#hm...florist chan anyone?

[2baabbies]

skz bingo; #7, she/her pronouns, with chan?? maybe some sort of bookstore meet cute where reader can't reach a certain book that's on a shelf just out of her reach, but chan is a little taller than her so he manages to crowd against her back and grab the book for her?? 👀 I don't mind either sfw or nsfw, whichever feels like it fits the fic best!

my dear, I couldn’t make chan taller for fear of excluding the tall girlies ;w; but I think I still worked it in well. and I hope you like hyunlix, because they’re in the background fulfilling my bookkeeper/florist couple fantasies. I also split the difference between n/sfw with extraflirty!chan, enjoyyy 🫶🏻

🖤 read me like a book (bangchan x reader) 🖤

Pairings: chan x reader, background hyunlix

Words: 1170 (I gave up on the world limit)

Humour + Suggestive (no smut) + Fluff

fem!reader

Request guidelines here!

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

Felix has been flirting with Hyunjin for over ten minutes, which is only a problem for you because he is sitting on the only ladder in the entire bookstore. The shop owner sits on the middle rungs as the florist leans against the wall and dramatically tells him about his morning. Felix clutches the bundle of white and yellow daffodils Hyunjin brought for him to his chest with a dreamy smile.

Residing on one of the upper shelves, out of your reach, is a new romance novel that you came to purchase. You steal a glance at Hyunjin and Felix, then continue glaring at your target. Now, it was not just the minor inconvenience souring your mood, but the envy of seeing the two men together. You felt incredibly unlucky in comparison to the perfect couple chatting away in the corner. You were tired of reading about romance, and more than ready to find it for yourself.

The tips of your fingers just brush the spine of one of the copies as you try again, and you sigh in defeat. Climbing the shelf would be entirely too hazardous, although you are getting desperate enough at this point to try it. You had been waiting for this book for months. But, as miserable as you were, you refused to interrupt Felix and Hyunjin.

“Hey there,” You look over your shoulder to face the man that speaks to you, “You, uh, look like you could use a little help?”

“I’ve got it.”

The speed in which you turn away is criminal. The stranger is incredibly handsome, and you would be damned if you let the cutest man to ever walk into this bookstore see the smut you were trying to pull off the shelf. He clears his throat gently and you peek over your shoulder at him.

“Hm, are you sure? I’ve got to grab something up there anyway.”

“O-Okay. I-If you wouldn’t mind…”

You are about to move when the man drops a stepstool behind you and springs onto it with ease. He braces one hand over your shoulder and leans in, his chest brushing against your back as he grabs the books. Your breath catches as he hops down again, and you will yourself to breathe as you turn around. You inhale sharply as he does not hand the book over to you, but flips through it instead. He then reads that lovely little page of content warnings- mainly kinks- listed by the author at the beginning of the book.

Your face burns as he hums and casually places it in your hand.

“Here’s your book.”

“It’s not mine,” You blurt quickly.

“Oh? Did you want a different one?”

You clutch it to your chest.

“N-No! I-I’m buying it… for my friend. I don’t read this stuff.”

“Oh, I see,” There is a troublesome little glint in his eye, “That’s a shame. That author is quite popular. Maybe you should give it a try?”

You squirm under his playful gaze. You wish you could just melt into the bookcase to escape this conversation.

“No.”

“No? Why not?”

“It’s not… realistic…”

His eyebrows quirk but he looks satisfied with your answer. Felix interrupts the tense moment as he begins leaving the bookstore with Hyunjin.

“Hey, Chan, I’m taking my break now. You got an eye on the cash?”

“Yeah, mate, you’re good. I’ll see ya in a bit.”

Hyunjin gives you an excited wave, which you return shyly, as Felix adds:

“Oh, y/n, I put a book aside for you. It’s behind the counter. Chan, her name is on it.”

“Alright.”

“Thank you,” You murmur.

The doorbell chimes as the door falls shut behind them, and you are left alone with Chan. He kicks up the stepstool and catches it one hand.

“Well, y/n,” He coos in his lovely accent, “I’ll be at the cash if you need anything. Give me a shout if you have any questions, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah, sure.”

He winks and walks behind the counter, settling in and opening the book he pulled from the shelf. You stall for a bit, then steel your nerves and approach the checkout. Chan sets his book aside and smiles as you set yours on the counter. He finds the book Felix set aside for you, and it is the exact same book you pulled from the shelf.

The road to Hell is truly paved with good intentions.

Chan pauses then coyly asks, “I guess you don’t want two of these, hm?”

You puff your cheeks.

“No.”

He chuckles and begins ringing up your purchase.

“Okay, I won’t tease you anymore. You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know?”

“I’m not embarrassed.”

He side-eyes you playfully.

“Alright. Are you paying with cash or card?”

“Cash.”

You quickly pull the bill from your pocket and hand it to Chan. You are both quiet as he makes your change then hands it back to you. You count it then furrow your brow gently.

“Something wrong?”

“Um, it seems… You gave me extra.”

He checks the receipt then looks at your hand as you hold it out to him.

“No, it’s right.”

“You gave me a discount?”

You drop the change in your pocket and accept the book and receipt as he hands them to you.

“Of course. Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pay full price.”

You fluster.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tease me anymore?”

He rests his chin in his hand and leans his elbows on the counter with a smirk.

“That wasn’t teasing. That was flirting.”

You clutch the book to your chest and duck your blushing face.

“Well…”

He giggles and the charming sound startles you to look up again.

“Sorry. I’ll stop.”

“I-It’s okay.”

“Hm?”

“Uh, you don’t have to stop.”

Chan smiles warmly.

“Only if you like it.”

“I, um, I do.”

“Okay then. Well, I hope your friend likes the book.”

“It’s almost worse when you pretend you don’t know…”

“Well, for the record, I believed you a little bit.”

“Sure.”

“I did,” He purrs, “And I would agree with you. I tried to read those books but they weren’t really my thing.”

“You did?”

“Mhm, like you said: it wasn’t realistic. If you’d like an example of something more realistic though, I’d be happy to show you.”

You roll your eyes as a grin breaks out on his face. Although he delivered the line with confidence, his whole face is flushed like yours.

“I’ll keep that in mind…”

Chan winks as you walk away.

“Have a good day!”

You rush out of the bookstore and pause outside as you notice something sticking out of the book you just purchased. You flip it open to see a scrap of paper with a phone number written on it. You look through the window of the bookstore to see Chan, giving you a fluttery wave as you piece it all together. You huff and cover your face as you stomp away, but you cannot suppress your charmed smile.

[skzshortcake]

hiii this is a bit of a random request. i’m sorry if it’s bothersome! u can literally ignore it if you want. it’s just,,, i’ve had worst two weeks and my friends are all busy and i just,,, am constantly overworked and stressed bcs of uni (final year of uni fucking sucks) which idk i usually can handle but this whole week has been a disaster. i had 5 meetings. and i missed 2 of them, 2 assignments, 3 presentations and lectures. and on top of that i had to write an article for a magazine. there was just,,, so much due in a week and i got overwhelmed and kinda just,,, shut down. and to top it off, this morning i slipped in the shower (literally full on split on the floor) and my thighs hurt and i can’t walk or even sit without being in pain. and i can’t remember the last time i slept. i think it was two days ago. idk. i still have SO MUCH to do so i can’t sleep yet and i’m super stressed. oh gosh i’m sorry i’m rambling.

to get the point, i was hoping u could write a fluff piece with chan where the reader is stressed af like i am?? i usually read these to escape my head for a bit cause i’m a sucker for cute romance stories :’) it’d help a lottttt. but it’s okay if you can’t! 🥺 i’m sorry for bothering~

of course!! this might seem rushed so i’m sorry if it comes off like that- but i really hope it helps you!! i basically wrote chan into my interpretation of your situation, i hope that’s ok!! stay safe and take care bby! i’m always here if you (or anyone) needs to rant.

comforting surprises  -  bang chan

member: chan

genre: comfort/angst

warnings: anxiety and an overwhelming time, crying, not proofread

note: requests are still open, but it will take me a bit to get to them. i’m doing my best i promise but it’s kinda hard to write happy things for me right now. 

-

ring... ring... ring...

chan hoped you would answer his call. he texted you earlier in the week and didn’t get a response, so he knew something must have been up. he anxiously rocked back and forth in the office chair he was sitting in, staring at the wall of his office while he waited for an answer.

a couple more rings in, he was about to hang up, but thankfully, you answered.

he heard you try and calm your breathing through the phone “hey.” you managed to say.

“prince(ss)? what’s wrong?” he immediately sat up, alert.

“it’s nothing,” you cry “i just-i just fell this morning and i’m a little busy.”

“ok, ok, can you tell me what’s going on? i’m on my way right now i’m not sure how long i’ll be.” he stood up and saved his work on the computer, hurrying to pack what was necessary in his black backpack to rush out the door.

“i-i,” you broke down in tears again “i have so much to do and i haven’t slept in days. i’m so behind on work it’s making me sick to my stomach...”

“ok, ok, i’m going to help you... can you breathe for me, baby? here, breathe in on the count of one and out on five, ok? i’ll count to eight for you.” 

he started counting through the phone for you, knowing he probably looked crazy as he loudly breathed and counted on a phone call while speed-walking through the jyp building, but he couldn’t care less.

you were doing your best, truly, and he could tell, but you still couldn’t manage to take deep enough breaths to calm down.

