier.

Eyes searching through the trees and the greenery, you take a mental note of your sister’s whereabouts. You’re glad you were finally able to take her out of the house. Her friends invited her out, and although it’s only in the neighborhood, you’re much happier with keeping an eye on her, just in case. You’re much more concerned with safety of your little sister ever since you came in contact with breaking the law– you realized just how many people with bad intentions are on the planet, and although you’re not one of the people engaging in child trafficking, something about tasting danger on your tongue makes you feel more cautious when it comes to Aerin’s safety.

She is currently laughing at something with her friends before she runs off, seemingly playing tag. The park is big enough for the girls to roam around without getting on the road, and it’s good for her to get some physical activity in. Shifting your attention back to Changmin, noticing him doodling shapes in the corners of his notebook, your mind settles back into conversation with him.

“Or maybe you’re just starting to like your boyfriend a little too much,” Changmin scoffs, making you furrow your brows in confusion.

“I don’t think me not feeling 100% happy with planning to rob someone I know is the cause of me suddenly being in love with my fake boyfriend,” you note, “that’s just, y’know. Being a human being with basic empathy.”

“Fake boyfriend?” Changmin repeats, completely disregarding the rest of your sentence.

“Well, it’s not exactly real, is it?” you laugh, a hint of discomfort on your tongue. “Makes me feel kinda bad, but–”

“So you’re dating?”

Blinking once, then twice at the boy in front of you, you scratch the back of your neck in nerves. “Is that not what you wanted me to do?”

“No, it is, it’s just… is it, y’know, official?”

“Define official.”

“Does he call you his girlfriend?” 

Plucking a stem of grass from the ground, twirling it around in your fingers– because looking into Changmin’s eyes is suddenly too unbearable in this situation– you shrug. “Sometimes.”

“Ah,” the male nods, an unreadable expression sitting at his face. “So it’s pretty official, then.”

Not really giving him an answer to this argument– both because you’re suddenly a bit embarrassed, cheeks burning and ears ringing (even though you really don’t know what made you have this reaction, since you have no romantic feelings to your current significant other) and because you don’t really know what to say– you only chew on the inside of your cheek, examining the greenery in between your pointer and your thumb.

“Have you two kissed already?” Changmin asks, quite confidentially, making you kick him in the side of his thigh.

“God,” you sigh out, shaking your head. “No!”

The male in front of you clicks his tongue, a grin spreading over his features. There’s a boyish sparkle behind his eye, his expression not understandable to you, making your insides squeeze in a weird tinge of anxiety. “What?” you ask, but get no reply– just a soft laugh coming out of his throat, battling its way to your heartstrings.

“Nothing.”

“Changmin! What’s so funny?” you ask, hiding your cheeks into the palms of your hands. “It’s just– I don’t wanna do it if I don’t like him like that, y’know? It’s not as embarrassing as you make it to be–”

“Not for you, that is.”

“Changmin!”

“What?” he asks, the dimple on his cheek at full display when he faces you, clearly amused at your reaction. “Look, it’s just that if it was me–”

“Changminnie! Changminnie!” a high-pitched, female voice cuts your friend off, making both of you turn your heads towards the source currently running to you at full speed, laughter escaping your little sister’s throat.

“I bet you can’t catch me!” Aerin says, touching your friend by his shoulder to tag him into the game before she runs off, the rest of her friends looking behind their backs and watching as he scrambles up from his lying position, a smile of a beaming sun plastered onto his face.

You never learn what Changmin wanted to tell you that day. You don’t ask later– you forget, not really deeming the information as that important. The memory you have of the afternoon spent in the park is mostly the image of your friend running after your sister, the laughter of the little girl resonating through your brain like a distant taste of childhood you wish to visit.

Ji Changmin is a fast runner, but he makes sure to play according to the girls’ pace. His voice is cheerful as he taunts them, calling after them in the spacious park, and when he looks back over his shoulder at you, eyes locking, your heart is left soaring in your chest before an invisible hand pierces through your lungs and takes the muscle into its hold, as if to offer it to him.

You wish to make your sister’s laugh last forever. You hope to make her joy prominent in the memories of her childhood. You pray she never turns bitter.

And when one of the girls starts chasing after Changmin, her legs half as long as the boy’s, pace slower and muscles more tired, you watch the boy theatrically trip and fall to the ground, shielding his fall with his outstretched arms. The girls laugh as he loses the game, getting tagged, and after the male almost comically slowly gathers back up to his feet again, a thought flashes through your brain– how amazing life would be if it was just you three in it– just you, Aerin and Changmin, spending your afternoons together, free of any trouble.

How happy life would be if every afternoon went like this. How good life would be if you spent days together just like this, like family. 

For the first time since your decision, you start to doubt your life plan. How can you leave a fantasy like this behind? 

How could you ever leave your little sister alone?

“It’s happening soon, right?” Changmin asks, the two of you sitting next to each other on the bus stop. Changmin sometimes takes the bus back to the foster home after class when neither of you have plans, but due to your poor time management skills and awfully slow pace of packing your things up, it just so happened that the poor boy missed the earlier bus– which you tried to repay him for with offering him both your chocolate milk and your time as you stayed with him on the bus stop and waited for the nearest bus to the other side of the town with him.

“Hm?” you ask, a little confused at first. Then, it dawns on you. “Ah. Yeah, I guess.”

Changmin’s voice is soft, almost careful when he talks about the topic. You don’t often discuss your plan out loud together. It happens once a fortnight– after sealing the deal in the school yard that day, there always was a feeling of mutual understanding hanging over the two of you that said that even though it’s the reality you’re striding towards, you don’t really mention it out loud. As if not to jinx it. 

Or maybe, the both of you just don’t really want to discuss something so difficult. It’s easier to prepare for it when you pretend it’s easy. When you don’t open up about just how scared the both of you clearly are.

“Are you… are you ready?” he asks, making you look at him with confused eyes, a hearty chuckle escaping your throat.

“As ready as I’ll ever be– which actually, just for the record, means no,” you say, watching as your companion hums and nods to himself, head clearly full of thoughts he’s a little afraid to say out loud. 

You don’t blame him. Not at all, actually. Your own mind is full of conflicting thoughts and feelings, a battle of morality and selfish desire making a pit open in your stomach every time you think of the next step of your little plan. A part of you desperately needs to leave, to settle things once and for all, but another part of you is still hesitant. Maybe there’s another way. Maybe you could do something about it. Maybe you could try contacting your father again– one more call left to be sent into the voicemail really won’t hurt you right now.

You’ve been thinking a lot of similar things lately. Questioning the nature of your plan. Wondering if you’ll succeed, if it’s all worth it.

You don’t really talk about it, though. Not until now. You don’t know what gets you so weak and fragile. 

“What if… what if there’s another way?” you ask, watching as the boy’s head spins to face you, eyes glossy as they stare back to yours.

“Hm?” he seems confused. “What do you mean?”

A little sigh escapes your throat at that, your head turning so you face the road again. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shrug. “I was just… I was just thinking, like… what if there’s a way for me to do all of this without leaving? Y’know, I could just…” you trail off, not really finishing your sentence. Truth is, you don’t really know where you were going with that statement either. Maybe you just said it out loud in hopes that Changmin would finish it and figure it out for you, offer you a different perspective, make a new plan– a plan where neither of you leave, a plan where neither of you have to cut ties with everything you know back home.

That’s a foolish thought, though. “What? Get 20 million won in a month a different way? A legal one? You’re gonna get another loan, or something?” Changmin chuckles, not really taking you seriously. Or maybe he is– you just feel a bit childish for having such unrealistic views.

“I don’t know,” you say, jaw clenching. “Maybe I could get another job, and start going on those dates again, and–”

“Yeah, no,” Changmin cuts you off, a huff escaping his lungs. “I know it’s hard, Y/N, but this is all you can do. This is the last resolution, or else you’re gonna lose your house, your mum will be homeless, and you two with Aerin will either end up with your dad– which is unlikely, from what you’ve told me– or at the foster home. If you’re lucky, maybe they’ll put you both to the same one–”

Something about his words feels like daggers are thrown into your skin. Like poison is on his tongue and you’re getting burned with each honest sentence that is uttered out your way. The truth hurts, it makes you feel like he’s only adding salt to an open wound, and it’s not fair of you to react that way– you’re certainly aware– but you can’t help it. The world is toppling over onto you, the weight is all on your shoulders, and you feel totally, utterly helpless. You feel overwhelmed. You feel tired.

“Okay, I get it,” you cut him off, shaking your head in a dismissive way and rolling your eyes at the boy. “It’s just that I don’t really like the thought of doing illegal stuff just to survive, y’know? It’s not exactly easy to steal and do all of this shit, and then leave. I know it must seem fun to you, since–”

“Fun?” Changmin cuts you off. A heartbeat of silence passes by between the two of you, and suddenly, you know you’ve crossed the line. You and Changmin can tell each other many things, but this time, you sound a lot like the people judging him on the street. You sound a lot like the police officers always letting him off without punishment– he’s a kid from the foster home. He does this stuff for attention, doesn’t he? For fun. For satisfaction. He doesn’t know any better– that’s how he was raised. Right?

“Fun,” he repeats. “You think I’m doing this for fun, huh?” he chuckles. You notice his knee bumping up and down in the periphery of your vision, a nervous action just begging to tick you off. “That’s not exactly something I expected you to say, but okay–”

“Well, that’s how we fucking ended up here in the first place, didn’t we?”

“I’ve been doing this for you!” he spits, voice rising and making you flinch. “For you, and for me. For our fucking futures,” he says. You refuse to look at him even when he stands up from his place on the bench, situating his figure in front of your body still hunched up on the hard wood. “I’ve been doing this for the both of us, because we deserve a better life than this, Y/N.”

“A better future?” you laugh, bitterness dripping off your tongue. “In hiding. On a run.”

“Do you prefer being homeless? Being thrown into the foster home for a few days before you age out of the system and your little sister is left there with the other kids? Kids like me?” he says mercilessly, only adding gas to the fire. 

“You know that’s not what I meant–”

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I know,” he says, irony slipping through his words. “You’re just saying this because you’re scared. Because you feel selfish–”

“And isn’t it true, Changmin? Isn’t selfish what we both are?” you say, your eyes finally meeting with the boy’s. His hair is disheveled as if he’s been running his hands through it in frustration, eyebrows furrowed and a displeased expression is sitting at his features. On most days, Ji Changmin looks like a cunning fox– full of mischief, full of secrets. Now, though, it’s like you see right through him. Somewhere along the way, you feel like you’re the one that started building up a wall in the middle of this argument. “How could I ever just leave my sister there? You could never understand–”

“I can’t, huh?” he says, nothing close to the gentle softness in his voice now, all disappearing from when he spoke to you just a few minutes ago. His voice is harsh, hoarse, even, something behind his eyes shifting in the middle of the fight. “Why? Because I don’t have siblings? Because I have nothing to lose?”

“You wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” you let out, but even as you’re saying it, you feel immediately disgusted with yourself. How could you ever say this to his face? 

Changmin looks like he was slapped in his face. You swear he winces at your words, bottom lip trapped between his lips as he stares you down. The corners of your eyes start burning like there’s been acid poured into your sockets, hands trembling in the reality of your words. The boy in front of you nods to himself, harshly breathing in.

“I wouldn’t know how leaving someone behind feels,” he repeats, nodding to himself. “Yeah. You’re right. Because I don’t have anyone,” he admits. “I don’t have siblings like you do. I never met my parents, because they never gave a shit about me enough to keep me in their lives in the first place. Nobody fucking cares at the foster home, because I can’t seem to make meaningful connections with anyone. And you know what, yeah. It’s just so easy for me, because there’s no one here who would give a single flying fuck if I leave, because they don’t even really care if I’m alive or dead.”

“Changmin–”

“Just say it, Y/N. Say nobody cares,” he says, eyes stone cold, an avalanche taking place in your lungs. It’s hard to breathe and your eyes are hazy, fists crawling in themselves as you relish in the catastrophe you’ve caused.

“That’s not what I–”

“And you know what? Maybe you’re right, Y/N. I have nothing to lose, I am not leaving anyone behind, I wouldn’t know how it feels. Call me selfish, for all you like. Call me selfish for wanting something for myself, for wanting to leave this town and start over somewhere new. I don’t care. I’m doing this for myself,” he says, the noise of an approaching car landing in your ears through the sound of his words. “But don’t you fucking dare give up on your future just because you feel guilty. Don’t you dare call yourself selfish when you’re doing everything you can to keep the rest of your family afloat. Don’t call yourself selfish when you’re paying back a loan that isn’t yours and taking care of your sister’s future by doing all of this alone, yeah?”

A hot trail of liquid falls down your cheek as you hear the bus approaching the stop. Taking a shaky breath in, you open your mouth to say something– anything– but no words come out.

“And I know it’s hard for you. I know you’re tired, I know you’re exhausted and I know you’re scared and god do I wish I could make this easier for you, but Y/N, don’t you ever say it’s fun or easy for me, when I’ve been putting everything on line trying to help you. To help us.”

The bus door opens. Like a child that’s being scolded, you refuse to meet his eye. There’s shame flowing through your veins, embarrassment creeping up your neck. It feels like you betrayed him. Like you cut right where it hurts, tried to use everything you had on him against him, hitting all his weak spots– all because you were suddenly too prideful to admit to yourself that you’re scared and wallowing in guilt. It’s hard to bear the weight alone. You wish you could make Changmin feel guilty. 

That’s something he won’t understand. It doesn’t make it easier for him, though. He was right– you could never do any of this differently. You could also never do any of this alone. 

“And if you still think it’s selfish, then, well,” you hear him sigh, “I think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes. I think it’s fair of you to be selfish right now,” he says, the words both feeling like a hug and a punch to your sternum, leaving you cut open in the empty road.

“I’ll see you on Monday.”

The bus drives off, the boy’s figure peeling itself off your proximity, entering the other side of the town. You sit at the bus stop for a long while after, aggressively wiping your tears away with the back of your palm, embarrassed to cause such a scene. You never meant to fight with him. You never meant to act like a toddler, playing the victim in a situation that you sadly cannot change, in a situation you unfortunately cannot solve in any better way. 

Ji Changmin is the only person you can lean on in this situation. You feel bad for using him as your punching bag. You’re deeply flawed to take it out on him. 

In the silence of the street, the thought hits you with full force, making your knees weak and your throat dry up like the desert, a dagger straight through your heart as you realize you’re the only person Changmin would be leaving behind. 

And after everything you two went through together, he would never do such a thing. Ji Changmin will hold on to you like a lifeline, because you’re everything he’s got– everything he keeps fighting for. He could give up on everything, had you not been on board. 

He could never give up on you, though.

Warm sunlight peeks through the windows as you sit in silence side by side, neither of you daring to say anything, as if you were scared to break the atmosphere hanging over the calm library. You and Changmin haven’t talked to each other much the whole day, something in the air remaining tense and strained after your previous argument on Friday, but you still tagged along with him when he asked you if you wanted to do homework with him in the library. This is the first time you see your companion doing any school work at all, so you figure you don’t want to pass out on the revolutionary moment– and also, you still feel kind of bad about your latest interaction. You take the fact that he invited you to spend more time with him as a good sign, though. 

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to break the bubble and move a little in your place, reaching for something inside of your bag. Changmin promptly ignores your movements, but when a carton of banana milk appears in his vision, he pays you a glance. 

You’re too prideful to say sorry with words. You don’t want to mention it and go back to the topic you were discussing, much preferring to let things be the way they were before you had an emotional outburst at the bus stop. While you can’t say you aren’t glad that the words are now out in the open, the two of you are more vulnerable in front of each other than ever, you really don’t think you can handle another argument. Some things are better left unsaid. Ignored. There was mutual understanding over you two anyway– there was no use saying those things out loud.

And when you move the banana milk closer to Changmin’s elbow resting on the table with a push of your pointer finger across the dark-wooden desk, you see his eyes softening. He understands, taking the drink into his hand and tearing the plastic off the straw, sucking in the beverage. Ji Changmin accepted your offering, and somehow, you feel like there was some weight lifted off your shoulders, a force unsqueezing your heart. 

“You’re not working on your homework?” he asks, voice hushed in the silent library.

“No,” you shake your head, deciding to lean over the desk and rest your weight on your folded arms, prepping yourself into a comfortable napping position. “I’ll just borrow your notebook before class and copy it.”

“Is this you finally admitting that I’m smarter than you?” he teases, shaking his head at your prompt laziness.

“If that helps you sleep at night,” you shrug. 

Changmin snickers at your reply, eyes hovering over you for a few seconds as you get comfortable next to him. He takes another sip of the banana milk before he offers the drink to you, the straw hovering over your lips. Like a baby being fed through a sippy cup, you open your mouth and let him slot the straw between your lips, sucking the liquid in and relishing in the sweetness of the beverage. 

You shoot him a smile when the carton is back in its place on the desk, his eyes promptly moving to the monitor in front of him. You don’t really know what he’s working on in the first place, the hoard of assignments mixing up in your brain, but you refuse to let your mind wander over equations or foreign languages now. It’s Monday afternoon, and even though it’s only the first day of the week, you feel like you deserve to rest.

Changmin types something on the keyboard of the library computer, eyebrows furrowing as he focuses on the contents of the screen. You find yourself glued to his motions, watching him from the side, studying the way his expressions change in milliseconds, irises dialing by the second. When he focuses a little too hard on the information his eyes are scanning on the device, he traps his bottom lip in between his teeth, tugging on it. He also has a habit of licking his lips every few seconds, leaving a wet trail glossing over his mouth, making you feel foolish at the examination of that part of his face. Hair is falling into his forehead, black locks messily trimmed and mostly unstyled, oftentimes leaving you eager to brush your hand through the raven strands to tame them into place. 

His features have grown familiar to you over the months. He has the face of someone you’ll remember even in a few years. He looks like someone you’d take pictures of in photo booths and tape the strips up in your room. You don’t have any pictures like this, though, and your room isn’t worthy enough of being made prettier with such a photo strip. Maybe in the future, you think. When I live somewhere else.

His voice wakes you up from the slumber, your heart hammering at the interruption. Changmin speaks to you casually, the monotone hum of his voice making you listen attentively to what he has to say.

“Where do we eventually want to settle?” he asks, making you raise your brows at him in question.

“What part of the homework is that?” you joke, watching as the boy’s cheeks tint pink, a dismissive wave of his hand shutting up your teasing.

“I’m already done with that,” he clears his throat, “I’m just… doing research.”

“Research,” you repeat, nodding to yourself. You nuzzle your nose into your hoodie sleeve, thinking for a while as you contemplate your decision. You never really thought of where you’d go. ‘Away’ was always your destination– never specified. You just knew you’d have to leave one day, eventually.

“Busan, maybe?” you hum, laughing to yourself. “I dunno. I always wanted to go to Japan, but I don’t think our funds will reach as far.”

“I don’t really think the language barrier would be ideal either,” he agrees, nodding to himself. “Busan sounds nice.”

“Doesn’t it?” you grin, locking your gaze with his only for a few seconds before he looks back to the computer. 

“We could get a little flat somewhere in the middle of the city when we save up enough, eventually,” he says, tone of voice sweet and gentle. There’s something about planning your future with Changmin that leaves you feeling particularly vulnerable and fragile. Not in a bad way, just in a strange type of way. In a way that makes your insides ache and heart tremble. You never thought you’d plan your future with someone. 

Ji Changmin never planned his future either. Somehow, he assumed there was nothing good waiting for him after aging out of the system. 

The intimacy folded over you two like a blanket makes you panic. “We’re moving in together?” you tease, watching as the boy’s face heats up more, a hesitant shrug of his shoulders acted out to seem casual.

“I think it’s more convenient that way,” he hums, trying to stay logical. “We can split the rent and groceries, and one of us can cook while the other one cleans…” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. “We are leaving together, so I assumed…”

A dumb smile battles its way onto your lips. “I was just joking,” you assure him, watching as he shies away from your gaze. It’s not an usual reaction from him. Ji Changmin doesn’t really get bashful– at least not with you. You try not to question it for the sake of your own comfort.

Forcing your eyes off his face, you watch as he types something on the keyboard again, attention glued to his digits. Dark bruises paint his knuckles, scratches glazing the backs of his fists. Eyebrows furrowing, you act on instinct as you reach out your hand, stopping him from typing as you take his palm into yours. “Did you get into a fight again?” you ask, thumb absent-mindledly tracing the outlines of the scars.

“Maybe,” he admits light-heartedly, lips pressed into a thin line when your warm hand locks with his, the tender touch of the pads of your thumbs against the open wounds making him shiver. If asked, the boy would blame it on the breeze coming through the window. It’s getting late and the air is colder. That has to be it.

“No getting in fights after this is all over,” you say as you let go. “Wouldn’t want our landlord to kick us out for delinquency.”

Changmin laughs, the absurdity of the situation and your foolish dreams downing on both of you at once. Unaware that even though you were both forced to grow up much faster than other kids your age, you were still childish at heart– as if chasing the time of your life that was forcefully taken out of your hands– older, but still needing to live through that stage, you fold back over the table and force your eyes closed, scoffing at the sentiments.

“Don’t you worry, Y/N,” he laughs, “we’re starting clean. Hell, I’ll even give back to society. We can start volunteering, if it makes you sleep better at night.”

The joke makes you chuckle, warming your heart. It’s nice to think about the future with someone. It’s good to feel like your dreams might be tangible. The future is in your hands, and you will do everything you can to make it worth it. 

It’s good to have someone you can lean on.

“Can I help you with that?” Aerin asks you from behind, startling you in the small kitchen space. Turning towards her, you offer her a smile and shake your head, watching as your little sister takes her stance next to your figure, observing your cooking.

When it comes to cooking, you wouldn’t call yourself a professional. A lot of the times, what you end up with isn’t as delicious as you expected it to turn out when you started making it, but at the end of the day, it’s food anyway and you eat it– because throwing it out would be a waste of money and resources, and you have to eat something. There are a few foods that are easy enough that you perfected them, though– and those are ramen, an egg omelet, fried rice, and lastly, the pre-made foods you get at the grocery store that you either just boil or heat up in the microwave. 

“No, it’s okay,” you say as you work on one of your master dishes– the one that satisfies everyone, including your little sister: ramen. You can never go wrong with ramen, you think. 

“But I wanna learn to cook as well,” your sister insists, crossing her arms on her chest, “I’m not a child anymore, and I have to learn how to look after myself.”

