#changmin imagines

[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?

[sungbeam]

007!ji changmin x f!reader

you're sent to montenegro to infiltrate a high-stakes poker game, but with the world hanging in the balance, it's a good thing m's sending her best employee along with you—agent 007, ji changmin.

▷ genre, warnings. f2l, james bond/007/spy au, action, suspense, pining(?), minimal angst, humor bc i'm me, violence, blood, death, mentions of alcohol, mentions of weaponry, mentions of corruption, swearing, kissing, near-death experiences, mentions of terrorism but not explicitly discussed, the ending is kinda cheesy im sorry it's late and i like making him yearn, barely proofread (dudes it's so late when im writing this)

▷ word count. 11.1k

▷ based on. casino royale (2006)

a/n: this is for @winterchimez ally's 007 files collab! pls check out the other fics that have been posted 😎 also, this is way lighter than the actual movie, so uhm, yeah!

YOU KNEW FROM THE MOMENT you first stepped into your position as an agent of the Treasury, that Kenneth Kang would be a thorn in your side. Perhaps not even a thorn, but a massive pain in the neck, the back, the ass. He was a man with a helm of pomade for hair and an ego the size of Russia, who, for some odd reason, despised you.

It was funny… the last time you checked, an entity such as Russia wouldn't be so easily threatened by someone like yourself. But here was Kenneth Kang, continuing to email you passive aggressive correspondence as if he wasn't butthurt the director chose you for this task rather than him.

After all, only the best of the best were selected to assist MI6 with their assignments. The fate of the world hung in the balance.

You told Kenneth just that in your last (hopefully) email to him for the trip: The quarterly reports are still due on Monday, Kang. Remember that Director Song excused me from them because I'm off to go save the world—ta-ta! Or something to that effect.

It was unfortunate the government monitored everyone's emails or you would've signed off with something wildly hilarious like “Love (if pigs flew), Director Song's Favorite <3 (not you)”—that would stick it to him—

A clearing throat drew your attention away from your laptop so abruptly, you were glad you didn't get whiplash.

“This seat taken?” You didn't catch a clear glimpse of the man's face before he was already claiming the seat across from you. The voice was awfully familiar, and when you finally saw him, you understood why.

You nearly did a double take, but the surprise swiftly melted away like glaciers in the spring to something like warm amusement. “Ah, do I—uh—know you, sir?” You asked, gently folding your laptop closed so you can gesture to the teapot before you. “Tea?”

Ji Changmin leaned back in his chair, eyes darting from the view outside the train car window and back to you. He dragged his gaze up and down your form, the back of his knuckles pressed against his lips. It did nothing to hide his smile. “Tea would be lovely, thanks.”

You obliged, refilling your cup with the hot beverage and pouring a decent amount into the extra teacup and saucer on his half of the table.

The two of you were currently on a train to Montenegro. Less than 48 hours ago, you were summoned into your director's office, only for the head of MI6 (the elusive M) to join you. You were debriefed on a high stakes poker game being hosted by a man notoriously reputed for funding terrorist organizations around the globe. You were told that M would be sending her “best” along with you to be dealt into the game—you were never given the agent's name or identification number.

But now that you were nearly an hour's ride away from Montenegro, it seemed he finally decided to reveal himself.

“Are you sure you don't remember me, Miss?” He asked, eyebrows raised over the rim of his teacup. “I was so sure that I left a lasting impression on you the last time.”

You slowly raked your eyes over the sharp, dark blue suit he wore, the white dress shirt beneath opened up at the collar, his wrist fitted with a watch that glistened in the afternoon light filtering in through the window. He had cropped his hair since the last time you saw Agent 007, M's so-called “best.” That was about two years ago, when there was a joint-branch charity gala and the two of you shared a dance before he was called away. Before that, you reckoned it was likely your graduation from Cambridge.

Time flew, you supposed, and you'd both been busy.

The corner of your lips lifted as you took a ginger sip of your tea. “Well then, you'll have to do a better job this time. What brings you to Montenegro?”

“Ah, business. You know how it is.”

“A truly dull answer,” you remarked. He couldn't come up with better conversation? You expected more from the man who always prided himself on buttery smooth lines. Where was the fun in ‘business’? “No wonder you've got all of that on. You're dressed like you're about to go buy a company.”

“Could I buy your company?” He asked in jest, tilting his head to the side.

You set your teacup down and a smile flitted over your lips. “I don't think you'd ever have enough money in the world for that.”

He chuckled then and ran his tongue over his bottom lip, catching a droplet of tea clinging to it. “Challenge accepted.”

When the train pulled into the station at Montenegro, it was just about a quarter past two in the afternoon. You and Changmin stood up from your cozy two-seater table to prepare to disembark. You rifled through your laptop tote for your wallet, but before you could retrieve your money, Changmin was already dropping bills on the table.

“Is this yours?” He asked, placing a hand on the bag stowed above the seat. It was a duffle bag that ranged on the smaller size with enough room to store your toiletries, emergency items, and any other things you might have needed. You were informed that clothing and the like would be in your accommodations waiting for you—there must have been a strict dress code for this event.

You shouldered your purse. “Yes, I'm traveling light.”

“Same here.” He grabbed your bag for you, and the two of you were off, shuffling down the aisle toward the nearest exit. Light, indeed. He didn't seem to have any luggage on him, but you supposed an agent of his caliber was provided everything he needed at his accommodations.

The train station, at this hour, was rather busy. People bustled to and fro to get to their trains, the parking lot, the ticket booth, the works. Your instructions once you'd arrived in Montenegro were to get in touch with the agent who was assigned to this case, and that you already accomplished. Until now, that was about all you knew, barring the general mission at-hand.

“I assume you’ll be staying at the Hotel Splendide, as well?” You voiced to him as you walked by his side toward the valet at the front of the station. You never knew a train station to have a valet, but you supposed it made sense if there were luxury, long-haul train cars.

“Your assumption would be correct,” he said. “In fact, we’re sharing a room.” The reveal of this information nearly had you tripping over your own shoes, and you were sure you saw a ghost of a smile make it onto his lips. You narrowed your eyes at him as he carried onward—of course, the two of you were sharing a room. What cover did MI6 even come up with? Something incredibly original like a married couple, you’d bet. Or, god forbid, a man and his mistress. (The thought made you gag.)

Changmin made eye contact with the valet boy, his chin inclining toward him. “Afternoon. It should be under ‘Ji.’”

The boy traced his finger down the edge of his tablet screen and his eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes, Mr. Ji,” he said, grabbing a keychain from his station and tossing it over to Changmin, “your car was just delivered two minutes ago. Have a nice trip, sir.”

“Thank you.” A rolled up bill was exchanged so fast that you thought you’d imagined it, and Changmin was walking onward down the length of the curved curb toward a parked vehicle. You followed swiftly after him, and upon further inspection, realized that the vehicle he was striding towards was a sleek Aston Martin in a classy shade of silver. It looked like something straight out of Hollywood, the sight nearly making your knees buckle. It was enough to say that all thoughts of you sharing a room with Changmin flew out the Aston Martin’s window.

Changmin gave a laugh at your reaction, opening the passenger side door for you. “You look more excited to see this car than me, sweetheart.”

“Was I that obvious? She’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but grin back as you slipped into the smooth, leather seat. The interior was just as beautiful and sleek, with dark colored leather and a shiny center console. While you buckled yourself in, you heard Changmin deposit your bag in the backseat before rounding the car to take his place in the driver’s side.

“I can’t say I disagree,” he said, the door slamming. He retrieved a pair of aviator sunglasses from a compartment above the rearview mirror, donning them, then flashing you a dimpled smile. “Shall we?”

Changmin revved up the engine and pulled out of the train station's front lot onto the scenic road that would wind down the mountains to reach the portside where Hotel Splendide was located.

“I haven't seen you in two years, have you been well?” You piped up, now that the two of you were alone.

He hummed. “Ah, for the most part, yes—I’ve been alright.”

“Trotting the globe, I bet?”

“You'd win that bet, for sure,” he mused. He passed you a brief glance, turning his eyes back to the road. “And you?”

You mimicked the humming sound he'd made earlier. “I've been decent. Just work most days; you know how it is.”

He nodded his understanding. “Social life just as dead as uni?”

An incredulous sound flew out of your mouth, your hand swatting his arm to coax an impish smile from him. “I have friends!”

“Significant others then,” he offered.

You bristled in your seat and met his grin with a stink eye. “There are more important things than finding romance.”

“Still the same Yn as I remember,” he teased. “Now I know you're not an imposter.” A beat of silence, and then, “M must have been very pleased with your performance records to have approved of your director's choice. Not that I'm surprised; you've always been exceptional in your field.”

You turned your head to face the window on your side, barely hiding the pleased smile on your face from his compliment. It had taken a lot of hard work to get where you were, and you should've been proud of yourself. “I appreciate that. Though, I'm sure the fact that we know each other might have something to do with it, too.”

“I think that's just an added bonus,” he remarked optimistically. “You'll know how to keep me in check.” That was, literally speaking, exactly what your role here was. While Changmin was dealt into the game, you controlled the amount of money he was able to use or bet with. Because you were the trusted agent of the Treasury, you would be privy to the amount of money appropriate to use from the government's coffers.

“Who knew one partner project would lead to us saving the world together?” He added offhandedly with almost a nostalgic sort of whimsy.

“Are you ready to be a team player this time, though?” You asked, eyebrow raised. “The rumors say you enjoy flying solo.”

“I fly solo when it's dangerous,” he corrected. Which, you guessed, was most of the time in his line of work.

“So you're saying this mission isn't dangerous?”

“A poker game?” He laughed. “The only dangerous thing about it is gonna be how fast I'm going to win.”

The Hotel Splendide was as splendid as its name suggested. The grand, white limestone facade was carved with arched windows and statues, sleek columns and balconies. This side faced out into the waterfront, giving all arriving patrons a beautiful view of the port.

Changmin directed his car into the cobblestone roundabout at the front of the hotel. When he brought the vehicle to a stop, a bellboy in a maroon colored uniform opened your car door for you and offered a hand to help you out.

“Thank you,” you murmured, rolling your neck and stretching your limbs from the hour-long car ride.

Changmin emerged from the driver's side with his keys in hand, speaking to another attendant about being careful with his vehicle. He rounded the car just as the bellboy grabbed your duffle from the backseat.

“Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. This way to the check-in counter please,” the bellboy said, gesturing toward the front door, framed by an amber-toned awning and crowned in a myriad of flags from around the world.

You felt Changmin's palm warm the small of your back as you clutched your laptop purse in your hands. “Of course, thank you.”

The hotel’s foyer was just as magnificent as its outside. A crystalline chandelier hung from the high-domed ceiling, painting the room in a luxurious champagne gold, while the marble floors were lined in a deep crimson velvet. The front desk was to your immediate left with a number of staff stationed behind it.

The woman you and Changmin went to greeted you both with a polite smile. “Welcome to the Hotel Splendide. May I have the name of your reservation, please?”

“Ji,” your friend answered, “James Ji.”

Your eyebrows flew to your hairline.

“Ah,” the woman said, “but of course, Mr. Ji. Yours and your assistant's suite has been prepared for your arrival.”

Assistant? While she readied the key cards for you, you met Changmin’s gaze with a number of questions in your eyes. He only answered with a helpless expression.

Assistant? As if.

For fear of jeopardizing the mission by correcting the cover MI6 so generously assigned you, you reluctantly kept your mouth shut.

The desk clerk pushed a pair of cards across the polished wood toward you and Changmin—key cards. “These are your keys for your stay in room 700. All amenities, such as room service and the spa, are included in the fees you paid while booking. Your luggage will be delivered to your room for you. Anything you might need may be addressed via the phone in your suite or here at the front desk.”

(Assistant? Did you look like a fucking assistant?)

Changmin collected the room keys and passed you one. “Excellent, thank you. Did any mail arrive for me?”

“Yes, sir. A small parcel was delivered directly to your suite, as well as several garment bags. You'll find them in your wardrobe. Is that all?”

With nothing else to be addressed, you and Changmin thanked the front desk attendant and you were shuttled toward the elevators at the end of the hall. It was a good thing the elevator carriage made a swift arrival, because as soon as the doors slid closed, you let your frustrations be known.

“Assistant?” You exclaimed, gesticulating frustratedly. “Out of all the cover options? That woman probably thinks I'm your mistress!”

“I didn't choose it,” Changmin said, raising his palms in surrender. Though, it was clear by his expression that he was at least amused by your reaction.

You rolled your eyes, then narrowed them and crossed your arms over your chest. “What if you were the assistant, hm? Why aren't I the rich lady with a handsome secretary I take on vacation with me?”

His grin was teasing as he leaned closer to you, your breath hitching for a split second. There was a brief moment where your senses were fully engulfed by the smell of his cologne and the way a lock of his hair curled over his forehead. “You think I'm handsome?”

As if the universe could feel the warmth rising to your cheeks, the elevator doors mercifully opened onto the seventh floor.

He leaned away, something self-satisfied playing on his mouth as he returned his hand to your back. “Okay,” he drawled, “say I'm your handsome assistant…”

“I'm never living that down, am I?” You groaned, already feeling the headache spike in your temples. Your eyes fluttered about the corridor you entered; it was just as beautiful as the lobby downstairs, but with a slightly moodier glow to the lights as if not to disturb any of the patrons on this floor should they wish for an escape from downstair's hustle and bustle.

“Imagine if Chanhee found out you'd said that.”

“Don't get me started on Chanhee.” Room 700 appeared in your sight, and you smacked your key card against the card reader before letting yourself into the room. As the lights flickered on, you asked Changmin from over your shoulder, “Have you heard from him recently, by the way?”

Chanhee was a mutual friend from your college days. While he was technically a closer friend to Changmin, you'd met Chanhee through Changmin after your partner project and grabbed dinner together every once in a while whenever Chanhee was in town.

You were already making a beeline to the bathroom when you heard the hotel room door close and lock behind Changmin. “Recently? Depends on your definition of ‘recently.’”

The sound of your sigh echoed as you absentmindedly fixed your hair in the reflection. Train hair wasn't as poor as airplane hair, that was for sure. “He misses you,” you said in a singsong tone.

“Is that right?” He chuckled. “I'll shoot him a text then.”