“it’s ok, you’re doing so well for me, y/n... i’m on my way, i’ll be twenty minutes?” he says, waiting for your “ok” before helping you breathe again.

chan managed to get you to calm down a bit by the time he walked out of the building. he suggested that you go get a glass of water and sit down somewhere and wait until he got home. 

“i’m ok, i’m ok now.” you sniffle, taking another sip of water and breathing heavily into the cup while you drank. “you travel safely please.” you told him.

“don’t worry, i will. are you going to be ok if i hang up now? i’ll be home soon, prince(ss).”

“mhmm.”

“ok, i’ll be fifteen minutes now. go sit down and rest please.”

he said goodbye and hung up, feeling even more worried for you. chan couldn’t help it, you’re his baby and he feels a responsibility to make sure you’re ok. he didn’t care if he had work to do or if he was busy, you were always his first priority.

he picked up some things for you from the downtown, practically checking his phone every thirty seconds to double check you hadn’t texted him again. he left just as soon as he arrived to make sure he wouldn’t make you wait any longer.

chan nearly dropped his keys as he fumbled with the door. he just wanted to see you as soon as possible.

“y/n?”

“hm?” your teary voice answered from the living room. you chose to sit down on the plush couch, only issue is you didn’t know if you’d be able to get back up.

“hey, i’m here now.” he set his bags down next to him while he sat down next to you. “can i hold you?” 

you just nodded, feeling sobs build in your throat again. but you didn’t cry, you didn’t have the energy to cry anymore.

chan pulled you into a hug, knowing that he couldn’t do anything to make your work easier. “i’ve got you. it’s going to be ok.”

he let you stay there for as long as you needed. once you looked up at him with a defeated expression, he knew that it really must have been a difficult time.

“i’m so stuck.” 

“honey, i’m so sorry. i’m sorry that things have been difficult, i’ll help you as much as you need, ok? we will figure it out, together. i promise.” he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead “i have something for you, baby.” 

he leaned down and pulled out a bouquet of flowers and your favorite restaurant’s takeout. chan handed you the bouquet, and you noticed how he bought the flowers in your favorite color and even had the florist wrap them it thin decorative paper with a bow wrapped around it, also in your favorite color. he always excelled at attention to detail.

you felt the tears build again. “i love you so much. thank you.” you looked down to hide your crying from him. you felt so touched that he went to the extent to rush out and get your favorite food and flowers on a whim when he was in the middle of working. 

chan truly had a heart of gold.

“of course, i love you so much too, prince(ss).” he put a hand on your cheek, not forcing you to look him in the eye if you felt overwhelmed, but letting you know he was there. “now, how about we eat some good food and get some good rest, and i will help you with your projects in the morning. it’s the weekend after all, you deserve to rest tonight. i’ll help you get to sleep.” he gave you another kiss and stood up to get some plates and utensils.

when he came back and served up your food, he turned on the tv and put on a show in the background. chan also didn’t forget to prop up your legs and get you an ice pack for your injuries.

“you will not believe what jeongin did today... he lost a bet and had to make breakfast this morning, and you can imagine how that turned out. we even gave him thorough instructions but he still managed to forget some of the ingredients and had to have help from the manager.”

chan joked with you and cheered you up, like he always did. you were pretty sure he was some sort of guardian angel for you, because he always showed you unconditional love and support, even when he was busy.

he was forever grateful for you and you were forever grateful for him.

[amjustagirl]

Chapters:  one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.  

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

But then his dreams start to take a dark turn, though he doesn’t notice it at the start. 

There is light dancing on the edge of his eyelids, and when he blinks he finds himself in a field of never-ending gold.  ‘You’re obsessed with flowers ’ he teases her, leaning on his hands to allow the breeze to ruffle his hair and whisper long lost secrets in his ear. 

‘But they’re so pretty. It’s like they were put on this earth by the gods to remind us that life can be beautiful, after all.’

‘Now who’s being poetic, hm?’ 

‘Don’t tease! I’ll give you a more prosaic reason then. I’ve loved flowers ever since I worked for a florist after mum died to earn a little money on the side and ended up falling in love with the look on people’s faces when they buy flowers for themselves and the people they love. ’

‘Why don’t I see you work at the florist shop then? ’ He frowns, thinking of the bustling, cosy little shop in the town square owned by Hana-chan’s mom. 

‘It didn’t work out’, she says simply. ‘Well, never mind that. Just shush and bask in the sun, let the sky gods weave rainbows into your dreams’. 

Her words linger in his mind, and he foolishly finds himself searching for rainbows in the sky the next day.

‘Listen to the sky, Keiji ’, she calls, her laughter like birdsong. ‘ Do you think the wind will answer our prayers today?’ 

‘You answer my question first ’, he grumbles. ‘Hana-chan cornered me at school to scream at me to mind my own business again. Does that have anything to do with the bruises I saw on your arm last week? What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into when I’m not around? ’ 

‘Nosy, nosy Keiji  ’, she teases, and he knows she’s just deflecting his concerns again. ‘You’re just overthinking things again’. 

‘Promise me you’ll be careful’, he pleads.  ‘Promise me you’re not doing anything stupid‘. 

‘Stop worrying, silly boy, I promise I’ll be fine’, she murmurs, her voice lost in the wind. 

‘You need to tell me what’s going on, you can’t go on like this at this rate’ , he hears himself say, desperation laced in his words. 

He looks down. There is a tapestry of mottled bruises and angry welts on her arms, paint strokes of yellow and blue and purple and red that is gut-wrenching in the violence it implies.

‘It’s not my secret to tell, Keiji’ , she says, unwavering.  

He wakes up, the pit in his stomach slowly filling up with dread. His dreams are turning out to be less like a shojo manga, more like a thriller that he suspects will give its protagonist a terrible end. 

'Have you been a good friend to Hana-chan these days? ’ the man asks, an unfriendly smile playing on his lips. 

Akaashi (or rather, him in her – though she’s in here somewhere too so it’s a little confusing) frowns, but accepts the box of vegetables and eggs held out to him anyway.  ‘I suppose’, he answers, the load heavy in his arms, and the man seems to accept his response, humming an offbeat tune. 

‘Well, I hope you can keep a secret, sweet girl’  the man laughs, tossing his cigarette butt on the grass before walking away. Sparks smoulder in the dry grass, and Akaashi hurries to balance the box on his hip before stamping them out. 

‘That’s Hana-chan’s father, Nakamura-san ’, she tells him, voice strained. ‘I need you to act normal around him, got that?’ 

‘Might need you to find me the definition for your normal’  he says drily. ‘That word’s lost its meaning to me these days ’. 

He hears her chuckle, but she doesn’t sound amused. 

Hana-chan corners him when he’s in her body and he’s stupid enough not to notice the fist that swings his way. 

‘I told you, you little creep’, she snarls, her nails digging into his arms.  ‘I told you to stay the fuck away from me, but did you listen? No! I saw you last night, creeping around my family’s house with that stupid phone of yours – did you really think I wouldn’t notice you? I’m warning you to stay away or I will fucking end you, got that? ’ 

And she spits in his face, and he’s still left trying to make sense of the sting of cold liquid on his cheek when burning hands shove down the stairs. Concrete and human flesh clashes, the victor already predetermined, his body wracked with pain as he lands heavily, face down on the floor. 

‘Last warning to stay away, you creep’, she shrieks before turning on her heel. There are no other students in the deserted hallway – not that anyone would come to help, not from his experience.  

‘Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to piece your secrets together myself?’ he demands, when he scrapes himself off the floor, body aching from bruises in full bloom. 

He can hear her breathe a sigh.  ‘It’s a long story’ , she finally says. 

‘Right now, all I have is time’ he answers drily. ‘Try me ’. 

So she tells him about taking a part time job with Hana’s mom, the town’s florist for some extra cash. She tells him about the noises she hears whenever Hana’s mom steps out of the store, faint echoes of  whimpers and sobs and broken cries for help, and how she puts two and two together when she sees the bruises on her classmate’s arms and legs. Her voice shakes when she tells him what she saw when she stole upstairs towards Hana’s bedroom one cloudy afternoon, how Hana’s dad gets off on hurting his teenage daughter, how she tried to report what she saw -  but who’d believe the words of a teenage girl over the town mayor .

‘And now he’s taking it out on Hana-chan, which is why she hates me but I’m not going to let him stop me’, she tells him stubbornly and he can hear his past self gulp.

‘Are you insane? You shouldn’t get yourself involved. Tell someone, anyone. If you continue like this, you’re going to get yourself killed at this rate’. 

‘Stop being a worrywart, Keiji! ’ she laughs, but the sound is hollow. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise’. 

She’s back at the forest shrine, holding her hands together in prayer. The mangled remains of dandelions lie beside her knees, decapitated flower maidens sacrificed for wishes that they both know won’t ever come true. 

‘I told you no one will listen to me, Keiji’, she cries, her face buried in her hands. ‘They all think I’m a little child who’s making up stories for attention ’. 