A dry chuckle escapes your throat, shaking your head in disbelief at her mature words. In your eyes, she’s just a child, though– a kid that’s not to be trusted with knives and boiling water, a little girl that isn’t as careful with the utensils as she should be, which can undoubtedly end up with her getting hurt. 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you smile, throwing your little sister a caring look. “You just focus on studying and I’ll be there to cook for you so your little stomach is never empty,” you say as you slice the spring onion to add into the noodles boiling on the stove.

Aerin seems to be disappointed with your answer. Her cheeks grow twice as big as they usually are as she pouts, a frown overtaking her features. You take it as your sign to engage your little sister more in the grown-up activities, sighing to yourself as you realize just how fast your little sister has grown. Even though you try to shield her from all the troubles of the adult world, you can’t really prevent her from maturing faster than the other kids her age. Hell, she’s not blind– as much as you’d like her to be. She knows what’s going on. She might not be able to grasp it fully, might not be able to understand everything with her childish brain, but she knows– to a certain level, that is. 

Nodding to yourself, you try to put up a smiling face. “Okay, then,” you say, “I’m making ramen.”

Your sister seems to be intrigued with your sudden tutorial, eyes growing big and focused. Something grows impossibly soft and fond in you, watching her scanning the surroundings, trying to find any task to help you out with. 

“You can just open the pack and put the noodles in the water to boil, if you want to do it the easy way,” you start, “but if you want to make it more delicious, like I do, you can add some other ingredients in with it.”

“What do you add?” Aerin asks.

“Spring onion,” you hum, pointing to the vegetables you’d been cutting when she approached you, “soy sauce,” you point towards the black bottle on the counter, waiting to be opened and added into the dish cooking on the stove, “and lastly, I crack in an egg.”

“That doesn’t seem hard,” Aerin says, earning herself an amused chuckle out of you.

“It’s not,” you admit, “I’m not a professional chef, or anything, so I keep it simple.”

“Can I do it, then?” she asks, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes. You can’t possibly turn those eyes down. A passing thought emerges in you that she needs this– she needs someone to teach her even the smallest things. She needs you to teach her how to cook ramen, because you know how hard it is when you have no one to show you, when you have to figure out everything on your own. 

Nodding, you step aside and put the black bottle of soy sauce into her hand. “You can pour in a little bit. Not too much, though, or else it will be too salty.”

“How much?” she asks, furrowing her brows.

“I’ll tell you when to stop,” you smile, watching as her smaller hand opens the lid of the bottle, positioning the glass above the pot. Black liquid soon drips down, tinting the broth a dark brown color, the spices mixing in and making the ramen instantly twice as delicious as if you’d just thrown it on the stove with the spices that come in the packaging. 

“That’s fine,” you say, halting your sister in adding more and over-seasoning your lunch.

“Now the egg?”

“Yeah,” you nod, watched by the focused eyes of your little sister. You take the small sphere you’ve prepared onto the kitchen counter before you started cooking, offering it to Aerin. “Have you ever cracked an egg before?” you ask.

“No.”

“Okay,” you laugh, “so this is your first time. Don’t worry, nobody gets it right the first time. Just crack it on the counter and then open the shell. Be careful not to spill it everywhere, though,” you instruct, watching as your little sister moves with much uncertainty, small hands shaking with the delicate ingredient in her grasp.

The touch of the shell with the counter is almost delicate the first time, as if she was afraid the egg was going to spill everywhere and make a mess on the kitchen counter, but the second time, she’s a little more confident, cracking the egg on the corner. Pure concentration is shown on your sister’s face as she moves the ingredient above the pot, her little fingers having trouble with opening the shell and dropping the egg in. She struggles, nails digging into the light tan, putting in more force than necessary and breaking the shell even further, having the yolk spill all over her fingers, dropping to the pan with a crash.

Aerin gasps in surprise at her own actions, a frown instantly overtaking her features as she notices that the shell fell in, disappointment so evidently running through her veins.

“It’s okay,” you say, petting her arm, “as I said, nobody gets it right the first time. Throw the shell into the bin and wash your hands, I’ll finish this,” you smile, trying to transfer all your feelings of pride into her.

She is growing up right in front of your eyes. It’s a feeling only older siblings can understand– seeing someone transform from a baby to an elementary-school kid, being there for every step of their journey. You’ve known her her whole life. It’s a bond that you never want to break.

But there’s that bugging voice in your mind that keeps telling you to enjoy this, enjoy it while it lasts, enjoy it while you can, because soon, you’ll be gone and you won’t see her take the next steps, you won’t see her grow up. A chill runs down your spine at that, an unsettling feeling making you feel heavy, making you trap your bottom lip between your teeth and gnaw on it in a poor attempt to ground yourself.

Crouching over the boiling pot, you take out a spoon and fish for the cracked shell in the noodles, not really being in favor of getting an upset appendix. Your eyes get hazy, stinging at the corners– maybe you could blame it on the steam.

“You did well, Aerin. You’ll be a better cook than me in no time,” you praise her.

“I have to learn,” she agrees, the sound of the tap turning on as she washes her hands flowing into your ears with her next sentiment. “You won’t be here forever to do everything for me, after all.”

With your back turned to her, pretending to still dig around the noodles for the egg shells you already got out a few seconds ago, you hum. You catch yourself mid-sniffle, quickly wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, turning off the stove– maybe you could blame it on the spring onion. Cutting it always makes you tear up. It’s just the fumes getting in your eyes.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. The day that happens is maybe sooner than she’d expect– you can’t tell her, though. You can’t prepare her for your departure.

By bringing this up, though, it’s almost like in the corner of her soul, she knew. It’s almost like she had it all figured out, it’s like she saw right through you. It’s like her own way of telling you not to worry– she’ll be a big girl and take care of herself. She’ll be strong, even when you’re gone.

You won’t be there forever to do everything for your little sister. You really, desperately wish you would, though. 

Carisoprodol, sold under the brand name Soma among others, is indicated for the relief of discomfort associated with acute, painful musculoskeletal conditions in adults. Carisoprodol is a white, crystalline powder, having a mild, characteristic odor and a bitter taste. It is slightly soluble in water; freely soluble in alcohol, chloroform, and acetone; and its solubility is practically independent of pH. SOMA should only be used for short periods (up to two or three weeks) because adequate evidence of effectiveness for more prolonged use has not been established.

“What if it kills him?” you ask, chewing on your bottom lip.

“It won’t,” Changmin says, placing his hand over yours, the package of pills resting in your open palm. “Trust me.”

The recommended dose of SOMA is 250 mg to 350 mg three times a day and at bedtime. The recommended maximum duration of SOMA use is up to two or three weeks.

“Where did you even get this?” your eyebrows furrow as you listen to him instruct you on the ways of using it. Your stomach is already burning with acid at the thought of what you’re going to do. It’s what you’re dreading, but it’s also what needs to be done. 

“Our caretaker back at the foster home takes them,” he says, shrugging. “So I just borrowed some.”

SOMA has sedative properties and may impair the mental and/or physical abilities required for the performance of potentially hazardous tasks such as driving a motor vehicle or operating machinery. There have been post-marketing reports of motor vehicle accidents associated with the use of SOMA. In some patients, however, and/or early in therapy, carisoprodol can have the full spectrum of sedative side effects and can impair the patient's ability to operate a firearm, motor vehicles, and other machinery of various types, especially when taken with medications containing alcohol, in which case an alternative medication would be considered. The intensity of the side effects of carisoprodol tends to lessen as therapy continues, as is the case with many other drugs. Other side effects include: dizziness, clumsiness, headache, fast heart rate, upset stomach, vomiting and skin rash.

“Just give him two of these. He should be out within an hour.” 

A chill runs down your spine. This is nothing close to the occasional stealing at the grocery store or the lying you used to do to get money out of old men that are predatory towards a girl knowing she’s underage. This is twice as morally wrong and twice as dangerous for everyone involved. If you had to draw a line at what you can excuse yourself, you think all of this is far over it.

“If this goes wrong, I’m ratting you out and we’re both going to jail. You hear me?” you say, eyes bearing into Changmin’s.

“That’s the plan, baby,” he grins. “If you go down, I go as well.”

The usual dose of 350 mg is unlikely to engender prominent side effects other than somnolence, and mild to significant euphoria or dysphoria, but the euphoria is generally short-lived due to the fast metabolism of carisoprodol into meprobamate and other metabolites.

You watch the boy from up close, his eyes now blown out and big, blonde hair falling into his forehead in a messy manner– yet he doesn’t find it in him to drag his palm across the strands and push them out of his vision. You’re laying in the bed with him, side by side, staring into each other’s eyes. You watch as the drug slowly takes over him, as the boy in front of you slowly starts slipping into a more and more sleepy state, completely unaware of the fact that you dropped two white, round pills into his drink when he went to the toilet. 

Your conscience starts stinging more and more with the passing time. Eric Sohn looks at you like you hung the stars onto the sky, like you made the whole world with just your two hands– and this is what you’re repaying him with. This is what you decided to do, this is what path you chose to take.

Millions of excuses flash through your alert brain. Maybe it’s just your mind trying to rationalize everything, trying to make you feel better about the mess you’re just now going to create– either way, it’s helping only a little bit with the rapid beating of your heart. 

You keep telling yourself that it doesn’t matter. That Eric would never understand the life you’re living, that he wouldn’t even want to date you, had he known just how much money your family owes. You keep telling yourself that it’s okay, because he has a lot of money, and it’s not like you’re stealing it all– you’re just stealing the valuables he showed you. And maybe it’s his fault for trusting you. After all, he was the one willingly taking you back to his house when his parents weren’t around. This is his lesson– he should start being less gullible and vulnerable. He should stop hanging out with people like you.

You and him, you don’t belong together. Eric Sohn is supposed to stand by the side of another rich heir, showing her off to his parents. He’s supposed to be proudly going around the town with his newest girlfriend, not hiding with her in the shadows, knowing, sensing that she’s flawed and not like him– not like others.

He’s going to wake up and find out who you are– the reality, not just what you’ve been pretending to be all this time– and he’s going to be disappointed, sure, but he’s going to move on to better things. Because what you’re taking from him is just a fraction of his wealth, just a small part of what he has. He won’t even feel the loss. 

But for you, you’re taking everything you can– everything you need.

It’s not like any of this– your relationship– was ever real. You two haven’t even kissed yet. You hang out with him and hold his hand, you listen to him while he talks to you with sparkles in his eyes, but there’s no depth. Surely, he must feel it. Surely, he must know there’s something wrong.

“I love you, Y/N,” he suddenly says, tone of voice hushed, almost not audible in the silence of his room. The sentence is like a knife to your heart, a dagger stabbing you in your back. Something inside of you crumbles, your stomach burning with guilt, hands shaking as you pretend you didn’t hear him. If you ignore it, maybe it’s like it never happened. 

It’s the effect of the drug. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. It’s not real– how could it be? He doesn't know you. He doesn’t know who you really are and what you’re about to do. He can’t love you.

Fingers playing with the loose threads of the blanket thrown over the two of you, your eyes avert from his, big and honest, still like water. It takes everything in you not to stay here with him, wait until he’s back from the sedation, and apologize. It takes everything in you not to back out. Every time the weight of your actions becomes too unbearable, the weight of responsibility and your family’s well-being drops onto the other side of the scale, though, and you’re back to square one– this is what you need to do.

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says to you despite not meeting your eye, “you… I know…” he trails off, but doesn’t finish the sentence, as if changing his mind. A dry chuckle leaves his throat at that, words sweet like honey lacing your throat, choking you up with the thickness of them, the richness of his unreturned care. “I just wanted you to know.”

You’re a terrible, terrible human being. The force of your teeth against the side of your cheek suddenly gives out, making you taste iron on your tongue. Promptly ignoring everything he says, focusing on calming down your breathing and the erratic beating of your heart, you wonder if he knows. If he’s aware you’re just playing with him– if he knows you never cared for him in a way he does for you. 

Because if he knows, it’s like he’s allowing you to break him. Isn’t that what love is, though? Being vulnerable, offering someone your whole heart, and expecting them to take care of it? Love is cruel in that way. It can take away all of you. It can consume you.

And would he still love you if he knew what you were going to do to him? Is his love unconditional? You chuckle at that. He doesn’t know anything about love. 

A while passes, the two of you laying in silence. When you finally battle away the fear and look up at him, you find him asleep. His eyes are closed and his breathing is steady, and when you touch his arm– testing to see if he will wake– you find him unresponsive. This is your cue.

Standing up from his bed and straightening the wrinkles on your clothes, you take a deep breath in and out to calm yourself down. Your hands grasp the backpack you brought with yourself– the bag that was supposed to be filled with clothes so you could sleep over, yet that is now empty, just waiting to be filled– and you walk out of Eric’s room, feet dragging you towards all the empty rooms in the corridor.

The first part of the plan is now in action.

Walking into the master bedroom, dashing to the walk-in closet, you take all the jewelry you can find. The mental calculations of the worth of the chains and golden earrings in your bag are adding up slowly, the digits growing and making a sense of satisfaction flow through your veins. Maybe something rubbed off on you from hanging out around Changmin so much– you get the thrill now. You get the adrenaline. It’s like working for something you want, something you need, and although you know there are other ways, they’re not as fast and effective. The thing is, you need the money now. 

Fastly getting through room by room, taking everything valuable you can see with the idea of turning it into profit in a pawn shop somewhere along the way, when everything is settled and you’re on the run, starting your life somewhere new, you find that it gets easier to operate. It’s like you’re working on auto-pilot, the full weight of your actions slowly slipping through your consciousness. You’re only an actor in your life right now, looking at yourself from a third person view– like you’re playing a video game. 

Detached from everything, hands now more steady and breathing almost normal, you take the jewelry from the living room as well. A dry chuckle leaves your throat as you eye Eric’s wallet thrown lazily on the shelf by the front door. You never leave your money out in the open and unhidden at home– don’t you know that? Haven’t you learned about the dangers of that yet, Eric Sohn? Oh, what a blissfully unaware life you lead.

Opening it, taking the bank notes into your fingers and folding them into your pocket, you stop as you put your shoes back on at the front door. Looking around the big, empty space, not really allowing yourself to dwell on your actions just yet, you take your phone out of your pocket and before you completely turn the device off, block Eric’s number. 

The doorknob is cold in your hands as you open the front door, walking out. It’s like you’re leaving who you once were and who you could’ve been in that big house behind you– it’s like you’re saying goodbye to the life you once led and anxiously awaiting the new one waiting for you behind the corner. 

Getting sentimental won’t help you in this situation, though. Being emotional and afraid won’t drag your family out of the depths of loan sharks’ teeth. 

And so you walk off the property, mind set on the meeting point you agreed on with Changmin. It’s now or never.

The first part of the plan has been completed. You have something to fall back on when you discard all the money into the loan shark’s hands. Eric Sohn’s wealth is now your safety net. 

You meet up with your partner in crime at the corner of the neighborhood. Your backpack gets hidden in the bushes, away from the eyes of everyone, on the route you’re going to take when completing your second part of the plan. The next couple of steps are completed on autopilot. 

Flashes of Changmin’s face. A ski mask pulled over his head, a hood pulled over your hair, disposable mask covering your nose. He throws one of his spare black hoodies over your body, leaving you to put your arms through the sleeves and zip the clothing up, the two of you masked to the point of not being recognised even to the eyes of people that know you. 

You two make a silent entry to the empty road leading towards the town square. Not much conversation is shared between the two of you because of the adrenaline running through your veins. The stride in your step is consistent and fast-paced, the timing of your plan set to a tight schedule. When you cross the corner, nearing your target, the two of you put on sunglasses and keep your head low. Your heartbeat is so fast you can hear it in your ears, your body responding to the stress with the help of your sympathetic nervous system– breathing growing fast and hands a little sweaty.

Your mind is repeating ‘It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay’, a silent plea that constantly gets overthrown by the rational side of your brain. Is it too late to back out now? You don’t know– but at the same time, you recognise that you don’t particularly want to. You’re just scared– you know it. You recognise it. 

And it’s okay to do things afraid. It means you have the courage to do them– it means you have what it takes to change the situation you’re in.

Your eyes lock with Changmin’s, his face mostly hidden in a shadow. You can’t really read his expression– it’s dark and his features are covered– but it seems like you two operate on the same frequencies. One nod is all it takes– the world stops for a second before Changmin turns on his heel and moves towards the jewelry store you once worked at, a heavy rock he prepared close to the sidewalk thrown through the door giving you an easy entry to the property.

The alarm goes off instantly. That means you only have about 10 to 15 minutes before the police come and you’re busted.

You have to act quick. Changmin climbs into the store like he owns the place. You have the background information from working there that could very well get you caught quickly, if the police are smart enough to connect the dots in the investigation. The plan you and Changmin have is efficient, fast and smart. You thought about everything– you can’t make a single mistake. The way you move and operate is calculated and thought-out. There’s no way you’re giving yourself to the hands of the police tonight.

While you run to the back and rummage through the manager’s room, looking for the key to the cash register– you know where it’s usually kept, since you closed with her many times before and watched her do all the tasks with innocent eyes, not yet knowing that you’re going to end up using this information for your good one day. When you find it– on the top of the shelf, almost invisible if you hadn’t known that’s where to look for it– you move to the safe in the corner of the room. The sequence of numbers is easy to remember– or at least for you. Your father used to tell you that you’re good with numbers. You’ve grown to hate every quality of yours he ever complimented, but you must admit it’s coming in clutch right now.

Your fingers work on the lock, the junctures of the metal unclasping under your touch. Your hands are still sweaty, but a little more steady now– you notice as you open the door to the safe and take out the rest of the money binded with rubber bands, throwing it into your backpack. You work fast, not really giving yourself an opportunity to mentally count and estimate the amount, but something in your bones is telling you that it should be enough.

Running back to the main store area after you’re done, not bothering to close the safe after yourself, you reach the register to get the last remains of cash from this store. The alarm is still going off, making your ears ring and your stomach churn with acid, but as you get the key in and forcefully take out the drawer, you feel a little calmer at the sight of the bills inside. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch Changmin getting out jewelry from each shiny glass vitrine, smashing it with his gloved fist. Countless earrings, watches and necklaces get thrown messily into his bag, expensive metal rising your worth with every passing second. 

When the cash is in your bag, you quickly pace around the store and try to help Changmin. As soon as your hand goes to smash the window, though, he takes you by the wrist and shields you from your attempts. Furrowing your brows, you meet eyes with him, wordlessly asking for an explanation. Does he not want your help? Does he want you to fully stick to the plan? But you’re done with your part– the best thing you can do at this moment is help him with his side, no?

Your question is quickly answered when the man keeps tugging on your hand, leading you out of the store. Your feet buckle the tiniest bit when you cross the threshold, but that’s when you hear it– the sirens.

You didn’t notice them over the sound of the alarm and the whooshing of your blood in your ears. You have to leave– they’re close.

Changmin takes the lead, his sneakers making a loud noise against the pavement. You run after him, your pulse quickening with each meter. They could be anywhere, you think. They could stop you right here, on the run. You have to be careful.

The paranoia gets the worst of you, making you constantly check over your shoulder. Pupils shaking, you scan your surroundings– there could be anyone watching you that could tell the police that they saw you on the run. There must be cameras everywhere. You can’t hide. They’re always watching. You’re going to get caught, and you’re going to be sent to juvie. You can’t help your family–

“Y/N,” you hear him call from in front of you, the anxious thoughts vanishing from your brain fast, like the strike of a lightning. 

His sunglasses are off, your eyes meeting. Something inside of you comes to a calm, your heart leaping, squeezing on itself. His hand grabs yours, a force dragging you to his level on the pavement. He’s not letting you fall behind, his legs giving the pace as you follow him, left, right, left, right… You’re almost there. You’re almost done.

It gets to the point of the route where Changmin bends down and searches through the bush. Your backpack is quickly found, thrown over his shoulder. He’s carrying both now, one on his back and one on his front, leaving you leaping behind him with a smaller duffel bag on your shoulder. You carry a lot of money with yourself right now. You don’t think you’ve ever seen so much money in one place in your whole entire life.

And then you’re finally there– the police sirens are no longer audible, there are houses all around you and the only thing accompanying the silence are the lampposts and your heavy breathing. Bending over at his waist, Changmin finally lets go of your hand. His fingers grasp the ski mask on his head, tugging it off and letting him finally breathe in the oxygen freely, not restricted by the thick fabric.

Your heart starts to calm down as you take more air into your lungs. Wiping your sweaty hands onto the fabric of your jeans, you unzip the hoodie and fan yourself with your shirt, hating the way it’s sticking to your sweaty skin. 

It’s calm. Quiet. Just like any other day. Tonight, it feels a bit strange.

Changmin looks up at you, hair messy sticking up everywhere, his sweaty forehead glistening a little in the moonlight. A heartbeat passes by of you two just staring into each other’s eyes before his lips turn into a lazy grin, the dimple on his cheek showing itself to you in its full glory. It’s a strange situation to smile in, but it still makes your heart leap and thunder, a similar expression taking over your face. Then, he laughs. Like it’s funny. Now, this is getting ridiculous.

Still, you can’t help but mirror him. He must be crazy. Surely, you’re both going insane. 

Shaking his head, he straightens his back and takes a step forward to where you’re standing, offering his hand to you for a high-five. When you meet him in the middle, he locks his fingers with you, squeezing your palm with his. “Almost there.”

“Almost there,” you repeat, nodding. 

Now, all it takes is to settle the loans and leave. Leave fast, that is.

You take both of the bags into your hands and slowly, quietly enter your house. Changmin doesn’t follow you– he’s on to the second to last part of your plan as you walk up the stairs to your room and lock the door behind you. Unzipping the bags and dropping the money onto the rug in the middle of the floor, your breathing heavy as you prepare to count, you crouch and let your eyes wander for a bit along the notes in the middle of your room. 

You’re rich. Only for a moment, though. You try to salvage the feeling the best you can– the satisfaction doesn’t hit your brain, though. You can’t fake it. You can’t make yourself believe a lie.

Pulling yourself together, your fingers slip across the smooth surface of each bill, your brain working fast as you rustle with the cotton. The amount gets added up, the sum growing bigger and bigger, and after each ten thousand, you put a rubber band on the roll and drop it back into one of the bags. 

You’re using your school bag to carry the money to settle your family’s debt. There’s something deeply ironic about the sentiment. It almost makes you chuckle.