He appeared in the reflection behind you holding two black garment bags, one in each hand. He'd shed his suit jacket somewhere, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to expose his forearms. “These are ours for tonight,” he said to you, handing you the one with your name on it.

Ah, tonight. “Thanks,” you said, taking a peek inside to see what exactly was prepared for you. Your curiosity piqued at the sight of deep wine red fabric, but you didn't look any further for the time being.

“Are you ready for tonight?” He asked, stealing a glance at you as he brushed his hair back in the mirror.

At the proximity of tonight's events, you suddenly felt your heart rate climb. Before when this was only an assignment, the gravity of the situation hadn't fallen over you yet. But now that it was your current reality, it began to rush at you with the speed of an oncoming train.

You steeled your nerves. You were tapped to carry out this task for a reason. The only thing you had to do was be wary of Changmin's spending; he was doing the heavy lifting. Even if you were about to be in a room with a few dozen other dangerous people.

You swallowed, nodding. “Ready as I'll ever be.”

He pressed his lips together, his dimples appearing in his cheeks but not because of joy. There was a step forward, then another. “Hey,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “I won't let anything bad happen to you or to anybody; that's what I'm here for.”

He draped his garment over his arm and leaned against the bathroom counter beside you. “If we both do our jobs right, we'll be fine. Do you know who our target is? Just so you're aware of who to look out for.”

You nodded, “Le Chiffre.” That was the name of the host of tonight's poker game. He was high on the MI6's most wanted list, and tonight was a critical effort to put a stop to his movements, as well as the credibility he had with his clients. You'd seen pictures of this man—the cold of his eyes and the pale scar that disabled one of his pupils—you were well aware of what he looked like.

“Good,” he murmured. “Then you stay far away from him, got it, sweetheart?”

“Got it.”

Though the gravity of the situation hung heavy in the room after that conversation, Changmin ordered the two of you room service before you needed to prepare for the poker game. You figured food in your stomach would keep you grounded and lessen the nerves trilling through you and making your extremities feel cold to the touch.

Dinner shared in the privacy of your hotel room with an old friend was pleasant. You both sat on the couch sectional next to each other, his arm laid casually over the back of where you sat, as you caught up and dined. There was something oddly warm in his eyes… you didn't know what it was that made him seem so clued into what you were saying, as if he was spellbound. You figured it must be the training he underwent; after all, if he couldn't just muscle his way to an answer, then seduction was also a powerful tool at his disposal.

You just wondered why it was seeping into his interaction with you. Perhaps it became second nature for him to be this way—to lean into every word you said, to brighten at the sound of your laugh, to mirror every smile. To make you feel like you were the only person in his world and that you were all that mattered.

By the time nine o'clock rolled around and you were in the bathroom preparing for the game, your nerves had calmed considerably.

The dress that MI6 provided you was a deep wine evening gown that hugged your upper body and cascaded down the length of your legs before it hung just above your feet. The satin was gathered and left to create a cowl at the neckline, and somebody had thought it was a fabulous idea to leave a high slit in one side all the way up to mid-thigh height. (One wrong move and you were screwed.)

It was as if a river of wine physically wrapped around you as a garment for the night.

Though you appreciated the beauty of it, it only served to make you realize that perhaps controlling Changmin's spending wasn't your only job tonight; your other purpose was to distract everyone else. You weren't sure how you felt about that.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door just as you were fitting on a pair of matching ruby earrings. “Yn?”

“Just a second,” you said. You pushed the earring backing into place and hustled over to open the door. “I'm just finishing… hey.”

Changmin had changed into an all-black suit, a classic piece of uniform that was tailored perfectly to his proportions. His eyes were hooded and dark as he drank you in like a glass of Pinot Noir.

A low whistle drifted out from his lips. “If I'm being honest, you might be a liability in this dress.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, turning back to return to the bathroom counter.

Changmin trailed after you, almost dumbfounded, like he'd forgotten why he'd knocked on the door in the first place.

You tried to suppress your smile as you handed him his comb. “See something you like?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. “I do.”

Your expression shuttered in the mirror having not expected that reply at all.

Changmin cleared his throat, stepping to your side to fix his hair with practiced grace. In no time, his appearance was complete, and he was heading out of the bathroom, his cologne lingering by you.

When you were satisfied, you turned off the bathroom light on your way out to meet Changmin in the main room. He was by the safe, fitting a fresh magazine into a silver pistol with skilled hands. He felt your gaze on the weapon and passed you a glance. “We can't carry weapons into the room,” he told you, “but it's a good idea to have one ready here.”

You bobbed your head in agreement, though you felt your shoulders tighten.

He locked up the safe before making his way toward you. “Do you know how to use one of these?” He asked.

You shook your head. “It was never in my job description,” you said quietly. “I hope you don't have to use it.”

There was a graveness to his gaze now. “I hope I don't have to either.” Because both of you knew, if it came down to it, he wouldn't hesitate.

The room where it happened was deep in the bowels of the hotel, somewhere below the casino floor and above the core of the earth. To get in, one was required an exclusive invitation, which was the item Changmin had received in the small parcel from earlier in the afternoon.

You and Changmin arrived on the scene arm in arm, your posture straight in an effort to come off as nonchalant. As you descended the velvet-lined stairs into the basement room, you were confronted by a pair of broad-shouldered bodyguards with body scanners in their hands. After retrieving Changmin's invitation, you were both scanned separately for security, before being granted entry.

The playing room was on the smaller side with a fully equipped bar on the furthest wall of the room. The centerpiece was an oval table, barred off with railings for spectators to lean on while the game was played. There were a sprinkling of others here, both players and their guests.

Your initial scan of the room, unsurprisingly, produced no familiar faces—but your arm tightened around Changmin's when you caught sight of the man of the hour. Le Chiffre stood on the opposite side of the room, nursing a coup glass of liquor as he spoke in low tones with another man. From this angle, you could see the cut of his one glassy eye and the angry scar that marred his face.

“Our four o'clock,” you muttered between your teeth to your counterpart.

Changmin glanced over out of his peripheral vision, nodding subtly. “How about a drink, sweetheart?” He asked you, his voice slightly louder than your own.

You gave a small smile, and he began to lead you over to the bar.

As the two of you moved, you couldn't shake the feeling of eyes trailing after you, something akin to spidersilk clinging to your limbs that you could never quite brush off. It was no secret that you were one of the few women in the room.

When you reached the bar, Changmin flagged the bartender down. “A vodka martini, please—shaken, not stirred—and a mint julep for the lady.”

“Right away, sir.”

You looked over at Changmin with an impressed purse of your lips. “You remembered,” you mused.

The corner of his lip tilted upward. “How could I forget?”

With your drinks served to you, you gently sipped on your mint julep. It wouldn't do you well to get drunk tonight; you just needed a little liquid courage.

From your side, Changmin stared out into the crowd, likely assessing his opponents in the room. He made a small noise of consideration that made you prompt him. He answered lowly, “You see the man to our nine o'clock?—”

You followed his instructions and casted a single glance that way. At the other end of the bar stood a man in a gray suit, nursing a rum and coke in his hands as he assessed the room for himself.

“—Lee Juyeon. CIA.”

Your eyebrows flicked upward. “Interesting. Are they after our man, too?”

“Good chance that they are,” he said and raised his glass to his lips. He swallowed the last of his drink and set the empty glass behind him, leaning the elbow closest to you against the bar behind him. “Know how to play poker?”

“I’m more of a Go Fish girl, actually.”

He sputtered a laugh, and you smiled into your glass. “You're kidding. Not even a little?”

“Go fish, Mr. Ji,” you said and gestured to him with your glass. “Do tell though, since your boss seems to have so much faith in you. What's the secret to winning poker?”

You hadn't even realized how close your faces were tilted toward each other until you registered the smell of his drink on his breath and the shine on his lips. For a plot second, you swore his eyes even dared a glance away from your own.

Neither of you backed away from the other and remained in the intimate gray space.

“The secret?” He parroted, cocking an eyebrow. He tugged at his bottom lip. “The secret is figuring out what everyone else's tells are. It's about bluffing and strategy. If you can figure out how to tell when a person is lying, then you're practically set.”

You hummed. “I see. So what's my tell?”

“Your tell?” His gaze on you was hot and heavy as his eyes devoured you slowly but surely for yet another instance tonight. You could no longer ignore the rapid hammering of your heart, its insistent palpitations threatening to expose you to the man you swore could already see right through you.

His lips pulled into a slow smile, the kind you couldn't decide if it really was a smile or a smirk. “That’s for me to know, and you to figure out.”

“You don't know then.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart.”

A hush fell over the room. You followed everyone's eyes up to the man who had summoned the room's attention. Le Chiffre stood atop the poker table's platform with a small laptop seated upon the table's edge.

“Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the game,” he greeted coolly. “We will begin this evening's festivities with an introduction to our security protocols. This device—” he gestured to the computer, “—is fully secured to store and activate all of the night's betting money. Each player will enter a six-character code, unique to them, that will grant them access to the winning sum—should they win.”

A small murmur of laughter amongst the crowd; you didn't find it funny.

“We will begin with Mrs. Takeuchi.”

One by one, each of the players present tonight came forward to input a six-charactered passcode of their choosing. When Changmin was summoned forward, you watched as his expression became a careful, unreadable slate. He strode up toward the poker table, eyes never leaving Le Chiffre and Le Chiffre's never leaving Changmin. You could feel the tension in the room tighten, and Changmin confidently input his desired password.

When he pressed ENTER, you swore you could feel the fifteen million dollars being locked into the pot. Fifteen million was a shit ton of cash. The amount you were not willing to go beyond was twenty million. As long as Changmin played safe and played well, it wouldn't be a problem.

Not before long, the players were all summoned to the table. You sent Changmin off with a reassuring squeeze of his shoulder, and followed behind him to find a space at the railing to watch.

Changmin settled in the chair directly across from Le Chiffre.

The dealer passed out two cards to every player, each of whom hoarded a stack of chips and rectangular plaques that valued up to fifteen million. As the dealer revealed the four cards before him—two jokers, a king, and an ace—the game was on.

You weren't even sure what you were looking for, but the sinking feeling in your gut would not fade the entire game. You held onto your mint julep until it was drained, eyes trained on the cards lying face down in Changmin's hands as he watched Le Chiffre across from him like a hawk.

He was looking for his tell, you realized.

The match was tense. You couldn't pull your gaze away, for fear of missing some minute detail, even if each move made was technically quite large. In the beginning, however, it felt as though everyone was playing it safer, for fear of getting out too early.

The night was young, and it would do none of them any good if they lucked out of a pot of at least one hundred million.

You watched Changmin, who watched Le Chiffre. You noted the way Le Chiffre would occasionally bring his left hand up to his scarred eye… was that his tell?

It was nearing one hour when it was only Changmin and Le Chiffre who had yet to fold. The dealer called for Changmin to make his move, and you looked over to your counterpart as the gears turned and twisted in his mind.

“I'm all in,” he decided, and shifted his entire pile into the center, mounting up to some amount close to twelve million.

You pressed the backs of your knuckles to your lips in anticipation of Le Chiffre's move. The man did not cower, but rather, called his bet. He moved his pile of fourteen million to the center. All in.

“Gentlemen,” the dealer gestured for their cards to be revealed.

They flipped their cards into view—you could feel the scandal rocket through the crowd.

“A pair of jacks. Monsieur Le Chiffre wins. This marks the halfway point of the match; we will return in one hour to resume, with the big blind set at two hundred thousand.”

Everyone around the table, both players and spectators, began to dissipate to find something to distract them for the hour-long break.

Changmin's posture was taut as a bowstring as Le Chiffre pulled his mouth into a sly smirk across from him. “Ah, Mr. Ji. You must have interpreted my tell wrong. Off your game tonight, don't you think?”

A muscle feathered in the agent's jaw. “I wouldn't be so quick to boast,” he drawled. “The game's not over yet.”

You didn't know what to say, but you knew one thing was for certain—no matter what, you and Changmin could not let Le Chiffre leave tonight with the jackpot. And as Changmin departed the table with a crease between his brows but his head held high, you knew what was on his mind, as well.

“Need a drink?” You asked, as he met you where you stood.

Changmin shook his head. “No, I'm alright,” he said, glancing about. He nudged the back of your shoulder with his fingers, guiding you toward the exit. “Let's get out of this room for a moment though.”

You weren't going to argue with that decision, and the two of you linked arms and made your departure.

When the cool air in the lobby swept over you and all the tension in your body left for a brief moment of paradise. It was so stifling down in that room; you were almost thankful to be wearing this dress.

You and Changmin lingered at the top of the railing that looked down into the lobby from the second flood, heads close together. ���What now?” You asked him.

“I need more money.”

“I can give you five million, but that's my limit, Changmin,” you told him firmly.

His brows crossed together. “Five million isn't enough to go toe to toe with a guy who just ended round one with thirty—”

“That's not my fault; this is policy.” You knew the world hung in the balance, but while that was his job, this was yours. You sighed. “Maybe I can contact someone about approving more, but right now, five million is our only option. Do we not have a plan B?”

Changmin's lips pressed into a line. “Plan B is hoping he does something fucking illegal in front of my face, and praying that reinforcements come in fast enough to take him away.”

Now it was your turn for your brows to crease. “Why do we have to wait for him to do something illegal? Don't we know he's a criminal?”

“We're onto him, yes, but there has been no tangible proof that he's a corrupt banker,” Changmin admitted tersely. He absentmindedly rubbed his jaw with his palm. “If we could just—”

“Ji.”

Both you and Changmin straightened. Coming toward you from down the hall was Lee Juyeon, the CIA agent Changmin had pointed out to you earlier.

You didn't fail to notice the way Changmin blocked you from Juyeon's view with his body. “Lee,” Changmin greeted back.

Juyeon nodded to you in hello with a warm smile, and you lifted your hand to wave. He seemed decent enough.

Changmin’s eyes narrowed as he shifted so he stood next to you now, an obvious arm slung around your waist. “I didn't know the CIA was on this.”

“I didn't know the MI6 was on this,” Juyeon fired back. He let out a sigh that sounded about as stressed as you were. “I wanted to propose a deal with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well—” Juyeon cupped the back of his neck with one hand. “I'm not the most adept poker player,” he confessed. If you remembered correctly, he nearly lost half his money throughout round one—then again, Changmin lost all of his. According to Le Chiffre, it was because he had read his tell incorrectly; you must have interpreted the wrong one, too. “And I figured that I'm not going to be making enough right moves in the second round to even stand a chance against Le Chiffre. You've got the balls to go up against him, and I know you're down a few bucks, so I wanted to bow out of the round and stake you instead.”