‘There’s nothing you can do unless you have a record of it. Just keep your head down, or he’ll come after you next. How many times have I told you not to set yourself on fire to keep others warm? ’ 

Her head shoots up, and a feral grin ignites like wildfire on her face. ‘That’s brilliant, Keiji! ’ 

‘Wait no - that wasn’t meant to encourage you – that was meant to be metaphorical!’

‘If it all works out, it’s because of you! ’ she runs off, throwing her head back as she laughs, challenging the wind to catch her if it dares, before disappearing further into the woods. 

‘You have got to be kidding me  ’ he groans, kicking off the blankets to stare at his or well, her legs in horror. Dried blood is still caked into the deepest scrapes on her legs, and he can feel the ache from the bruises deep in his bones. ‘What on earth did you do?’  

‘I may or may not have slipped when I was scaling Hana’s drainpipe’ . 

He can feel the vein in his temple start to throb.  ‘You what?’ he bites out. 

‘They didn’t see me, I swear!’  

He groans in despair this time, dropping his head in his hands. What is he supposed to do with someone so ridiculously obstinate?

‘If anything happens – ‘ she begins to say but he cuts her off before she can complete her sentence. 

‘You promised me you wouldn’t do anything remotely risky and I refuse to let you put yourself in danger again. ’

She sighs, and worry flickers like a flame in his heart. 

‘Fine – just. If anything happens – ‘ 

‘Which it won’t, not on my watch’ , he tells her firmly. 

The smell of smouldering ash hits his nostrils. 

His eyes fly awake. He’s back in the old wooden house again, but he chases his curiosity to the front yard, where he finds the letterbox razed to the ground. 

‘A warning to stay out of his business ’, he hears her say, her voice determined.  ‘But I’m not going to be spooked just by that. ’

‘You promised to be careful’ he shouts, properly angry this time. ‘Look at what you’ve done! ’. 

‘I refuse to be a bystander to his madness’, she screams back. ‘I'd be tarred by his sins if I choose to do nothing about them. ’

His shirt is soaked in cold sweat when he stumbles out of bed, slapping his palms against his face to reassure himself that he’s not back in the dreamscape. 

‘It’s not real. It can’t be real’, he tells his reflection firmly, but his mirror self only stares back at him. 

In the morning, he skips class to make a trip back home, intent on leaving the  omamori  where it belongs, back in his childhood bedroom, so he can look forward to adulthood without these  ridiculous dreams clouding his way. He stops by the florist on the way, as is his usual practice these days. 

‘Flowers for your mother?’ the florist asks, when she opens the shutters to greet him, her first customer of the day. 

‘Yes’, he answers shortly, and on an impulse he adds (because he needs something to fill the newly empty space on his desk) - ‘and maybe  a houseplant. Something that’s relatively easy to take care of would do the trick.’

She hums in thought, fingers busy tying ribbons in the bunch of yellow roses for his mother. He doesn’t need to ask to know that the baby’s breath she includes is on the house. 

‘What about rosemary?’ she suggests. 

‘For remembrance?’ he asks, wrinkling his nose at the reference to Hamlet. The sudden thought of poor, mad Ophelia, floating dead in a stream, water lilies in her hair hits a chord that’s a little too jarring. ‘Um. Maybe a cactus might be better instead.’

He wonders if he’s imagining things, but he catches a flash of disappointment on her face before she replies easily - ‘sure!’, bending down to pull out a grumpy looking bulb full of thorns. Then she waves him off, his purchases packed in a neat brown bag. ‘Please come again!’ 

The cactus replaces the omamori, sitting neatly on his desk. It refuses to die even when he forgets to water it for weeks at a time. 

Taglist: 

@bongofrito

@forgetou @animeflower26   @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

[maatryoshkaa]

young god | chapter 12

serial killer!han jisung au

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue |

word count: 4.5k

warnings: descriptions of violence, foul language, allusions to trauma and mental illness

description: Prosecutor Kim Seungmin faces pressures from his coworkers about the serial killer case. When Jisung wakes up next to you, remorse and doubt sends him back onto the streets, where one wrong decision finally leads to him doing the one thing he had feared above all.

watch the trailer here!

12| point of no return.

“Well, well, well — look what the cat dragged in.”

Kim Seungmin winced at the sound of Prosecutor Kang’s haughty voice as soon as he stepped into the office. The older prosecutor’s words had made all the others look up from their desks, directing several pairs of eyes onto the younger man, who was actively trying his best not to tuck his head down and fold in on himself to avoid their scrutiny. To Seungmin’s dismay, Kang continued speaking.

“If it isn’t our newest prosecutor. How are you holding up, Kim? I heard there have been more attacks — a witness, even. Shameful, really, how they had to call a lockdown just to keep things under control.”

Seungmin swallowed a lump in his throat, forcing his jaw to unclench. “We’ve—been actively gathering evidence.” While it was true — Chan and Woojin had called him to the precinct in the middle of the night to preserve witness statements, and he’d spent the last few days searching through Miroh Heights for clues — the words sounded incredibly lame nonetheless. Sure enough, Kang snorted, and a few other prosecutors shifted uncomfortably. 

“What kind of evidence, Kim? Enlighten me.”

“The suspicion has been placed on Miroh Heights’ students after interviewing the last witness. And we have reason to suspect that the perpetrator is mentally unstable, or at least harbours some sort of...trauma, due to the erratic selection of their victims.” Seungmin cleared his throat, hoping his voice didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. He had only repeated what he’d theorised together with Chan and Woojin, after all.

“I’m just finding it strange — embarrassing, really — how it seems like you’re getting everything handed to you, Prosecutor Kim, and yet you’re still taking this long to reach a verdict.” Kang raised an eyebrow. “Seems to me you're hesitant? Indecisive, or uncertain?”

“Beginner’s nerves, perhaps?” One woman piped up, and a few workers around her stifled their chuckles.

Seungmin clenched his fists, hoping the others couldn’t see. “Dealing with a mentally unstable serial killer calls for a different approach, Kang. We have to keep into consideration how accountable they are to be held for their actions, and—”

“There is no room for a wavering heart in prosecution,” Kang interrupted coldly, his eyes two black daggers. “What you think is being kind or empathetic is a weakness, kid. Focus on the incriminating evidence, not the humanity in the perpetrator — after all,” he gave a leer, “anyone who murders humans is a monster — and monsters deserve to be punished, don’t you think?”

There were a few murmurs of agreement, and Seungmin ripped his gaze from Prosecutor Kang’s expectant face. 

“I assure you, that is what I intend to do.” With that, Seungmin brushed past Prosecutor Kang, suddenly grateful that his office was further down the hallway. The woman who had tried speaking up for him on his first day flashed him a sympathetic look as he passed, but it only made him feel worse. Was he really that...weak? Incompetent?

If catching this killer and condemning them was what it took to get Prosecutor Kang off his back, then that was exactly what Seungmin would do. He shut the door to his office, a bit harder than he meant to, and opened his briefcase on his desk, organizing his notes. 

It was time to hunt a killer.

━━━━━━━━

All was quiet when Jisung awoke, eyes blinking as they opened and adjusted to the hazy morning light. He was in a room with off-white ceilings and walls, and the dusty blue curtains were open, fluttering lightly from a soft breeze. His even breathing filled the air — for the first time in what seemed like forever, he hadn’t had nightmares. His eyes wandered to the windows, wincing slightly — it was a cloudy day, the kind where looking at the grey sky stung his eyes. Aside from the light wind, the room was absolutely still. Almost as if it was holding its breath. 

Jisung turned to the side, freezing when he saw your sleeping face next to him. You were sleeping with no pillow, and Jisung realised with a sharp pang of guilt that you had placed the only one on the bed under his head instead. He slowly slid his palm beneath your cheek, lifting your head as gently as he could before pushing the pillow between you and the mattress instead. You immediately buried your face into the softer fabric, still fully asleep, and Jisung chuckled. For a long moment, he gazed down at your sleeping figure, a bittersweet warmth spreading in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead, eyes momentarily closing. 

Jisung felt your hand reach up for him and he pulled away slightly, worried that he’d woken you. When he saw that your eyes were still shut, chest rising and falling in a slow, peaceful rhythm, he let out a breath of relief. Your fingers grazed his shoulder and there was a slight furrow beginning to form in your brow, and suddenly he was reminded of the previous night — when you had looked at him with the same confused, horrified expression; when you had instinctively pushed him away, looking ready to run.

He looked down at you now, gut twisting as he frowned — were you having nightmares? Were they—were they about him? Memories flooded his mind from last night: him running back to your apartment; your face, twisted with disbelief and horror; all the things he had ended up telling you. Each memory sent a wave of panic through him, a cold sweat beginning to form at the back of his neck. Jisung pulled away, sitting up and burying his head in his hands. 

What had he done?

All he could think about was the way you had looked at him when you had first found out — the betrayal, fear, raw pain scrawled across your features. That was what you thought of the real him — wasn’t it? Your shaking hands, wavering pupils, the tears brimming in your eyes — the images kept flashing in his mind, patching themselves over the memories of your laugh, the way your entire face would light up, your reddened cheeks and ears when you got embarrassed. 

They were all as good as lost once he’d told you the truth.

Even though you had let him sit down, let him stay — he swore he caught the way you stiffened slightly beneath his touch, the way you had begun avoiding his gaze. And when you did look at him — it was like he was a ticking time bomb.