The light pink backpack gets filled with expensive pieces of paper, each roll lifting the tiniest bit of weight off your shoulders. Only a few more and you have enough, you think– and although you hate to admit it, the remaining sum you see scattered across your floor is less than the amount you expected. It’s okay, though– you know how to live with nothing. You’ll survive. You’ll get through it. 

After you’re done counting, you zip up the bag. Shaky hands reach for the last notes on the floor. You take out the envelope you hid under your pillow and put the money inside before you hesitantly drag out the piece of paper you’ve treasured inside, letting your eyes scan over the last words you’re leaving for your sister.

My sweet Aerin. 

Don’t look for me. Don’t worry about me. You’re safe now and everything is going to be okay. Take care of mum while I’m gone and make sure to study well so you get into a good university and make your big sister very proud. There are some things you are too young to understand, but I’m sure you’ll get it when you’re older. 

Please don’t hate me. I’m always thinking about you. We will meet again one day.

Love, Y/N. :) 

P.S.: keep this money safe. Only use it when you really need it. 

The corners of your eyes burn, making you blink away the tears. Although your heart wishes for one last hug, one last goodbye, you know you can’t grant yourself the benefit. If you held your sister for a second, you know you’d want to hold her forever– and that’s something you can’t do anymore. Not after what’s done. You can’t look back and keep holding on to something so selfishly– there’s no going back after what you’ve done. You’re a criminal now– a proper one, but you did it all for your family. You hope that one day, at least your sister might understand.

Wiping the stray tear that’s rolled down your cheek, you breathe in to calm your erratic thoughts. Putting the letter back in and sealing the envelope, all while simultaneously gathering all the bags, you walk into your sister’s room and leave the envelope under her pillow. 

Her sleeping body is still shorter than yours, but she’s no longer so little. She’s grown so much over the years. The thought of not seeing her grow into an adult pains you, but it’s the price you have to pay for her comfort. 

You close the door to her room quietly. You walk down the stairs of a house you can no longer call a home, foot stepping over the threshold of a place you’re never coming back to. You don’t allow yourself to look behind you. You don’t allow yourself to say a proper goodbye.

The jog towards the car parked in your driveway feels like a marathon– you’re slowly running out of breath. You didn’t train hard enough for the responsibilities you’ve taken on your shoulders. It’s like you’re jogging with a bag of rocks on your back.

Changmin opens the door to the passenger’s side for you. The bags are dropped onto the backseat. When he asks you if you’re ready, you don’t look into his eyes when you nod. There’s a sinking feeling in your stomach telling you that he’ll see right through your lie– but you can’t waste any more time than you already allowed yourself back in the house.

Changmin twists the car key in the ignition and starts the car. You drive away towards the other side of the city. Your baby pink school bag is dropped at the gate of the expensive-looking house of which you found the address of on one of the contracts somewhere in the middle of planning your escape. You drive away before anyone notices. Somehow, it feels like by leaving the bag there, you’re losing your youth with it. You can never take that backpack back to school with you. 

But then again, you’re never going back to school. Somehow, you know you lost your youth before you had a physical reminder. Your shoulders hang heavy even without the weight.

The drive is silent. You try to distract yourself by watching the stars.

When you were little, you promised your sister that you would be by her side forever. She was only 6 when she came home from school crying, telling you that her friends all went out alone without her and talked badly about her behind her back. It took everything in you to not go out of your way to hunt down those little heathens and give them a piece of your mind back then, but you remember it as if it was yesterday, telling your sister that ‘It’s okay, because you will always have me,’ as her big eyes glistened with tears, ‘remember, I’m your best friend forever, okay?’.

You don’t really know if she remembers that day. It was ages ago and she made new friends just two weeks after this whole fiasco, forgetting all about it. It stuck in your brain like a sticker, though, the one that you try to peel off but the residue stays behind, tearing at all edges, getting beaten up and looking rather pathetic– just like your words resonating in your brain, bouncing off the walls of your mind.

You broke the only promise you ever meant. 

“You did well,” you hear a voice cut through the silence, the buzzing of the engine not really lullying you to sleep anymore, “you did the best you could.”

Eyes darting to your companion on the driver’s side, you hear yourself let out a soft chuckle. Teeth catching the flesh in your mouth, biting on the inside of your cheek to battle with the tears begging to haze your eyes, you try to focus on his side profile, studying the slope of his nose and the hair falling into his eyes instead, burning this image into your memory. You do everything but think about the events of the night. 

Still, you ask. “Do you think she hates me?”

“I don’t think she could ever hate you, Y/N,” he says, voice tender and sincere, trying his hardest to fight the battle with you, to hold you up when you’re falling.

“I think that one day, she will grow up and she will understand. She will get why you did what you did,” he hums, eyes still sternly glued to the road ahead of him, “she will understand that you did it for her.”

Swallowing hard, for you feel like there’s a lump in your throat, you nod and look back outside of the window. This is something you’re going to need more time to get through, but this is a start– this is something. You have someone that understands. You have someone who shares the burden. 

“Thanks,” you whisper. 

The lampposts blur behind the glass with the speed you’re going at, your surroundings unfamiliar and strange to you. You don’t really know where you are or where you’re heading to– you let Changmin handle that side of the planning, since you don't really care where you’re gonna end up– but the hills and forests cornering the right side of the landscape make you feel strangely at peace. You must be far, far away from Seoul right now. Maybe you’re heading north. You don’t really mind. Maybe you don’t really care.

“How did you even get this car, by the way?” you ask, turning your head back to the boy in the driver’s seat.

“Oh, this?” he snickers, shrugging. “I know a guy. We used to be friends when he lived at the foster home. He aged out of the system like three years ago, but he knows a guy who knows a guy, and he just so coincidentally had this old thing laying around, so I figured we could use it for some time,” he says, nodding to himself. 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you wonder just how far connections can take you in the world. It’s not quite as easy as if you were born to a rich businessman, per se, but you’ll take the off-handed nepotism of the underground world, if it makes your life go smoother– just for the time being, at least. 

“Do you even have a license?” you ask.

“No,” he shakes his head. “But nobody has to know that–”

“Changmin!” you exclaim, terror shaking with your body.

“You really thought I was allowed to drive a car when you got into the vehicle, Y/N? Come on, I’m a foster kid. Do you really think anyone paid for my license?” he laughs, eyes darting to your figure momentarily, forming moon crescents when he notices the look on your face. “My friend taught me how to drive, though! He got adopted a few months ago, a super rich family– can’t say I’m not jealous, but that’s a story for another time–” he hums casually, as if it’s not a big deal, “and they bought him a car. Anyways, we stayed in contact and he let me try it at this empty parking lot, you know, where the abandoned factory is? And–”

Watching him speak, arms flying around the air making him look like an animated character– going as far as comically noticing that the car is heading to the left by itself when the wheel is unoccupied, quickly taking ahold of it with both hands and trying to make it stay on the road– it’s like a weight is slowly being lifted off your shoulders. It all seems so ridiculous. Insane. Crazy. 

A laugh battles out of your throat. Changmin’s eyes meet with yours, a big smile spreading across his face. A dimple appears on his cheek, his essence contagious. 

Suddenly, you can do anything in the world. Nobody can stop you. You fought with your future. You changed the trajectory of your life. You helped your mother. You protected your sister.

What’s a few years in hiding? 

A foolish thought passes by your brain. You don’t dwell on it much longer, but it’s a nice thing to reflect on when you’re alone in the hostel room late at night, hyper-aware of Changmin’s presence on the other side of the bed– because it’s more expensive to get a room with two beds and it doesn’t matter anyway. You will push it back into the corners of your mind, ignoring it until this moment happens. But it’s there– creeping around, waiting for you to pay attention to it– and it says that as long as you have Changmin, you’re sure you can get on with anything. You can get used to this.

“Aren’t you hungry? There’s some snacks in the compartment over there,” he says, pointing towards it. Magically, your stomach starts to churn– he must have said it into existence. It stinks a lot of black magic, if you really think about it. You knew you should’ve been more careful around him.

Still, your hand reaches for the compartment, opening it. There’s an opened pack of Lay’s chips, a bottle of soda, a wrapped sandwich, and a small chocolate bar, wrapped in red packaging, smiling at you brightly from the darkness of the car. It’s looking at you with big heart-eyes, your favorite flavor of them all– peanut butter covered with tasty milk chocolate, a heaven on Earth– and then reality hits you like a truck again, your eyes burning with the realization.

Fingers wrapping around the treat, you study the packaging for a while– as if you weren’t familiar with it already, having the chocolate bar on days where you really felt like you deserved it, on days where you really felt like you earned it. 

When you look up, you see Changmin altering his point of view between the road and your face, a bashful smile playing with his features. “Bought it for you this time,” he notes, “as a new start.”

A sniffle. Your hands shake a little, your lungs betray you with the intake of oxygen. 

“No, you’re not gonna cry on me now,” he panics, shaking his head, “no, no, no. Open the chocolate and eat it, you moron, we don’t have time to be sentimental–” he grunts, although his intentions are too clear even without words– the silent support still makes your weak heart squeeze on itself. 

You laugh, unwrapping the chocolate and taking a bite. Somehow, you manage to let out:

“You remembered.”

“Of course,” he hums, “how could I forget, I mean, you had a whole hour-long dilemma about it back at the gas station–”

“Shut up, you’re ruining it,” you grunt, tearing a piece of the chocolate bar and holding it up in front of his lips, “I’ll share it with you this one time just to make you shut up,” you say, shaking your head.

The boy takes a hold of your wrist to steady it, taking the sweetness into his mouth. He stays silent for a bit as he chews on it, but his fingers still stay wrapped around your skin as he moves your hand away from his face, resting it on your thigh. Warmth covers the back of your palm as he rests his own on it, his digits intertwining with yours. When he squeezes your fist in tender reassurance, you feel your heart skip a beat.

Orange hues appear behind your window as you drive off the highway. The land is still sprouse with buildings, but you enjoy watching the sun slowly waltz onto the sky, greeting you into the new day. Watching the side of his face as he focuses on parking in front of a lone diner in the middle of nowhere, you finally get in tune with the fact that Ji Changmin’s everything you have right now– everyone you can lean on and fall back on. 

Maybe it’s been that way for a while now, but it only downs on you when you’re essentially on the same level now, no illusions playing with your mind– nobody’s son and nobody’s daughter.

“Breakfast!” he exclaims as he turns the engine off, seemingly impressed with his parking skills. When you get out of the car and he marches up to you, putting a cap onto your head and tugging it low to cover your face, ‘just in case’, tugging you by your hand into the diner, you can’t help but wonder– if anyone unsuspecting saw you right now, 

would you look like lovers, or partners in crime?

[jinkoh]

leave a mark

changmin x reader

part of my soulmate series

tags: soulmate au (sharing bruises), smut - mdni, enemies to ?, possessive!changmin, beginning seems angsty but it's rlly just smut lol, fingering & oral (r!receiving), piv sex, edging, (overstimulation), dacryphilia, sliiight choking, praise; warnings: alcohol consumption, no pronouns but reader has a vagina, petnames: babydoll, doll

wc: 3.3k

a/n: i thought all parts of this series would be really angsty but somehow this one accidentally became pure filth instead 🤡 enjoy 🤡 ((also i don't usually write things this explicit so pls bear with me))

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“I think I want to break up.”

“What?” You stared at your boyfriend in utter confusion, unable to grasp what he was saying. For all you knew it’d been going great.

“I just can’t do it anymore. I mean you can’t really expect me to be okay with that, right?” His gaze dropped to your neck and you self consciously covered it with your hand. “At first I thought I could get over it, but I can’t help feeling disgusted.”

“Disgusted?!” 

“It’s just—I know he didn’t technically leave those hickeys, but it still feels like he did and frankly, it leaves a gross after taste. It almost makes me feel dirty to touch you.”

You looked at him in exasperation. “It makes you feel dirty?” Sure, it wasn’t ideal to have someone else’s hickeys appear on your lover’s neck, but it wasn’t like anyone had actually touched you. It was just silly bruises, marks that your soulmate had gotten and that transferred onto your skin. It had nothing to do with you. Why couldn’t your boyfriend understand that?

“I’m sorry, y/n. I just can’t.” He shrugged. “But you still have your soulmate, right? It might just work out for you.”

And with that, he left you. You couldn’t even cry about it because all you felt was sizzling anger. You still had your soulmate? Seriously? How could he say that when your soulmate was clearly getting it on with other people? But of course, your boyfriend, ex-boyfriend, didn’t know the whole truth, maybe he would have acted differently then. Because you already knew who your soulmate was and there was no way things were going to work out between the two of you. Not when the reason you found out in the first place was a hickey left on his skin, not when he kept getting new ones even after you told him it bothered you. Hell, he probably even encouraged his partners to leave a mark just to get under your skin. Or on your skin, you supposed. No, it was never going to work out between you and Ji Changmin, because there was not even the slightest bit of affection you held for him, and if you could you would cut this connection fate had forced upon you.

But you couldn’t so you did the next best thing: Vent your anger.

Changmin didn’t seem very impressed though, when you confronted him after a shared lecture. He simply shrugged, before shoving his things into his bag.

“The trash carries itself out,” he said nonchalantly.

“As if you hadn’t played a major part in all of this. The trash didn’t carry itself out. You basically showed him to the door.”

“At least you’re admitting that he was trash,” Changmin smiled self satisfied and you hated that you got caught in his trap. He didn’t give you time to argue though before he continued, “I’m just saying if he actually loved you, he would have stayed, marks be damned. It’s not like you cheated on him, so what reason was there for him to leave? Unless of course, he was never serious in the first place.”

It was so unnecessarily mean of him to say. But what made it worse was that you couldn’t even tell if he had a point or not and you weren’t even sure how to feel about it if he did. Because at the end of the day, did you actually want your ex-boyfriend to be serious about you? Had you been serious about him? You didn’t know.

“You’re taking it too far,” you pressed out, at a loss of what else to say and unwilling to address the uncomfortable mix of emotions plaguing you. “Don’t you care about how I’m feeling at all?”

“It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that you don’t seem all that heartbroken. But of course,” A small grin tugged on his lips and he opened his arms. “You’re always welcome to cry into my chest if you’re in need of comfort.”

“Fuck you, Changmin.” You turned to leave, unwilling to give him another second of your attention. He didn’t seem particularly rattled.

“You know I have others who do the job,” he yelled after you, his tone light and cheerful. Somehow he always seemed to be in the best possible mood whenever you confronted him about things like this. A small voice at the back of your mind whispered that perhaps, it would be better to just stop confronting him then. Surely this was only so fun to him because you never failed to give him a good reaction. You knew that so well, and yet you could never help yourself.

When you told your friend Hyunjae about the break up, he insisted he had just the right thing to cheer you up: a party on the weekend that one of his frat guy friends had invited him to. That usually wasn’t really your crowd and Hyunjae knew that well. But he also knew you needed distraction and a place to let off some steam so he wasn’t surprised when you agreed to tag along. It seemed to be working well, your mood drastically improving with the music and games and dancing, and admittedly also the alcohol. But then, while you were looking for Hyunjae in the living room to convince him to team up with you for beer pong, your gaze fell onto someone else: Changmin. He was standing at the other end of the room, leaning against the wall and very busy with some girl. She had her hands in his hair, clinging onto him almost desperately. Meanwhile his arms were loosely resting around her waist and something about it seemed so haughty, as if he was just indulging her and her desire, kissing her because she was available and not because it needed to be her. It made you feel gross.

You knew you needed to look away, or else he was bound to notice your staring, but you just couldn’t. The way he was entangled with her made your blood boil. How could he keep having his fun like this while you were left all alone just because of him? It was infuriating and even more infuriating was his expression when he looked up and met your gaze. For a second there was surprise there, breaking the kiss to look at you with wide eyes. But then he grinned, tilting his head as if to ask what you were looking at and even though you hated everything about it, it also filled you with a strange heat. You glared back at him, trying your best to hide the unwanted feeling in your guts, until his gaze flickered to your neck. He looked smug. You noticed then, that his hook-up had seamlessly moved on to his neck, probably sucking and nibbling on his skin. You instinctively slapped your hand over your neck to cover up before rushing out to find a bathroom, your head flushed with heat. When you reached the bathroom you slammed the door behind you. Without bothering to lock up, you stormed to the mirror to examine your neck—and find it empty and clean, free of any marks. It didn’t make sense. You were sure, he’d looked at your neck, and why would he if not because of a hickey?

“Disappointed?” a voice suddenly sounded from the doorway. 

You already knew it was Changmin, even before seeing him through the mirror’s reflection. You turned around to him with a glare. “You’re supposed to knock before coming in. The door was closed for a reason.”

“Right, sorry,” He chuckled, lightly knocking against the door frame. “Can I come in?”

“No!”

He stepped in anyway, pulling the door shut behind him. “Should have locked the door then if you really didn’t want me to come in,” he said with a grin and you heard the lock click as he turned it. You felt your breathing hitch with a weird sense of anticipation that you tried your best to ignore.

“I wouldn’t have to, if you had some basic manners.”

Changmin smiled as he slowly came closer. You instinctively backed away, but just a single step already had you bumping into the sink. He came to a halt right in front of you, only inches between the two of you. “Maybe you have to teach me some,” he suggested in a whisper that made a shiver run down your spine. 

“Well, first of all,” you started, but it was hard to focus with his intense gaze on you.

“First of all?”

“Knock before coming into the bathroom.”

“Noted,” his eyes wandered over your face as if he was just going to devour you whole and you wondered if he was listening to you at all. “What else?”

“Don’t—don’t let your hook ups leave hickeys anymore.”

“Mhm,” he hummed, a thoughtful frown on his face. “That poses a bit of a challenge. You see, I just love to see you all marked up.”

You knew you should be feeling angry at him for making you go through hell for his own entertainment. It was hypocritical and cruel how he had all the fun he had with who knows who, while simultaneously trying to make it impossible for you to be with someone. So, of course you should be feeling angry. And yet, strangely, his words made your skin flush with heat, the thought that he wanted to mark you more enticing than it should have been.

“Find another way then,” you breathed more than you really said it. 

He looked at you for a long second. “Should I?”

You didn’t reply, but the way you held his gaze without shying away gave him all the answer he needed. He leaned in, and you thought he would kiss you, but instead his lips grazed your neck, his ticklish breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. His mouth barely even ghosted over your skin before he suddenly bit down, making a gasp escape your lips. As if to soothe you, he pecked the spot right after, sweet gentle kisses against the barely bruised skin. Then he pulled away and admired his work for a moment.

“So pretty,” he said with a satisfied smile. When he tilted his head to look at you, you noticed the small red mark on his neck, a shadow of the bruise he’d just given you a second ago. For some reason it filled you with a sense of accomplishment that for once he was the one wearing your mark, even if he was the one who’d left it on you first. You absentmindedly lifted your hand and traced the spot with your fingertips.

“Isn’t it?” He asked.

At his words you snapped out of it, realizing how easily you’d surrendered yourself to him. You flinched away and averted your gaze. “Not particularly.”

“Hm,” he chuckled. “Liar.”

His hands found your hips to turn you around, making you look at your own reflection. He brushed your hair out of the way before his fingers traced the mark he left. You couldn’t quite explain, but somehow it looked different from the ones you had before. Maybe because this one was real, an actual bruise on your skin and not just the traces someone else had left.

“You like it too, don’t you?” 

He leaned in again and you watched through the mirror as his lips brushed over your skin again. Maybe you should have pushed him away, but instead you tilted your head to give him access, as he left another mark on you. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way he seemed to devour you whole, and the way he met your gaze through the mirror made shivers run down your spine.

“So pretty,” he whispered again. His hands were back on your hips, pulling you into him. “What do you say we take this elsewhere, hm?”

You swallowed thickly at the feeling of him against you, the implications making the air feel heavy. “Yeah. Okay,” you agreed, turning around in his arms to face him directly. “Let’s leave.”

His grin was so utterly self satisfied, like the cat who got the cream, but you couldn’t even feel pissed about it, not when his thumb grazing the skin beneath your shirt made you feel so impatient for more.

“Okay, let’s leave,” he repeated your words before leaning down to brush his lips against yours in a slow kiss that made you feel weak in the knees. Then he reached for your hand, pulling you with him.

Back at his place Changmin didn’t waste any time on small talk or offering drinks. Instead you found yourself falling onto his mattress, his shirt and most of your clothes discarded on the floor not even a minute after walking in. Changmin was hovering above you, a hungry gleam in his eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot,” he said, his hands roaming over your body. “Have you?”

“No,” you said, your voice breathy from the ticklish feeling of his fingers against your skin.

“Is that so?” He tilted his head. “Well, after I’m done, you’ll be unable to think of anything else.” 

You wanted to make a sassy comeback, tell him that you doubted he could change your opinion of him so drastically just because you were giving in this one time. But then his lips were back on your neck and his fingers were dipping into your embarrassingly wet panties and the only sound that came out of your mouth was a gasp. It was unfair how easily he rendered you speechless, your brain becoming muddled the second he touched you. 

“See?” Changmin grinned, as one of his fingers slowly pushed into you. “You already can’t think of anything else.”

 Your hands clung to his shoulders, when he started moving, quickly finding the right angle. You didn’t want to think about how many girls he must have been with before this to make moans fall from your lips this easily. “Shut up already,” you whimpered.

“Should I use my mouth for something else then?” He asked, pulling his hand out of your panties and licking the wet off his fingers. You felt your skin burn with need and desire, and you almost instinctively opened your legs a little more, making him chuckle.

“I’ll take that as a yes, hm?” He leaned down to kiss you, making you taste yourself on his tongue, before he pulled away again and letting his lips wander further down. His fingers hooked underneath your panties, pulling them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. He didn’t leave you exposed for long though, his mouth taking their place instead. The moan you let out when his tongue flicked over your clit was straight up pornographic and you felt him grin against your skin. “So needy,” he hummed, the vibrations making you shiver, before his tongue went back to work. 

He had you whimpering and shivering beneath him embarrassingly fast, his tongue and lips and hands moving just the right way to make that familiar knot build up within you. Before you could come though, he pulled away, a dirty smirk on his face. “Not yet,” he said, his lips moving to your inner thigh instead and sucking hickeys into your skin until you’d calmed down just enough. He kept you on edge that way, building up your high time and time again without ever letting you have it.

“Why?” you whimpered when he robbed you of yet another orgasm, leaving you a desperate mess. You felt overstimulated and deprived at the same time and it made tears well up in your eyes.