Both you and Changmin glanced at one another in surprise.

Juyeon was backing out… and wanted to stake Changmin? Stake, meaning to invest or sponsor him; to give Changmin funds.

Changmin's eyes narrowed. “And what would I do for you in return?”

“You would give the CIA Le Chiffre.”

What other choice did you and Changmin have? Five million was not enough to make a winning comeback; at least being sponsored would give Changmin enough cushion to make some more mistakes. The allyship between your governments was enough to make the CIA taking Le Chiffre in the end seem like a victory.

Changmin exhaled and stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

The second round was no less tense than the first. Changmin entered with more determination and fury than before, and Le Chiffre was no short of amusement and arrogance.

After Juyeon made his official departure from the game, he came to stand by you to spectate and offer insights wherever he could. The game chugged on by for another half hour with bets being placed, drinks being sipped, and money being exchanged.

You watched Changmin reach for his glass again, only to pause. There was a moment where you didn't breathe, and you watched his hand retract up toward his shirt collar to loosen it.

“Something wrong, Mr. Ji?” Le Chiffre asked.

You squinted at him, disliking the sinking feeling that had returned to your gut.

“Break,” Changmin suddenly called out, as he stumbled out of his seat and pushed out of the room in a hurry.

Eyes widened, you bolted after him, leaving Juyeon to wonder what had happened to Changmin.

You called out to your partner as he stumbled into the elevator, and you crashed in after him. “Oh my—fuck. What the fuck happened?” You asked as Changmin toppled over into you, sweat dripping down his face and his skin growing more and more flushed.

You jammed the button for your floor in a hurry as you attempted to hold him upright. “God, you're heavy, man—”

“Poison,” he choked out, practically ripping his shirt collar open, as if it was constricting his breathing. He gasped for air and clung onto you like a lifeboat.

Panic seized you by the heart and squeezed hard. “Oh my god. Okay—uhm, okay. What do we do? Changmin, what do we do?”

The elevator arrived on the seventh floor, and you half dragged Changmin toward your room. “The—the antid—antidote—”

“The antidote! We have an antidote?” You didn't have time to question him as you retrieved your room card from within your dress and barged into the hotel suite.

You deposited Changmin onto the floor as quickly and carefully as you could, hands shaking as you helped to take his shirt off so he could breathe.

“Safe,” he gasped to you.

“The safe? Fuck, what's the code?” You asked, clambering to your feet and racing over to the black box in the wall.

You heard him choke out the four digits, and the safe swung open without ceremony. You rifled around the contents and retrieved an aluminum foil packet with a slim syringe inside. “Found it!” You cried and practically slid across the floor to get back to him.

You ripped the packet open as Changmin's breathing continued to shallow, his skin paling, and his body growing weaker. His left palm had landed somewhere on his thigh—inject here.

“Shit,” you swore, grimacing to yourself before stabbing the syringe into his leg.

As soon as the liquid was gone, all you could do was pray.

But the storm clouds were beginning to clear, and color slowly returned to Changmin's face. You sank back onto your heels, relief and adrenaline coursing through you.

“Fucking hell, that was a close—”

White hot pain flashed through you as something—someone—grabbed you by your hair and yanked. Your scream pierced through the silence, and it was nearly enough to wake the dead.

They were dragging you backward toward the door, and you reached up to claw at their hands, your skull feeling as if it was being pulled into a million directions while being set ablaze, all at once.

“Let—go!” You screeched, thrashing around. You couldn't see your captor, but they suddenly released their grip on you.

Relief was short-lived.

Your head whipped to the side as a shoe met your cheek. Stars danced in your vision, and you cried out in pain—and then you begged. You were certain Changmin was still recovering, hardly in a state to save you, and desperation began to claw itself into your heart.

Your body was hoisted up beneath your armpits and you squirmed, fighting for your life.

For a second, you were sure you heard Changmin call out your name.

You threw your elbow back into your attacker's face, then tried the back of your head—the sound of pain and bones cracking echoing in your eardrum.

“You bitch!” They roared, loosening their grip to feel their broken nose.

You were a mess as you landed on the ground. A gleam of silver caught your eye. The gun.

Adrenaline seized you and you made a mad dash for the table where the gun was stowed beneath.

Your opponent caught your ankle and dragged you back down to earth. There was no time to mourn over bruised knees and limbs, and you kicked your heels out behind you in a blind fury, desperate to get away.

“Yn—”

“Please,” you screamed, begged. Whoever that was—you just wanted this to end. Fear coursed through you as your body began moving backwards and was dragged back to the door.

You dug your fingers against the polished ground, unsuccessfully gaining purchase. You clutched at a chair leg and dragged it along with you, and felt the hand around your ankle tighten—

With all your strength, you took the chair and heaved it back toward your captor. He let out a garbled swear, only agitated by your continued resistance. The hand around your ankle disappeared and you took it as an opportunity to get away.

“Not so fast.”

Your body hit the ground, the back of your head making purchase against stone. This time, you saw your assailant—he was one of the guards from earlier, likely working under Le Chiffre's orders. Blood dribbled down his lower face, courtesy of your retaliation.

“I should just kill you here and now,” he growled and enclosed his meaty hands around your neck. “Won't make a difference.”

You struggled against him, but to no avail. Your windpipe was being crushed and your vision blurred.

You thrashed and scratched and kicked—this was the end. Oh god, was this the end?—

A shot rang out.

Air slowly began seeping into your airway and you hacked a cough around the hands that had fallen away from your throat.

The dead body above you was heavy and sticky, and the smell of iron permeated your nose like a nightmare. You didn't even realize your cheeks were damp until you blinked and tears filled your eyes.

You nearly died just then.

With a suppressed sob, you shoved the dead body off you with all of your remaining strength.

There, by the table, was Changmin and the smoking gun in his hand. He still looked only half conscious, but he'd managed to get himself to sit up with pure willpower, enough to reach the gun stashed beneath the table, and to aim and fire a shot.

The room was quiet for a few moments, other than the persistent ringing in your ears.

Then you let yourself cry—it shook through your body and shoulders in violent sobs.

Changmin's chest clenched painfully at the sound, and the gun clattered out of his hand so he could crawl his way over to you. His hair, his face, his clothes were all dampened in sweat and the empty syringe laid abandoned on the floor. He made it over to where you were, the red of your dress mixed with the blood of a dead man, and held your body close to his.

“I'm sorry,” he muttered against your hair, lips pressed against your crown. “You’re okay; we're okay now,” he promised.

With his strength slowly returning to him, Changmin sat himself upright and let your body lean against him. You grappled onto him so tightly, as if he might slip out of your grasp.

It was almost thirty minutes later that you and Changmin returned to the poker game. With some gentle coaxing, he got you into the shower to wash the blood away, but you couldn't get the icky feeling clinging to you. He'd been gentle, though, letting you sit beneath the stream in your dress as he got onto the shower floor with you to run the water and soap through your hair.

In his hold, he rocked you gently through the tremors. “No one's gonna hurt you anymore, sweetheart,” he rasped. Never again, not if he could help it.

You'd never seen him like that—all the tenderness in his gaze out in the open.

And you'd only seen it when you glanced up at him once; the rest of the time, you tucked your chin to your knees, staring at a tile.

Unnerved but still alive, you entered the room with another clean dress, and Changmin with another clean set of clothes. You returned to your place beside Juyeon, and Changmin went back to the table to face Le Chiffre.

Le Chiffre, however, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes had widened just a millimeter, but it was enough.

Changmin dragged up the sleeves of his dress shirt, a predatorial-like gleam in his eyes. You almost killed me. Even worse, you dared to lay a dirty hand on her. “Sorry about that,” he drawled, gaze lifting to meet Le Chiffre's, “seemed that last hand nearly killed me.”

His opponent swallowed.

The game resumed.

With the final phase in play, the dealer announced that there could be no more buy-ins. Juyeon had fetched you a drink, which you were most grateful for, and Changmin avoided all beverages for the remainder of the game.

“Everything alright?” Juyeon asked you quietly as you chugged your drink.

“Perfectly.” You handed the drink off to a waiter nearby and smiled tightly. “We were just strategizing on how to murder this game.” You hoped he didn't hear the tremor in your voice.

As the final round approached, each of the four finalists that were left alive were asked to make their bets. Each player slowly, but surely, slid all of their remaining chips into the center.

Everyone was all in.

“Reveal your cards, if you please.”

One by one, the cards in each player's hand was turned. The room held its collective breath as Le Chiffre revealed an ace and a six—a fuller house, with three aces and two sixes.

All that was left were Changmin's.

With little more than an arched brow, he slid his cards apart: a five and seven, both of which were spades. When joined together with the rest, they made—

“A straight flush,” announced the dealer. “Monsieur Ji wins the game.”

Cheers and applause rang out throughout the room as the game finally came to a close. Relief soared through you, and you shook hands with Juyeon at Changmin's success. Perhaps twenty million had been spent, but it all meant that you had won back that money in full.

From your standpoint, you couldn't see Le Chiffre's reaction, but he didn't look pleased. He stormed out of the room only moments later.

Changmin was swift to join the two of you, his hand coming to lie on your shoulder. “We should go after him,” he said.

Juyeon nodded, expression sobering. “You're right.”

“I'm going with you,” you told him. Already anticipating his refusal, you shut him down with a look. Though you might have been shaken from the night's near-death experience, it only seemed to steel over your resolve to catch this bastard. “I'm safer with you; don't try to argue with me.”

He knew you were right—you saw the reluctant agreement in his eyes. He grunted, “Okay, but you're staying behind me the entire time and when I say run, you better run.”

You patted his chest and followed after Juyeon. “Of course.”

The three of you raced after Le Chiffre in the direction he disappeared. He'd gone up to the second floor via the grand staircase in the lobby, but neither you nor the other boys knew which direction he went from there. The second floor was damn near close to a labyrinth.

“We split up,” Changmin declared. “Me and Yn go one way and Juyeon takes the other.”

“Wait, Juyeon goes alone?” You butted in. “Le Chiffre is dangerous and desperate; that combination isn't good for anybody.”

“None of us have any weapons either,” Juyeon pointed out.

Changmin gestured to you. From beneath the skirt of your new dress, you withdrew the pistol from earlier out into the light. After what happened in your suite, the both of you thought it best to let security measures be damned and holster a gun to your inner thigh. And now, it was proving to be the right decision.

Juyeon deadpanned, amending, “I don't have a weapon.”

“Then you should go get one,” Changmin said smartly. You rolled your eyes at him.

“I—shit.” Juyeon huffed in frustration. “Goddamn it. You better hold your promise, Ji.”

“My word is gold,” Changmin swore as you passed him the pistol. “We'll find Le Chiffre; you call for backup.”

With that matter settled, you grabbed Changmin's hand and set off in one direction.

His fingers tightened around you as you stuck close behind him. The corridor was hauntingly quiet with not a soul around. You and Changmin trudged onward and kept your eyes and ears open for anybody hiding behind a corner or waiting to enact revenge on your poker victory tonight.

The hair on your arms and the back of your neck stood erect, heart thundering loudly in your ears.

So loud, that you almost missed it.

You caught Changmin's eyes. Did you hear that?

There it was—it sounded like voices coming from a room further down the hall.

“—please, just a few more weeks, and I can get you your money back!”

A muffled response in return.

“NO! I swear, I'll do better! I have another i—”

You never heard the end of Le Chiffre's offer. There was only the sound of a metallic swish, followed by a dull weight hitting the ground. A body.

Your breath hitched as you and Changmin looked around wildly for a swift exit or cover. There was an emergency stairwell just a few doors down.

Changmin grabbed you and booked it.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pressed you against the open doorway, eyes flickering somewhere behind you to watch the door the voices had come from.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, eyes furiously searching your own.

You didn't have to think about it. “Yes.”

Just as a door opened in the hallway, Changmin cupped your jaw with his hand, braced himself against the doorway with the other, and kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered closed upon immediate impact and you felt your heart leap into your throat. His lips moved gently against your own, as if afraid of breaking you, and his hand moved down from your jaw to wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him.

One moment you were melting into his embrace, and the next, he was shoving you behind the other side of the doorway for cover.

A war cry rang out—not Changmin, you realized—as a body blurred past you and was thrown into the stairwell's metal railing. Your soul nearly left your body, head turning in time to throw yourself out of the way of the incoming bodies.

Changmin brawled and grappled on the floor with a second man, a silver machete glistening in the dim light, only a few centimeters from his throat. The first man was slowly beginning to stand up, and your eyes tracked where Changmin's gun had skidded to the floor.

You swiped the gun up just as Changmin wrestled his opponent off him.

With adrenaline powering through you, you smashed the butt of the gun against the back of the man's skull. He crumpled to the cement—unconscious.

“Here,” you breathed, helping Changmin to his feet and shoving the gun into his hand.

He shook his dizziness away, eyes widened on something behind you. “YN, DUCK!”

You swore, and dropped to the ground, narrowly missing the arc of the first man's machete attempting to remove the head from your shoulders.

You dove down the first set of stairs to get out of the way of the fight, your knees and hands scraping against the cement and bruising.

The man with the machete attacked Changmin with reckless abandon, swinging his blade and striking the railing to make sparks fly. Changmin had no opening to use his firearm and—oh shit. They were coming this way.

“Yn, you better be fucking running.”

He didn't need to tell you twice. You tumbled down more stairs, ditching your heels as you went. You would be useless in this fight, so your best action would be to get the fuck out of the way.

Changmin's breath flew out of his chest as he hit the wall hard, then stuck his hands out in time to stop the assassin from impaling his head on the sword. Changmin drove his knee into his stomach, then threw him across the stairs to the opposite landing.

The fight clambered on down the spiral stairwell, metal clashing against metal, and bone and flesh grinding against stone. Changmin gritted his teeth as he fumbled backwards down the stairs, hitting the opposing wall with even more momentum.

He ducked—and missed another swing; and another; and another.

There was a kick to his gut, and his body went flying. His assailant took a leaping start and charged. Changmin grabbed at his hands again, desperately attempting to wrestle the machete away.

The weapon went sailing; that was his opening.