Jisung slid off the bed onto his feet. Instinctively, he began pacing, his heart pounding louder and louder with every step. His chest was closing up again, the floor was beginning to spin, the thoughts were all too, too much. With one hand still clasped around his head, he bolted out of the bedroom and down the hall, coming to an unsteady halt when he reached the living room. Jisung’s vision spun, a wave of nausea inching up his throat as his gaze landed on the vase of peach coloured roses sitting on the coffee table. 

He seized the vase and brought the flowers closer to his face. They were the ones he had bought on your first date. A short laugh pushed through his lips, and even the subtle twitch of a tentative smile tugging at his cheeks felt painful. 

“First date, kid?” The florist had a lopsided grin on her face, already reaching for the shelves of rose bouquets behind her.

“Um, yeah. I—I don’t want...red roses, though. Do you have, um, anything else?” Jisung watched the florist’s brow furrow at his words.

“Hm. Roses are a classic go-to, kid, but...ah!” Her face lit up, snapping her fingers as she reached for a different bouquet. “These are much prettier, in my opinion. Peach roses!”

Jisung took the bouquet from her curiously as she continued, “Red might come off a little strong ‘n cliche, yeah? So the peach hue makes ‘em look softer. The colour symbolises strength and resilience, so here’s to wishing you and your lucky girl a love that stands the tests of time, hm?” 

They were nearly all wilted now, the edges shrivelled and the leaves drooping. But the scent dripping from the petals was heavy, so thick it seemed to make his legs buckle from dizziness. Jisung set the vase back down too hard and it struck the corner of the coffee table, wobbling precariously, and before Jisung could reach out to catch it the vase toppled over the edge and shattered against the floor. 

The crash that rang through your silent apartment sounded deafening, and Jisung whipped his gaze towards the bedroom where you were sleeping. Dried petals and glass were splayed across his feet as he stumbled back, his heel snagging painfully on a thorn. His blood was roaring in his ears as he held his breath, expecting you to wake up at any second. But a minute passed, then another, and Jisung finally tore his gaze away, fists unclenching slightly.

You don’t belong here.

The words rang in his head, an incessant throb that grew stronger with every heartbeat. Every part of him was screaming at Jisung to run — to leave behind the mess he had already made before it was too late; before the police found him with you, before he could hurt you any more than he already had—and  with that last fear pounding through his skull, Jisung slipped on his shoes, threw open the front door, and broke into a run. 

You don’t belong here. Get out. Get out. GET. OUT.

The clouds were stitching themselves together over the hazy sun when he sprinted outside, casting a dark grey shadow over the entire city. Jisung’s mind was racing as he ducked into the first alleyway he saw, narrowly missing a police cruiser that had turned around the corner onto your street. Where could he go? The dorms? Another cafe? He risked another glance out onto the main street, heart sinking at the sheer amount of officers patrolling the road. He shook his head. He had to get away — where, exactly, he wasn’t sure — but he needed to get out of Miroh Heights.

Jisung darted down backstreets and alleyways, growing increasingly aware of the rumbling of thunder overhead and the light droplets of rain beginning to splatter onto his skin. When he reached a narrow strip between two brick buildings, a strange feeling of deja vu sent a chill trickling down his spine. Shaking the feeling off, Jisung pushed through the path, eyes fixed on the wavering sliver of gray light at its end—until the alleyway opened up into the familiar back parking lot of a diner.

Mia’s Diner.

The toe of Jisung’s shoe caught on the uneven gravel and he stopped running, chest heaving. Of all the shortcuts he could have chosen, this one had lead him all the way back here. To his relief, he noticed the lot was relatively secluded—the back of the diner and a tall stack of Dumpsters hid him from the main street, while a thicket of trees and the two buildings that had formed the alleyway closed up the space behind him. Even in the growing fog, he could spot the diner’s bright neon sign on the roof.

His gaze wandered towards the diner’s windows, which were glowing like a row of dim eyes. The tables were empty, a bored waitress sipping a milkshake by the counter with her back turned. His eyes landed on the window side booth from your first date. Your first date, what felt like an eternity ago.

“O-oh, hi! You’re…”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.”

It had been raining that day, too, hadn’t it? Sheets of water that had swept the streets, soaked his shoes, and nearly torn the heads off the roses he’d bought on the way. And when the storm had cleared in the evening, the way the sunset had bathed the city in gold. A small smile tugged at his lips, vision fogging over at the memory. Your warm touch on his cheek. Your tentative fingers in his hair. 

The warmth turned ice cold as soon as he spotted a familiar alley in the corner of his eye, and like a stormcloud splitting wide open, all the uglier memories began spilling out instead. The brick walls that felt like they were closing in on him, the prostitute’s catlike eyes, the choking darkness of an unkept, one-bedroom bungalow, fresh, hot blood spilling onto his hands and vodka flames licking at his feet—

“Han Jisung!”

The unfamiliar voice pulled Jisung out of his thoughts. A group of male students had come around the diner, a stocky boy with a buzzcut at their head. Jisung narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists involuntarily. He had seen them before, somewhere — a club, perhaps, or a late-night party…

“That’s cold, man — aren’t you gonna greet your old friends?” The boy with the buzzcut stopped just short of a metre from Jisung — too close for his liking — and spat on Jisung’s shoes.

“Kid’s been off in the head since the orphanage,” a taller boy with dirty blond hair that fell to his chin grinned. “Isn’t that so?”

Something in the back of Jisung’s mind clicked and he squinted in the growing darkness, eyes focusing on their faces. The orphanage. The other boys he and Minho had grown up with. After they’d all been released from the children’s home, Jisung had seen a few of them in passing — some had barely managed to get into college, while most of the others had dropped altogether and lingered around the town like parasites. 

Jisung lifted his gaze back to the stocky boy’s face, a humourless chuckle escaping his lips. His former classmates shifted nervously. 

“Fucking psycho,” someone behind the boy muttered.

“Well, that’s what he is, isn’t he?” The blond boy continued, a sneer growing on his crusted lips. He had a hand shoved into his pockets, and Jisung heard the sound of something metal clinking—a lighter? “Remember what they say brought him to the orphanage?” He took a step closer to Jisung, lowering his voice. “Arson. Patricide.”

“Get away from me,” Jisung breathed, his throat dry. The ringing in his ears was growing more and more high pitched with every second, and his limbs felt stiff — as if he could will himself to stay still, to stay in control.

“Is it true, then? You killed your old man and set his corpse on fire? Is that your dirty little secret?” The boy with the buzzcut jerked his head towards the distant screeching sirens on the main street. “Are those because of you, too?”

Dead silence fell between them, the gang’s mocking smiles boring into him. The boy with the buzzcut tilted his head, snorting when Jisung only stared back at him. 

“Forget it. There’s no way he’s the serial killer.” A third boy behind them spoke, his eyes raking Jisung up and down in a leer. “Looks like he’s about to piss his pants — probably can’t throw a punch to save his life. He’s a runner, that’s what he is.”

The blond boy laughed, fingers jabbing at Jisung’s shoulder and pushing him back. “You’re right about that one. Han Jisung, always running away. Just like your momma, yeah? Momma’s boy.” At that, Jisung’s gaze flickered up to meet the blond boy’s, eyes narrowing in wary confusion.

“What? Your momma always ran from your old man, didn’t she? Didn’t how how to do anything else. And every time your old man beat her bloody...” the boy with the buzzcut reached for Jisung’s lowered head, ruffling his hair and snickering when Jisung flinched away. “You ran away from her, too, yeah?”

Jisung froze, his fingers numb. He had been clenching his fists so tightly the blood circulation was cut off, his hands beginning to tremble as a horribly familiar ache pulsed in his temples. But before he could bring himself to move, the boy with the buzzcut suddenly tightened his grip on Jisung’s hair, yanking his head back hard.

“Fuckin’ mute bastard’s pissing me off. Try running now, Han.”

A fist came out of nowhere and smashed into the side Jisung’s jaw. He flew backwards, the back of his head slamming into hard gravel. For a moment, his vision went black, before coming back in fuzzy, burning flashes. His eyes had already been watering — both from his headache and the boy’s harsh grip on his hair — and just as Jisung was blinking the sand from his eyes he felt a foot crash into his ribs and knock the air straight out of his lungs.

Jisung could barely hear their taunts over his own choked coughing, his fingers scrabbling through the dusty ground as he tried to pull himself up. Pain coursed through his bones like liquid fire, sending waves of nausea shooting up his gut and black spots dancing across his vision. 

“Shit, it’s like hitting a little girl,” the boy with the buzzcut muttered. “C’mon, Han, put some fight into it, will ya?” He dropped down into a squat until they were nearly face to face, his squinty eyes twisted into a permanent sneer. “Pretend I’m your old man or someth—”

Jisung’s hand shot out, seizing the front of the boy’s shirt. He saw the sneer freeze on the boy’s face for a split second before Jisung drove his fist into the boy’s nose.

“Fffuckin’ hell!” The boy toppled back screaming, blood beginning to spurt from his face as he scrambled away frantically. One boy wearing a letterman jacket immediately moved to push Jisung back down. Hooking a foot around the boy’s legs, Jisung kicked hard and brought the boy crashing down to the ground. He pulled himself back to his feet shakily, reddening vision scanning the remaining boys that were closing in on him.