“Don’t cry, babydoll,” Changmin whispered comfortingly, as if your misery wasn’t all his fault to begin with. He came back up, his thumb gently wiping away a tear that’d decided to spill out. 

 “I just wanna—why won’t you let me?”

“Because I need you to come around me, of course.” He rolled his hips against you, and you felt him through the fabric of his pants.

“Then hurry,” you whined. “Hurry up.”

“If you insist,” Changmin grinned, making quick work of his pants.

You let out a whimper when he lined himself up with you, overly sensitive and oh so impatient for him to finally push in.

“Hurry,” you complained again and it drew a chuckle out of him, his eyes twinkling mischievously when he finally granted your wish. He pushed in painfully slow, but with the way you’d been teased this whole time it was almost enough to tip you over the edge. By the time he bottomed out, you had tears brimming in your eyes again, more from being overstimulated than any pain or discomfort.

“Aw, crying again?” he cooed. “You’re doing so well though.” He slowly moved his hips back, pulling almost all the way out, just to slam back in in one quick motion that made you see stars. “See? Taking me so well, like you were made just for me.”

His hand came up to your neck, caressing the bruises he’d left on you. “I guess you were, though,” he whispered close to your ear, as he put just enough pressure on your throat to make it feel exciting. “All mine, meant to be all mine.”

He started thrusting into you then, picking up a brutal pace that took away any coherent thought you’d still had left. “All yours,” you babbled, barely even able to grasp the meaning of the words. “All yours.” 

It barely took any time for that familiar high to build up within again and you almost thought he would take it away from you again. But when you met his gaze, eyes glazed over and desperate, he gently cupped your cheek and wiped your tears with his thumb.

“You can come, doll, it’s okay.”

It didn’t take more than that for you to tip over, your nails digging into his shoulders as you let out a string of moans and curses. He helped you ride it out, only stalling when the overstimulation made you beg for him to stop.

“You did so well,” he whispered, his lips leaving kisses on your neck while you were trying to catch your breath. Once you’d calmed down a bit you thought he’d pull out but he showed no intention of doing so.

“Changmin?”

He looked at you through hooded eyes, slowly rolling his hips into you. “You can still go on, right?”

The next morning you stared at your own reflection in his bathroom mirror. You’d been meaning to take a shower and then secretly sneak out while he was still asleep, but now you were finding yourself in too much disbelief to do so. You’d thought the hickeys you’d gotten before were bad, but those were nothing against the marks and bruises that littered your body now. Your shoulders looked especially bad, deep red scratches and even bite marks adorning your skin. With a shake of your head you wrapped yourself in a towel and walked back into the bedroom.

“This is a joke, right?” you complained the second you opened the door. Changmin’s head popped up from somewhere in the blankets, gazing at you with sleepy eyes and ruffled hair. “Mhm?” he grumbled.

“I get it, you like leaving marks, but you didn’t have to overdo it like this,” you said, turning your shoulder for him to see. “Like, seriously? Biting?”

Changmin rubbed his eyes and yawned and you tried to ignore how cute he looked. 

“Shouldn’t you at least apologize?”

He tilted his head taking a closer look at your shoulder before a smile spread on his lips. “But doll,” he pulled down the blanket to show his own shoulder that looked even worse than yours, “these are from you.”

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[sangyeonsmuse]

BABYDOLL 𐦍༘⋆

PAIRING: Jock Juyeon + Nerd Changmin & Boyfriend Sunwoo x Cheerleader Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.1k

GENRE Smut

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DONT INTERACT ‼️, strong laungage, threesome, oral sex, penetration, exhibitionism, sunwoo gets possessive, jealous sunwoo, mature language, this is Literally Porn With Plot, Jock!juyeon, boyfriend!sunwoo, nerd!changmin, exhibitionism, voyeurism, vaginal fingering, male masturbation, unprotected sex, a good amount of praise, degradation , angry Juyeon, dom!sunwoo, pet name babydoll is used. Sex in the school library.

SUMMARY Sunwoo doesn’t like the way Juyeon flirts with you and he knows you well enough to see the way you look at Changmin when you two are alone. He think it’s about time he made it clear just who you belong to. Perhaps it’s about time the two of you made your relationship public.

MORE, I’ve been thinking about this trio a lot lately ever since more babydoll edits started showing up on my fyp again so, here we go.

You and Sunwoo both shared a mutual agreement that your relationship was to stay secretive. After all it all started with a drunken makeout session at one of Kevin and Jacobs wild parties. The only problem was when Sunwoo agreed to keep things a secret he didn’t think it meant watching other guys carelessly flirt with you as if you didn’t already have a boyfriend. Obviously he knew what he had been getting himself into with making you his girlfriend, you were one of the most sought out girls on the cheer team, pretty, top of your class and you were nice to everyone, sometimes a little too nice. Usually Sunwoo would be able to compose himself really well, but the events of today would be all he needs to finally snap.

Not only was it spirit week but it just so happened to fall on the week of homecoming. Knowing you were part of the court it already frustrated Sunwoo to know that you would have to walk in with one of those idiots from the team on your arm, but Lee Juyeon asking you to Homecoming in front of the entire school was not something he thought he would be crossing off his list. Juyeon was someone that already annoyed him when it came to you. His endless flirting, his touchy nature or even all those times hearing Juyeon call you ‘babydoll’ all pissed him off. And right now all he could do was stand there and watch, his tongue poking at the inside of his mouth at how pissed off it had made him. Watching your face as Juyeon approached you with a handful of sunflowers and a sign reading “will you be my sunshine” he could tell that you were a little nervous. The only thing he wasn’t sure of is if the nerves had been from having been put on the spot in front of an entire crowd, or maybe it was the fact that his eyes had been burning holes into both you and Juyeons head.

“I- I’m sorry Juyeon, but I can’t” Sunwoo couldn’t help but walk off with a proud grin on his face once the crowd dispersed. Part of Sunwoo did feel guilty because he had known how excited you were for homecoming, but it wasn’t like the two of you would be showing up together. It had made him feel so guilty that he decided to shoot you a text to meet with him at your usual spot in the school's old computer room.

“Sunwoo?’’ His gaze was torn away from his phone as you entered the room.

“Hello babydoll” as he greeted her the slight annoyance in his voice was evident.

“Sunny please don’t start I didn’t know that he would do that, and you clearly saw me tell him no.’’

“What would you have said if I wasn’t there?’’

“What?”

“You heard me sweetheart what would you have told him if I wasn’t standing there watching the whole thing?’’

“Sun you’re acting ridiculous, why are you asking me that?’’

“Why are you not answering.’’ he was getting slightly annoyed at your ignorance towards the question, part of him felt like if he hadn’t been there you would have said yes. It didn’t go amiss how you would smile and laugh with him whenever he caught the two of you talking at parties or at the games.

“I would have told him no.’’ There was a sudden silence between the two for a moment before you decided to speak again

“I have to go, I promised Mr. Song that I would tutor one of his students.’’ A frustrated sigh spilled from his lips as he watched you leave. He wanted to follow you and apologize for even questioning your loyalty to him, but he knew that if he went after you now he would only make things worse in his current state of mind. So he sat in silence for a while, five short minutes turned into ten long minutes until he realized how ridiculous he had been acting. With a sigh he pulls himself up from the desk and makes his way down the hall, already having a decent idea of where you might have been, after all you always studied in the same place, the school library. As he grew closer he could hear the sound of your laughter the closer he got to the door. That didn’t sound like just studying to him, as he peeked over the doorframe and gazed in he couldn’t help but feel annoyed all over again.

The way your head rested on your palm as you looked at no one other than Ji Changmin. You sat there laughing and smiling as he sat there all pouty.

“You’re cute but being cute won’t make me go any easier on you Changmin.’’ You laugh at Changmin's sulking, seemingly completely unaware that your boyfriend stood right outside the door looking in. Meanwhile a blush formed on Chngmins face from you having called him cute.

“I know you can do better than what you’re showing me Minni. This isn’t the first time i’ve tutored you, you’re pretty smart and i’m sure you know that so I refuse to go easy on you.’’ As you spoke to him your hand rested on Changmin's arm.

To any outsider looking in it would seem like you had just been being sweet and playful, but Sunwoo was well aware of your mannerisms and tone by now. You weren’t simply doing or saying any of those things just to be nice. He was fed up, and now he was feeling like it was about time he put you and everyone else in their place. Turning away from the library entrance he then turned to the direction of the school gym, the place he was more than sure he could find Lee Juyeon. Everyone knew that Juyeon would stay after school to practice, after all he was one of those members on the football team that strived for perfection. When Sunwoo first called out the others name Juyeon was shocked to say the least, of course he was well aware of who Sunwoo was, but the two were entirely different he didn’t think he’d ever find Sunwoo looking for him of all people.

“Yn asked me to pass on a message, she’s waiting for you in the library, something about wanting to apologize or something.’’ Sunwoo tried his best to seem disinterested in the situation, just enough for Juyeons ears to perk up at the sound of your name. Sunwoo simply watched in slight annoyance as Juyeon walked off the field and disappeared back into the school building. He eventually made his way moments later, slowly but surely making his way back to the library where he had watched Juyeon enter just moments before.

“Babydoll!’’ Sunwoo watched as your gaze then shifted from Changmin to Juyeon who was now leaned over the table, his gaze having fallen on Ji Changmin who was sat a little two close to you for Juyeons liking.

“Juyeon what are you doing here?’’

“I told him you were looking for him, sweetheart.’’ Sunwoo finally steps into the library's entrance, taking a step in and he closes and locks the door behind himself.

“Sunwoo?’’

At this point both Changmin and Juyeon had been staring back and forth between the both of you in confusion.

“I think you should apologize to Juyeon for turning him down in front of all of those people princess.” Sunwoo noticed the way your body tensed upon being called that, he was more than sure you were well aware of his annoyance by now. After all he only ever called you such a thing when the two of you were alone and he was planning on being buried deep inside of you. The look on your face was one of both annoyance and panic.

“Um I think i’ll just go maybe we can finish another time.’’ Changmin was ready to take his leave, standing up in his chair, Sunwoos' gaze immediately shot to him making him freeze up on the spot.

“Oh no no not too fast ‘minni’ this won’t take too long.’’ upon hearing your nickname for Changmin you had used only moments ago, it began to set in that Sunwoo had been watching you.

“Okay what the fuck is going on.’’ Juyeon finally snaps, his eyes blazing as he realized he had been set up by Sunwoo.

“Sun.’’

“Quiet babydoll I want you to behave for our two guest. Go ahead and make Changmin a little more comfortable.’’

“Sun..’’

“What is it? What’s the matter babydoll you find him cute don’t you?’’ your eyes said it all, the fact that you had been looking everywhere but into sunwoos eyes said it all.

“Be a good girl and make him feel good while me and Juyeon watch.’’

“Wha-what?’’ Changmin's face had gone bright red, but Sunwoo chose to ignore him.

“Go ahead babydoll.’’

Sunwoo watched as you shyly looked over at Changmin who was obviously nervous.

“Okay what the hell is going on?’’ Juyeon was pissed, pissed at the fact that Sunwoo seemed to have some type of hold on you, even more pissed that he had been tricked into coming here just for this.

“I’m giving you what you want, you think she’s pretty right? Both you and Ji changmin have a crush on My Girlfriend, how cute right Babydoll?’’

“Sun did you really have to bring them into this.’’

“You think you’re allowed to play sweet and innocent with me Princess? I know you and your body well enough to know that you like it when Juyeon here flirts with you, i also know you well enough to know that you’d fuck him or Ji Changmin here without a second thought. Go ahead and take off your clothes for them babydoll..show them how pretty you look.’’ The way you shifted in your seat told him everything that he needed to know, you were getting turned on by this. Him calling you out in front of the two of them.

“Take them off babydoll or i’ll have one of them do it for you.’’ The room fell silent and both Juyeon and Changmin's eyes seemed to be glued onto you as you slowly obeyed Sunwoos' given order. Changmin didn’t think that his face could get any redder until he watched you strip from your white button up and black skirt.

“Good girl.’’ sunwoo takes a seat on the opposite side of the table and spreads his legs, a move you knew all too well. That smirk on his face and the pride in the way he sat was an obvious indication that he was enjoying this. He had you exactly where he wanted.

“Come here sweetheart, I want you to be good for our two guests. As you take a seat on his lap his arms slip around your waist from behind, Sunwoos cold fingers brush against your bare skin as he presses you against his clothed body against yours.

“You’ll be good for them right?” His fingers squeeze your hips in a manner that forces you to stay pressed against him. You gave him a nod which made him give a swift slap across your thigh earning a soft whine.

“Use your words babydoll.”

“I’ll be good sun.”

“That’s my girl, I want you to look at them while I play with you like the pretty little doll you are.” The entire time neither Changmin nor Juyeon said a word. Truth be told neither of them knew what was happening, but the moment their eyes took in your semi naked frame and sat in Sunwoos lap it was hard to look away.

His gaze burned with pride at the fact that he had you right where he wanted and neither Juyeon nor Changmin could do a damn thing unless he allowed it. His fingers immediately met your clit, pushing past your folds and slipping them right inside you with ease.

“I want you to make sure our guests feel included, look them in the eyes and tell them who you want.” His thumb pressed against your clit as he started slowly, thrusting his fingers deep into you like he has done with you thousands of times.

The side of his lips curled into a smirk as he heard the desperate whine that spilled past your plump lips. The moment you opened your mouth to speak he forces in yet another finger, using the three to stretch you out to his liking.

“I'm sorry, what was that? speak babydoll. ” Meanwhile while you struggled with your words both Juyeon and Changmin seemed to be anxiously anticipating who’s name would spill from your pretty lips.

“Ch- Changmin.” You force yourself to breathe out between ragged breaths, the way Sunwoo continuously abuses your clit without letting up, making you squirm in your seat.

“Tell him where you want him doll.” Without hesitation he slipped in two more fingers, taking the time to stretch your walls and feel you out before he began to thrust them in and out slowly. The way you whine for him to move them faster only causes him to slow them down, he was well aware doing this would only make it harder for you to respond but he didn’t seem to care. His fingers thrust further into your cunt with every loud cry that left your mouth.

“Mm my mouth, sun please.” A chuckle spilled from Sunwoos lips at how desperate you sounded.

“Look at you whining like a desperate little doll for some nerd you’re tutoring to fuck your pretty little mouth when your boyfriends fingers are deep in your pretty little cunt.” His eyes shot to Chagmin whose eyes were glued to his fingers that were buried deep inside of you.

“Well you heard her right? You gonna give her what she wants?”

“Mm S-Sun, what about Juyeon.” Your sudden inclusion of Juyeon made his eyebrow quirk up in pure amusement.

“You want them both sweetheart? You want me to watch while they both have their way with you right doll?” He leaves a loving kiss on your neck before pulling his fingers out of you and patting your thigh.

“sit pretty up on the table for them then and let them know what you want.” Sunwoo sat back in his seat watching as you shyly took a seat up on the table.

“Don’t act all shy now baby you weren't acting shy a couple minutes ago when you were begging me to let them have their way with you.”

“I want Ju to eat me out while I take care of Minni.” He chuckles as you look away from him, a slight blush on your cheeks at having to admit it to him.

“Well then was that so hard princess? Go ahead and help them out then.”

Sunwoo watched as you moved between the two, helping them both get out of their pants while they took off your remaining clothes. Now here you were completely naked and exposed, trapped between two men that were working together to completely destroy you. Juyeons lips wrapped around your sensitive clit while Changmins Cock completely filled your mouth, swallowing up every one of your moans.

You had seemed so shy before but now that they had loosened you up you seemed to take it all so well. It seemed like a dream to you Changmins brown eyes gazing down at you through his glasses as he tugged at your hair and fucked your pretty mouth. All while Juyeon sat behind you forcing you to sit on his face and take the abuse of his tongue. For Changmin seeing you between his legs now is quite a treat, especially the way your tongue swirls around his tip and scoops up his arousal. He couldn’t believe it was real, a girl he had fantasized about multiple times struggling to take the abuse of him down her throat.

“She takes it so well doesnt she? .” Sunwoos' gaze burned into you as he watched the scene before him. You weren’t sure why he was letting this happen but at the time you were too caught up in Juyeon and Changmin to care

Changmin breathlessly mumbles out soft curses when you start to bob your head, brushing fingers through your hair and pulling the strands away from your mouth. you moan at that, squeezing his length and forcing him down your throat. You looked a complete mess, your vision clouded with tears and fucked up mascara while saliva coated your chin and plump lips. One look at you and Changmin groans upon seeing your now ruined makeup all because of the way he was abusing your throat. you’re eagerly motivated now, taking him with more consideration but your mouth’s still as hot as ever. He lets out a small moan, letting you go at your own pace no matter how much he wanted fuck your face. you run a long stripe up the bottom of his length, thumb playing with his tip while his eyes stay fixated on you taking him down your throat so well.

“You're doing so well, babydoll.” Sunwoo chuckles upon seeing the way the tears continuously formed within your eyes.

To Changmin your mouth felt like heaven. Using your hands to pump the areas you’re not able to reach, the way you hollow out your cheeks around him immediately shuts him up. You pull him out of your mouth with a plop, a string of saliva connecting him to your lips as you move in to suck just the tip. Lewd moans spew from your lips upon feeling Juyeons tongue work against your clit. You look down at him which was proven to be a mistake because it immediately made your brain go fuzzy.

Juyeon showed no mercy, not letting up for a second even as your legs trembled, slurping up the juices that drip from your clit loudly. The moment you try to jerk away from him his grip on your thighs tighten and he pushes his tongue further between your folds.

“Don’t move, Babydoll,” He groans wrapping a forearm around your thighs and just eats. He

flicks his tongue over your clit while using his fingers to stretch you out groaning at the way your cunt pulsing and gripping his digits. you’re snapped out of your daze when Changmin forces you to look back at him and shoves his cock back into your throat. Mere seconds later Juyeon gives a few slaps onto your clit as a warning to not take your eyes away from Changmin.

you give him an apologetic look before slurping your saliva off his cock. He hums while you continue the bobbing of your head and the moans that you let out around him send vibrations up his body. Changmin twitches in your mouth and his thigh tenses. All while you could feel something burning within your core begging for your release.

“Better hold it princess, if you cum before Changmin i’ll make sure you can’t do it again when i fuck you.” Sunwoo chimes in from the side making you whine.

Despite hearing that Juyeon wasn’t letting up, licking one last stripe before gathering his saliva into a ball and he spits onto your clit, sight so lewd that if you could see it you'd have cum immediately. he admires how the way it runs down your cunt and mixes with your arousal that he couldn’t help but wish for it to be his cum instead. Your eyes roll back the moment he rubs in his spit, a thumb on your bud while he continues to move his fingers and your thighs are already trembling from how he seems to know all your sweet spots in such a short period of time.

“Yn—” Changmin moans, gets breathy and choked the closer he is to his high, hips bucking up into your mouth. the drool that drips from the corners of your mouth and the sounds of your mouth being so full of his cock sends him into a frenzy.

“Remember we don’t waste babydoll.” At Sunwoos words you whine, the slurping and gawking noises getting faster before you’re taking his cock with a gasp, pumping him while your dilated eyes look up to him and him only. He pulls on your hair before you both cum together, your cum spilling out onto Juyeons lips and face all while Changmin spills all down your throat. An overload hits your tongue and the back of your throat and you nearly spit it back up but force yourself to keep it down.

Unfortunately for you, it was not over, Sunwoo immediately lifted you up from the table, taking you into his lap and spreading your thighs apart.

“Now you’re gonna take care of Juyeon while I show them i’m the only one that can fuck you like the pretty doll you are.” While your lips wrapped around Juyeons Cock Your eyes rolled back immediately as Sunwoo pushed himself inside of you until he fully bottomed out. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach. He watched the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“Look at you taking me so well, I bet you loved every bit of Juyeon and Changmin working together to destroy you babydoll.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he immediately spread your legs wider and pulled your thighs up against your chest. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He waisted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails dug so deep into his thighs that you nearly drew blood. your moans sent vibrations over Juyeons cock, making him throw his head back and pull at your hair, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as each of your moans were swallowed up by him thrusting into your throat.

“Youre such a pretty little doll baby, look at you being so good for the three of us.” Sunwoo immediately leans down to place kisses on your neck, your nipple between his fingers while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the feeling of his fingers against your breasts to every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“From now on you will make it known that you’re mine. Mine to kiss, to touch to fuck. You’re gonna tell every single guy that approaches you that you belong to someone. understand babydoll?” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little whore gonna cum all over my cock after getting used like a slut other men.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for all of them to see, to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. As you were finally able to pry your eyes open you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach. The sight of Changmins hands wrapped around his Cock and sweat dripping down his forehead as he watched both Juyeon and your boyfriend work tinder to ruin you.

Your legs shook violently as Sunwoos thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock followed by Juyeons release down your throat mere seconds later. Sunwoo wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way you clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill into you, him and Changmin both finishing at the same time.

“You two, from now on stop flirting with my fucking girlfriend.” Slipping his head into the crook of your neck he sucks harshly, leaving evidence that you were now tainted by him, a true indication that you belonged to him and no one else

[slytherinshua]

SURPRISE !

genre. fluff. warnings. kissing. changmin w glasses skdjks??? pairing. changmin x fem!reader. wc. 553. request. no. a/n. changmin w his black glasses like in the babydoll stage actually DESTROYS me like wtf i need him...

A flurry of excitement filled your stomach as you peaked around the corner of the building you were hiding behind and saw your boyfriend standing with his back to you. You hadn’t seen him for months, and he didn’t know you had flown out secretly with the help of Chanhee to surprise him. He was talking about something with Eric, laughing at something he had said. You couldn’t see his face, but you could imagine that the dimples you loved so much were displayed. 

Eric made eye contact with you, and you gave him a quick thumbs up— the signal you had both agreed on for when you were ready. You heard him bringing up an excuse of having to go to the bathroom, and dip back into the restaurant. Changmin leaned his shoulder against the wall, still with his back turned to you, and took out his phone to type something.

You felt your own phone buzz in your back pocket and bit back a smile. Of course you would be the first person he texted. You ignored the message, and silently crept closer, being as stealthy as you could so he wouldn’t be able to hear you.

Once you got close enough, you reached out and grabbed his thick black glasses from his face, pulling them off easily with a giggle. Changmin gasped in shock, brain not processing what had happened until he turned around in a rush and saw your smug face and your hand held up high with his glasses clutched between your fingers.