With pure adrenaline, Changmin fisted the man's shirt and flung him over whatever railing was left. You cursed as his body hit the basement floor with a thump.

Changmin tackled him as he attempted to climb to his feet. With the violent thrashing, Changmin ended up beneath him, his arm wrapped tightly around his opponent's neck, and he squeezed.

The man's arm flopped about, desperately reaching for the gun that scattered onto the floor from all the ruckus. If he could just reach it—

You lunged for the gun, tripping as the man clawed at your ankle to throw you off. You shrieked, swinging the barrel at his hand to knock it away.

When you finally managed to scramble backward, you watched the light fade in the assassin's eyes.

As soon as the man slumped in death, Changmin loosened his grip and crawled out from beneath the body.

You clambered over to him and helped him to his feet, his joints and muscles screaming as he attempted to straighten. He groaned, white-knuckling the railing, “Fucking hell.”

“Are you okay? Holy shit, Changmin,” you said, wrapping your arms around him to hold him up. There had been too many close calls there.

You passed a glance over at the corpse lying on the floor about a meter away from you. A shudder rippled down your spine, and you felt Changmin's hand on your forearm, like he knew.

From up above, you heard the sound of the stairwell door opening. The two of you peered straight upwards as a familiar face peered over the landing.

“Le Chiffre's dead,” said Juyeon. In his hand was a pistol; it seemed he finally retrieved his firearm.

“No shit,” you and Changmin replied simultaneously, chests heaving up and down in laborious panting.

Juyeon blinked, squinting his eyes to take in your appearances. “What the fuck happened to you guys?”

“Careful,” you called up to him, “that guy isn't dead.”

Juyeon jolted and he considered the body at his feet with new awareness.

You threw one of Changmin's arms around you to begin the ascent back up. “Can you—fuck. Is that yours?” You swore for the thousandth time tonight as you peered over at the growing dark splotch of red seeping through Changmin's shirt.

He hung his head as strength rapidly bled out of him with his own life force, and you carefully laid Changmin down on the ground.

“Juyeon!” You called out. “Juyeon, help!”

You heard rapid footsteps in the distance, but it faded to background noise as you ripped open Changmin's shirt and came face to face with the vicious knife wound in his abdomen. “Oh my god,” you whispered. God, there was so much blood.

“Cover the wound, Yn,” Juyeon said to you as he leapt down the final steps. “Fuck, this looks bad.”

“He must not have begun to feel it until the adrenaline was over,” you reasoned in a desperate attempt to keep your head on straight. Per Juyeon's instructions, you pressed your palms over the wound, bile rising in your throat from all the blood. “Changmin—Changmin, come on. Stay with me.”

He murmured something you couldn't hear, and you leaned your ear down over his lips. “Come on, talk to me, love. Tell me something, anything.”

His voice came out, barely there. “I'm… I'm glad I got—I got to see you again.”

And he would see you again. That was a promise you made to yourself, and to him, as Juyeon called for his reinforcements and you clung onto Ji Changmin's life with your own.

When Changmin came to, it was bright enough to blind him. There was a fuckass beam of sunlight shining right into his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, wrinkling his face into a grimace. There was a violent throbbing in his abdominal area that ached when he attempted to roll over or sit up.

Was he dead?

“You're not dead.”

His body immediately relaxed into the sheets he was settled in. When his eyes grew accustomed to the god awful amount of light in the room, he was met by the sight of your face, silhouetted against the sun, and beautiful. “Are you sure? 'Cause I'm pretty sure you're an angel.”

Your palm came over to rest against his forehead, and his eyes fluttered shut. “You must still have that fever,” you teased.

When you both shared a laugh, he opened his eyes again.

It seemed he was in a hospital room—well, something akin to that. It looked more like a small bedroom was transformed into one, and he laid on the bed with a heart rate monitor hooked up to him on the side. You perched on the edge of his bed with a cardigan draped over your frame, and something soft in your eyes.

No, he was definitely in heaven. Maybe he didn't die, but he was in heaven.

Your expression sobered as your hand drifted down to caress the side of his face. “You lost a lot of blood,” you whispered. “I was really worried about you.”

Changmin brought his hand up to gently take your wrist and turn your palm inward, his lips meeting your hand in a butterfly kiss. “Hey, sweetheart. I'm alright now, see?” He intertwined your fingers, missing the feeling of how they felt interlocked in the hotel hallway.

The hotel hallway—the fight—Le Chiffre—the kiss. His lips seared at the memory, and he fought the urge to touch his lips at the phantom sensation.

“What happened?” He croaked out instead, gazing up at you. His heart tugged against its confines when he made out the shape of dark purple smudged against your cheekbone. It was the bruise forming from the guard who came after you, and it made Changmin ache to see.

Hurt, you'd been so hurt.

You shifted your body so you could tuck your feet onto the bed, too. “Juyeon came with reinforcements and we got you out of there as soon as possible. One of Le Chiffre's clients killed him—the guys you fought with in the stairwell. Apparently he'd used their money to buy into the game, and because he wasn't able to win, they killed him.”

Changmin stared up at the eggshell-colored ceiling. He supposed that would have been the tangible evidence needed to convict Le Chiffre, but his client was faster at acting as judge, jury, and executioner.

“M's on her way to meet with you,” you continued, your thumb gently tracing dizzying circles onto the back of his hand.

“To be expected,” he chuckled. He glanced back up at you. “How are you? Were you hurt at all?”

You shook your head. “No, nothing to your extent. There were a few scratches and bruises, but nothing time won't heal.”

“And everything else?” Your mental state, especially after all you went through, could not have been in a terrific place. If he could have prevented you from experiencing any of what happened, he would do it in a heartbeat.

The pure fear that speared through his chest when he thought you were about to die…

He had long since figured out that what he felt for you was not simply platonic. It was more—he yearned for more. Seeing you again after so long just made it worse.

You made a noncommittal noise. “I'll… I'll be alright.”

For a moment, the room filled with only silence and the white noise from the heart rate monitor. You suddenly perked up at something, and turned to reach over to grab an item from the side table. Changmin recognized the small laptop device from the poker game now seated on your lap.

“The money pit from the game was stored in escrow in a Swiss bank. A representative from the bank delivered this to us,” you explained, showing him the screen. It left room for a passcode to be filled in. “To the victor go the spoils, love.”

The nickname made him shudder and he forced himself into an upright position.

“Changmin—”

“I got it,” he countered and stubbornly gritted his teeth through the pain until he was seated against the headboard next to you. He clutched his injury, head knocked back against the wood. “Well? Wanna guess the password?”

You lifted your brows in amusement. “Do you know how many six letter combinations exist out there? For all I know, it was a random keyboard smash.”

He chuckled lowly, leaning his chin against your shoulder. “S.”

We're really doing this? You seemed to ask with the expression on your face. You humored him, though, pressing down on the S key.

“W.”

The letters that followed amounted to S-W-T-H-R-T. You were quiet for a second as you stared at the final combination; you didn't want to press the enter key just yet.

Changmin murmured against your shoulder. “I'm not one for corny messages, but that's a 'sweetheart’ if I've ever seen one.”

You were still quiet as you pressed enter and unlocked the winner's pot. There was no special celebration, no balloons or confetti—just a solid number with too many zeroes for your little heart to handle. Perhaps, in the end, there really was no amount of money in the world that could buy your company. Not if you freely gave it, at least.

Changmin felt his chest lurch. “Yn, sweetheart, say something.” He leaned off your shoulder so you could turn your body to face him, the laptop returning to its place on the side table.

“What should I say?” You asked, your fingers playing with his own in your two hands.

“I'm sorry if the kiss was too much.”

You faltered for a second. “It, uhm, it wasn't too much. I actually thought that it was nice.”

“You did?” He hated the way hope made him feel, how it made his heart sprout wings—maybe he was dead.

A small smile crawled onto your lips and you dug your teeth into your bottom lip. “Maybe I did.” You raised a hand to the side of your face, an embarrassed groan falling out of your mouth. “God, I feel like a teenager with a crush again.”

“Giddy?”

“Pathetic,” you teased. You leaned your head against the headboard again as you looked over at him with the most beautiful gleam in your eyes he had ever seen.

He never understood the romanticizing of someone's eyes—what else had he ever discerned but fear or boredom? But he could hear your laugh just by seeing your smile reach your eyes, and he could feel the warmth spreading in his chest and making electricity zip down his spine from the tenderness in your irises.

He swallowed hard. “If you feel pathetic, then I am literally chopped liver,” he said. A surge of courage, the kind that was a trademark of his reputation, propelled his next words: “I'd like to kiss you again.”

Your eyes darted to his lips and he clung onto that detail as if he were hanging by a thread. “Because you saved the world, Agent 007, you can kiss the girl,” you mused.

You leaned over him slightly and cupped the back of his head, mouth meeting his own in a familiar dance. Even with his injury, he pushed back to meet you, and ignored the throbbing in his stomach, so he could haul you closer, over, around him. Anything to get you pressed up against him.

Real—you were real, and you were alive, and so was he.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! omg that permanent taglist looks SCARY 😭😭😭

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @deobi0412 @sunramzi @honeyrecommends @synthwxve @dearly-somber @empire-x @kflixnet

[stealanity]

playlist one , the boyz ( cch to src ) :

⠀

ꕤ choi chanhee ,

the so-called boyfriend ( smau , hiatus )

better

yarrow

cry for me

strawberry flavor

champagne kiss

⠀

[ 8:42pm ]

[ 10:42pm ]

[ 11:12pm ]

[ 5:25am ]

⠀

ꕤ ji changmin ,

you did well

lying eyes

first love

dream of you

dream of you ( part two )

⠀

[ 10:32pm ]

[ 2:24am ]

[ 6:17am ]

[ 6:14pm ]

⠀

ꕤ ju haknyeon ,

our secret little date

⠀

[ 12:24pm ]

[ 8:23pm ]

[ 9:36pm ]

⠀

ꕤ kim sunwoo ,

color palette ( smau , finished )

game over ( ft. eric , written serie , discontinued )

you're save

late night kiss

a to z being your boyfriend

old toy

new toy

ghost train

just friends

easier

unashamedly

⠀

[ 3:47am ]

[ 3:45am ]

[ 9:45pm ]

[ 6:38pm ]

[ 11:57pm ]

[ 11:25pm ]

⠀

ꕤ sohn eric ,

endless race ( smau , finished )

game over ( ft. sunwoo , written serie , discontinued )

age of love

broken night

never be you

roulette to your heart

because of you

black hair & red lipstick

all over

one bed

birthday present(s)

⠀

[ 3:22pm ]

[ 2:56pm ]

[ 2:24pm ]

[ 2:04am ]

⠀

ꕤ ot-eleven ,

sorry, for breaking your heart ( written serie , hiatus )

kiss or kill? ( one shot )

the boyz as the vamps' songs

october 19 : international kiss your crush day

kiss their s/o for the first time

their s/o asking them for one last kiss

their s/o having a habit of sitting on their lap

their s/o being drunk

their s/o cutting their hair short

their s/o holding hands when they're anxious / clingy

their crush not being touchy

always having an extra scrunchie for their s/o

watching a horror movie with their s/o

sharing a bed with their s/o for the first time

accidently outing their relationship on vlive

⠀

. . . link to hyung line !

[wolvesland]

─── 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐑 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐓? ֪

→ Ji Changmin x Leitora

→ Palavras: 2K

AVISOS: smut, sobrenatural, fantasia, abo, changmin!lobo, leitora!humana, palavras pejorativas, creampie, sexo sem camisinha.

📌 ps:. sempre use camisinha, se proteja, se cuide, é a sua saúde que está em jogo.

📌 masterlist

© all rights reserved by @everykebbie

© tradução (pt/br) by @wolvesland

Foi ideia do Haknyeon fazer uma pequena reunião em outubro. Era uma festa de fraternidade, claro. Haknyeon e Eric tomaram as rédeas e exageraram nas bebidas e numa zona de dança foleira, cheia de gente bêbeda se esfregando uns nos outros, e o espaço cheirava a suor.

As luzes de neon púrpura e verde brilhavam à medida que se entrava na entrada principal da casa de Haknyeon, o local decorado para o halloween. Algumas fotografias assustadoras acompanham salpicos de sangue falso espalhados pelas paredes; algumas crianças de aspeto estranho se exibiam perto de imagens estranhas de fantasmas e vampiros. Uma porta tinha um esqueleto pendurado num laço, e cada vez que alguém a abre, o esqueleto solta um grito gravado.

Na sua opinião, esta festa estava uma loucura.

E lá estava você, sentada nos bancos da mesa da ilha ao lado do Jacob, a tirar fotos.

— O que você é? Um vampiro? – Você levanta a questão, enchendo dois copos de shot até à borda com o álcool escolhido.

Você ouve Jacob rindo enquanto ajeita a gola da capa e sorri.

— O que é que me denunciou? – Ele pergunta, arqueando uma sobrancelha para o seu fato. — Chucky? Do filme Child's Play? Caramba, o Changmin está perdendo...

Jacob estava tonto quando voltou a olhar para você, e você conseguia ver brilho nos olhos dele.

— Hum, foi uma ideia de última hora. Calado... – Você se queixa a Jacob antes de ajustar a correia da sua jardineira azul desbotadas.

O objetivo da sua fantasia era surpreender o seu namorado com o seu ícone de terror preferido. No entanto, conhecendo Changmin, ele ia adorar qualquer coisa que você vestisse.

Pegando no copo de shot com uma mão, você e Jacob batem os copos antes de engolirem o líquido amargo. O sabor ainda não melhorou.

— Ugh... O Kevin está atrasado. O seu namorado está atrasado... Estão todos atrasados... Talvez devêssemos dançar... – Jacob sugere, inclinando a cabeça para você antes de se inclinar o suficiente para pousar a cabeça no seu ombro.

Por um momento, você não respira.

— S/N.

Uma voz chama por entre a multidão de pessoas. Jacob não se mexe, mesmo quando o seu namorado lobo se aproxima com um sorriso de dentes estampado na cara.

— Meu boneco Chucky! Tão fofa! – Ele grita, ofegante ao te ver.

No entanto, os seus olhos estão escuros, como quando lhe sorri.

— Surpresa! Eu te disse que valia a pena vir está noite... – Você ri, estendendo a mão para ele.