“Now you’re asking for it, kid,” the blond boy growled, grabbing Jisung’s collar. Before he could register the blond boy’s fingers curling into a fist, a hot flash of pain flared across Jisung’s cheekbone and his head snapped to the side. When Jisung turned his head back, locks of his own hair fell into his eyes, beads of sweat beginning to make them stick to his brow.

Another punch, then another, then another. Jisung could feel cuts splitting open on his cheeks and lips, as if his blood was demanding to be let out. A smile began stretching across his bruised lips, growing wider and wider with every blow. Jisung had lost count by the time the blond boy stopped momentarily, breathing hard, beady blue eyes searching Jisung’s face. 

“The fuck?” His chest was heaving as he shook Jisung like a ragdoll. The younger boy was beginning to laugh — his hair obscured most of his face, revealing only bloodstained teeth. “Are you—you a fuckin’ psycho or somethin’?”

The laughter ripping from his vocal chords felt more like sobs; as soon as the first one rolled off his tongue Jisung couldn’t stop the rest from bubbling up his throat. The blond knocked his head to the side again before jamming his fingers into Jisung’s forehead. “Hey, freak. I asked you a question.”

Jisung’s eyes were hazy, his face throbbed, the boy’s finger felt like a knifepoint in his skin. 

“If you ever speak a word of this to your mother, boy, I’ll ram that camera right into your skull.”

This felt familiar.

He shook his hair out of his face and stared straight into the blond’s eyes. “You want me to pretend you’re my father?”

For a moment the blond boy’s grin faltered, a flash of fear skipping across his pupils, but Jisung barely noticed. His hands shot out, seizing the blond by the throat in a horribly familiar chokehold. The boy cried out in silent surprise, losing his balance, and Jisung took the chance to force him all the way backwards into the diner’s brick wall. The sickening crack when the boy’s skull hit the bricks seemed to send a shudder into Jisung’s hands and body, and the high pitched ringing in his ears finally snapped.

Pure red poured into his vision as he threw punch after punch, pinning the taller boy to the wall. Jisung couldn’t tell if the screaming was the boy’s, or his, or both — or if there was any screaming at all; all he could hear was his own pounding heartbeat. Somewhere, in the back of his head, a small voice was begging for him to stop, but it grew weaker and weaker with every blow.

FATHER. FATHER. FATHER.

He felt hands grabbing at his shoulders as one boy tried to pull him back and Jisung whirled back momentarily, kicking him in the chest. The blond was beginning to grow limp, each hit feeling more and more like Jisung was punching a bag of wet rocks. Jisung felt a distant, stinging pain in his abdomen as he finally let the boy slide to the ground in a broken heap, and vaguely registered a spot of dark blood spreading across his own shirt. His shaky pupils fell on the unconscious boy’s hands, which were clutching a metal switchblade, its tip smeared with blood — Jisung’s blood.

So that had been the metallic sound from earlier. At some point—Jisung couldn’t recall when—the boy must have tried to stab him before he finally fell unconscious.

There were three of them left — four, if you counted the boy with buzzcut hair, bleeding out on the ground from his broken nose. Head buzzing, Jisung leaned down to scoop the blade from the boy’s limp hands as the rest of them closed in.

Jisung could barely see what he was doing; it had begun to rain, clouds casting inky darkness around them despite it being noon. The rain tasted sour as it mixed with foreign blood, the flash of the knife the only light visible. He could no longer hear the words that they were screaming as he buried the blade into every surface that came near him; all he could see were scenes from that day. It was like he had been swallowed back into the nightmare, his gut twisting like he had been thrown over the edge of a cliff and was hurtling towards the ground. His mother’s blood pooling over slivers of splintered wood, her pleading eyes, the water boiling over in the kitchen, the glass shards carving the hellish memories into the soles of his bare feet. It was his father — his father again, trying to kill them, trying to kill them all, and Jisung was fighting back. His father’s red face — or was it the boys’ terrified faces? The glint of his father’s lighter, or the shining tears of pain from the boy whose bones he was breaking? It was horrible — or was it was exhilarating?—and everything Jisung could see was red, red, endless red. 

He didn’t know when they had all ended up on the ground, the last conscious boy trembling feebly beneath him. The tiniest voice echoed in his ears as he brought the knife down again and again in terrible arcs, the warm spurts of blood onto his face feeling like a demon’s caress.

So this is what it feels like to be a monster.

Jisung was shuddering, fingers slippery with blood and rain. His ears felt as though they were underwater, a muffled voice beginning to echo through the haze.

“Ji...Ji…”

He shook his head wildly, eyes cloudy with water, but the voice persisted. It was getting louder now, growing clearer and clearer, as if it was dragging him back up from the darkness.

“Ji...sung. Jisung?”

Was the voice calling for him? The ground felt shaky beneath Jisung’s knees. He had lost his grip on the knife, his tremulous fingers tightening around the sharp blade and sending dull pain searing through his skin. He was going too far — it was too much, it was all too much — he needed to calm down, he needed an anchor to reality, he needed to be back in control before it was too late — 

“...sungie? J-Jisung?”

Feeling like his hand wasn’t his own, Jisung whirled around, switchblade swinging across his blurred vision in a terrible arc, and plunged the knife into a mass of darkness.

The moment he made impact, the cloudiness in his head began to clear away, the numbness leaving his body like venom had been sucked clean from his veins. Jisung let out a shuddering breath. He had done it, it was over, something — or someone had pulled him out of the nightmare. The rain was falling harder now, a crack of lightning flashing over the puddles around him, but all was quiet as his eyes focused in the hazy darkness. 

Eerily quiet, save for a muffled, shaky gasp of pain that made Jisung lift his gaze from the bloodstained gravel up to — 

You.

“Y-Y/N?” His own voice sounded raw, as if he’d been screaming for hours. “What are...w-why are you...here?” You were staring back at him with impossibly wide eyes, and he realised one of your hands had been clutching his arm. It was already beginning to shake as you pulled it back towards your chest, and you looked down. Time seemed to stop as Jisung’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he slowly followed the line of your gaze.

All the way to the switchblade buried deep in your chest.

“H-how did that—w-what happ—” Jisung looked down, breaking off when he saw the pools of blood welling in his palms and soaking the front of his shirt. “N-no. I—Did I—”

The sight of your face left him speechless, another flash of lightning reflecting off the stunned tears that were falling from your eyes. Your expression mirrored his own — frozen in equal parts surprise and agony — but what wrenched Jisung’s heart was the complete absence of anger on your face. 

Mouth slightly parted, you slowly shook your head, and Jisung felt a sudden, sharp pain twist his chest as if he’d been the one stabbed in the heart. Thunder rumbled above and as he opened his mouth to call your name, just as your eyes rolled back and you fell with a dull thud onto the soaked pavement.

“N-no. Don’t do this, not again, I c-can’t—”

The wind was howling in Jisung’s ears. He was screaming your name like it was the only thing he had ever learned but his head was pounding again, and it was like he had been thrust back underwater again, unable to hear his own voice. The rain was plummeting in torrents, as if the sky had been split wide open with an axe, the fat drops cutting at his bruised cheeks like shards of broken glass. The wail of police sirens was growing closer and closer, and suddenly,Jisung was ten years old again — cradling the last thing he had loved in a growing pool of blood, sobs racking through his body like gunshots.

Crimson was blooming rapidly through the front of your shirt. The neon lights of the diner burned at the corner of his eye, and a faint, warm memory echoed in the back of his mind.

“Least favourite colour?”

“Red.”

“W-well, it’s a good thing I’m not wearing red, then, huh?”

“No. No, I’m sure you would still look pretty in red.”

Red. It was everywhere; his shaking pupils took in the blood soaking your clothes, staining your skin, running from his fingers into your hair. 

No, he decided in that moment; you looked absolutely, horrifically, bad in red.

━━━━━━━━

Maybe it was the sirens wailing all throughout Miroh Heights, painting the streets in blurs of blue and red. Or maybe it was the thunderstorm pounding on the windows of the hospital all day, as if it was crying out for a lost love. Nobody could say why, exactly, for certain.

But that night, somewhere in the heart of the city, Yang Jeongin opened his eyes for the first time in three months.

[marriael]

Be my Latibule? (Changbin x Reader)

@skzrequests​

Request: My pace 24 w changbin? uwu im a sucker for the idea of tattooist bin lmao I so vibed with this request, I love thinking about tattoist bin

Word count: 3717

a/n: part of the reason this took so long is I had to restart it twice :(

You walk into work at Insomnia Coffee Shop and your co-worker, Sohee, greets you.

“Anyone fun yet?” You ask. She's usually in when the store opens and often gets the most interesting customers.

“Not today. But yesterday a cute guy came in and ordered 3 americanos. Turns out it was for him and 2 friends. I tried to give them for free cause he looked half dead but he wouldn't let me. Who even does that?“

While she was talking you had slipped on the ugly orange apron and scowl when you noticed someone double knotted and didn't untie the strings.

You shake your head, “probably a college student pulling an all-nighter. What college student turns down free anything? Ugh, I wish some cute barista offered me free coffee, just, ever.”

Sohee turns and passes the drink over the counter. “For Jeno!”