“Y/n! Give them back!” He laughed, reaching forward to grab them, but you held them just out of reach of him. 

“They’re mine now!” You said, satisfied as you slipped them onto your face while your boyfriend watched in shock. It didn’t take long for his brain to finally process that you had been away from him for months and you weren’t supposed to be in front of him now, except you were.

“How did you-” His jaw dropped again in shock and he reached out to touch you, as if to check if you were actually real or not. Upon finding that you were actually standing in front of him, his body seemed to act faster than his brain. 

He pushed you against the wall, closing you in with his hands on your shoulders. His lips were entangled with yours before another second could pass, and all you could do was sigh and kiss him back eagerly, hands finding their home in his dark hair. He had cut it while you were away, and while you had seen pictures, feeling it underneath your own fingertips felt different.

“Missed you too.” You giggled once he pulled away, still holding you close up against the wall. You took off the glasses you had stolen from him and carefully placed them back onto his face, kissing his nose after.

“You should’ve told me you were coming. I would’ve gotten you flowers or something.” He mumbled with a pout.

“That would’ve ruined the surprise.” You argued.

“I missed you so much.” He said, sounding relieved that you were back in his arms. He hugged you to his chest, breathing in your perfume and holding you like it was the last time he would ever be able to.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore

[cupidjyu]

clair de lune

changmin x reader

summary: you and changmin are polar opposites in the dance studio. you're graceful and with a "perfect" image while he goes off on his own way, experimenting with different styles. you hate him and want nothing to do with him. until he chooses you to be his partner in a duet.

genre: dance rivals au, their dance styles are opposites (ballet/hiphop etc), enemies to lovers ish, unknowing pining, self-esteem issues (stop self projecting!), slight hurt/comfort, if you ever watched pride and prejudice (2005) you will recognize scenes, "moonlight" notes: based on the classical song clair de lune, fun fact: i can play the piano! also ik u want me to open requests but gimme like another two weeks to not be exhausted from studies PFF hope you enjoy! word count: 13k (it just keeps growing im sorry)

“Again.”

Wiping off the bead of sweat that traveled agonizingly slow on your forehead, you glanced at the woman—your instructor who was also the bane of your existence–with a furrowed brow. She only stared at you sternly, causing you to sigh with frustration as you turned back to the mirror.

You stretched your arms, trying to make that picture-perfect angle that would satisfy her, and then you pointed your toes, just like you had been told to do since you were young. And then you began to move, your fingers outstretched, your back in a neutral position, and your shoulders–

“Again.”

And this time, you couldn’t constrain the groan that escaped from your lips. You let your muscles relax as you broke out of position to face her with a slightly annoyed frown.

She marked something on her clipboard. Oh, how you hated that clipboard. You once took a glance at it and you had almost cried in bed for the next two days over her incredibly harsh remarks. Constructive criticism, she would say. That… that was just bullying in your opinion.

“Are you giving up?” She practically barked, her voice loud and obnoxious. 

“I’m not–” You rolled your ankle, making sure you didn’t injure it. “I’m just tired. We’ve been practicing for hours.” And then you turned your neck, slightly wincing at the pang of soreness. 

You could’ve sworn her eye twitched as she faked a smile. “For hours because you’re simply not adequate enough to–”

“I am,” You interrupted, your face contorting with exasperation.

She gazed at you with slight surprise. And then she sighed, running a hand through her graying hair. 

“Then why do you keep messing up?” She spoke softly this time, but it was enough to shoot straight through your heart.

“Because I–” You bit your lip, looking down at your pointe shoes. You couldn’t even finish your own sentence because you yourself weren’t sure.

Your instructor stood up, picking up her bag with heavy eyes. “At this rate,” She exhaled lowly. “I might have to give this solo to someone else.”

You widened your eyes and you were immediately rushing to her, hands clasped together. “No, please,” You pleaded. “I– I promise I’ll perfect this. No mistakes. Promise.” You emphasized the last word so clearly that it echoed throughout the room. 

She stared at you with skepticism. 

“Then go,” She uttered. “Start practicing. In two days’ time will be your evaluation and then we’ll decide.”

With a huff of determination, you watched as she opened the door and left. Turning back to the mirror, it was then that you realized just how worn out you looked. Your hair was a mess, the front pieces slightly sticking to your forehead from the “practicing for hours,” which you weren’t exaggerating about at all. Your cheeks were flushed from the constant activity. But despite this, you rolled your ankle once again and began to dance.

Vigorously.

A bit too vigorously.

Every twist and turn started to become more sloppy, more painful. As the song progressed, you found yourself stumbling more and more over your own feet and your lungs began to feel like they would collapse in on itself. 

But you kept going, determined to keep this solo that you’ve worked so hard to get a spot for. 

And it was going well! Amazing actually! Or maybe you were just telling yourself that because soon after your fake words of affirmation came the tripping of your feet and the falling of your whole body against the floor. Your shoulders stiffened as your hands came in contact with the floor and you groaned. 

Luckily, you weren’t exactly hurt anywhere. But you were frustrated. Your friend would always tell you to just take a break but you couldn’t afford that. Instead, you made a move to get up again until your eyes wandered over to where a water bottle had rolled its way over to you. 

Still completely agitated, your hand closed around it and threw it as far away as you could. You watched it skid, all the way down until it hit someone’s shoes. Pointe shoes were nowhere to be seen. Just simple sneakers. And you knew exactly who it was.

“Just when I thought I was being nice,” Changmin hummed, picking the bottle up. “Guess this is mine then.”

His voice was just so… cocky at the moment that you couldn’t help but glare up at him as if to non-verbally tell him to just leave.

The two of you were different. Not just from the pointe shoes and sneakers or from the tight balletwear and the comfortable t-shirt. It was just a lot. While you specialized in the more graceful choreographies and genres like ballet and contemporary, he was the more powerful, sharper one who thrived in hip-hop, popping and the like. And while you spent most of your time perfecting intricate moves, he was frequently finding ways to make his performance more… out there. 

Polar opposites, some people would say.

The only thing that you two had in common was being popular. Not your biggest feat, in your opinion, but it was the truth. In the dance studio, if either of your names were spoken, it was immediately recognized. The both of you were praised, criticized, and talked about on the daily, whether you liked it or not.

Opposites attract, was what other people would say.

But that wasn’t true. At least for the two of you. 

He was just so… arrogant.

“You look worse for wear,” He remarked with an amused smile.

“Thanks for pointing that out,” You snapped, brushing yourself off as you stood up, wincing at the forming bruise on your knee. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking by,” He simply replied.

“You could have just walked by the room then. Not in it.” You took that extra second to look him over. He must have been heading for practice because unlike you, he wasn’t sweaty and didn’t look like a mess. His hair softly fell over his forehead and he had those typical bulky headphones that he always wore to ignore you around his neck.

He smirked. “Just wanted to see how horrible you were doing.”

Fuming, you completely threw away the thought that he looked particularly nice that day. Clenching a fist, all the failed moves in the mirror came rushing back to your vision like waves of the ocean.

“Satisfied? Did you see all the mistakes I made?” You bitterly laughed. It was often just bickering with him. But with your instructor’s voice ringing through your ears obnoxiously, you couldn’t help but snap. With a sigh, you motioned to the door harshly. “Great. So leave.”

You had expected him to retort back. But instead, he just looked at you with an incomprehensible expression. And then his eyes traveled down to the water bottle still in his hand. Out of nowhere, he threw it to you and you scrambled to catch it.

“At least take this,” He replied quietly, no malice behind his tone. 

To say you were confused was an understatement. “Did you put anything in this?”

He laughed. “What? A love potion?”

“No,” You sputtered, toying with the cap of it. “Like a sleeping potion or–”

“And who’s going to take care of you when you’re asleep?” He raised an eyebrow.

“You.” You glared with narrowed eyes. 

“You’re funny,” He sarcastically replied. 

“Are you too much of an asshole to?” A smile tugged on your lips. “Is that why?”

“I’m perfectly capable.” He rolled his eyes. “Just not for you.”

You nodded, fully expecting his answer. And then you jabbed a finger at the door. “Get out then. I need to practice.” Without bidding him goodbye, not even a single wave, you turned around to start the music again.

But then you heard his voice again, calling out to you from across the practice room.

“Moonlight.”

At first, you just thought that he was rambling, saying random things to bother you. But he said it again when you didn’t respond.

“Moonlight,” He said again, a teasing tone suddenly appearing in his voice. With an annoyed exhale, you turned to face him. That was when you came to the revelation that he was addressing you. As moonlight.

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Yes, you.” He tilted his head slightly. “Good luck with your practice, moonlight.”

Your hand was already raising, threatening to throw the music speaker into his face. “Don’t call me tha–”

“Moonlight,” He repeated. “This song. Clair de lune?”

“What about it?” You eyed him suspiciously.

His gaze searched yours silently for a moment. You’ve always hated it when the two of you locked eyes. It always left you feeling weird inside. Agitated, probably.

“It means moonlight. Which… reminds me of you.”

If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have noticed the way he nervously fumbled for the door and you also would have noticed his small stumble out into the hallway.

–

The lights blared across your vision and the bass of the music pounded from your stomach, all the way down to your ears which only worsened your growing headache. You dreaded this party. But, no matter how many times you complained about it, it happened every single year. Annually, it was a good luck party for those performing at the recital.

You didn’t want to go and you usually never did. But since that solo was meant for the recital, you had forced yourself to dress up and finally open that party invitation with the gold lettering.

You kept to yourself, occasionally waving at fellow dancers and friends. But even while there was a particular amount (read: a lot) of people questioning you about your performance and whether you were dating a famous celebrity (you weren’t), you managed to slip away and grab a drink.

You couldn’t even tell the color of the liquid because of the bright lights flashing about. But hey, at least it tasted good. Weaving through the crowd, you were desperate to find a more secluded place. But that was when you ran into someone.

Him.

Changmin. Of course, you rolled your eyes, he would be here. He had a performance too. Which frankly, you didn’t care about. At all. 

Your eyes skimmed over him for a moment, taking in his party attire. His hair was finally styled up and you were almost jealous over how well the purple lights complimented him.

He looked at you with slight surprise before schooling his expression into something obnoxious. Or teasing. You couldn’t quite tell.

“How’s the solo going?” He spoke with an amused smile. Thankfully, the music had died down. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if you had to lean even closer to him just to hear his infuriating insults.

“Amazing,” You immediately replied, maybe too fast and not very convincing. It had gone badly. Fewer mistakes but still much too many. But who were you to tell him that? Not when he would use that as his new monthly taunt. And out of sheer politeness, you smiled disdainfully. “Are you performing?” 

He raised an eyebrow at your obviously faked, higher-pitched voice.

“Drop the formalities.” He shook his head. “But yeah and it’s going to be better than yours. Though, I’m missing a dance partner.”

“A duet?” You tilted your head in confusion.

He nodded, a small, amused smile appearing on his lips. “Why, desperate to sign up?”

“No,” You retorted, scoffing. “Why would I ever want to dance with you?”

He simply shrugged with a smile, which only infuriated you more. With a huff, you stepped forward, furrowing your eyebrows.

“I hope you know that dancing with you is like stepping on a piece of dog sh–” You were interrupted. By your own yelp of all things. It was a common occurrence that when interacting with Changmin, you often forgot your surroundings. It was like this cloud of anger engulfed you constantly.

For example, right now, you completely forgot that you were at a party.

A guy dancing, probably having the time of his life, suddenly bumped into you, causing you to stumble over your own feet. At that point, you sort of just gave up, choosing to accept the embarrassment. But, that was when you felt a hand rush to your side to steady you.

It only briefly brushed against your waist but it sent sparks down your whole spine. Inhaling sharply, you snapped your head to look at Changmin.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What?” He stared at you. “Nothing.”

“You touched me,” You spoke in utter disbelief. The feeling of his fingertips just merely grazing you left you stuttering and you weren’t quite sure why.

“So you don’t fall flat on your face,” He muttered, leaning closer, right up to your ear. Immediately, you were engulfed by his cologne that… much to your demise, smelled really good. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty face.”

You felt your mouth go dry and you harshly pulled away, swallowing thickly. And now, you were incredibly grateful for the bright lights of the party because you couldn’t bear for him to notice your embarrassed expression. Visibly or not, you weren’t sure. Your cheeks felt oddly warm though.

“Well, I hope you–” You cursed yourself for stumbling over your words. “I hope you ruin your… your horrific face.” God, you mentally slapped yourself.

He only grinned. And this time, his hand actually closed around your waist. At first, you thought he was teasing again but you realized that yet again, someone was going to bump into you.

“Don’t lie,” He whispered, quiet enough only for you to hear.

“I’m not.” But your voice wavered.

“Definitely.” His lips pulled up into a teasing smile–one that you couldn’t help but think was attractive–and he walked away.

With a groan, you fixed your clothes and turned around. You let out a low breath, completely overwhelmed by the sight. The crowd was larger than before and the music only increased in volume. And so, holding a hand to your chest–ignoring the weird pounding of your heartbeat from… past events–you navigated through the bout of dancing and laughing people.

At some point, you found yourself in another room, the thumping music only heard through the walls. No matter if you were one of the most popular, successful dancers of the studio, you were still closed off. Like right now, you were pretty sure your instructor would ridicule you for literally hiding behind the curtains, sipping another drink.

Leaning your head back against the wall, you allowed yourself a deep breath as you tried to forget everything. The struggle of your dance routine, the immense and loud party, him and his stupid playful smile. 

But of course, that same him happened to pop up again. But this time, he was with Juyeon. Juyeon was a sweet man and you didn’t mind conversing with him. You had seen the way he danced powerfully yet gracefully at the same time despite his long limbs. His only flaw was that he was friends with… him.

“You still haven’t found a partner?” In the corner of your eye, they walked by, causing you to hide further.

Changmin sighed. “I’m trying.”

“What about Y/n?” Juyeon asked, nudging him with a small smile. “They seem suitable. Beautiful too.”

Your rival paused in his tracks, turning to Juyeon with an unimpressed look.

“Beautiful, but completely intolerable.”

It took all of your willpower not to jump out and throw your glass cup straight into your face. You were about to be flattered, maybe even confront him and tease him for calling you beautiful. But to counter that right after with intolerable?

You hated him.

–

The party was slowly dying down, now reduced to slow music for those couples who kissed in the hallways. You would think they stopped that after high school but apparently they still do so now. You were sure you looked like a mess but you couldn’t care less as you spotted Changmin in the background, leaning against the wall and simply observing the crowd.

Approaching him, you stood next to him. He only regarded you with a glance.

“What about her?” You spoke up, gesturing to a girl. She was talented, most definitely. You’d seen her do all sorts of dances, specializing in the art of tango which you admired.

“Helping me now?” He muttered.

You ignored his question, choosing to stare ahead. With a sigh, he shook his head.

“Her style is completely different from mine. So no.”

“That’s what you look for?” You scrunched up your face. “You know it’s boring when your styles are exactly the same.”

He turned to you and you tried to ignore the fact that when his hair was slightly disheveled and the top few buttons of his shirt undone, he didn’t look half bad. Still, his looks didn’t quite fit his irritating personality.

“Then what should I look for in a dance partner?” He looked at you, bored.

You thought for a moment. And then you let your hand trail down to his sleeve. Grasping the fabric, you pulled him closer.

“Someone who compliments your own dancing,” You whispered. He stared down at you in surprise. This time, his expression wasn’t an act to make you annoyed. His wide eyes, lips parted… were all real as his gaze traveled across your features, gulping nervously. “Even if…” You paused, marveling in the way his cheeks flushed under the party lighting. “They’re completely intolerable.”

He inhaled, about to walk forward. “Y/n–”

But you were already stepping away, creating that distance that you were most familiar with.

–

Often, dance played out in steps. One-two, one-two-three, et cetera, et cetera. The wave of your arms and the placement of your feet moved in these rhythmical steps. Or at least, you tried to get them to move in the right rhythm. It seemed that the only thing that was on time was the fast pace of your breath.

Breathing heavily, you stood up to face your three evaluators. Two of them had a somewhat satisfied look on their face, barely writing anything on their clipboards. But one… her. You grimaced, remembering the sight of her constantly picking up her pen in the middle of your routine, even frowning and shaking her head.

Your hair was messy and probably damp with sweat from the vigorous evaluation but you still stood tall. Up until that one word, that left everything crashing down on you.

“Out.”

Stricken, you turned to face your own instructor. 

“What?” You stuttered.

She stabbed her clipboard with the pen, tip down. “I said, you’re out,” She spoke in an obnoxiously calm voice. “I already found someone else to take your spot the other day.”

“But I–” You sighed in frustration, stepping forward, ignoring the searing pain of your joints from all the constant practicing that resulted in absolutely nothing. “I tried so hard for this. You taught me this solo, how could you–”

“I’m sorry,” She interrupted firmly. “Next time, Y/n.”

You watched each of them. There was some sense of remorse behind their expression but you could see something else. Something that pertained to… greed, money. You always knew that this dance studio–with its esteem and popularity–always would have those people who bought their way in. Those people who wanted your solo so badly that they obtained it with a simple check from their bank.

But you couldn’t change anything about that. So, with a deep breath–one that was concerningly shaky–you stepped backwards to the door.

“Fine,” You muttered. “It’s fine.”

Before you could even register it yourself, you were running out the door, the sound of it slamming behind you. Again, like those rhythmical steps, you tried to breathe in and out, tried to compose yourself. But, as soon as you turned the corner, away from any watchful eyes, you found yourself sliding down the wall. 

Bringing your knees up to your chest, you buried your face in your arms, allowing a few tears to slip. It was refreshing, really. You were always expected to be the perfect, most graceful dancer of the studio. But sometimes, it was hard to keep that up.

You let yourself relax, sniffling occasionally as you remembered all the hard work that turned into pointless frowns, sighs, and pen-writing. But then the sound of footsteps approached you. Still, you didn’t bother to look up.

“How’s the solo going?” A familiar, dreadful voice. You felt the warmth of a shoulder bump against yours as the person sat down next to you. Even through your muted ears, you could hear the thump of his head as he set it back against the wall.

With an exhausted exhale, you looked up, only to come face-to-face with Changmin. You already knew it was him but just the sight of your rival still brought you a scowl as you looked back down into your lap.

“Is that the only way to start your conversations?” You spoke softly.

He only stared at you wordlessly. You could feel his eyes on you, studying the tears that trailed down your face.

At his lack of response, you groaned. “It went horrible. I lost it. Happy now?” You bitterly smiled, wiping at your cheeks harshly, wincing at the burn of the fabric of your sleeves. When you turned to face him again, you realized that his face had fallen. 

“You… lost it?” He asked quietly.

You forced a roll of your eyes. Though, you knew it was useless to try to pretend that you felt perfectly content with this.

“Yes,” You breathed with frustration. “Yes, I did. So go. Laugh in my face and leave.”

But you didn’t hear a single huff of amusement. It was completely silent. Except for the shifting of clothes–the shifting of him moving closer to you. Now, his whole side was pressed to yours and again, you were reminded of how nice he smelled.

“I won’t laugh,” He whispered.

“Okay then.” You glanced at him briefly. “Fine. What are you doing here then?”

He turned to you slightly and you flinched when you saw his hand lifting up towards your face. You stayed frozen once you realized that he was picking up a thread of fabric stuck in your hair. Probably from your constant rubbing of your tears.

“Small talk,” He eventually replied, his voice surprisingly soft and… gentle.

You snorted, slapping his hand away. “With your rival?”

“Best to learn your enemies,” He humorously responded.

And even with your tears drying on your skin, you laughed. It was quiet, slightly weak from emotions of failure. But you still laughed. Because of Changmin of all people. With a sigh, you patted at the drying tears.

“God, I probably look like a mess.”

“You don’t.”

You turned to him in slight surprise before narrowing your eyes. “How can I trust you?”

“Just do.” He smiled. 

You hummed, shutting your eyes with exhaustion. “Then I’ll take your word for it.”

“It’s quite the opposite actually,” He continued. Perking up, you grinned playfully at him. 

“And what do you mean by that? What’s the opposite of looking like a mess?” 

“Looking…” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Looking pretty.”

Your breath hitched at his words. You didn’t know what you were expecting but you weren’t expecting that. But again, he was your rival. He was probably just teasing you.

“Are you saying I’m a pretty crier?”

He paused. And finally, without any dark rooms or party lighting, you could see the flush on his cheeks. “No comment?”

You laughed softly. But your content expression quickly turned into a small frown. “Shouldn’t you be practicing right now? You have a performance for the recital.”

He never answered your question. Instead, he looked down to where your hands and elbows were bruised from constant practice. Then he faced you with an incomprehensible look in his face.

“But you’re not performing at all?” He asked instead. 

Biting the inside of your cheeks to keep the tears from bursting out of your eyes again, you shook your head. 

He grew quiet again. You always hated how hard it was to decipher Changmin. He often trailed off and wouldn’t say anything, leaving you to decide if he was either going to throw another insult at you or finally leave you alone.

With an annoyed huff, you finally asked him, “What’re you planning?”

“Nothing.” He faked a smile. “I’ll… see you around?”

You stood up, your legs wobbly from the drained feeling after you poured out all of your emotions in the span of a few minutes. “Not for a while,” You sourly remarked. “I’m useless now. See you in two months.”

He tilted his head, his faux smile turning into an amused, almost mischievous one. “See you tomorrow.”

You were never one to question his odd responses. He just got the time wrong. That’s all.

—

You watched numbly as your ballet shoes tumbled to the floor. With a clenched jaw, you reached down to pick it up and shove it into your bag before turning back to your half-empty locker.

As you stood there, contemplating if you needed to bring home any of this stuff since you weren’t going to be dancing for a while anyway, your thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

Looking up, there was a woman poking her head in.

“Y/n?” She looked straight at you. 

“Me?” You pointed at yourself in disbelief. For a second, a spark of hope appeared in the depths of your heart. But it quickly flickered away. Maybe she was about to shove it in your face that you weren’t supposed to be here today. Which, you weren’t. But, you just needed to pack up some of your belongings.

“Y/n.” She smiled in strange relief. As if she was searching for you for a while. “You’re needed in the practice room.”

When you only stared at her in utter confusion, she laughed, completely relaxed which only caused to spiral into more perplexion.

“I forgot to mention which one! It’s the one at the end of the right hall.” 