Changmin estava vestindo uma calça de ganga rasgada e uma camisa azul esfarrapada cortada em fita em volta da cintura. No rosto dele tinha uma sombra escura. O que parecia ser tinta facial castanha estava salpicada nas bochechas e no queixo para dar um efeito sombrio. Um par de orelhas de cachorro castanha e falsa estava presa a uma fita fina na cabeça dele.

— Um cachorro, amor? – Você pergunta, apesar de saber o que ele queria.

— Um lobo. Vai lá, trabalhei muito para isto. – Ele se lamenta, fazendo beicinho.

Changmin continua a não reconhecer Jacob, que se aproxima para servir uma terceira dose.

— Ah, um lobo? Ah não, não me come, ou talvez você devesse. – Você provoca, mexendo as sobrancelhas antes de Jacob se levantar e dar um copo de shot a Changmin.

— Não brinca. Você sabe que eu te comeria, querida...

Isso é tudo o que Changmin consegue responder com a sua voz rouca. A voz dele te percorre instantaneamente a espinha, e acende um fogo na sua virilha antes de Jacob te puxar a manga.

— Você me prometeu uma dança... – Jacob sorri, te puxando novamente pelo braço com um sorriso suave, enquanto se dirige lentamente para a sala de estar de Haknyeon, onde a música tocava e as terríveis luzes de discoteca cintilavam na sua visão.

Atrás de você, Changmin estava bebendo um shot, antes de ir buscar outra cerveja na caixa térmica, estreitando o olhar enquanto te vê dançando com Jacob. A capa preta e as presas falsas fazem o pulso do lobo saltar. Embora, não no bom sentido, ele observa as mãos de Jacob a deslizarem pelas suas costas enquanto dançavam ao ritmo da música. Um sorriso bonito aparece nos seus lábios quando você se solta e sente a vibração da música a tocar.

A bola de discoteca em cima de você iluminava o rosto de Jacob. As suas feições são ocasionalmente sombreadas, porque a bola girava um pouco depressa demais. Há um olhar distante nos olhos dele, mas fica suficientemente claro para ele pousar as mãos no seu quadril para dançar.

Cada pulsação da batida fazia os seus ouvidos vibrarem, o seu coração bateu forte enquanto balançava os quadris e jogava as mãos para o ar quando Eric, o DJ principal, gritava através da música para fazer mais barulho. Foi um pouco patético; julgava no fundo da sua mente, mas você sabia que Eric estava apenas tentando se diverti.

A sua cintura é agarrada por novas mãos, mãos essas que a afastaram lentamente do abraço de Jacob, e a virou o suficiente para vislumbrar o olhar selvagem do seu namorado. Os olhos dele estavam fixos nas escadas na sua frente.

— Min? Caramba, estou indo. O que aconteceu? – Você pergunta, preocupada com o fato dele passar na frente das pessoas, enquanto vê uma veia pulsando no pescoço dele.

Ele estava zangado.

Changmin não fala enquanto abre o quarto mais próximo e a fecha com o pé.

— Ele estava te tocando.

É tudo o que Changmin diz enquanto a puxa para si com ardor, o hálito dele se espalhava pelos seus lábios.

— Ele é só um amigo, certo? – Ele pergunta com uma voz suave, mas mortífera, enquanto você olha para ele.

— Ele é só um amigo, Changmin. Eu prometo. Ele estava bêbado... E você está com ciúmes... – Você diz baixinho, envolvendo os braços em volta do pescoço dele e passando as pontas dos dedos no cabelo dele.

Changmin bufa, abanando imediatamente a cabeça.

— Não estou com ciúmes. – Ele argumenta, se afastando de ti para se sentar na cama.

Ele passa uma mão pelo cabelo e molha os lábios.

— Eu só...

— Você é tão ciumento, amor. – Você ri enquanto se aproxima do lugar onde ele se sentou na cama, você se senta confortavelmente no colo dele.

Uma vez mais, os seus braços envolvem o pescoço dele, o puxando para junto de si.

— Mas o Jacob não fez por mal. – Você acrescenta.

— Ele estava te tocando... Dançando colado em você... Eu... Deus, eu queria dizer alguma coisa, mas... Você tem razão. Ele não quis fazer por mal. Isso não significa que ele possa sair com a minha bebê.

Nesse momento, os braços de Changmin envolvem a sua cintura, fazendo com que vocês fiquem peito com peito, os lábios dele se curvam num sorriso delicado antes de te beijar febrilmente. Os lábios dele estavam quentes, e o beijo é carregado de inveja e necessidade, enquanto o beija de volta com selvageria. Os seus braços se enroscam em volta do pescoço dele para o puxar para mais perto, enquanto inclina a cabeça para o lado.

As tranças detestáveis que estava usando começaram a atrapalhar, o que leva Changmin a levantar o seu cabelo com as duas mãos durante alguns momentos, enquanto desaperta um dos elásticos e o prende facilmente para trás, o afastando do rosto.

Com as bocas coladas, um gemido suave sai de você quando Changmin segura suavemente a sua nuca, e ambos sentem o sabor do álcool nas suas línguas.

Se afastando, Changmin passa um dedo pelo seu peito antes de desabotoar os fechos da sua calça e de as puxar para baixo. A seguir é a camisa às riscas, que é puxada para fora do seu corpo com pressa, fazendo você quase cair do colo dele.

Changmin passa rapidamente um braço em volta da parte inferior das suas costas para a impedir de cair, enquanto atira a camisa para outro lado.

— Ele não devia te tocar assim... Me diz que você é minha, princesa. – Pede com a voz baixa, enquanto se inclina e deposita beijo após beijo na sua clavícula e no seu seios.

A sua respiração fica entrecortada, passando as mãos pelos caracóis castanhos dele e o puxando para junto do seu peito com um murmúrio suave.

— Sou toda... Sou toda sua, Changmin. Sou sua. – As palavras caem rapidamente dos seus lábios beijados e mordidos, você estava sentindo como ele te beija o pescoço e as duas pequenas marcas de alfinetadas deixadas pelos dentes dele há meia dúzia de luas cheias, quando finalmente você aceitou ele como seu suposto companheiro.

O mundo sobrenatural é misterioso, mas Changmin, o lobo dos seus sonhos, está aqui para ficar.

Os beijos dele se tornam cada vez mais urgentes, você sente as calças de ganga rasgadas dele a ficarem mais apertadas e a protuberância em que estava agora mesmo sentada faz com que a sua calcinha fique húmida de excitação.

Num instante, as suas costas são pressionadas contra o colchão e o seu namorado paira sobre a sua forma com as pupilas dilatadas e enevoadas. O calor que vem de Changmin faz com que o seu corpo se aqueça enquanto você puxa a camisa dele.

— Vai me foder no quarto do Haknyeon? Muito atrevido, Minnie? – Você pergunta enquanto ele se agarra às suas coxas e puxa a camisa por cima da cabeça, as orelhas de cachorro caem no chão, e por um segundo, Changmin ri.

— O Haknyeon devia ter trancado a porta. – Ele murmura.

As mãos dele deslizam por baixo de você para desabotoar o sutiã, que é puxado para longe e adicionado à pilha crescente de roupa no chão. Imediatamente, as mãos dele vão ao encontro dos seus seios, os apertando suavemente, enquanto ele vai beijando para baixo, para baixo, para baixo.

Estava meio despida, as calças começam a ser puxadas para fora das suas pernas enquanto Changmin se desloca, sorrindo para você enquanto elas caem finalmente no chão. O lobo beija agora a parte interna da tua coxa, adorando o quão bonita você é embaixo dele, e agarrando o seu cabelo.

— Hum, outra vez, amor... Preciso de você... – Ele sussurra, e você geme.

Não há nada melhor do que a boca de Changmin no seu clitóris pulsante.

— Anda logo. Não quero ser pega... – As palavras morrem na língua quando Changmin se levanta e começa a abrir as calças de ganga preta.

Não há nada mais excitante do que ver a pele cor de mel dele e ver como ele tira as calças com pressa, com a cueca apertada em volta do pau duro.

A sua boca fica seca, e ao mesmo tempo, você estende a mão para o ajudar a tirar a cueca antes que o lobo colida com o seu corpo.

Você tem tempo suficiente para se ajustar contra os lençóis quando Changmin atira a cueca para o lado, você ofega quando a sua calcinha fina é empurrada para o lado para que o seu namorado comece finalmente a alinhar o comprimento dele na sua entrada.

O quarto está abafado quando Changmin te aperta com força contra ele, ele entra lentamente com um grunhido, com os olhos fechados, e você ofega. O sexo com o seu namorado não é nada de extraordinário, mas isso não muda o fato de ele ser grande e de te encher até à borda, até você ficar tremendo como uma folha.

— Porra... – Você murmura, abrindo as pernas para deixar Changmin ficar entre elas.

No início, ele estoca lentamente, aprofundando o pau dentro de você com um gemido. Os olhos dele ficam fechados por mais um momento antes de se fixarem nos seus quando a pélvis dele encontra as tuas coxas.

— Você é tão... Apertada. – Ele geme, agarrando o seu quadril enquanto se afasta o suficiente antes de deslizar para dentro de você.

A primeira investida te faz gemer, os olhos se fecham e os seus braços envolvem o pescoço de Changmin para o puxar para junto de você. Suas unhas começam a fincar os ombros dele à medida que ele se enraízava em você, aquecendo você o suficiente para que ele te abrace finalmente.

— Porra... Ele nunca vai te ver assim. Ele nunca vai ter você debaixo dele, você sabe muito bem que é eu que faço você se sentir assim tão bem. – Ele sussurra, os quadris agora batendo nos seus enquanto ele fode a sua buceta encharcada, cedendo à necessidade de ter certeza que Jacob sabia que você era dele.

Tudo o que você pode fazer é gemer debaixo do seu amante, com o peito a tremer em volta do pau dele, fazendo Changmin sibilar por cima de você.

— Calado e me fode, Minnie. – Você suspira com a cabeça virada para trás a cada investida dele contra o seu ponto mais doce.

O pau dele desaparece por breves instantes, te fazendo gemer e abrir de novo os olhos para ele, e num instante, o seu corpo é virado, os joelhos batem na cama e Changmin te agarra pela cintura para te puxar de novo para o seu comprimento com um gemido do seu nome.

— Calado e te foder, é? Assim? – Changmin sussurra baixinho no seu ouvido, enquanto se cobre nas suas costas, e bombeia na sua buceta com mais força, te fazendo guinchar e agarrar os lençóis da cama com tanta força que os nós dos dedos ficam pálidos.

— Sim... Oh porra... – Você murmura para o travesseiro.

O aperto de Changmin na sua cintura estava forte, mas você sabia que iria sentir as marcas das mãos dele suavemente pela manhã. Como memórias gravadas na sua pele.

As suas costas se arqueam sob ele à medida que ele leva o pau para casa mais depressa, os lençóis roçam o seu clitóris sensível, fazendo o seu coração palpitar alto nos seus ouvidos, enquanto te balança na cama até as suas mãos encontrarem a estrutura de metal preto da cabeceira da cama de Haknyeon. Você a agarra com força enquanto Changmin passa a mão por baixo de você para encontrar aquele pequeno feixe de nervos.

— Min... Ah vou gozar se você fizer isso! – Você grita enquanto ele esfrega o seu clitóris ao mesmo tempo que as investidas dele.

— Ótimo. Porque você não me faz uma bagunça, princesa? – Changmin pergunta, com a voz baixa o suficiente para você saber que isso vai te fazer passar dos limites, e é o que acontece.

Você goza com um gemido alto, seus olhos se apertam com força enquanto as suas coxas tremem debaixo dele no pico do seu orgasmo.

— Changmin, oh porra, não, não, não para! – Você entra em pânico quando ele afasta a mão do seu clítoris e começa a desaparecer na agonia do seu orgasmo.

Changmin ri enquanto volta a agarrar os seus quadris e te penetra mais fundo. Ele sente que está muito perto e precisa de um pouco mais de tempo.

— Você vai gozar no meu nó, princesa. Não vai ser melhor? – Ele pergunta, a base do pau dele já estava a inchar na esperança de dar um nó na companheira dele até no final da noite.

Fazer o nó não era nada de novo na relação de vocês. Era algo que você e Changmin falavam muito, pois a ideia te deixava sempre mais húmida do que nunca. A primeira vez foi interessante, para dizer o mínimo, mas agora é praticamente impossível fazer sexo com o seu namorado sem que ele te dê um nó na buceta como se fosse o dono dela.

Você não consegue respirar, ou falar uma palavra, outro orgasmo estava por vim enquanto Changmin te abraça. A cama estremece debaixo de você enquanto ele te penetra com força.

Você se sentia relaxando à medida que outra onda de euforia te invadia, Changmin grunhe enquanto o nó dele te provoca a buceta. O som úmido e escorregadio do sexo de vocês faz com que fiquem ambos molhados de suor, e você grita quando o nó dele salta, e ele suspira de alívio ao te encher.

Você se sentia quente por todo o lado.

Changmin te abraça, com os braços em volta da sua cintura, enquanto você se abaixa lentamente na cama, com as suas costas contra o peito dele. A boca dele percorre a sua nuca até no seu pescoço, onde deposita beijos suaves e reconfortantes.

— Tão bom... Você foi tão boa para mim... – Ele murmura no seu cabelo, enquanto o seu coração dispara.

Você geme com o pau dele enterrado na sua buceta, o nó dele se recusando a deixar que alguma coisa escorra pelas suas coxas e suje os lençóis do Haknyeon.

Changmin entra facilmente no seu comportamento mais suave depois de ter arrancado dois orgasmos da sua amada.

— Fui demasiado duro, anjo? – Ele pergunta acariciando o lado do seu corpo, enquanto ambos ouvem o som de baixo de qualquer música que Eric esteja a misturar na mesa do DJ.

— Hum, só estou com sono... – Você murmura com as mãos dele encontrando as suas, depois dele ter enfiado debaixo de você para a puxar para junto do peito suado dele.

— Vai passar num segundo... E depois podemos ir para casa, princesa. – Ele sussurra, te beijando a nuca mais algumas vezes, enquanto se deitam amarrados um ao outro.

— Você me deve uma. Vamos ver o Skinamarink mais tarde. – Você diz sem fôlego.

Changmin choraminga imediatamente no seu cabelo.

— Aquele filme de terror foi uma porcaria... Mas qualquer coisa para você, princesa, vai ter pipoca com manteiga? – Ele pergunta inspirando enquanto você ri ao lado dele.