A cute guy comes up to grab and winks at her before he turns to the door. Your jaw drops a little and you slap her shoulder.

“Is he a regular?” You ask.

“Nope. Said he got a recommendation from a friend and went out of his way to come. Weird day to do it though.”

You hum as the next customer comes in and you get thoroughly distracted. It isn’t until he comes up to the counter and speaks that you stop staring blankly.

“1 latte, 1 americano,” his voice is low and rough and he’s a little bit intimidating honestly. He’s got a small bit of a tattoo poking out one of the sleeves and you try and look at it before you have to turn around.

“Is that a tattoo?” You ask him when you turn around.

He rolls the short sleeve up to his shoulder to expose the full tattoo and you stare at the simple beauty of the moon and stars.

“Woah, that’s cool!” Sohee must’ve seen him just in her peripheral… or she was staring like you. You nod emphatically in agreement.

He blushes a little and says “thanks. Couldn’t reach this part of my arm or else I would’ve done it myself, but I still drew it.”

“Do you work at a tattoo parlour then?”

“Yeah, I do a lot of the designs for our place,”

You gasp, “can I come look at them? Please?” You pout trying to convince him to accept your strange request. You just felt something pulling you towards these drawings and the man who made them.

He looks at you for a moment then says, “yeah, let me give you the address. When you come in just ask for Changbin.”

He pulls out a random business card, not his unfortunately, and writes down the address. He slides it over and covers his smile with a sip.

You turn back to the coffee machines as he walks out the door but Mina stops you.

“Changbin huh? He was pretty cute,” she smirks.

“Hush your mouth and get back to work, brat.”

“Nuh-uh! I get to leave now but if, no no not if when, you meet him we're talking about this later.”

The next day was Tuesday and, thankfully, it was mostly empty of things for you. So you pull out the piece of paper Changbin gave you and looked up the address.

It was just a couple blocks down from the coffee shop and you head out. The building is small and squished right between a bakery and a florist, basically some cheesy romance just waiting to happen.

You walked in and looked around. There were corkboards on either sidewall and they were filled with drawings pinned to them. The bottoms of them fluttered a little at the draft you brought with you.

When you looked at him the man behind the counter raised an eyebrow at you. Ah, so it was very obvious you wouldn't be in here often.

You let out a little nervous laugh, “hi, Changbin told me to come see him here?”

The man raised both eyebrows at that. You fiddled as he looked you over again then laughed a little. “Changbin!” He suddenly yelled.

From one of the closed side rooms comes a muffled voice “go away Chan, I’m busy!”

The man at the desk, Chan, turns back to you “sorry, he’s always like this. He’s probably just sketching a custom.”

“Oh, I can come back later if he’s busy.”

Chan doesn’t answer you and instead yells at Changbin again “I know you’re not actually busy. Your partner is here to see you!”

“Hey!” You protest but Chan just grins at you as you hear the door open.

“Chan what the hell are you-” Changbin cuts himself off and gently smiles when he sees you “hey, didn’t think you were actually gonna come.”

You smile back at him. He looks much softer when he’s smiling and you were briefly caught off guard.

“Tell me again about how you’re not dating or at least interested, “ Chan’s eyes flick between the shy but wide smiles on yours and Changbin’s faces.

Changbin rolls his eyes but inclines his head towards the door he was behind and you follow behind him. He closes the door most of the way behind you and then moves to sit at the desk in the far corner. There are more drawings in here and you assume all of them are his. It’s a wide variety of subjects, from small sketches of animals and plants to large and detailed fantasy creatures.

“Sorry about Chan, he’s always delighted in teasing anyone who’s younger than him,” Changbin shakes his head, probably at Chan even though he can’t see or hear in the room.

“Have you two known each other a long time then?” You ask and tilt your head a little.

“Ah, yeah,” Changbin looks at you again, “most of us met in high school and a couple joined right at the start of college. College was really when our whole group started getting close, too.”

“Sounds nice,” you were paying attention to him, promise, but with such wonderful drawings surrounding you, you really couldn’t help it if your attention drifted a bit.

Changbin notices and raises an eyebrow slightly, “interested in getting one?”

“What? Oh, no no, not right now at least. They’re just… really, really good.”

Changbin immediately looks down and smiles, and you could swear he was blushing a bit but when he looks back up it's gone.

“There’s a couple hidden ones in here that aren’t mine. Think you can spot ‘em?” He challenges.

You immediately head up to one of the boards and stand about 5 centimetres away. You push a couple of them up and out of the way, making sure to be careful. There really is all sorts of stuff, Changbin must be pretty busy. A rushing river done with such detail you can almost see it moving. Swirls that when you look just right suddenly snap into focus to make an abstract, soaring bird. Nature moulded with a person or item in such a seamless way that there is not a difference between them, they are simply one continuous sight.

You’re looking for hidden drawings, not ogling at Changbin’s skills. Right. When you move one more there is a small piece of paper. There is… something on it. Either Changbin drew this when he was about 5 years old or it was someone else.

“Hey, I found one. I don’t even know what this is though, it looks like a squiggle.”

Changbin laughs, “hold on.”

He comes and looks right over your shoulder. You can feel his hot breath on your ear and feel his chest move when he laughs at the drawing again. You quickly reign in the slight disappointment when he moves away.

“Yeah, that’s the thing Chan keeps trying to make our mascot. Felix and I won’t let him so until one of us breaks it’s two against one,” he shrugs and it doesn’t look like he feels bad at all.

“Do all your friends have a drawing stashed in here somewhere?”

“Well, I’ve seen at least 16 drawings put in here so yes they all have one. Some of them and Felix, Jisung’s special twin, has hidden at least 4. There’s probably more that he did when I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Ugh, how many friends do you even have. If it’s more than, like, 6 I might be genuinely angry.”

Changbin practically cackles, “well then get ready to be absolutely furious. There’s 9 of us, including myself and everyone I’ve already mentioned.”

“That’s not even fair! How have you all been friends for so long without someone murdering someone else.”

“Oh, believe me. Seungmin’s wanted to. Unfortunately, his best friends are some of our greatest problem children. Though sometimes I'm pretty sure he'll murder them first.”

“Any other possible murderers I should worry about seeing?” You flip a couple more pictures up, still passively looking for any other weird drawings.  

“Hm, Minho's murderous intentions are usually directed at Jisung. He'd do it for his cats too, though. He definitely fits in well.”

“Were there concerns about him not fitting in?”

“Yeah 'cause, he was the last one to join us, but he’s just as chaotic if not more. For Chan’s graduation night he insisted on using some mini firework things he found. Nearly lit himself and Jisung on fire with the very first one.”

Something clicks in your brain. You’ve heard this story before, from one of your random classmates. He was… interesting, to put it politely.

“Are you talking about Lee Minho? The smug bastard who tried to get everyone to call him Lee Know for like 5 months? And Han Jisung, my co-worker kind of, that I’m pretty sure hates me for some reason?”

“Wait, you know them? And why do you think Jisung hates you?”

“Yeah, Minho was my weird classmate. I’m like 90% sure Jisung hates me because he barely looks at me and gives one-word answers to all of my questions. I don’t really see him other than during shift switches but still!”

“I think Minho actually might have mentioned you before. And Jisung is just like that around people he doesn’t know. Trust me, he actually has the capacity to be the loudest person in the room. By far.”

“Huh, I wonder how many of your friends I actually know.”

"Well, we're hanging out on Thursday. Do you want to come with and meet some more of them?”

You hum thoughtfully, thinking of any possible commitments you had made lately, “I probably can but can I bring Sohee? Just so I know someone there?”

“Do I still not count as someone you know?” He whines and pouts a little for the extra effect.

“Not enough. If you all go off on some inside joke I need someone to be confused with.”

“Actually fair, because it might happen. I’ll let you know when and where we’re going later then.”

You pull out your phone and extend it to him, when he looks at it confused you raise an eyebrow, “unless you plan to send it by bird I recommend putting your number in my phone.”

He makes a surprised noise and keeps his eyes away from you and on your phone. It has not spread to his face but under his dark hair his bright red ears peek out just enough for you to see. Even when handing it back he doesn’t look at you and you smile at his bashfulness.

“See ya soon, Bin. I work again tomorrow.”

Directions are not always your strong suit. You’d like to believe they are and that’s how you end up like this, no map and unsure of what direction you should even look in.

“You look lost,” a voice comes from behind you.

You spin around. A tall puppy-like guy is standing behind you, he looks slightly amused and you’re betting it’s at your expense.

“Yeah, do you know where M.I.A Café is?”

“Oh,” he nods, “yeah I’m going there. Let’s go.”

It’s slightly awkward, walking this distance with someone you don’t know. You search your brain with how to start a conversation with someone.

“Are you… meeting someone at the café?” You ask, slightly awkward.

“Yeah, a couple of my friends.”

“Huh, so am I. Well, actually, it’s someone else’s friends and I’m just kinda tagging along,” you shrug, realizing how awkward this will probably be.

“Good luck with that,” he says as he holds the door for you.

You enter and scan the tables for Changbin’s face. You wave and slip into the chair opposite him. On the edge of the table thankfully, hopefully Sohee can recognize the back of your head. Someone sits next to you and you get a little shock seeing who it is.

He grins at you, “hey stranger.”