You only raised an eyebrow at her, clutching your bag. Why was she acting so natural? As if telling you that you needed to report to practice when you were told very clearly that you were out as if that was the most normal thing in the world. 

“I don’t… I don’t have anything to perform though?” You stared at her.

She gazed back, looking at you as if you had just confessed the worst murder of all time.

“Yes you do?” She replied. “Come on. You’ll be late.”

Maybe this was all some sick joke. Still incredibly confused, you followed her out onto the hallway, all the way down to an unfamiliar practice room. This whole section was dedicated to something else. Something that wasn’t… ballet or contemporary.

She gestured for you to open the door. Looking at her with a bored expression, you pushed the door open and in just a split second, you were gaping at the person who stood at the doorway.

Oh my god. 

Your hand tightened around the doorknob, threatening to slam the door closed in hopes that this was all a bad dream. But the door refused to budge. 

Changmin. Changmin had placed his foot down to stop it from moving an inch. He tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He looked at you completely seriously. Which you hated. Because you had really hoped this was all a joke.

“What are you doing here?” You still attempted to shut the door. But he still held it open.

But suddenly, another man appeared. You didn’t recognize him but you assumed he was Changmin’s own dance instructor. He had on a bright, enthusiastic smile, much unalike to your own who constantly had a stern, disappointed frown.

“Y/n!” He spoke marvelously. “Splendid choice, ‘min.”

Changmin only glanced at you, slightly sheepishly and with his ears were tinted red. He quickly recovered though which made you wonder why he was shy in the first place.

“Surprise surprise?” He smugly grinned.

You were absolutely speechless, unable to say anything. All you could do was stare—gape at him with a dropped jaw.

“What?” You blurted out.

Changmin almost laughed at your reaction. But still, he led you out to the hallway. Hopefully for some sort of explanation.

“You’re my new dance partner.”

Okay, that wasn’t the explanation that you wanted.

“You’re what?” You practically exclaimed.

“You heard me,” He whispered. His eyes darted to the practice room briefly. “He’ll be teaching you the moves for the first few days and then we’ll practice together,” He explained in a completely calm voice.

What was up with everyone and acting completely natural in such an absurd situation?”

“Are we not going to talk about the fact that you chose me to be your dance partner,” You deadpanned. “We’re supposed to hate each other.”

“Then still do,” He sighed. “But trust me on this.” He stepped closer and in the corner of your eye, you could see his hand twitch—almost like he was going to grab yours.

“How many times will you ask me to trust you?” You asked quietly. “That’s not very easy, especially after you’ve practically insulted me all these years.”

“I know, and I’m—“ The apology that threatened to escape his lips was interrupted by the door opening. His instructor poked a head out with an excited smile.

“What’s taking you lovebirds so long?” He wiggled his eyebrows. And now that you looked closely, you could read his ID card that read, “Eric.” He looked oddly young to be an instructor but you didn’t question it, too focused on the fact that you now had to dance with your one and only rival.

Changmin scowled. “Give us a minute won’t you? I’m still older than you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He sighed before disappearing back into the room.

Changmin turned back to you, looking at you with soft eyes that only caused your stomach to twist even more.

“Yesterday,” He breathed. “You looked…”

“Like shit? I know,” You snapped.

“No! You—“ He groaned. “I can’t explain it right now. But Y/n.” Again, his hand twitched to hold yours.

“What?” Your voice was meek. Why were you suddenly so nervous?

“I’m not blind to see that you’re talented. And who was it who told me that I should find someone who complimented my dancing?” He paused and winced sheepishly. “Even if completely intolerable.”

“You think that I compliment your dancing?” You whispered. “But we never danced together before.”

“All the more reason to test it out?” He gave you an unsure smile.

You bit your lip, completely conflicted.

“Changmin… I don’t know.”

He looked at you, his gaze gentle. “If you want to back out, that’s fine. I just—“ His cheeks were flushed again, a pretty pink. Pretty? “I wanted to do something. For you.”

Your eyes searched his, looking for any spark of amusement. But, he still looked back at you earnestly.

“Aren’t we rivals?” You asked again.

“Are we?” He simply replied, never providing you with an actual answer.

“We are,” You breathed out, but the way your voice trembled slightly wasn’t very convincing. 

“Whatever you want,” He whispered. “So what do you say, dear rival?” The way he said the last word wasn’t convincing either. None of this was convincing.

You sighed, defeated and unable to find a reason to say no. Hanging your head low, you noticed the way his hand ghosted over yours. Was it there all that time?

“Fine,” You muttered. “But don’t expect much.”

He hummed teasingly. “I expect a lot from someone as talented as you.”

And much to your horror, you felt yourself blush. Shoving him with an annoyed (embarrassed) scowl, you stepped away, finally noticing just how close he was to you.

“Shut up,” You said. “Let’s keep this completely professional.”

“Whatever you want,” He repeated, smiling softly.

—

You hated to admit it but the duet was fun. It was so unlike what you usually learned. You were used to the perfectly practiced poses, the straightened back, and the straining of all your limbs to get that pristine, elegant image that you were supposed to keep up. But this dance… was more freeing. It had a romantic aspect to it but it was fun and energetic while still telling a story through the choreography. 

A love story of all things.

However, you did notice that it was hard to learn the dance alone. Even if you asked Eric to dance in place as Changmin temporarily, he would refuse, saying it would ruin the “chemistry” between you two.

What chemistry? There was none. You were sure of that. 

But even the voice in your head wavered over that statement.

Now, the time that you dreaded has arrived. The one when you would actually have to practice the choreography with your dance partner.

To say it was awkward was an understatement. It was appallingly difficult.

The two of you wouldn’t stop bickering. It wasn’t really Changmin correcting your dance like you had thought. It was just… bickering.

“What if I stepped on your foot right now?” You grinned.

“Don’t,” He groaned. “It already hurts.”

“But it would be funny.”

“My ankle is twisted,” He replied with a frown, grimacing.

Immediately you were widening your eyes and stepping forward. You didn’t even notice that you were looking him over with worry.

“It is?” And just like he had done before, your hand ghosted over his. “Why didn’t you get it checked? You should be resti—“

Except he only regarded you with a smug smile.

“Is someone worried for me?”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. And then you grumbled, stepping away, only to feel a spark through your wrist where it brushed against his knuckles.

“Your ankle isn’t twisted,” You gritted out.

He grinned wider. “It’s not but I appreciate your worry anyway.”

“I was not worrying,” You muttered, looking away.

He huffed. “And my name isn’t Changmin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.”

“Get what over with?”

“This… move,” You mumbled, letting your eyes travel down to his hand. What was up with you and his hands? You didn’t know either.

And by this move, you meant the move where the two of you would have to hold hands and he would twirl you and pull you close, and— you hated everything about it.

“Don’t we just—“ He was the one who took the lead, guiding your hand gently to his. But he paused in his tracks once he felt your pinky link with his. And like he was electrocuted, he pulled his hand back.

You held back a smile, finding this awkwardness all too painfully amusing. 

“Do we intertwine the fingers or…” He trailed off.

“Or just hold palms?” You offered, cringing at how warm your face felt at the moment.

“No, we’re supposed to—“ He reached forward, grabbing your hand in an odd way, his fingers hilariously stiff.

“Ah,” You whined. “It feels weird.”

He huffed, his ears red. “Of course it does. We never…”

If Eric was monitoring the two of you right now—which he said he would in an hour or two—he would have bursted out laughing at the sight. The both of you facing each other, hands fumbling with frustrated faces—one would think you were playing a game of rock, paper, scissors.

“What are you doing?” You whispered, staring at the way he just poked one finger into your palm.

“What are you doing?” He whispered back, glaring at the way your fingers closed around his ring finger.

“I can’t—“ You groaned. “I can’t do this with you.”

“You have to. Just—“ And like a leap of faith, he finally reached forward properly and grabbed your hand in his. After all those instances of your hands merely hovering, it felt almost… nice to feel his warm skin properly. His hand was comforting and you watched with wide eyes at the way he so naturally intertwined his fingers with yours.

Your breath was caught in your throat and you observed silently as he brought your connected hands up to his chest, holding it close. He looked up at you, his gaze softening.

“Like this?” He whispered.

“Yes,” You replied, almost breathlessly.

He gave you a small smirk. “Then focus.” 

And without a warning, he brought your hand up and twirled you around. You stumbled slightly but managed to gain your balance as he pulled you in, right up to his chest. Instead of just your hands, it was your whole body against him.

“See?” He smiled down at you, slightly out of breath. “Wasn’t so bad right?”

“Professional,” You breathed out. “It’s because I’m being professional.”

“Mhm,” He eyed you teasingly. His eyes trailed down. “Do professionals still hold hands even after practice is done?”

You gasped quietly, embarrassment flooding through you.

“Oh, I—” You tried to pull your hand out of his grasp but he only tightened further, keeping your hand in his. His hold was gentle and warm, which put a funny feeling in your chest. You narrowed your eyes. “Changmin,” You warned.

“It’s comfortable,” He murmured and before you could protest, he was bringing your hand up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

Your breath hitched in your throat. “You’re so annoying.” You glared.

He only pressed another kiss as a response, leaving you stuttering.

–

Another thing you hated to admit: you had grown closer to Changmin. Blah blah, you’re still rivals of course. Just maybe… with more smiles and friendly remarks. That’s normal, isn’t it? For enemies?

The dance routine drastically improved. The two of you were comfortable with holding hands now, moving past each other with fleeting touches. It became almost natural. But then again, that was just what happened when you were being professional. Obviously.

But still, nothing could compare to the growth of your relationship with him. You didn’t hate it. It felt nice to have someone who understood you. You learned more about him as a person. You learned that he was always exhausted after dancing and then learned that he often forgot to eat anything after practice. They go hand-in-hand. So it became–much to your disliking–your job to bring him a small snack every day so that he wouldn’t faint. 

He learned more about you as a person too. He learned that you weren’t used to freestyling or experimenting since you were so trained to have a picture-perfect image. When he learned that, it became–much to his… liking–his job to make you laugh and relax whenever you got too caught up in your internal expectations.

He wasn’t so bad after all. 

He was still annoying though. Just like right now.

“Just once,” He pleaded. “Try it.”

“I’m not– used to the choreography being changed. Or anything being changed.” You gave him a nervous look, your fingers fidgeting restlessly. “And you know that.” Your voice quietened as all the memories of people criticizing you came rushing through. 

His gaze softened as he studied your anxious-ridden features. “I do know that. But that doesn’t mean you can’t.”

You looked at him skeptically. “I’m not like you.”

“You’re not,” He agreed. “You’re you. And that’s what I find amazing.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “That’s not–”

He shook his head, taking a step forward. He opened his mouth to speak but you shushed him with a simple glare.

“And don’t you dare ask me to trust you,” You ridiculed. 

He gave you an amused smile. “How’d you predict that?”

“Because you’ve asked me plenty of times,” You deadpanned.

“Ah…” He grinned. “You’re right. And every time I do, you reply that you don’t.”

You grew silent at that. And then you let your eyes trail down, away from his gaze. You noticed that whenever you did so, he never let his own eyes wander. They were always on you. Across the room, the hallway, even when you were sitting right in front of him.

With a deep breath, your cheeks beginning to flush already, you spoke something so quietly that he had to lean in to hear.

“I trust you now though.”

You heard his breath hitch, causing you to look up into his eyes. And were his eyes always so… bright and sparkly?

“You trust me?” He whispered.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

“If we weren’t so short on time, I would.” He smiled. He reached down and like it was the most common occurrence, he took your hand in his, leading you to the middle of the room. “Then, if you trust me, won’t you do the thing?”

“What thing?”

“That thing.”

You stared at him, trying to feign innocence so that you could somehow get out of it. But he only looked at you, almost challenging you with his gaze.

Eventually, you groaned in defeat. “Fine,” You grumbled.

The next move, which the two of you had already perfected, was a simple touch on the waist and that was it. But Changmin just had to come up with a new idea. He insisted on a dip. The type of dip that was reserved for people who were actually in love and… had feelings for each other. Which, the two of you definitely didn’t fit in that type of category. Professional dancers was all.

“I don’t think this is going to work,” You spoke over the music. 

He smiled charmingly. “Just enjoy the moment. It will.”

And so, holding your breath, you approached him. His hand automatically came to your waist, just like it had in the original move. But then, he slowly, guided you so that you were leaning backward. Feeling yourself grow warm over his gentle touch that held you steady so that you wouldn’t fall, you allowed yourself to fall. Literally, into his arms. 

After the count was over, he gently brought you back to stand up. And yet another thing that you hated to admit: that new dance move left your heart pounding. And it wasn’t from exhilaration. 

You were breathless as you stared at him in shock. It all came rushing to you. The small details–the softness of his eyes, the hands that held onto your waist tightly but never enough to hurt, the small smile on his lips when he probably noticed that you had blushed.

A quiet “oh” was all you could muster.

He gave you a soft smile. You noticed that was the only thing he regarded you with these days. Occasionally, it would be his usual, teasing, mocking smile. But recently, it’s just been that one that left your hands feeling sweaty.

“And if I said I told you so?” 

“Don’t,” You scowled.

But he only leaned closer. You weren’t even doing the move again yet his hand still found its place on your lower back again. And like you were in a trance, your eyes fluttered as you drew closer to him. You looked straight into his eyes, only for you to realize that he wasn’t returning that same eye contact. Instead, his gaze flickered down to your lips. You sputtered and your hands flew to his chest, trying to create more distance.

“Don’t get too carried away,” You murmured.

“I wasn’t,” He whispered. “It was you who was leaning closer.”

“No,” You breathed. “It was you.”

He watched you fondly. Of course, he would notice the way you stumbled over your words.

“Maybe it was the both of us.”

—

One would think that after the routine was perfected—which it was—the two of you would be off to perform it, get those congratulatory flowers, and be off. But no. There was always that extra step of the stage rehearsal.

It was the one where you had to practice the routine on the actual stage, in front of two people: Changmin’s instructor Eric, and your instructor. You haven’t seen her since she kicked you off, so you couldn’t help your eyes from darting to her ever-growing sneer.

You always despised this part, mostly because it was nerve-wracking. Even though there were only two people in the audience, the spotlights, and the music blaring through the speakers made it all feel real.

It didn’t help that your instructor kept writing things in her clipboard. And it was only when you were in the center. For heaven’s sake, Eric didn’t even own a clipboard.

“You’re shaking,” A deeper voice whispered.

You blinked and turned to where Changmin was standing in front of you. It was no use hiding anything from him. It was almost like he could read you like a book.

You shook your head, pulling him into position. But, it was hard as it was him facing away from the crowd while you… you had to face the audience—more specifically, your instructor.

“I’m just tired,” You whispered as your eyes glanced down. Eric was smiling softly while she picked up her pen, leaving your heart pounding. Changmin turned to look at you briefly and you could feel his gaze, focused on how you fidgeted nervously.

“I tried to tell her that she didn’t need to come to the rehearsal,” He muttered back, his hand coming up to your waist just like the choreography asked. “But she insisted.”

You hummed. “I wonder why.”

“Ignore her,” He replied, guiding your hand up to his shoulder. Just like the choreography asked.

“I can’t,” You whispered, your voice almost pleading. “She’s looking at me.”

Suddenly, you felt his hand close around your waist tightly as he shifted the position. You watched, bewildered once you realized that even though his back was still to the crowd, he was shielding you with his body. Away from prying eyes, away from anyone who would make you nervous, he stood in front of you, his arm protectively around your body.

This was not the choreography. This wasn’t what it asked. Yet it made you feel that smallest bit of solace that you needed all this time.

“Better?” He spoke in a hushed tone, giving you a reassuring smile.

Unable to do or say anything, you only looked at him with flushed cheeks before nodding quietly.

He only continued to follow your features with his soft gaze. He never attempted to make you move, knowing that you were still nervous, your hand on his shoulder tightening in intervals whenever you remembered that you were still being watched. Instead, he just stayed put, watching you and making sure you were okay.

Alarms blared in your ears, telling you that you needed to start dancing or else you would be scolded. But, with Changmin’s hand closed around your waist, you couldn’t help but melt. You were sure that the two instructors were watching–probably extremely confused, but you were more focused on someone else. Changmin–whose body shielded you from the blinding stage lights and whose eyes scanned over you attentively.

“Thank you,” was what you could finally muster up with a soft voice.

He gave you a small tilt of his head, accompanied by a lilt of his lips. 

“Of course,” He replied. “Take your time. Whenever you’re ready.”

You bit your lip, shaking your head with a growing smile. “They’re waiting.”

“So let them wait.”

Your shoulders shook with a silent laugh. You were about to joke about how endearing he looked when protective but you stopped for two reasons. One–you were supposed to be rivals and that wouldn’t be a very rival-y thing to say. Two–Eric spoke up, his loud voice echoing through the concert hall.

“Alright,” He yelled, his voice laced with a teasing tone. “Lovebirds, let’s take five!”

Clearing your throat, your cheeks flaming, you pulled away from his hold. You didn’t notice Changmin staring after you longingly.

–

The five-minute break came and went a bit too quickly for your liking. Luckily, Eric had somehow convinced your instructor to take a lunch break. As you were fixing up the laces of your shoes, he approached you with a kind smile.

“She’s all done and taken care of,” The younger man joked, brushing off his shoulder comically. You smiled in relief. And then he sat down next to you. “Listen. On the agenda, I’m supposed to evaluate each of you individually, to make sure everything’s down and ready. So, during her lunch break, let’s get that done. Yeah?”

You nodded and stood up, approaching the stage. Oh, but you hated how steep the stairs were. Trying not to stumble, you took the first step. You were about to take the second when you felt another presence behind you. You hated how you could recognize him immediately.

You felt Changmin’s hand, gently take yours as he helped you up the stairs. When finally up on the stage, you turned around to tease him about being such a gentleman. But, his back was already turned, walking away.

But when you narrowed your eyes and looked closely, you could see his hand flex. Almost like he was embarrassed and… nervous after helping you up on the stage.

You caught yourself smiling, your heart blooming into something new. Except, you weren’t quite sure if it actually was new.

But Eric’s voice caught you off guard, shaking you out of your little trance.

“What’s so amusing?” He grinned.

You shook your head, biting back a shy smile. “Nothing.”

–

“How’s it feel? Your stylist looked you over, even giving you jazz hands to help you cheer up. Dress rehearsal–literally meant that you had to wear your performance outfit even when the audience was practically empty. 

You scrunched your face up in discomfort, looking at yourself in the mirror. You had to admit, it was a pretty look. It incorporated various little details of what you were most familiar with, ballet. It was a graceful, flowy outfit but there was something different about it. There were other… parts to it. Spontaneous colors and pieces stuck out, representing your dance partner.

And of course, there was romance in it. Roses specifically, delicately sewn into the fabric. And there was a bright red one, tucked behind your ear.

“It’s beautiful,” You whispered. But just at that moment, you twitched awkwardly. “A little itchy.”

Your stylist laughed, pulling at a loose seam. “It’s just one night.”

You froze, your shoulders raising. “Yeah,” You breathed. “One night.” And it would all be over. This impetuous thing. After that one night, you would be forced to go back to keeping up that image that you hated and loved at the same time. You would return to the same routine of scolding because you didn’t do well enough and the scorn looks because you couldn’t lift your leg high enough. 

And Changmin.

He would be over too. He would go his own way, dancing with experimentation and freedom. You wouldn’t see him except on your breaks which only resulted in petty arguments and glares. What would happen to those kind smiles that you would share occasionally and the fleeting touches even when you weren’t practicing the choreography? Would it all disappear?

“Is everything okay?” The stylist asked. 

You blinked and straightened up. “Great,” You said as you forced a smile. With a deep breath, you headed to the door, ready to greet Changmin who must also be dressed in his own outfit. 

As you walked onto the stage, you froze once again when you saw him standing in front of you, a sheepish smile on his lips. 

“Hi,” You whispered, looking him over. Oh, you hated it. You hated everything–how he looked charming with his hair so meticulously styled, how the flowy, white shirt hugged his shoulders and waist so perfectly, how his eyes naturally sparkled, even when the stage lights were off.

“Hey, you.” He grinned. And you hated how his gaze traveled over you slowly, taking in the sight. Suddenly, you felt the urge to wrap your arms over yourself.

You gave him a small laugh, stepping forward. There was no one else in the concert hall right now. Eric and the director of the recital must be running late. And yes, somehow, Changmin managed to keep your instructor from coming back in the meantime. It was just the two of you, standing in the middle of the stage, unlit but bright enough to emphasize both of your shy smiles.

You hated him. 

But… his smile and his soft gaze. It was all too hard to resist.

Clearing your throat, you played with the hem of your clothes. “What do you…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to stumble over your words nervously. “What do you think?” You looked at him expectantly. He only stared at you wordlessly, which only furthered your anxiousness. Forcing a roll of your eyes, trying to act natural, you shifted on your feet and avoided his watchful gaze. “And don’t say I look bad because I’m sure that–”

“You look pretty.”

You inhaled sharply, whipping your head to look at him again. His smile looked almost fond and he never seemed to take his eyes off you. Instead, he only leaned closer, bending his head forward to observe the rose tucked behind your ear.

“Very pretty,” He whispered. You could only stay there, completely rigid as you felt his hand come up to the side of your face to adjust that same rose, his touch light and gentle. 

“Oh,” You finally breathed out. “Thank you.” You cursed at yourself for lowering your voice from embarrassment. It only made him lean closer to hear you.

And it seemed that Eric had burst through the doors, only to witness the two of you stupidly smiling at each other.

–

Just like you had expected, Eric and the director watched your routine. Over and over, you had to perform it so that they would catch any mistakes. By the fifth time, the two of you were practically gasping for air.

“One more time?” Eric suggested, looking at you with pity once he noticed you almost fall over from exhaustion if it wasn’t for Changmin who steadied you with a simple touch on your waist.

But then, the director stepped forward. “Actually,” She spoke up. “I think that we just have to get the ending right.”

You glanced at Changmin, only for him to do the same. Just like your brief glances, the position at the very end of the performance was always awkward. The two of you could never quite get it down.

Since the dance was more on the… romantic side, you were expected to face each other, hands intertwined and held close to your chests. And Eric had especially emphasized staring very deeply into your eyes, much to your dismay. Oh and to stand very close–so close that you were practically kissing.

But, you always refused. Changmin as well. You would take a step back and he would hold your hand a bit further away from his chest, creating an odd-looking distance.