— A pipoca com manteiga é obrigatória na noite de halloween, não é?

[winterchimez]

Insanity | Ji Changmin

SUMMARY: It has been several years since Gotham City mourned the passing of the previous Robin, Ji Changmin. However, as you continue with your career as Batgirl to protect the city while filling in for your mentor, Batman, you eventually discover that Changmin was alive all these years after all but has now turned into the city’s most wanted criminal. It is your job to eliminate him for good, but you just can’t bring yourself to do so. How could you? Especially when you still have feelings for him even after all these years. 

PAIRING: robin/joker Changmin x batgirl f!reader (feat. nightwing Sangyeon)

GENRE: batman au, angst, crime, thriller, some fluff, slight suggestive

WARNINGS: nc-17, slow-burn, violence, manipulation, mentions of drug trafficking, torture, traumatic(-ish) childhood, time skip, characters' death, kissing, mentions of weapons (guns, snipers, blades, etc.), blood, both Changmin & Sangyeon are just SO flirty here

WORD COUNT: 14,136 (wowza)

A/N: happiest birthday to my pookie, my beloved lil 妹妹 whom i love so so freaking much and would protect with the rest of my life, @sungbeam 🥳 you've been there since day 1 of my writing journey, and no words could ever describe how much you mean to me 🥹 i hope this fic would somehow be a worthy gift to you miss beam 😮‍💨

also this is my first time writing a superhero au, so pls bear with me it might not be the best i apologise 😭 (this is by far the longest oneshot ive ever written oops—)

Year 2X42

“There have been reports of cases of drug trafficking on the outskirts of Gotham City, and the league have decided to deploy you and your team for the job since it is your area of residence, after all.” 

Turning around from his chair, the male looks up at his huge monitor, seemingly replying to the person on screen as half-heartedly as possible. “Sure, Clark. Leave it up to me to deal with the dirty business of the city.” 

Clark—better known as Clark Kent or Superman, then quickly shifted his facial expression towards his good old friend, indicating that the situation was far more gruesome and serious than it used to be. 

“Bruce... just a fair warning. You do know who the mastermind of this particular crime spree is, especially when you have dealt with him for decades. You certainly don’t plan to bring your two kids with you, right?” 

That was when he immediately brought up his fingers to massage his temples. Bruce knew he would eventually bring them up on this particular topic. Why wouldn’t he? Especially when his two kids, whom he is especially proud of—you and Changmin, have assisted him in many of his work. 

You both have been registered in the league’s system for quite a few years now, Changmin starting a little ahead of you since he was a few years older than you were. Both you and Changmin have lived in poverty in the dark slumps of the outskirts of Gotham for many years, having been abandoned by your parents from a young age. It was tough to live in Gotham City, especially when the city was often tied with crime and corruption. If only you were born into the upper class, then you would’ve had a better chance of survival. 

Unfortunately, you and Changmin just had to end up in the city's lower class. All Changmin knew about his parents was that his mother was a prostitute, and he ended up becoming an aftermath of a one-night stand. Hence, he was immediately dumped on the streets right after birth. Some kind-hearted families took him in for a while, but eventually, he needed to venture out on his own to ease the family's expenses. 

On the other hand, you had a relatively good upbringing until your parent’s murder when you were 9. Having no other place or family to turn to, you eventually find your way into the slumps. 

And that was when you met Changmin. 

By then, Changmin had already created a reputation for him. He somehow became the so-called “leader” among the troupe and led the kids around to make a decent living even during the worst situation possible. He treated you like a little sister, and you both became inseparable as time passed. You both would always stick together, even going up to the main city to look for food to provide for the others back at your so-called home. 

It wasn’t until several years later, both of you aged 16 and 14 respectively, that you came across the infamous Bruce Wayne himself. He was out on a business around the slumps—seemingly tracking down one of the most wanted criminals then, which was also when he found you two and the rest of the kids. 

Thanks to Mr Wayne’s contribution, he placed all of the kids into a care facility sponsored by the Wayne Enterprises, where they would finally have a rooftop over their heads and a better future ahead of them. On the other hand, you and Changmin have seemingly intrigued the man himself, and he decided to take you in and raise you two as if you were his children. 

It turns out that his intuition about you both wasn’t wrong after all. Both of you possessed a higher intelligence level than usual and could pick up combat skills almost immediately. The first time he brought you both down to his training station to have a go, you adjusted quickly to all the provided gadgets. With the help of his trusted butler Alfred, both of them made sure that the two of you were trained to be skilled fighters and have a loving family of the four of you. 

It was obvious among the two of you that Changmin stood out a bit more and earned the title Robin at 18. All you knew was that Mr Wayne had raised an individual before you two and he was the original Robin, but certain things happened along the way and he hung his cape up, never to return. All you could assume was that he had enough of his life as the superhero himself and perhaps created a new alias to start anew. Discussing it was hard with Mr Wayne, so you’ve never pressed further. 

You were certainly a bit jealous at the beginning as Mr Wayne would only take Changmin with him out on missions, pressing that you needed more practice or it was too dangerous for a woman like you. But you proved him wrong and finally made a name for yourself about a year prior.

Batgirl. The first ever in the family. 

With that, Mr Wayne has trusted you enough to take you along on his missions and eventually assign minor ones for you both to deal with when Batman himself isn’t present to deal with them personally. 

You and Changmin made a great team, and it might even become the best combo Batman has ever seen. Even better than himself than the original Robin decades ago. 

So it all came down to making the decision. To take you both along with him during this special assigned mission from the league or not? It was a risk, especially when the mastermind behind this mission was someone who had been hunting Bruce Wayne himself for as long as he could remember. Dealing with him has always been a life-and-death situation. 

The Joker. 

But Mr Wayne trusted you both, and it was about time for him to prove to the league his proudest achievement just yet. 

“I’ve made my decision, Clark. And there will be no second thoughts about this.” He paused briefly before finally tilting his head up to the screen and looking at his friend seriously.

 “I’m taking both of them with me.”

“Come on, Y/N. You can do better than that.”

Changmin pinned you down to the ground and head-locked you, ensuring you had little to no escape from him. 

You both were sparring as usual in the training station in the Batcave, and it is always a competition between you two. Just as the male thought he had everything under control, you freed yourself from his grasp and turned him around. The next thing that happened was that you were hovering over him and pinning both of his arms above his head. 

“Says you, Robin. This is now my 35th win, and you owe me a bowl of Akamaru Ramen down the streets later tonight.” You smirked.

“Sheesh, Batgirl. Seems like you have improved from the last time we sparred.” He gives you a wink, and you roll your eyes up, trying your best to ignore his flirty remarks. 

It wasn’t long before the two of you broke off from your positions as the familiar grunt filled the entire training room. 

“You’ve gotten a new mission for us, Mr. Wayne?” Changmin asked enthusiastically, desperately wanting to be deployed almost immediately and showcase his newly perfected martial arts skills and new gadgets he had just gotten from Alfred a week ago. 

“Slow down, cowboy. I am going to need you two to listen to me very carefully. And I will not allow a single mistake to happen for this one.” 

With that, both of you followed your mentor right back into the control room where the batcomputers were stored. It was clear that Mr Wayne was here minutes ago and had just recently hung up a call from someone from the league. You guessed it would’ve been Superman since he would be the main person to contact Batman often, being the league's chief. 

Mr Wayne then leaned back onto the computer desk, crossing his arms as he pressed play on one of the remotes that were situated in his hand. Immediately, the video footage on-screen depicts a series of trucks entering a secluded area outside Gotham City. It was rare as the number of trucks slowly grew each second. 10, 20, and eventually up to 30 of them. 

Once the trucks were parked around the area, one of the drivers, whom you both assumed to be the squad leader, got down from the vehicle and opened up the trunk boot. And that was when you both saw it with your own eyes. 

Heroin. One of the most life-threatening ones to humankind. 

Just as you thought it would be over, another figure pops up on-screen, someone you have all been familiar with for decades. Too familiar with to be exact. 

“Joker.” Changmin clenched his fist, his eyes now narrowed and his facial expression seemingly changed almost immediately compared to when he was back at the training station. 

You know how much beef The Joker has with the Bat Family, including Changmin. As much as he was the ultimate archenemy of Batman—he was also, in fact, the same for Robin. Changmin had his fair share of encounters with the infamous enemy, and neither had been pleasant. Adding salt to the wound, he would often return with an injury whenever he faced the psychopath himself, never once coming back home in one piece. 

But usually, it was both Batman and Robin who dealt with The Joker, not Batgirl. So why even did Mr Wayne request for your presence this time? 

As you open your mouth to get an answer, Mr Wayne beats you to it by explaining the situation in detail.

“I know we have dealt with the madman himself countless times, and it’s nothing new that he would do such a thing. But judging by the amount of drugs he had smuggled in this time, I fear the worst could happen.” 

“Mr Wayne, you don’t think…” Changmin proposed. 

“It is exactly what’s on your mind, Robin.”

No way. The Joker plans to drug at least half the population of Gotham City. 

Knowing him, he could execute such a plan in countless ways or methods. Besides, he would definitely strike when law enforcement least expects it to happen. Hence, it is up to the Bat Family to put a stop to this massacre from happening. 

With that, Mr. Wayne turned towards you and began speaking up again. “And I thought we could definitely use a little more manpower for this job.” 

You were ecstatic, to say the least. Going on a mission with both Batman and Robin? Oh lord, that would be a dream come true. Most of the time, you were either often deployed on minor cases that you could’ve dealt with on your own or paired up with Changmin to deal with slightly more dangerous matters that were right up your alley and didn’t require the presence of Batman to clean up the dirty work. You have probably been deployed just once or twice with Mr Wayne himself, but not with both of them present. 

But you were hesitant. You have never encountered the madman himself before, while Batman and Robin have. So what in the world was Mr Wayne thinking to bring you along for this mission? 

Was it a test for you? Was it for you to prove to him how much you have grown? Were you finally going to make a name for yourself and be as famous as the duo already are in Gotham City? 

As much as you liked your last idea, you were still reluctant. 

“I… I don’t know about this, Mr Wayne. With all due respect, I deeply appreciate the opportunity given. But are you sure a common girl like me could do the job?” Your voice was shaking, unsure of this whole situation at hand. 

But Mr Wayne steps closer to you, placing one hand on your right shoulder. “You are not just a common girl. You’re Batgirl. You are my pride and joy, and it’s time for me to finally show the world how amazing you are and that you are finally ready to join the Justice League.” 

Your ears perked up at that. Even if he seemed cold outside, Mr Wayne always knew the right words and timing to comfort you. That was all you needed to know to be sure that you were needed for this mission, and there was no mistake. 

At the same time, Mr. Wayne pulls Changmin towards him so he is now hugging you two. “Batman could always use some good sidekicks by his side, and tonight is the night.” 

Finally, he breaks off the hug and puts on his stern face, which the public has grown familiar with. 

“We leave tonight in two hours. Gear up, kids.”

It took Alfred less than an hour to figure out the exact coordinates of the exact location where the drug trafficking was taking place. Thanks to that, the three of you immediately hopped into the batmobile and eventually reached your destination within 15 minutes. 

After parking the vehicle somewhere undetected, all three of you used your batclaw to get yourselves up to the higher ground, now examining the entire base area of operation with your own eyes. 

The area was an abandoned factory, where the men had begun unloading the bags filled with heroin. A few individuals stood out as they possessed a walkie-talkie around their hips, indicating that they were responsible for giving orders and communicating. 

Upon closer inspection, all of the trucks used were freezer trucks— all embedded with the Wayne Enterprises logo all over the exterior of all 30 trucks. There was no doubt they could bypass the security borders, and it was very bold and cunning for them to do so as well.

“There is no way I’ll let them tarnish your name, Mr Wayne. This is all a sick joke.” Changmin said furiously, already ready to hop into action. 

“Easy now, Robin. Let us establish our roles before going into action without a plan.” You stopped your friend by placing your hand on his chest. 

“Batgirl’s right. Now, listen to me, you two. As this operation is way too dangerous, there is no way I’m letting you both step close to The Joker himself, did I make myself clear?” 

Mr Wayne immediately turned his direction to Changmin, knowing fully how he would definitely be the type to act all mighty and head straight for The Joker’s head. But given the situation and the look in Mr Wayne’s eyes, Changmin had no choice but to obey his commands if he wished to return home in one piece. 

“I will be the one who’s going to go for the psychopath. I need you two to clear out all of the thugs and workers here. Once you’re done, contact Alfred and he will let you two know on what to do with the large amount of drugs. If you ever come across The Joker, don’t engage. Call me and I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

With that, Batman gives a pat on both of your shoulders, extends out his cape, and flies all the way down—taking down several henchmen at once and quickly making his way down into the basement, where The Joker would most definitely be. 

“Alright, Robin. You’re the senior here. Tell me what to do.” You nudged Changmin’s shoulder, waiting for his reply. 

He smiled at you and crossed his arms before filling you in with his plan. “Okay, Junior. Listen and watch. You and I will clear off the thugs from the main entrance first, and then we’ll hack into the system and get in to deal with the rest. I’ll leave the hacking to you as the computer wizz of the team.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

Within seconds, both of you extended your capes and flew all the way down, both taking down a thug at a time. Immediately, the enemy noticed your presence, and about 20 men seemingly emerged from the shadows—all armed with baseball bats, ready to knock you both out.

But 20 was just a number as you both were skilled in martial arts—it was only a matter of time before you two eventually defeated them all to clear the pathway to access the main door. You immediately took out your remote hacking device to open the main door, and within seconds you succeeded. It was Batgirl’s forte, after all. 

As the door pried open, there were more who had been expecting your arrival. Some of them were equipped with shotguns and snipers this time, but that didn’t bother you both that much. Working together with Changmin, each of you took one side of the hall, landing a punch or kick to knock these bad boys out. 

Huh. This wasn’t as difficult or dangerous as Batman had mentioned. Now why would—

Your thoughts were interrupted as you felt a bullet graze through your shoulders. It definitely stung and blood was now oozing out slowly as you clutch onto your open wound with your hands. You were turning around to see who was the culprit behind this. 

Suddenly, you felt your limbs start to go numb, and you immediately collapsed onto the cold solid ground. 

What’s happening? Why is my body aching all of a sudden? 

Still trying your best to look around your surroundings, you were starting to feel your eyelids drop, which was a very bad sign. 