The guy you walked all that way with one of Changbin’s friends!

Changbin looks between you confusedly, “you know Seungmin?”

“He helped me get here. I might have gotten a little lost.”

“A little, ok. You had no idea where you were,” Seungmin snarks.

“Maybe so!”

“Well good to know you get along with another one of my friends already,” Changbin interjects.

Someone comes up and sits beside Changbin.

“Hey, I’m Hyunjin,” he greets you simply.

You give him a little wave. You don’t like judging people so fast but he’s a little intimidating.

You hear a little scrape of a chair beside and Sohee pops down at the end of the table.

“Sohee, you made it!”

“Yeah, no thanks to you,” she sticks out her tongue at you.

“I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Hyunjin speaks up and you whip your head towards him.

Sohee looks at him and squints for a moment. They start looking at each other for so long that you think they’re actually just having a staring contest. You think you recognize someone walking outside but when you actually look out the window you have no idea who any of them are. It’s still a nice day out, maybe you can go out somewhere after this.

“Oh! You’re the guy I thought was going to drink 3 americanos the other day!”

“Sohee~” you sing.

“What?” She looks at you, annoyed.

“You forgot an important detail that you told me about him.”

She looks genuinely confused for a moment before catching on and shaking her head, “shut up, nope nope nope.”

“You think he’s cute!” You cackle.

You, Changbin, and Seungmin make fun of Sohee and Hyunjin for a little while. It backfires when Sohee manages to sneakily turn the attention on you, well you and Changbin. Together, you being together.

“Yeah, and you stared at him for so long when he came in!” Sohee says.

“Sohee, kindly shut your mouth,” you reply, smiling the most pained and fake smile ever.

“Ok, please don’t pour your drink on me, I’m afraid. Also we work together so I’m coming for you.”

You just roll your eyes at her, you didn’t actually scare her and you both know that. She just likes to be some sort of annoying sister to you.

Hyunjin clears his throat and when you look at him his eyes are bright. He smiles sneakily and says, “you should hear about the time Changbin actually poured his drink on someone.”

“Hyunjin that was an accident and you know it!” Changbin exclaims, attempting to shoulder check a giggling Hyunjin.

You breeze into Blueprint Tattoos and Chan looks up in surprise.

“Hey there, didn’t know you were coming in today.”

You let out a single, unnatural ‘ha’, “I didn’t know either but uh, here I am.”

“Well, Changbin’s in his usual spot. I don’t think he has anything today.”

“Thanks,” you nod stiffly.

Looking around at the cork boards you can see some of them definitely done in Changbin’s style and a handful more you suspect would be his. You breathe out heavily and slouch a little before straightening and walking towards where Changbin should be, full of false confidence.

“Are you ok?” Chan asks and when you look over his eyebrows are furrowed and his forehead pinched down a little. The concern from someone you barely know is a little unusual but the warmth you get from it is welcoming.

“Yeah, just a little nervous you know?” You force a small laugh but you know it’s not convincing.

“Oh!” Chan exclaims, “well if this is what I think it is then good luck.”

Chan’s face is completely relaxed and you feel a little bit bad for making him worry so much. You’re not entirely sure what he thinks you’re doing but you smile at his kindness as you open Changbin’s door.

He has headphones in and doesn’t hear when you close the door behind you. You stand there for a minute, back against the door, just looking at him. Most people move to what they’re listening to but the only thing moving is his hand and it glides across the page. You have no idea what he’s doing but you just hope he’ll show it to you when he’s done.

You take a big breath in and out before approaching him. Tapping his shoulder gently you hope not to cause him to jerk his arm and ruin a line or anything. He stops completely and pulls his headphones out. He looks a little annoyed but then he looks up to see you and his face eases.

“Hi! I didn’t know you were coming today. Anything specific on the brain or did you just want to hang out with Best Friend Binnie?” He gives you an exaggerated and comical wink.

“Give me a tattoo?” You say, surprisingly calm for how jittery you actually feel.

“Wait, what? Are you sure? Like really sure?”

You roll your eyes like a stereotypical teenager would at their parents, that is to say, so far back it felt like they would disappear into your head, “no, Changbin, I’m not sure. I’ve really only been thinking about it basically since the first time I walked into this room.”

“That was only a week ago,” Changbin deadpans.

“Yeah, and?”

Changbin shakes his head, “I’m not going to give you a tattoo you’ll regret.”

You look around at the drawings. Feeling like that one action gave this decision away as way more spontaneous than it had originally seemed. Yes, you had been thinking about getting one and getting Changbin to do it for you but doing it today specifically was a complete impulse.

“I’m not going to regret it! Bin, please,” you pout at him.

Changbin tilts his head to look at the ceiling as if it will give him some guidance.

“What do you want?”

You clap your hands excitedly and then hesitate again.

“Well, I know I want a flower but… I want you to choose which one. I want it to be a flower with a good meaning behind it.”

Changbin nods and stands there considering your request. You take the time to look around his office again. Staring at all the intricate drawings on the walls you feel a bit dorky choosing to get a simple flower. Your eyes briefly catch on two stylized drawings of the word SpearB. One of them has a cute little ‘Binnie~’ under it and the other has a messy ‘Chanathan’ in English and Korean.

There are a couple of flowers scattered throughout the room so you’re a bit surprised when you hear Changbin ripping a page out of his sketchbook. His back is to you so you can’t see him cutting it down to a size to la and trace on your body. You can hear the gentle snips of scissors as you distract yourself with rows of flowers connected and individual petals with such detail you could believe them being real.

You watch as he gently traces the pattern onto your skin. You don’t recognize the flower right away but it looks delicate and beautiful. You think you catch him glancing up at you a few times but you’re pretty sure the clock is behind you and he’s looking at that.

You zone out almost entirely as he prepares. Well, it’s not exactly zoning out. You’d say it’s appreciation of an attractive man, your friends would say that you’re just checking him out.

Ok, so what if you are? Changbin’s shirt has no sleeves which means his arms are on full display which means that you can’t stop looking at the muscles flexing as he moves. Thankfully you’re conscious enough to look away when he turns back around.

The buzz of the gun wakes you up and Changbin is looking at you.

“All good?” He asks.

“Yeah, let’s do this.”

You watch for a moment as he starts going and the ink sinks permanently into your skin. It’s a strange thing to conceptualize, something being on your body forever. You catch a glimpse of Changbin’s concentrated face and you get completely distracted by him. If this is what he looks like everytime he gives a tattoo then you want to observe, even study, him.

His mouth is set in a firm line and eyebrows pinched slight inwards and downwards. His eyes are wide and focused and if you look closely enough you can see every slight movement of his irises following his hand around.

Neither of you say a word and you don’t dare move to try and look at the clock or your phone. Just watching and waiting in silence, but together. A shared silence is different than one had alone.

Silences by yourself can feel wrong sometimes but this kind of silence with Changbin feels so right that you almost never want it to end.

Good things often come quicker than they should and soon the buzzing stops. You can hear phantom buzzing still and suspect you will for quite a while. You lift your arm and look at it, it’s finished now but you’re still not sure what it is and certainly not what it means.

“What is it?” You ask.

“An almond blossom. It, uh, it means promise.”

“Promise, huh?” You grin and look at Changbin's pink-ish face.

You expect him to have some witty comment but instead, he just smiles goofily and breathlessly says, “yeah.”

[chiiwifruit]

TCM Day 23: Shigatsu Tsuitachi Co. LTD

Every year on April 1st, a strange store would appear somewhere in the bustling streets of Tokyo. The shop wasn’t always the same thing - one year it was a florist shop, the next year it was a stationery store. Everyone who noticed it swore the store wasn’t there the previous day, and if you tried to find it again on April 2nd, it would have vanished as though it never existed in the first place.

Nobody knew much about the strange store that existed for only a single day and that never appeared in the same location twice, but one boy made it his mission to find it every year.

Vampire teen Subaru was looking for someone. And for some reason Seishirou always appeared and disappeared with the Shigatsu Tsuitachi store.

His twin brother Kamui thought he was stupid and that Subaru should just dump the bastard, but he always tagged along. He claimed it was for Subaru’s protection.

So when the clock struck midnight and it became April 1st, they began their search. Like every year, Kamui hoped they wouldn’t find the store. But like every year, they did.

Kamui was the one who spotted the cute little cafe nestled between a Korean barbecue place and a bookstore. It was morning rush hour, and with the amount of foot traffic Kamui almost didn’t see the small sign out front.

Shigatsu Tsuitachi Cafe! (Cats coming soon!)

He knew Subaru hadn’t seen it. Kamui didn’t want to point it out. That guy was no good, and Subaru was better off without him. But he worried that if he didn’t tell Subaru and Subaru found out later, he would be angry. Or worse, sink into a deep depression like the first time that guy disappeared.

Kamui didn’t want that.

So he stopped Subaru with a tap on the arm and pointed.

It took a second for Subaru to see what Kamui was pointing at. When he did, his blue eyes lit up. The next instant his face went white with dread as he realized that now that he had found the store, he would have to go in.

It was the same every year. He was good at the anticipation, the planning, the looking up vacant storefronts to guess where the store might pop up this year and creating a search pattern based on it. But when the actual moment came, his natural shyness and anxiety caught up with him. After all, it had been an entire year since he last saw Seishirou. Maybe he wouldn’t want to see Subaru.