So that was what you did. Which, didn’t seem to satisfy the director at all.

“That’s all you can do?” She questioned, leaning forward in her chair. “Put more into it!”

You bit your lip nervously, taking a half-step closer.

“More!” She exclaimed, causing Eric to laugh evilly.

Changmin glared at them playfully before yanking you forward, right up against his chest. You sputtered, looking at him in surprise. He gave you a small, soft smile, though there was still a hint of teasing behind his eyes.

The director stayed silent and for a moment, you thought that she was satisfied enough. But then, she slammed her hand down. “More! You can do better than that!”

Your palms were practically sweating from how long you were holding hands and your face also felt incredibly hot from how close his lips were to yours. But still, with a sigh, you shuffled ever so closer, until the front of your shoes were touching. Changmin simply watched you with gentle eyes.

“Mor–”

Eric groaned, and you could see him standing up in protest in his peripheral view. He threw his hand out to the stage. “Is this not close enough?”

The director snickered. “Oh, definitely. I just wanted to see how close they willingly would get.”

Immediately, the two of you were blushing. But still, Changmin didn’t make a move to step backward and away from you. And so, you gulped, choosing to avoid his gaze.

“On second thought,” Eric called out. “You’re kind of off-center… if you guys could move to the right a bit?”

After this, you would be done. You would perform the routine on the recital night and this would all be over. Except, you weren’t too sure if you wanted it to be over. You were still deciding on that. When you looked up into Changmin’s eyes, you found that invisible weight–the one that leaned to you wanting this to last forever–to become heavier and heavier.

Ignoring your rushing thoughts, you shuffled to the right, your hands still grasping his. He shuffled along with you, taking mini-steps backward until you reached the tape on the floor that signaled the center.

You stared at Changmin, eyes sparkling as he did the same. And then, you found yourself laughing. Laughing for what? You weren’t sure, but you felt like you were brimming with joy. The awkward shuffling to get to the center, the warm hands intertwined with yours, the surprised yet oddly fond look on his face when you giggled–you couldn’t help but just… feel a certain emotion. You weren’t sure what. Was it relaxation or something else?

He looked at you, his own smile growing on his lips. And then he joined in on you with the laughing, leaning closer to hide his face in your neck.

And yes, you were still in that same ending position. Except, it wasn’t awkward anymore.

“I envy you,” The director sighed, dramatically falling back into her chair. “You have such heart-pounding, romantic chemistry!’

The both of you froze and turned to her in panic.

“Oh, no–” You rushed to say, only to be cut off by Changmin who was also panicking.

“We’re not like–”

Eric only raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. “You cannot be that blind,” He deadpanned. “Just look in front of you.”

When you looked back into Changmin’s eyes, you not only saw it–the eyes that you dreamed about more often and the lips that you sometimes wondered how they tasted–but you could feel the now familiar pounding in your heart. You wondered if he felt the same.

–

On the night before the performance, you found yourself sitting on a bench outside of the dance studio. The crickets were chirping, keeping you from being completely alone with your thoughts. You tried to count the stars or the cars that passed by, but it was of no use, as all you could think of were the endless possibilities of the recital going completely wrong.

But your ears picked up the sound of someone’s footsteps, slightly kicking at the concrete. And then he sat next to you. Changmin. It was always him. And for some reason, you found his warmth almost comforting–something that melted away the rigid clasp around your nerves.

“Okay?” He asked, his tone quiet to match the atmosphere of the calm night that differed from your tight chest.

“Yeah,” You whispered, turning to him. He wasn’t looking. Maybe he was trying to count the stars too. “Just…” You sighed, embarrassed. “Nervous.”

“Don’t be.” He smiled as he turned to face you. “You’re amazing.”

“I’m…” You tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows.

“What?” He widened his eyes cutely. “You don’t think so? Though,” He laughed briefly. “Better than me? Probably no–”

“No,” You blurted out, catching him off guard. “I’m just–” You exhaled with frustration and confusion. “Why are you so nice to me? I thought we were…” You trailed off then, choosing to turn back to the twinkling stars. Yet they only reminded you of his eyes.

“Rivals? We still are,” He joked. 

You could only give him a weak laugh in response. He looked at you cautiously before turning his gaze down to his lap where his fingers were fidgeting nervously.

“But as for caring for you…” He spoke quietly. “Take a wild guess.”

You looked at him, trying to decipher his strange behavior. But, all you could get from your observations was that his cheeks and ears were oddly red. 

“Because…” You thought for a moment. “If you weren’t you would be kicked off the team?”

He gave you a small smile but shook his head. 

“Because you’re in a particularly good mood?”

“No,” He breathed out.

And you knew that there was one more reason. But you were terrified to say it. You didn’t know why but it was just… frightening. But, when he only gazed at you expectantly, you knew that you were being forced to say it.

“Because you…” Your voice quietened, but you knew that Changmin could see the way your mouth formed the word ‘like.’ Slowly, your voice grew in volume to finish the question. “...me?”

And what was even more terrifying was that he nodded wordlessly. Or was it thrilling? You couldn’t tell. But all you knew was that your heart was beating fast again. And it was all for a different reason.

“Changmin,” You whispered, too shocked to form a cohesive sentence. “I–”

“I do,” He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for an answer. “It’s because I like you.”

And it hit you like the spot lights did to your eyes. He would always smile at you softly, distract you whenever you were nervous, and his touches were always gentle. You thought it was just part of his demeanor but now, things were different now. He never regarded others with that affectionate smile and soft gaze. It was only when his eyes would land on you, that his expression would change into something strangely affectionate.

“I don’t know what to say,” You shakily replied, watching as he stood up from the bench. He gave you a small smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He mumbled, about to turn away but your hands grasped onto his sleeve. 

“Wait,” You rushed to say. He turned to you, his eyes filled with hope and disappointment, all at the same time. “Changmin.”

“Hm?” 

“After this night… will we go back to the way we were?” You looked up at him. And instead of pulling his wrist out of your grasp, he reached forward, enclosing your hand in his. Your eyes flitted down to his action, breath held.

“Do you mean when I would think of you every day?” He raised an eyebrow.

You playfully slapped him. Or, at least tried to, until he tightened his hold on your hand, keeping you still.

“Don’t lie.” You rolled your eyes.

He shook his head before gently guiding you to stand up with him. You followed and then you gasped quietly when you felt a rose being tucked behind your ear, just like your stylist had done for your outfit–for your performance tomorrow.

“I’m not lying,” He whispered. “I never was.”

You swallowed thickly. “Even when you said that I remind you of… the moonlight?”

He hummed before adjusting the rose slightly so that it sat perfectly in your hair. And that was when you realized the rose was blue, rather than the classic red. You watched him curiously until he gave you a soft smile. 

He tapped the rose gently, his fingertip brushing against your ear. 

“You’re just like the moonlight.”

–

You breathed in deeply, closing your eyes until you heard the curtains rise and the shuffle of the audience, expectantly waiting for your performance. It only took you a few hours before to find out that your duet with Changmin was the most anticipated one. In fact, it was on the front page of the pamphlet and displayed brightly on one of those LED screens outside of the concert hall.

When you blinked your eyes open, you were met with millions–at least it felt like it–of faces staring back at you. Immediately, you felt the need to freeze up and forget everything that you’ve worked so hard for. But once you felt that familiar squeeze on your waist from the man who stood next to you, everything came rushing back to you.

Soon enough, the music started and like it was automatic, your head snapped up to face him. The beginning move, the one that you practiced the most unintentionally, was easy to spot the differences over the time. When you first started practicing together, he wouldn’t even look you in the eye out of arrogance.  Now, even though he still wouldn’t, you could see that it was for a different reason. He was too embarrassed to.

As you moved to the rhythm, fleeting touches on his shoulder and down his chest before breaking apart, you realized that so much has changed. The hesitant grasp on your waist was firm now–protective. 

He wasn’t always too embarrassed to look you in the eye. Sometimes, when he would pull you into his chest, he would stare so deeply that the stage lights that already felt hot, began to feel much alike to the sun. 

Sometimes, you would hear the occasional baby crying in the crowd or the applause when Changmin would do that dip that you were so adamant on not doing, only for it to be one of your favorite parts to do, but other than that, all that resonated through your ears was the beating of your heart. Partly from exhilaration and partly for someone else. Him.

You hated him, but oh, you liked him so much. 

And when the ending came and he would pull you close while intertwining his fingers with yours, you allowed yourself to fall. Maybe not physically because that wouldn’t end well on the tall stage, but in some other way. A way that signaled to him to pull you so close and for him to lean down so that his lips hovered right over yours.

The music had already ended and the audience was clapping and whistling. Yet to you, it went silent. All you could hear was Changmin’s breathing against your lips and all you could see were his soft, loving eyes.

Slowly, you felt his hand let go of yours and for a second you thought that you might have gone too far. But then, you felt that same hand tighten around your waist, yanking you close enough that his bottom lip brushed against yours, sending shivers down your spine.

There were no words spoken but the two of you immediately got the message to close your eyes and… fall once again. You leaned forward, about to press your lips to his in which he hummed softly. But then, the curtain fell with a loud thump and you broke apart. Before you could say or do anything, you were being rushed out by the staff, with only a glimpse of the longing in his face.

Your hand came up to where the rose tucked in your hair and you pulled it out. You observed the red petals, twirling the stem of it until it broke apart in your hand. You liked the blue version better.

–

Your fingers lingered over your own lips, wondering what it would feel like if you had just leaned that tiny bit closer–wondered if he would kiss back. His warm breath that fanned over and his soft, soft gaze as his eyes wandered down came rushing back until your stomach was fluttering with butterflies all over again. 

“Y/n?” One of the staff poked her head in. “The curtain call’s in five.”

“Oh, right.” You abruptly stood up, smoothing down your outfit. Your hair was down now, rid of any clips and pins. The rose was long gone. 

She ushered you to the door. “You and your partner have a separate spotlight. Since… you know,” She laughed shyly. “Everyone just loved your performance.”

You froze. “They did?”

She looked at you like you were crazy before leading you down the hallway leading to the stage. “It’s all the crowd’s been talking about! The chemistry, the romance, the love… it was all so clear. How did you do it so naturally?”

Your breath hitched, unsure yourself. “I… I guess because it was real.”

She hummed, eyeing you teasingly before gesturing to the stage. You took in a deep breath, and walked to the center of the stage. It was dark–the curtains down with only the sound of the murmuring crowd. When you looked up, you could see Changmin approaching you, a warm smile on his lips.

As he stood next to you, his hand grasped yours and he nudged you with his shoulder.

“Nervous?” He joked.

You smiled shyly. “I am actually.”

“And why’s that?” He glanced at you with bright, sparkling eyes, even without the stage lights shining on the two of you.

“Because I’m with you. You make me nervous,” You whispered. His eyes widened slightly and his hand tightened on yours.

You could hear the countdown for the curtains to pull up, but you ignored it once Changmin had leaned closer.

“Listen,” He watched you cautiously. “What we did back there… did you mea–”

“Yes,” You rushed to say. 

Before he could respond, the curtains were rising up and again, the stage lights blared in your vision. Now, you could hear the loud cheers of the audience and you were filled with that exhilarating, heart-beating feeling all over again. When you turned to Changmin, you realized that he was staring back, a dazed look in his eyes.

With a squeeze of his hand, the two of you bowed, smiling brightly. You were about to let go of his hand to wave at the crowd when suddenly, you felt him tug on your hand, hard enough that you were pulled right against his chest.

He steadied you with a hand on your waist. And in the corner of your eye, you felt something being tucked behind your ear. You couldn’t see it but you knew exactly what it was. A blue rose.

He leaned in, just like before with his lips right in front of yours. You held back a smile as you looked up into his soft eyes.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, quiet enough so that only you could hear.

“Yes.” You spoke your loudest, over the growing cheers and applause from the crowd. “This is perfect.”

He smiled before pulling you in and pressing his lips against yours. For the third time that evening, you felt butterflies in your stomach as your eyes fluttered closed. You allowed yourself to finally and completely fall into the moment—into him, into his arms, and into his love as his grip on you tightened ever so slightly so that he could move his lips comfortably against yours. 

When you pulled away, eventually interrupted by the staff gesturing to you hurriedly when you peeked an eye open, you looked up at him before bursting out into a shy smile. The cheers were even louder now, which only caused Changmin to blush a pretty pink.

–

After being led off the stage and changed out of your outfits, the two of you met at the hallway that led to the exit–away from the spotlights. It was just you now, holding his hand, swinging it shyly as you occasionally stole glances at him. 

But just before you reached the door, he was turning you around and kissing you up against a wall. You allowed him to, feeling your heart beat erratically. But then again, that was a common thing now when with him.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for the longest time,” He muttered, breaking apart with flushed cheeks.

You smiled. “How long?”

“Ever since you gave me that playful smile when you called me a piece of shit that one time.” He grinned.

You burst out laughing. “That was so long ago,” You joked. “There’s no way you– you’re serious?” Now you were gaping at him.

He nodded shyly before hiding his face in your neck. “I loved your smile. I thought you were so beautiful when I first laid eyes on you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t say I felt the same,” You muttered. “I actually despised you.”

He chuckled, pulling away to press another kiss to your lips. “Do you despise me now?”

You blushed. “No, I don–” You were cut off by another kiss and his adorable laugh. You grumbled, slapping him shyly. “I take it back. I still despise you.”

“And I’m in love with you,” He replied, playing with the rose tucked in your hair, a fond smile worn on his lips.

—

“What is this?” You giggled, approaching where he was sitting on the floor of the balcony, completely ignoring the chairs that were perfectly placed there for sitting.

You didn’t take into account that giving your boyfriend the code to your apartment door would lead to him breaking into it without permission. One time, you came home, completely exhausted from practice and he popped out of a corner to scare you for the fun of it. It ended in a lot of screams and slapping. But still, he apologized and took care of you for the rest of the evening.

The two of you did go your separate ways…in terms of dance of course. You went back to ballet and high expectations. But at least you had someone to listen to you—someone who always told you that you were doing amazing whether that be through whispered words or kisses and hugs.

He, on the other hand, continued to experiment through various dance styles. One of the recent ones that he learned was the art of tango, ironically enough. And yes, he often pressured you to practice with him. You hated to admit it, but whenever he “serenaded you with his body” (as wrong as it sounded, that’s literally what he said when he danced with you), you couldn’t help but flush slightly, especially when he would kiss you before twirling you.

All of your friends, Eric especially, were delighted to find out you were dating. According to them, you’ve been in love with him this whole time and vice versa. You couldn’t deny it.

Everyday, you fell more and more in love with him. Apart from his constant teasing, he was the sweetest boyfriend one could find. He supported you in all of your endeavors, pressing kisses all over your face while whispering “I’m so proud of you.” Even when you insisted that it was corny, you secretly loved it.

And just now, you walked in on him setting up a picnic on your own balcony. Candles were lit and it seemed that he even cooked for you.

He gave you an adorably warm smile.

“To celebrate your special solo performance coming up, I present to you a coupon for a free date with me.” He grinned, gesturing for you to sit down.

You laughed bashfully, kneeling down in front of him. Like usual, he greeted you with a kiss.

“Are you saying I have to pay for every other date?”

“My love is priceless.”

“Fine,” You huffed playfully. “Let’s break up.”

He gasped. “You would never.”

“You know I wouldn’t.” You scrunched your nose. He smiled in response, watching you silently. You began to grow shy, looking away to stare out at the city view. It was the evening, the street lights and the unfortunate view of small windows lit with overtime office workers twinkling. 

But you felt a gentle hand cupping the side of your face, guiding you to look back at him. Then, he tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as he gazed at you affectionately.

“My beautiful,” He whispered, tilting his head.

Your heart thumped but you still found yourself frowning grumpily.

“Don’t call me that.”

His eyes widened slightly as he pouted. “Why not?”

“Last time you called me beautiful you said I was intolerable right after,” You grumbled.

He whined, slapping his hands over your cheeks to squish them playfully which in turn, caused you to yelp.

“You know I didn’t mean it,” He breathed. “How was I supposed to tell Juyeon that I had the biggest crush on you?”

You laughed loudly, smiling so hard that your cheeks hurt. The candles flickered before they blew out, leaving it dark enough that the only source of light was the moon.

“Then what would you like me to call you?” He asked. He glanced up at the night sky before smiling back down at you. “Moonlight?”

“Mmm…” You thought for a moment. And then you smiled shyly. “You can only call me moonlight when you feel the happiest and… the most in love.”

It took him a moment to register your words but then his eyes lit up. He scooted forward so that his lips lingered right over your forehead. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“Moonlight,” He whispered.

“Oh,” You stuttered. He didn’t respond, instead, moving to press another kiss to the tip of your nose.

“Moonlight,” He muttered again, louder this time as his hand trailed down to caress your jaw.

You shut your eyes, suddenly overcome by the need to hide your face. But still, you felt his lips now hover over yours. He tilted your chin up, pulling you into the softest kiss you’ve ever experienced.

“My moonlight.”

You flushed pink, looking at him with wide eyes. “You—“

“I do feel the happiest and the most in love.” He smiled. “Right now.”

Immediately you were melting into his touch before gaining enough strength to lurch forward, throw your hands around his neck, and kiss him as much as you could. 

“Me too,” You giggled.

Even though you were expected to keep up that model image, you secretly enjoyed the beauty of letting that go for someone who saw you for who you were. He saw you without the practiced poses and faked smiles, instead choosing to love your random quirks and imperfect features.

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you.

“You are my Clair de lune.”

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Scared?

Summary: You’ve been picking your boyfriend up from his haunted house gig, since his car broke down and just because it’s raining doesn’t mean it’s going to be any different, is it? Otherwise known as Changmin takes your mind off of being scared.

Oneshot

Smut, Fluff, Non-idol au, Established Relationship au 

Warnings: Dacryphilia, Slight Corruption kink (not as much as I had wanted), Unprotected sex, Slight hair pulling (m!receiving), Fingering (f!recieving) Use of pet names: Baby (frequently) and Good girl (once). Again, this takes place in a haunted house (afterhours), so everything that comes with that. *And if I missed anything pls lmk!*

Word Count: 2,382

Changmin (Q) X Fem!Reader

[A/n: This takes place in the same world (haunted house) of Fearful First Dates by @jinkoh, and Scaredy-cats by me.]

If you are a minor, please do not read/engage with this post. This is an 18+ work. 

------

Since Changmin’s car is in the shop for the week. You’ve been picking him up from his job. He always comes out with a happy little smile before rushing to the passenger door, “Baby! You won’t believe the people I scared today!” You grin as he hops in, telling you about it. You weren’t great with horror or scares. But it brought him joy, so you’d always listen to him as you drove him home. You can’t wait to hear what wild stories he has this time as you call him, letting him know you’re on your way. He answers, “Hey, Baby, since it’s raining, I’m gonna wait inside the building until you get here.” You hum, “Oh, okay, do you want me to pull up to the door?” “No, actually, I was wondering if you could come in so we could wait for the rain to pass together.” You gulp, “Um, Changminnie, you want me to go inside the haunted house?” He cheerily replies, “Yeah!” “Are the others there?” “No.” Well, since there’s no scarers outside of your doting boyfriend, it can’t be that bad, right? You sigh, “I uh, I guess I could come to whatever room you're waiting in…” “Perfect! I’ll see you in a little, then?” You sigh again, “Yeah, I’m pulling up now.”

You park as close to the back entrance as possible, not wanting to walk through the rain even though it’s just a light drizzle. You shake your head as you shut your car door, realizing he could have just rushed to your car. There must be some reason he wants you in there. With a sigh, you decide to be brave and head in instead of calling him to come out. You make it up the steps and open the door, gulping as you move the curtain back. You fill with dread as you take it all in. You've only been in here once before when they were starting to decorate, and now it looks like something out of your worst nightmare. The blood-splattered Victorian wallpaper and Persian rugs make your face twist into disgust. You make the mistake of looking up to notice the netting that wasn’t there the last time and see fake bloody limbs entangled in it. You also notice how the stage lights are on instead of the overhead lights. And while you look up you feel something squish under your foot, causing you to yelp. You recoil in disgust, focusing all of your attention on the rugs as to not step on anything else. It’s somehow worse without the other scarers. No laughter or screams fill the darkened hallways, making it spookier. It feels unsettling to hear the creeks of your steps beneath your feet. You can’t help it as tears prick your eyes as you continue through the haunted house. It was one thing when people were in the building but another when it was empty. It was as if something could come out from the shadows with vicious intent. 

You walk faster as fear starts to set in. You call for Changmin when you hear something dripping. He calls back, and you rush to the room you heard his voice come from. With tears in your eyes, you knock. And he opens the door, “Come on in, baby.” He takes in your appearance as you fling yourself into his arms and sniffle, “Please don’t make me do that alone again.” He asks, “What, were you scared?” You look at him as your tears finally fall from your eyes as you scowl at him, “You already know I was!” He moves his arms from your waist to cup your face in his hands, and asks, “Would you like me to take your mind off the scary things?” You scrunch your nose at him, “How so?” He smirks, “I have an idea or two since we’re the only ones here and all~” He brings his lips to yours as he asks, “What do you say?” You sniffle again as you whisper, “Please.” He smirks as he kisses you, “Good girl.” 

When he pulls away, he twists you around after shutting the door, and you catch a glimpse of the cushy-looking bed, “Is this okay?” You nod as you shake off your jacket before he looks over his shoulder to see the camera’s watchful eyes. “Hold on one second, baby.” He finds some masking tape and rips it off with his teeth. He mumbles, “Jacob if you only knew what real fun was…” Before returning to you, asking rhetorically, “So, where were we?” You smile, “The part where you kiss me before pushing me backwards.” He smirks, winking at you as he says, “Right.” He tilts your chin up, gently kissing your lips before licking your bottom lip. You part your lips, and his tongue eagerly slips in before pushing you back onto the bed. He pulls away, giggling at the sight of you, “You always look so cute all sprawled out for me~” He climbs over you, and you wrap your arms around his neck to bring him to you and kiss him deeply. Your fingers find their way into his hair, tugging on it, making him groan into the kiss. And before you can do anything else, he pulls away from your lips. You pout at him, and he giggles before giving you another peck before kissing down your neck, nipping at spots as he makes his way to the collar of your shirt. His hands crawl under your shirt, sending shivers up your spine. You lift your arms over your head, and he slips it off of you before reattaching his lips to your collarbone. He nips until you groan out, and he sucks on the spot until it becomes red. He makes a few more marks before pulling away, satisfied. You smile at him, and he brings you in for another kiss. 