No. No. Batgirl! Stay focused! 

Finally, your eyes fall on one individual who stands out from the rest of the crowd. As the individual slowly made their way towards you, you noticed how the other thugs had begun to back off, making out a pathway for the individual to come to you without having any obstructions in their way. 

That green hair. That pale white skin. And those horrendous blood-red lips.

Joker.

“My my, who do we have here for company tonight? Huh, seems like I’ve got a new visitor in town!” It was that sinister voice all of you have grown accustomed to. God, he was now right in front of you, squatting down while placing his pistol right onto your skull, which was the weapon you assumed he had just used to shoot that bullet that grazed you a minute ago.

“Good heavens, if it isn’t the infamous Batgirl that has been the talk of the town! It seems that Batman can no longer contain his little one and finally let her out of the cave!”

As taunting as his demeanour and voice were, you were still struggling and fighting with yourself to keep yourself awake and not fall into his trap while trying to figure out an escape plan or counterattack right back at the madman himself. The Joker constantly pressed the tip of the pistol into your skull, applying slightly more pressure each time he did it. 

Batgirl… please… do something— 

“Stay away from her!!” 

Both you and The Joker dart your eyes in the direction of the voice, and sure enough, you find Changmin just a few meters away from you now, holding a shuriken in both hands, aiming towards the madman himself. 

“If it isn��t my favourite superhero boy, Robin! How have you been, my dear, it has certainly been a while since we last met.” 

Changmin wasn’t interested in playing games with The Joker and he immediately cut to the chase. “What have you done to her.” 

“Oh no, nothing much. Just loaded my trustworthy pistol with some infused poison bullets. And your poor girlfriend seemed to have taken a close shot of it, so she is unable to move now.” This time, The Joker grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls them up aggressively, which was where you were also pulled up from the ground against your will. 

Both of you remembered Batman’s warnings to never engage with The Joker and to contact him immediately. But there was a problem—you were wounded, and you both were now surrounded by tons of thugs around you, with the madman himself threatening your life at this point. If only you weren’t poisoned, perhaps you both could have pulled something off quickly to distract him and contact Batman immediately. But you were stuck, and there was no way Changmin would take his eyes off you, especially when The Joker was right in front of you, having full control over you now.

Changmin’s tut was visible and loud enough for you to hear even meters away, and you knew you both were stuck big time. 

“Tic toc, tic toc. Robin. I might as well just fire the fatal blow into Batgirl’s skull if you keep standing there!” The Joker taunted, and immediately he was loading his pistol again, getting ready to fire this time. 

In a flash, Changmin aimed and threw one of his shurikens at The Joker, and he quickly made his way towards him, landing a punch right into his abdomen and then quickly picking you up and moving to higher ground. 

“You’ve gotten a little heavier, haven’t you?” Changmin teased; clearly, he was panting. 

“Please… not the time, Changmin. We’ve got to contact Mr Wayne now.” 

“Hah.. right.” 

Just as he was about to ring Mr Wayne, Changmin immediately felt an excruciating pain, and his entire body felt numb. Within seconds, his grip loosened around you and he fell back to the ground. You were now trying to understand what was happening when you realised that The Joker fired that shot right into Changmin’s back. And now, he was poisoned as well. 

“Well, what did I say, kiddos! You’ve got to make a decision quickly before I land that shot! Oh, don’t worry, Batgirl. The poison is not enough to kill Robin immediately—he will die a slow and painful death instead.” The Joker and his thugs were slowly approaching Changmin, and you were all alone on the higher grounds, having to witness this scene helplessly. 

That was when you finally received a transmission from Batman.

“You two, change of plans! I’m going to blow the entire place up. Both of you get out of there immediately!” 

Within seconds, bombs began to detonate one by one, and the abandoned factory was now slowly collapsing. It was chaos, and everyone was running around frantically while trying to escape as best as possible. 

You tried your best to push yourself back up, supporting yourself with the pillar right beside you. Equipping your batclaw, you have decided to swing back down to get Changmin out of there. 

But you were too late, for The Joker was now grabbing Changmin by the shoulder, seemingly backing off to enter back into the abandoned factory. 

“It seems that this operation has failed, and I am not having one of you escape alive, that is!” 

“NO!!!” 

You ran towards them, but the next thing that happened, the final explosion blew you away, and all you could hear was a siren. You tried to keep your eyes open, and all you could see was the entire factory up in flames, not a single human in sight. Before you passed out, you could vaguely make out a black figure approaching you, your mentor. 

And what happened after all of that was then a blur. 

It has been a week since that fateful incident. 

When you have jolted awake from your slumber, you find yourself on the operating table back down in the Wayne Manor. You’ve had an oxygen mask placed over your mouth, with some IV drips inserted into your arms. How long has it been since then? 

Just as you are about to stand up, Alfred makes his way into the room while passing you a tray of food to fill up your hunger. 

And that was when you remembered the events that happened. 

You begged to know the details but Alfred remained silent, not wanting to speak up just yet. But eventually, you’ve managed to get him to spill the tea, and you wish you could’ve taken it all back instead.

After the explosion, Batman was the one who scooped you up, took you back into his batmobile and brought you back to Alfred immediately. He tried his best to search for Changmin and The Joker amidst the blazing inferno, but all he could find was a piece of fabric from Changmin’s outfit and from The Joker, which could only mean the worst. 

You screamed. You placed your head down into both of your hands and began screaming frantically. In order to save you, he took on the bullet, knowing very well that The Joker was planning to aim it at you. That explained why he turned his back towards the madman back then to shield you from taking another shot of the poisoned bullet. 

Mr Wayne did not take it well either. He secluded himself in his room for days and wouldn’t step out from it, even when the league called multiple times to ask for updates regarding the case. It was all up to Alfred to take up the job in his presence. 

But the days then passed into a week, and now all three of you were standing in the pouring rain of Gotham Cementary, overlooking the newly carved headstone that read your partners-in-crime’s name and span of life. 

How badly you’ve wished that all this was a terrible nightmare, and you begged anyone to put some sense into you and wake you up from this bad dream. As much as you pinched yourself, it surely was a reality. You dropped down onto your knees, resting your head on the headstone, crying your heart out loud. 

Why did it have to be you? Why did it have to be this particular mission? Just. Why? 

Mr Wayne and Alfred said nothing as they stood in the rain with their eyes closed, not wanting to accept reality either. Countless thoughts were also going through their mind, along with the guilt and sadness—the same emotions that you were feeling. 

But what pains you the most wasn’t his passing; it was how you’ve never got to confess your love for him after all these years.

Year 2X47 — 5 years later

It was your usual routine as you were back down in the training station once again, both of your fists tied up with the usual white bandages as you landed one punch after another onto the punching bag. You have always loved to keep yourself busy—always finding the time to improve your skills whenever you had some time to spare in the Wayne Manor and Batcave. 

It surely hasn’t been easy since that fateful day five years ago. Since then, Batman has forbidden you from taking on any missions involving The Joker—quite frankly, you were thankful for in one way or another. There was no way you could’ve forgotten about what happened then so easily and faced the psychopathic killer himself. Instead, you were left with crimes that the GCPD occasionally required some assistance with. 

You had to thank the GCPD for even requesting your help. Otherwise, you would’ve rotted away in the comforts of your room and sulked for years. At least fighting crime and assisting them was also a way to keep your mind busy and away from all of the negative thoughts. 

Just as you were done with your training, you heard a sudden ping from your earpiece; it was from Alfred. 

“Batgirl, report to the control room immediately, please.” 

Once you have gotten the message, you quickly put all of the equipment away and shut down the room. You hoped that the mission for tonight was something worthwhile.  

You were baffled, to say the least, when you approached the computer screen. It wasn’t from the GCPD tonight but from the league. Since Batman was away at the moment, you had no choice but to step in for Mr Wayne. 

Accepting the call, the screen immediately opens with Superman on screen—even he was surprised that you would answer the call. But there was no time to waste and he eventually cut to the chase. 

“Joker is back in town and he is plotting another major catastrophe that could bring the entire Gotham City down. He is planning to eliminate the GCPD and take over the city.” 

What a jokester the madman himself sure is. 

“But I am aware from the last mission that you’ve had that Bruce forbids you to step close to The Joker himself. With Bruce being away to deal with some league missions, I’m afraid the only person I could turn to in Gotham City is you.” 

Well, that was true. It has always been the three of you in Gotham City. Now, only the two of you were in the picture since Robin’s passing. It was up to you to take on the job or not. 

You have definitely shown some hesitation there, and given your facial expressions, it was clear that you needed some time to think about it. Superman then decides to give you at least ten minutes to make the decision and he hangs up the call. 

One thing is for sure: Alfred was against you going alone alone on this mission. With the absence of Batman, there was nobody who was going to be your sidekick this time. 

If only Robin were still alive, that is.

Alfred’s feelings were valid and understandable, especially when he has been concerned about your well-being since that day. He has also been your father figure, just as Mr Wayne had done all these years. 

But if no superhero was available in Gotham City, you were practically left with no choice but to face your worst nightmare. You gave yourself a deep breath and mentally prepared yourself that it was about time to overcome your fear—it was time to face the madman himself while putting closure to all of this. 

You made a promise to Alfred that you would always keep in close contact with him by constantly sending him transmissions to let him know each and every single one of your movements. And this time, you will immediately retreat if you’ve sensed danger or threat to your life. 

You were definitely not taking risks anymore especially facing the psychopath himself all alone. 

Returning the call to Superman, you huffed and closed your eyes before opening them once again to stand firm on your decision.

“Send me the coordinates of the location.”

You arrived quickly at the designated location on one of the rooftops of the nearby buildings, which gave you a clear look at the GCPD. Just as Superman has stated, the police department was in an awful state—countless windows were broken through and there were plenty of hostages within the building. These hostages also included the policemen themselves. 

You knew you would definitely not act hastily, given the current situation. It was just you—you’re all alone in this madness. You had to think carefully about your next plan of action if you wished to keep all of the hostages and yourself alive, that is. 

With that, you took out your binoculars to scope out which floor would be the best for you to infiltrate—the fourth floor. Using your batclaw, you aimed at the balcony of the building and swung away into the floor itself—crashing into the glass windows while taking down the few thugs that were stationed there. It wasn’t too hard for you to find the lighting control panel which you used your remote hacking device to crack the code open and shut down the lights from the entire building. That way, you’re able to roam around without being detected easily. 

Quickly jumping and breaking down the glass tiles from the current floor onto the ground, you managed to take down the thugs one by one by doing so undetected. Once that was out of the way, you freed the hostages by cutting through the ropes they were bound with using your batarang. 

“The Joker is on the top floor with Commissioner Gordon. Please be careful, Batgirl.” One of the officers warned you.

Taking that down mentally, you slowly made your way up to the top floor, eliminating all enemies that were in your way. 

Eventually, you’ve come face-to-face with The Joker while the commissioner is tied onto a wooden chair. But something felt different. 

The Joker himself was wearing a clown mask over his face. Why did he decide to do so? Was it because he was wounded from a previous crime spree he was on? Or did Batman manage to land a blow on one of his missions? 

“Well, what do we have here? If it isn’t the infamous Batgirl! It has been a few years, sweetheart. It’s a pleasure to be able to see you again in person.” 

Even the voice sounded different somehow.

“What is your purpose, Joker. Why even consider taking over the GCPD.” 

He chuckled. “Oh, honey. I’ll be a dear and tell you why, hmm?” 

He walked closer to you and you couldn’t help but take a few steps back. Eventually, he stops about a few centimetres apart from you and bends down to be at eye-level with you. 

“I do very bad things honey, and I do them very well. And nobody is going to stop me because they fear me, and I fear nothing. So I will gladly take on any chances I can get in this beloved city of yours and turn the tables around, doesn’t it sound tempting?” 

Not wanting to hear his sick jokes anymore, you quickly balled up your fist and landed a punch directly onto his face, but his hands were quick enough to grab hold of your fist, stopping your tracks. 

Since when did The Joker have such great agility? 

“Seemed like someone’s been working on their reflexes since we last met, haven’t we.” The Joker taunted before trying to grab hold of this pistol behind his hips and aimed the bullet at you. He shot a few times, but each time you dodged them to the best of your ability as you were constantly running around the room. 

Once you were at a distance between you and he was, you took out your batclaw and aimed it at the pistol, which you managed to bring it over to your side—loaded it before pulling the trigger and aiming at the mask he was wearing. 

Sure enough, one of the bullets managed to penetrate through the mask and it was surprisingly way more sturdier than it was. It managed to form a small crack, but the blow was not enough. Perhaps your only choice was to have a close combat range, and you would either take it off or destroy it to find out who is really behind that mask. 

It took a while before you managed to come close to The Joker as he was shooting you from afar. Once you’ve done so, you managed to grab hold of his arm that was holding the pistol and punched right through the mask. You’ve succeeded in destroying it with your brute strength in one blow. 

But you wished that you could’ve taken it back.

Whatever that you’ve just seen was horrifying, and you were in absolute shock and denial.

There’s no way. It absolutely can’t be. 

He… but he’s…

“Cha-Changmin…?” You stuttered, and your eyes widened. You thought you were hallucinating. That can’t be. He died 5 years ago, and you and Mr Wayne were there to witness it all. 

Is this some sort of joke? A reincarnation? Another bad joke from the real Joker himself? 

You backed away, and so did he. You could tell that it was fine for now, and he wasn’t going to shoot because he seemed as baffled as you were. As much as you want to pinch yourself to wake you up from this bad dream, you notice his sincere eyes. One that you’ve always loved since you both met at the slumps. 

Unbeknownst to him, a single tear drop eventually fell onto his face, ruining the white makeup that he had got on him. He gently raised his hands and touched it, looking bewildered as if he had no idea what was happening. 

You did what you thought was best at the moment, taking a step closer and reassuring him that it was all alright and how much everyone had missed him.

How much you’ve missed him, to be exact. 

“Changmin…” 

“Don’t come any closer. Please… stay away from me!” He protested, taking several steps back to keep a distance from you. He then placed one of his hands on the side of his head as if he remembered something—or rather, it actually triggered something within him. His pupils were now shaking, and you desperately wanted to help and hold him close to you. 

Then, you both heard footsteps coming up the stairs, which meant your alone time was up. The officers were bound to capture The Joker and place him behind bars for good this time. 