Maybe he’d have forgotten Subaru entirely.

But Subaru wanted to see him.

So Subaru squared his shoulders and crossed at the light. When he pushed the cafe door open, Kamui was right on his heels. A little bell tinkled overhead, announcing their entry, and Subaru’s nose was hit with the strong scents of flowers, baked goods, and tea.

“Welcome!” a cheery voice called as Subaru’s vampire eyes adjusted to the brighter artificial light. “Oh, it’s Subaru-san and Kamui-san! Long time no see!”

“Good morning, Sakura-san,” Subaru said shyly. Last year she had been dressed in a simple black uniform, but today she was wearing a frilly white apron over a ruffled pink dress with a big white bow at the throat to match the cutesy decor of the cafe. If Subaru had to guess, he would have put her at fourteen years old. But like him, the years didn’t seem to touch her.

It was the same for the others who worked at this mysterious store.

Subaru looked around while Sakura-san guided them to a table, allowing Kamui to pass him. The cafe’s interior matched Sakura-san’s fluffy pink and white aesthetic. The other server, Syaoran, was dressed in a pink button up shirt with a grey vest and trousers. His tie was white, like Sakura-san’s bow. He was serving some faces that Subaru recognized from previous years, and he waved to Ryuu-ou and Yuzuriha, who both waved back enthusiastically.

But Seishirou was nowhere in sight.

Subaru’s spirits plummeted and he stared at the lacy tablecloth as Sakura-san handed out the menus. “Just call me once you’re ready to order!” she said, and flitted away to welcome the next customers.

As soon as she was gone, Kamui kicked Subaru under the table. Subaru looked over at him in surprise. Kamui was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, his expression both bored and annoyed.

“Don’t sulk yet,” Kamui said. “They’ve got to have a kitchen in this place, right? Maybe that guy is back there.”

Reassured, Subaru smiled. “You’re right,” he said. He couldn’t give up hope yet. It was too soon.

A middle-aged woman sitting nearby had ordered a full-size cake for herself. As she moved to cut a piece, the cake exploded. Kamui and Subaru both flinched as gobs of icing splattered their table.

The woman screamed in surprise as a round white creature burst from the cake. “Hi! I’m Mokona! ‘Nice to meet you’ shake!” the rabbit-like creature cheered as it held out a paw to the woman, who screamed again.

“What is the meaning of this!” she yelled at Syaoran.

“What is the meaning of this!” Mokona echoed in a sing-song voice. Her chant was picked up by the other Mokona, identical except for colour. The pair held hands and continued to chant as they danced in a circle around the ruined cake.

“Why was there an animal in my cake?” the woman demanded.

Syaoran was beginning to look flustered. “I- but, that’s what you ordered,” he said.

The woman laid into him. “I did not! Who would order an animal in a cake? This is disgusting!”

People were staring. Sakura-san was clutching her stack of menus to her chest and staring at Syaoran like she wanted to help him, but she had just been called over to take an order for a big table.

As the woman continued to shout, Syaoran’s identical twin brother Tsubasa slipped out of the kitchen in a chef’s outfit. Tsubasa came to stand behind Syaoran and put a supportive hand on his shoulder. He was smiling, but Subaru could see the anger simmering underneath. Or maybe he just knew it was there when it wasn’t visible. After all, he too had a protective twin brother.

“Ma’am, you ordered the Birthday Surprise. Is that right?” Tsubasa smoothly interrupted the woman’s tirade.

“Yes, I-” the woman began, turning to rip into her new target.

“Well, it clearly states in the menu,” Tsubasa said, taking the menu off the woman’s table and flipping to the correct page, “That Mokona will leap out of the cake to sing happy birthday to you. By ordering this cake you agreed to that.”

“You agreed!” the Mokonas chanted, continuing their dance in the opposite direction. “You agreed! You agreed!”

The woman sputtered. The next thing that came out of her mouth was, “Bring me your manager!”

Syaoran and Tsubasa exchanged a look. Syaoran still looked nervous, but Tsubasa didn’t leave him. Tsubasa raised his voice. “Kimihiro!”

Watanuki stuck his head out of the kitchen. “Yeah?” He was related to Tsubasa and Syaoran somehow, but Subaru wasn’t sure of the exact link.

“Please ask Sakura-chan to come out when she has a minute.”

Subaru was distracted from what happened next by the tinkling of the bell over the door. It was Seishirou, and he was carrying a large crate.

Subaru stood up so fast he almost knocked his chair over. “Seishirou-san!”

Seishirou peered at Subaru over his glasses, and Subaru’s heart rate picked up. Nerves. He was oblivious to everyone except Seishirou. He was even oblivious to the low rumbling growl coming from Kamui.

There was a beat before Seishirou smiled during which Subaru’s anxiety nearly sent him through the ceiling. “Subaru! How are you?” Seishirou asked. He set the crate on a nearby unoccupied table. The crate was making noise. There was something inside, something alive. Possibly several somethings.

“I’m well,” Subaru said, flushing with pleasure. “It’s been a long time. Have you been well?”

“Hm. Well enough, I suppose,” Seishirou replied.

Kamui had stopped growling and was squinting suspiciously at the crate. There were definitely several somethings moving around in there. “What’s in the crate?” Kamui asked.

“Cats. For the cat cafe,” Seishirou said.

Kamui and Subaru both blinked, then looked back at the crate.

It was a very big crate.

“How many cats?” Subaru asked at the same time Kamui said, “Must be some large cats.”

Whatever Seishirou’s response was going to be was interrupted by a shriek so high and shrill that the cats in the crate went silent.

“Is this a joke?!”

The three stopped their conversation and turned. The drama on the other end of the store was still playing out. The woman who had demanded the manager had finally got her, but still wasn’t happy.

The manager of Shigatsu Tsuitachi was Sakura-chan, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Sakura-san. She also appeared to be ten years old. This seemed to be what the woman was upset about now.

“I’m the owner of this store,” Sakura-chan said with her characteristic bright smile. “I understand that you had some concerns about a cake?”

The woman sputtered with rage. “The owner! A child like you?” she snapped. “You think I’m an idiot?” She grabbed Sakura-chan by the arm and pulled.

Sakura-san gasped and dropped her menus, starting forward to rescue her boss. Both Tsubasa and Syaoran were moving in as well, but Seishirou moved with uncanny speed. He ripped the woman’s hand off Sakura-chan and moved between them. He was still smiling, but it had gone from benign to threatening in a mere instant.

“Boss, should I escort her out?” he asked without turning to Sakura-chan.

“Yes, please, Sei-san,” she replied. Syaoran and Tsubasa clustered around her, but she waved them off, insisting that she was all right.

After the woman was thrown out the front door and seemed unable to get back in, the cafe staff gathered around the crate. “So these are the cats?” Sakura-chan asked, looking up at Seishirou.

“Indeed.” His smile was back to being benign, but Subaru didn’t think anyone would forget how he had just thrown a woman across the entire store and out the door.

“Where did you get them?” Watanuki asked.  He was trying to peek through one of the air holes, and jerked back when he got a hiss in response.

“Oh, here and there.”

“Here and there?” Tsubasa was as suspicious of Seishirou as Kamui always was, which meant he was Kamui’s favourite.

Sakura-chan didn’t seem to mind the questionable origins of the cats. “Well, please open the crate and we’ll take a look at them,” she said.

“Of course.” Seishirou pried the top of the crate off with a crowbar. Out spilled at least a dozen cats, eager to be free from the box they had been forced into.

A snarl came from the crate.

They stared.

“Is that a mountain lion?” Watanuki demanded. He backed away from the crate, hands up as if that would somehow fend it off.

“It is, technically, a cat,” Seishirou replied.

“Oh Sei-san,” Sakura-chan sighed. “I think you should put that one back.”

“All right, Boss.” If he was disappointed, it didn’t show.

The mountain lion disappeared fast. Disturbingly fast. Kamui kept looking at Seishirou like he thought Seishirou had taken it out to the alley and killed it. Or set it loose in the middle of Tokyo. Subaru wasn’t entirely sure that he hadn’t.

Sakura-san returned to their table with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order?” she asked. 

Subaru hadn’t even glanced at the menu. “Um.”

“I’ll have the cherry blossom tea and strawberry chiffon cake,” Kamui said, and Subaru blinked. He hadn’t thought that Kamui had looked at the menu either, but he must have because Sakura-san was smiling and taking it from him. “And you, Subaru-san?”

“I’ll have the same,” Subaru said, too embarrassed to ask her to give him another minute.

The regular house cats were running and playing through the store. Ryuu-ou sat on the floor and was immediately mauled. He laughed as he disappeared under the swarm of cats. Rather than helping him, his friend Yuzuriha was snapping photos with her cell phone and announcing that she’d show them to Souma later.

A cat hopped into Kamui’s lap as Seishirou brought their order out. “Where did you get the cats?” Kamui asked again.

Seishirou repeated his answer. “Here and there.”

“This one has a collar.” Kamui’s fingers rubbed the metal tag inscribed with the cat’s name and the phone number for its humans.

“Well, we’re only borrowing it for the day, so isn’t it fine?” Seishirou continued to smile as he set down the plates and cups, then moved on to the next customer.