You tug on his shirt, and when your lips part, he throws it up and over his head. You smile as you run your fingers down his chest and make quick work of his pants. He kicks them off before he undoes your jeans and slips them off you, slowly kissing your thighs as he goes, “You’re so pretty.” You blush as he comes back up to kiss you again. He whispers against your lips, “My cute little baby.” You peck his lips before his voice drops an octave, “I can’t wait to ruin you.” You rut your clothed hips into his as he asks, “What do you want, baby?” Already knowing the answer as you tell him, “You… Please…” He hooks his fingers underneath your underwear, slipping them off of you before rubbing his first two fingers along your entrance, “Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Before slipping a finger in, seeing that you can take two, he slips in another, and you close your eyes, moaning as he curls his fingers inside you. He thrusts his fingers in a few more times before slipping his fingers out. You open your eyes, blinking at him in confusion at the loss of pleasure. Just to watch him pop his fingers into his mouth. He hums as he pulls them out, “You always taste so sweet.” He hovers over you, looking deeply into your eyes as he whispers, “Wanna see for yourself?” You hum, and he kisses you deeply, and you taste yourself on his tongue. You let out a little groan as he pulls away from your lips, a trail of saliva connecting you two. Both of you groan at the sight before it breaks, and he finally slips his briefs off. 

His cock springs free, hitting his abdomen before he runs it along your folds. He rolls his hips against yours, causing you both to groan. Before he finally lines up with your entrances and slips in, you both moan at the feeling of him slowly filling you up. When he finally bottoms out, he groans, “You take me so well, baby…” He kisses you, taking your breath away as he starts slowly moving in and out of you. When he pulls away, you moan out his name. He nips at your lips as he starts setting a pace. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him to you until he drops his forearms on either side of you. You smile at him, and he grins back before you pull him in for a rough kiss. Your lips mashing together as he thrusts inside of you. You tug on his hair, finally getting what you want as he groans into your mouth, and you can swipe your tongue over his. You savor the kiss before he parts, and you pout as he looks into your eyes. “How can you look so innocent and sweet when you’re taking all of me.” He pauses his thrusts to whisper to you, “You just make me want to fuck you that much harder.” He pulls away to pepper kisses along your jaw, making you sigh contentedly as he starts thrusting into you faster. 

He effectively calms you down from your earlier fright. That is until you hear something creaking along the hallway outside the room. Your eyes grow wide as you gulp, “W-what was that?” He groans as he thrusts into you harder before answering, “Oh…” He pauses, “It was just sounds of the building settling. It’s okay. Don’t be scared.” He leans in next to your ear to whisper, “I’ll protect you.” You give him a small nod before he resumes, and he starts whispering sweet nothings in your ear, “You are always so good to me…” You groan as his thrusts become rougher, as he adjusts one of his hands to hold your waist. And you hear the creaking noises again. This time closer to the door, the sound starts to freak you out, causing you to shiver, and he moans at the feeling. And whether it was from the creaking or Changmin groaning sweet nothings into your ear as he thrusts into you. You're not sure, but you start tearing up again. He looks up from your jaw to see the tears starting to streak your cheeks. He groans loudly at the sight, “Sh-shit, you look so pretty when you cry…” You sob, and he asks, “Are you scared, baby?” Pulling out before slamming back in to ask, “Or are you so fucked out you can’t control your tears?” You whine as he starts kissing your tears away, “C-Chang-min… Please…” He glares, “Which is it?” And you moan as you try to meet his thrusts, “B-Both…” He smirks as he moves his fingers from holding your waist in place to rubbing your clit, causing you to cry out his name, “That’s it, baby. Cry for me.” 

You cry out harder as he rubs faster, “I-I’m close, Ji…” He smirks and puts more pressure on your clit as rubs circles over it, “Come on, baby, cum for me.” You cry harder as you hit your high, cumming all over his cock. He groans at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. He groans, “(Y/n)... (Y/n), fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He looks over your tear-stained cheeks as he pulls his hand away from your clit. “Fuck… You’re so cute.” His hips stutter into yours as he cums. He wipes his hand on the duvet before wiping the remaining tears on your cheeks away. He asks, “You okay? I didn’t go too hard on you, did I?” You shake your head, “No.” He smiles as he gives you a gentle peck, “Good.” He lays gently over you as he tells you, “You did so well for me.” You take a second to catch your breath before asking, “Crying?” He turns red as he whispers, “Yeah…” against your skin. You giggle at him as you pull his face to yours, “You should have said so sooner.” You pull him in for a kiss, basking in the feeling. When he parts from your lips, he slips out. You both shudder at the feeling, making you both laugh. He lays beside you, looking at you fondly, “You’re so lovely.” You grin, “And tired.” He laughs, and you kiss his nose, “Thanks for distracting me from the horrors.” He smirks, “If this is what you need to distract you from horror, you should pick me up from inside more often.” You squint at him, “Don’t push your luck.” The two of you laugh before settling into a comfortable silence. 

After lying there quietly for a while, just soaking in the ambiance, he gets up, cleaning the both of you up before helping you get dressed. He pulls on his shirt and pants before heading to the camera, taking off the masking tape. You join him as he waves at the camera, and you both stick your tongue out at it. Before he puts his hand out for you to take, and you slip your hand in his. He holds your hand tightly, and you bury your face into his shoulder as you walk back out of the haunted house together. He asks, “Baby, are you scared?” You shake your head ‘yes’ into his shoulder, and he says, “Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He walks you to the door, with no surprise scares along the way. 

He pulls back the curtain and lets you out first. With the rain no longer coming down, you hand him over your keys. He opens your door and helps you in, buckling your seatbelt and shutting your door before heading to the driver’s side. He looks over and sees your pout, “You didn’t kiss me as you buckled me in.” He giggles as he puts the key in the ignition, turning towards you before gently kissing your swollen lips, “Better?” You hum as he turns the engine over. He asks, “Yours or mine?” “Yours if you promise ‘your kids’ will stay in the kitchen…” He laughs, “Our kids… But yeah, I’m sure they’ll be on their best behavior since you’ll be home.” You roll your eyes but give him a small smile, “Yeah… And if you say so.” He puts his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly before telling you, “Yeah, I do.”

[byuntrash101]

the boyz masterlist

disclaimer: everything is smut, mdni. everything is idol x fem!reader

✲ multiple members

what you deserve | 4.2k — gentle dom!juyeon, mean dom!hyunjae

your bf younghoon is just a dick... your best friends just want to show you what you deserve

✲ lee hyunjae

gryffindor cockiness | 1.7k — hogwarts!au, brat tamer!hyunjae

how can a ravenclaw be that much like a gryffindor... that's something you will never understand

30 secs in heaven | 3.7k — college!au, sub!hyunjae, mean dom!reader

turns out the campus' fuckboy is nothing more than a pathetic virgin that cums way too fast

✲ lee juyeon

get you alone | 1.6k — college!au, gentle dom!juyeon

a professor shouldn't be craving her student that way but juyeon doesn't take no for an answer and you are about ready to give in...

✲ kim sunwoo

final lap | 2.4k — racer!au, hard dom!sunwoo

after a race there's only one thing that can ease sunwoo's nerves...

[jinnieboosworld]

To celebrate my recent membership @deoboyznet I’ll be writing a ot11 series.

These fics are the stories of how The Boyz met the one and only YOU!

I will try to have more gender identity inclusive fics in the future, but for now, unfortunately these fics are only x fem reader but there isn’t any description of race and little to no mention of physical appearance other than clothing.

Each fic will come with their own warnings.

Some fics are 18+ so please be mindful and look out for 18+ on said fics, and if you are under 18 DO NOT INTERACT.

Last but not least I am so excited to present to you the fics!

Strawberry Milkshakes

Waiter Eric x Waitress Reader

Eric Sohn loves his job working as a waiter at a 24 hour diner. So when the diner starts to lose its customers to a rival diner he has to go there to see what all the hype is about, and that’s when he meets you. A pink haired, neon colored- dressed, rollerblader, who makes amazing strawberry milkshakes.

Glitter and Rhinestones 18+

Bassist Juyeon x Reader

Lee Juyeon a bassist in a band sees a very sparkly girl in the audience of his band’s concert. At the end of the show he invites her and her friends backstage. Little does he know y/n hates him and his band.

My Uncle Thinks Your Pretty

Sangyeon x Teacher Reader

Y/n a kindergarten teacher tries hard to make sure all of her students can come to her class and have a safe place where they can both learn and have fun. So when one of her students win a prize due to his good grades she decides to talk to his extremely handsome “father” after class to commend him.

Please go to part two for the rest.

Taglist

@a-dream-bookmark

[biaswreckingfics]

changmin tbz + #75 from drabbles

thank youuuuuuu

Changmin + Suggestive -aka getting felt up in public-

(I think I've made my intentions clear.)

Changmin and you sit in a booth across from Chanhee and Sunwoo. Their conversation had started to bore you nearly five minutes ago, but they're showing zero signs of changing it anytime soon. You try to keep your focus on them, but naturally, your eyes start to drift and wander. You barely notice you are doing it until a weight comes to rest on your thigh.

Glancing down, you see Changmin's hand resting there, and once again, you quickly lose interest. Not in Changmin specifically, but in his hand just sitting there. You begin to pick at the table in front of you when Changmin's hand starts rubbing your thigh soothingly. Knowing him, he has picked up on your boredom and is trying to placate you for the moment. What you don't expect, however, is for his hand to start pushing toward the inside of your thighs.

Thinking he wants to tuck a hand between them like he normally does, you open your legs a little and allow his hand to fall deeper in between your thighs. At first, you think that's it, but once he starts moving his hand back and forth, closer to the apex of your thighs, you eye him carefully.

What on earth does he think he's doing? You're in a restaurant. Across the table from his friends. Literally, anyone could walk up to you and see where his hand is and where it apparently plans on going.

Changmin doesn't glance your way. He continues the conversation without missing a beat while his hand continues to creep up higher. You adjust in your seat, wondering if you should stop this or see how far he's willing to go. Normally, Changmin isn't one for PDA, but clearly, something has got him going.

After another minute, his moves become bolder. His hand slides straight up, rubbing against you in a way that has you shifting in your seat. You try to act normal and remain calm, but how the hell are you going to do that when his palm and fingers are grinding your pants against your sweetest spot?

A whimper threatens to escape your throat, but you swallow it down and hope no one notices the change in your breathing pattern. When you try to move your body away from his hand, he follows you and continues the attack. You do your best to keep it together until you notice a moment in the conversation where Sunwoo and Chanhee are paying attention to each other and not the two of you.

You lean over and hiss in his ear. "What are you doing?"

He looks at you in amusement. "I think I've made my intentions pretty clear, but if you need me to break it down for you - I'm keeping you entertained until I can take you home and really play with you."

You're shocked by his brazen attitude and also absurdly turned on. His words, paired with his hand, make you want to cut off Sunwoo and Chanhee, drag Changmin out of the diner, and pull him into the backseat of his car. There's not a single part of you that thinks you can make it back to either of your places with the way his hand is working you.

Hmm… maybe you can convince Changmin to go into the bathroom with you…

"What are you doing?" Sunwoo's horrified voice breaches your ears and you know you're totally busted. Much to Changmin's delight.

Oh, well. At least now you can get the heck out of here and make sure Changmin stays true to his word.

[daisyvisions]

The Boyz - NSFW Links Edition (Pt.4)

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI because as the title literally states… NSFW links! (all links are afab! reader and are sourced from twitter!)

A/N: Happy Anniversary TBZ! And what better way than to post some spicy videos of our lovely boyz? 😏 (and with extra spice included if you know what I mean 😘) As always, if there are links that don’t work or don’t exist please let me know! Enjoy 💕

Bully!Sangyeon begging you to do this to him after having a dream about you

You and Roommate!Jacob can never get enough of each other after that one night

Returning Enemy!Younghoon another favor you owe him after helping you out again

Classmate!Hyunjae always making your study sessions a little more interesting than the last

Brother’s best friend!Juyeon joining you during your morning shower when he sleeps over

Agreeing with classmate!Kevin your favorite thing to do together when you hookup

What Spoiled Rich Kid!Chanhee dreams about at night if he had you as his

Going back to Ex’s rival!Changmin’s house for some more fun after the party

Fratboy!Haknyeon letting you take the lead to help you practice your skills more

CEO!Sunwoo calling you into his office for some “disciplining”

Trying out more things Boyfriend!Eric after he get so turned on by that side of you

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

[kokobopam]

I've been practicing my design skills and decided to make this poster for a homin illegal fighting ring au that my friend created (and hopefully baiting them into writing it).

It was really fun, so I might make a few more!

[sohnric]

LEGO HOUSE — j. changmin

pairing: ji changmin x fem! reader

genre: roommates au?, friends to lovers. hurt/comfort, angst, fluff. both hopelessly in love with each other. it's the readers birthday <3

wc: 1.5k

warnings: crying lol. nothing much ig 😭

a/n: thank u best friend @csenke for beta reading i love u the most 😚 this is inspired by that instagram post changmin posted yknow which one i mean..,,,. And also a pinterest post that I loosely quote in the first 2 paragraphs

spin-off (epilogue) to my fic partners in crime!

Ji Changmin was never looking for perfection. He likes wrinkles in his sheets, coffee stains at the side of his mugs. His hair a little wind-blown. The apartment a little messy when he comes home– socks on the floor of the shared bedroom, the dishes laying unwashed in the sink. The flowers in the vase wilted and all dried-out, petals falling to the wooden table. The cramped space of the kitchen, your hips bumping every time you try to cook something together for dinner. The dirty window staring back at him when he tries to look outside to the street. The mornings when he wakes up a little too early, alongside with your alarm, and watches you get up from the bed with a grumpy expression on your face– it’s always hard for him to fall back asleep on the days when you work the morning shifts and he does afternoons, but he doesn’t find it in him to be annoyed.

Ji Changmin was never looking for perfection. He likes your face– even with the presence of dark circles that appear after you’ve worked a little too much and slept not enough. The hair you leave in the bedsheets and all around the apartment, leaving him sweeping it up once a week. He likes the freckles on your back and the chapped skin of your lips when he studies them late at night, taking you in. He likes it when you leave a message for him in the foggy mirror after taking a shower, never complaining about the smudges of the reflective surface. 

He likes things a little messy. He likes things a little well-loved.

He never wanted a perfect life– he said goodbye to that ideal when he was just a little boy. All he ever wanted was something better. Something more. His own place, away from all the prying eyes and expectations. Something beyond his reputation. He never wanted perfection– he knew life wasn’t that fair.

You were both so young when you behaved 25– now, he realized, you’ve grown into tall children. 

Ji Changmin unlocks the front door of your shared apartment at 7 in the morning after coming home from his night shift. In his hand is a cardboard box, and after discarding the pack of cigarettes onto the little table in the hallway and fishing for his lighter, he opens it and takes the little candle in between his fingertips. A click, spark, then a flame, the candle being stuck back into the white icing. Taking his shoes off, the box is back in his hands as he takes careful steps inside of the kitchen, knowing you’ll be there already, awaiting his arrival.

That’s the routine you two have. You only work morning shifts– Changmin, on the other hand, does both afternoons and mornings, and once a month, a week of night shifts. He comes home the moment you wake up for work and you silently say hello to each other in the quiet of your apartment. You got the place together after you ran away– one bedroom, one bathroom. Getting a lease was easier as a pretend couple, but somewhere deep inside of his soul, Changmin knew you were so much more.

Your back is turned to him, shoulders hunched over. The room is dark, the only light providing you two being the low light of the rising sun behind the window. He’s sure you heard his footsteps, but he still clears his throat and puts on a show for you, lowly singing the birthday song to you. When you turn around to look at him, the note he left at the kitchen table for you before he left for work in the evening is secured in your grasp and tears are dripping down your cheeks– a little by little, then all at once, like a waterfall, overwhelmed with emotion.

Changmin imagines today to not be easy for you. It’s your first birthday without family. You’re turning into an adult, with no supervision at all. There’s no one to reminisce over how tall you’ve grown and how much your face has changed over the years– only him. Only him and the lump in his throat as he watches you crumble in front of him, helpless. 

“Blow the candle out, it’s starting to drip on the icing–” he says, having you laugh and shake your head at him. It works, though– as you take a step towards him and do as he says, closing your eyes momentarily to wish for something. Changmin won’t ask what your wish was, but he could probably guess.

“Happy birthday, dear,” he mumbles, putting the cake and the box onto the kitchen table– just next to the mug stain in the corner. 

“Thank you,” he hears before your arms are thrown around his neck, chest on chest. You hold on to him for dear life, your nose burrowing into the crook of his shoulder. He gently cradles the back of your head, fingers slowly raking through your hair. His heart squeezes on itself when he feels your body tremble in his hold, making him try his hardest to calm you down. “For everything, that is. For sticking with me.”

Not every day will be easy– Changmin knew what he was getting himself into. It’s okay for you to walk on unsteady ground, though, it’s okay for you to look behind your shoulder after every step of the way. It’s okay for your world to break and crumble under your feet– Changmin will keep the pieces of you safe, like a building kit, and help you put them back up together again, the way they were before, like a lego house. Truth is, he doesn’t really have a tutorial or a guide, he doesn’t own a reference picture to how you were before everything– he met you at a very strange point in your lives– and so you might end up in a shape you didn’t have before. But that’s okay, because you’re back in one place– and although it may look and feel a little awkward at first, you will get used to it. You will grow to love it– just like he does. The new shape of you has character– it shows what you’ve been through. And that is fine. Beautiful, even. 

He’ll love the new shape of you just the same way he loved the previous one. Maybe even more– since now, he has his hand in it. He’ll love it more gently. More deeply, as well. He’ll love the new structure as it grows, and he’ll love it even with its missing pieces and imperfections. He never once gave up on you, and he would never dream of doing that now.

“Always,” he whispers.

You pull away from him, but still stay within reach. Your hands rest on his cheeks, thumbs glazing his cheekbones. The boy feels his breathing catch in his throat, wordlessly awaiting your next move. Looking at you almost always puts him into a trance, but today, he feels almost enchanted with your sheer presence. He feels grateful for your existence– he guesses this is the sentimentality parents feel on their children’s birthdays. He knows he’s not really the one you’d like to hear the words from, but he says them anyway. “I’m really proud of you.”

It happens without him even noticing– you standing on your tiptoes, answering the heart’s calling. The chapped lips he’s spent countless nights watching are pressed against him, a reply to the wandering question in his brain of how they would feel against his. He breathes you in: all of you. All of your worries and your troubles, all of your joys and your smiles– of which you press one against his lips, making his knees weak and heart beating raw in the palms of your hands.

You’re like everything he’s ever dreamt of and more. Somehow, he thinks this bond was there in the stars for him, written into his fate. He was bound to meet you, one way or another– and if he could turn back time, he’d do the same things, over and over again, just to end up in this moment with you. 

To an outsider’s eye, what you two have is not perfect, but he was never looking for perfection anyway.

Perhaps, he thinks, perfection is relative. Perhaps, this is what defines perfection for him: you two in your shared kitchen, holding each other, your birthday cake and the handwritten note he left for you watching you take another leap together– and truth be told, he doesn’t even know when it all happened. For him, falling in love with you went without him even noticing– a little by little, then all at once. One day, he was poking fun at you in the familiarity of the police office, and suddenly, he did all he could just to protect you.

(As long as I’m alive, you will always be loved.

Happy birthday to the best partner in crime life I could ever wish for.)

[jinkoh]

drunk texting

changmin x gn!reader

tags: established relationship, idol!changmin, fluff, texting/drabble, pet names (babe/bebi), alcohol consumption; SFW

wc: 0.5k (drabble under the cut)

a/n: i've never made fake texts but the pictures he shared from lotte world felt sO much like drunk selcas to me and it wouldn't leave my mind so after discussing the idea with @blizzardfluffykpop a while ago i finally made a little something out of it [also yes he is saved as chungmin in your phone, it's bc i love the day drinking idol human theater episode]

Masterlist

You knew your boyfriend had been to Lotte World for filming today and then out for a few drinks with the guys afterwards. He’d been kinda bummed out about not being able to take you along, but judging from his texts he still had a good time. Of course you would have loved to spend the day with him, but it was his job and it wasn’t like you were taking him along to your job either, so there were no hard feelings there. You were just glad he had fun with it and got to enjoy some off time with the members after. It wasn’t too often they could go out like this.

With a small gleeful smile on your lips, you made your way to the bar to pick him up. It didn’t feel like a chore or anything and you knew he would have gotten home by himself just fine, but you wanted to use this chance to spend some time together (and you loved how affectionate Changmin was with you when he was tipsy).

almost there, you texted him as you were about to walk inside, almost stumbling into someone as your focus was still on your phone screen.

“Oh!” Changmin exclaimed, voice full of excitement. “You’re already here!”

Before you could even look up, you were already wrapped up in a tight hug. 

“I was just about to come out to wait for you,” he said, swaying you both from side to side. You leaned up to leave a peck on his lips. “Mhm, I hurried to see you sooner.” 

His face lit up with a happy smile before he loosened the hug and grabbed your hand to pull you inside the bar. The guys were sitting in a corner booth greeting you excitedly and Eric immediately scooted over so you could sit with them. 

“No-ou,” Changmin shook his head, and wrapped his hands around you from the back to keep you from sitting, “my bebi came to pick me up, we’re going home.”

“Gross,” Haknyeon mumbled with a scrunched up face as he watched the corny display of affection.

“You’re just jealous, because you have to go home with Sangyeon and Hyunjae.”

“Rude?” Hyunjae chimed in, “we’re great company.”

“Sure,” Changmin nuzzled his nose into your neck, making you giggle, “but mine is better.”

“We got it,” Sangyeon said with a sigh from behind you, carrying a tray of drinks, “but can you leave already so I can set this down?”

You moved aside with a chuckle to make space for Sangyeon and then said your goodbye’s shortly after. When you were back outside, Changmin was holding your hand again, swinging it back and forth.

“We could have stayed a bit, if you wanted.”

“I know,” he said, leaning over to peck your cheek, “but I missed you. We haven’t had any alone time for a while.”

“That’s true.”

“Did you want to stay? I know you don’t see them that often.”

“No, it’s fine,”  you replied with a smile, squeezing his hand in yours, “I really wanted to be with you, too.”

He squeezed back. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Always.”

Masterlist