Just then, Changmin regained his composure and aimed his pistol directly at you. Before loading the gun, he said one last sentence to you.

“The person you once knew me as has died.” 

With that, he pulled the trigger but he missed his shot. Instead, it landed on one of the window latches and it broke apart—giving him the immediate escape route as he ran and jumped out of the building. You stood there, baffled by the situation, while the officers had now filled the room scanning for signs of The Joker. 

Commissioner Gordon approached you, thanking you for saving his and his comrades' lives. He also reassured you that they will be keeping track of The Joker’s movements and keep you updated with anything.

But only one thing filled your mind and you needed answers desperately. 

Changmin was alive this whole time. But how?

You quickly made your return to the Batcave and immediately approached Alfred. You needed to know that whatever answers—even the tiniest detail, could help you solve the puzzle. 

Alfred was quiet at the beginning, debating on the right words to tell you the truth at this point. Apparently, Batman has found out about this a year prior, knowing very well that Changmin was alive and well, and has somehow taken the persona of The Joker. But according to Alfred, Mr Wayne was still looking for answers about how it had all ended up this way.

As much as you were furious about not knowing this earlier, there was no way you could’ve blamed it on Alfred. He was simply following Mr Wayne’s orders, and that was to keep you away from anything relating to the madman himself. 

“Fine. Then tell me where Mr Wayne is, and I’ll confront him myself.”

“That’s the thing, miss Y/N. Master Wayne has been on a league mission for the past few weeks, but I haven’t heard from him. I myself have been trying to track down his coordinates but to no avail.” 

Now that was strange. Disappearing for quite a while wasn’t deemed unusual in Mr Wayne’s books. But more than a week? That was definitely a red flag, and someone must look into this matter. 

Taking in a deep sigh as you were overwhelmed with everything happening, you calmed yourself down and spoke to Alfred in a low voice. 

“I’ll find the answers to all of them.”

You decided to head back to the rooftops of GCPD, where the Batsignal was located. Commissioner Gordon often used it to signal to summon the Bat Family whenever they needed help. But it seemed as if the searchlight was destroyed and torn apart—revealing that whoever had done this definitely held a grudge against you and your squad. 

You did contemplate using it to reach out to Batman, but with this option down, you were now back to square one. 

If Alfred cannot contact Mr Wayne through transmissions, then you wouldn’t stand a chance either. 

God. Think, Batgirl. There’s got to be a way to contact—

“It seemed as if the rumours were true after all.” 

You were startled by the sudden voice coming from behind you. As a common reflex, you immediately throw a punch towards the individual’s face—only to be stopped by their hand grabbing onto your fist. Once you got a glimpse of who it was, your eyes widened. 

“Nightwing.” 

“Ah, I see you have heard about me before. Then that saves up the trouble of having to introduce myself. Also, sorry about startling you. It’s my fault.”

As both of you backed down and composed yourselves, you finally got a good look at the individual standing before you. He was tall and definitely well-built (a little too well-built to your liking actually); he wore a black with some outlines of a blue suit and a domino mask. Even through the mask, he was a pretty darn good-looking individual. 

“Ogling at my beauty during our first meeting already?” He teased.

“Are all Robins meant to be this flirty?” You shot back. He chuckled and his voice somehow lightens up the mood for a bit. 

“Ah, so you knew about my backstory.” 

“Well, I learned about you through the files Mr Wayne kept in his office a decade ago. Consider that a time when I will snooping around his stuff because I was curious about many things.” 

“Bruce definitely has loads of secrets that he keeps from others, alright.” He shook his head, thinking that his former mentor was still the same old individual he had known for many decades. 

As far as you know, Nightwing was the first Robin and has worked alongside Batman for many years, even longer than you and Changmin ever did. He was a former circus acrobat when he was younger, so his skills and agility had to be one of the toughest Gotham City—or rather, the league has ever seen. At one point, you have once heard that the league has appointed him to look over the younger superheroes, the Teen Titans, from time to time. So he has got plenty of things on his hands to deal with. 

But there was one question that has pondered you for long enough. One that you knew you could never ask Mr Wayne and Alfred themselves because they definitely weren’t comfortable bringing up this topic. 

Nightwing somehow knew this topic would come up eventually, and he decided to indulge in your curiosity for the time being. Leaning back towards the headlight, he crossed his arms and told you about his backstory.

“To begin with, Bruce had taken me in ever since my parent’s murder when I was 8. He trained me to be a soldier, his sidekick and I’ve never left his side for 20 years. But you know what they say—when the time comes for the baby birds to leave the nest, then there is no explanation needed.” 

“So you left willingly?” You questioned.

“In a way, yeah. Now I mainly patrol crimes in Blüdhaven, occasionally returning to Gotham City to assist Bruce and the team if needed. Commissioner Gordon seems to really enjoy my company after all.” 

The way he spoke lit up the mood, and you could tell how he was definitely worth being the first Robin. Anyone would agree on how behind that jovial and friendly smile he possessed, he could be one of the most feared individuals on the battlefield. 

Given that he was trained by the one and only Bruce Wayne himself, he has then gained insane human strength, speed, agility, and even reflexes. He was definitely the type you would want to anger the least—otherwise, you would definitely find yourself being killed by the 50,000 volts of Escrima Sticks that he always carried on his back. 

If a superhero like him is back in Gotham City during such a right timing, you assume he’s probably back for the same reason as you did, more or less.

“Say, are you perhaps back for The Joker?”

“Yeah, but there’s more to that. The Justice League has contacted me to investigate Bruce’s disappearance as they couldn’t contact him for a week now.” 

Disappearance? Now that’s new for you. You knew that he was away for some league missions, but never would you have thought that he would actually disappear. 

Could he have done it himself for an unspecified reason? Or worse, has Mr Wayne fallen into the traps of the enemy? 

Now that is something you definitely have to look into as well—because finding him would be the key to knowing about Changmin’s faked death for the past several years. 

“Count me in, Nightwing.” 

“Woah, slow down Batgirl. What makes you think you would wanna come along with me?” 

“Well, for one, the current Joker is somehow the former Robin that we all thought he died. But I’ve just encountered him days prior, and he is very much alive and well. And I need answers.” You firmly stated, and you did not take no for an answer. Clearly, Nightwing had sensed that in you and knew there was no point in convincing you otherwise.

“Hmm, this seems more like a romantic couple reunion situation to me.” He teased.

He wasn’t wrong though. 

“He’s family and I deserve to know, Nightwing. Please.” You emphasised the last word while taking a few steps closer to him as you stared into his eyes. 

He looked at you for a few seconds before he eventually put on a smile. He gently laid his hands on your head and patted you. “Alright, girlie. Let’s figure out where would be the best place to look for them.” 

Just when he finished his statement, a radio transmission was sent in through his earpiece, and he shared one of them with you to hear the message.

“Reports have stated that there were sightings of The Joker near the ports, and he has gotten several hostages with him. All officers on duty, please report to the site at once!” 

“Then that’s where we’re headed, sweetheart.” 

Immediately, you got your batclaw out, ready to start swinging across the buildings to head to your destination. You looked at Nightwing in confusion as he stood there and stretched his muscles.

“Well, aren’t you leaving too?” 

“Oh no, you get to the location first. Don’t worry, I’ll catch up in no time. I was a former acrobat, after all. Don’t need no batclaw to swing around buildings.” He winked, and you rolled your eyes back slightly as you started to get used to his flirty remarks. 

Before you made your move, he spoke to you one last time before you two were to part ways for a bit. 

“Call me, Sangyeon. It’s much better than repeating my superhero name all the time.”

Just as you reached the port's entrance, Gotham City had to start a heavy downpour, making the situation much worse. 

But it wasn’t something you weren’t used to since you have been in such conditions before on several missions. However, since the motive tonight was to find both Changmin and Mr Wayne, you couldn’t help but feel nervous, something that you haven’t experienced in a while. 

At least not since that fateful day 5 years ago. 

Shaking your thoughts away, you calmed yourself down and reminded yourself that the hostages come first, then family. 

You ran to the gates but saw that they were already hacked open. Just then, Sangyeon jumps down from one of the higher buildings and places his hands on one of your shoulders. 

“They don’t call me a hacking wizard for nothing.” 

“Well, guess I have a rival in this field of work now.” You chuckled. 

“Alright, let’s go.” 

As you both entered the ports, a group of thugs were already on standby, as if they were expecting your arrival hours ago. Each of them was armed with a weapon, ready to put up a fight. 

Sangyeon then gets both of his Escrima Sticks out from his back and positions himself in his offensive state. 

“Wanna see the famous Nightwing himself in action?” 

“Just be careful out there.” You replied. 

“Always have been.” 

As soon as the thugs began charging towards your direction, the both of you did the same, beginning to take down the enemies one by one. 

It seemed that Sangyeon wasn’t all talk and thought highly about himself because you’ve now witnessed how skilled and quick he is at combat with your own eyes. He could take out at least 4 at once, leaving no room for them to retaliate. None of them stood a chance against the superhero himself—quite frankly, he could handle them all on his own if needed. 

You have definitely improved from 5 years ago too. You were now much quicker and your skills have upped a level—handling several enemies simultaneously. With the new gadgets that Alfred has equipped you with, you definitely found it a lot easier to deal with the enemies and not just entirely rely on pure brute strength. 

Within 10 minutes, both of you have successfully wiped out the entire thugs, and they were all lying lifelessly on the ground, allowing you to move on to find the hostages. 

“Well, aren’t you a rather good fighter yourself, Batgirl.” Sangyeon was surely impressed with the way you presented yourself tonight. 

“Now that’s flattering coming from the former Robin himself.” You counterbacked, and you earned a laugh from the man himself. 

“This isn’t over yet, Y/N. There are definitely more thugs lurking around the area. I suggest we split up and take on each side, and I’ll let you know if I come up with anything.” 

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“Let me know if you need help, okay? You’re not in this alone.” 

Thanks, Sangyeon. It means a lot. “I’ll contact you soon.” 

Splitting up, you decided to take on the right side of the ports, defeating the thugs in your way as you slowly made your way through. Eventually, you found hostages along your way, and you freed them by using your batclaw to cut through the ropes they were tied up with, and they ran to their safety towards the GCPD at the front entrance. 

Finally, you have reached the last destination that you could’ve scooped out for any remaining hostages, the lighthouse. 

Fingers crossed, you were mentally praying before making the move that Changmin would be there. 

It seemed that you had deduced your theory correctly, and sure enough, he was there—holding up several hostages, ready to throw them down into the deep, freezing ocean. 

“CHANGMIN STOP!!” You screamed, and that got his attention.

He turned back to look at you, and his eyes widened upon the contact. It was you again; this time, he wasn’t wearing a mask anymore. 

It seemed as if he hadn't recovered from the encounter days prior because he was beginning to malfunction again, and how badly you just wanted to help him by taking him back for good now. 

“Please… Changmin. Let us talk. Please, talk to me about it.” You begged, and unknowingly tears began to form in your eyes. 

Immediately, he dropped the hostages down onto the concrete floor, and they quickly ran for it. His attention was now entirely on you, eyes widened while trying to make sense of everything.

“Y/N… I… All these years later… I can’t…” 

“No Changmin. You can, and you will come back to us.” 

Come back to me.

“What have I done? I’m… I’m a monster now, a terrifying criminal and psychopath. I’m beyond saving.” He now stares down at his bloodied, shaking hands, and his speech begins to stammer. 

“No, you just need to press reset. And we will help with that.” 

Let me help you. 

“Why? Why, Y/N? After all these years and everything?” Tears were now beginning to form in his as well, and he was trying his best to hold them back.

“Because I love you and have always been after all these years.” 

You were now slowly taking one step at a time closer to him, and he slowly did the same but backwards. 

“Y/N… No, you can’t.” 

“I can and I will. I have longed for you endlessly, and I always find myself coming back to you, even if you are no longer Robin.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“It is. And I will prove it to you.” 

Changmin was now pinned against the guardrails of the lighthouse and he was stuck with nowhere to run. You were now standing right in front of him—centimetres apart, when you gently laid your palms onto both sides of his face, slowly rubbing away the white makeup that sat on his face. 

He then looks down at you, standing motionless before muttering a quiet: “I warn you. I’ll break your heart.” 

You smiled back at him. “I know you more than you know yourself, cowboy. Fill me more with that dangerous love of yours—there’s nothing Batgirl can’t take on anyways.” 

With that, you quickly took Changmin into your embrace, and the tears that formed within his eyes began to drip down slowly. 

Yes, Changmin. I’m here now. I will protect you from all of this madness— 

That short-lived moment was then interrupted abruptly as that familiar chilling voice from years ago started to haunt you.

“My my, what do we have here? A little family reunion, isn’t it?” 

Both of you turned behind to see the real Joker standing in front of you, with a syringe containing a rather intriguing green liquid, while having a group of thugs behind him. 

You and Changmin were now cornered, and there was no way to escape. It seemed as if history was repeating itself. 

“Damn, I guess the dose wasn’t enough for that Robin boy to take on my persona fully. I guess the test was an ultimate failure.” He was now flicking the syringe bottle; his eyes were now entirely on you. 

“Hmm.. maybe another test subject would be worth trying out… someone whose name rhymes with Batgirl.” 

The Joker was taunting you and moving closer to you now. You had to think of something quickly because clearly, Changmin was in no state of fighting back. You could use one of your gadgets for close-range combat, but given the number of enemies you were up against, there was only a 50% success rate. 

Maybe I could use a smoke bomb to distract them while I think of something real quick—

“Batgirl!! Dodge and leave right now! Trust me!!” 

That voice. It was Sangyeon. You quickly redirected your attention to the opposite building across the lighthouse. He was now equipped with several explosive batarangs, and is now aiming towards your direction. Once he let go and threw them towards you, you quickly grabbed Changmin and jumped straight down into the cold, freezing ocean.

As soon as you both touched down into the waters, the explosion went off and the parts of the lighthouse came crumbling down along with the enemies that were on it. 

Before you knew it, both of you were slowly beginning to lose air before finally being fully engulfed by the ocean waves.

It has been a few days since that encounter with The Joker himself at the port. When you dived into the ocean, you tried your best to swim towards the shore while carrying Changmin with you—despite the constant moments where the ocean waves would engulf you both while trying to swim back up again. As soon as you reached dry land, you immediately passed out before seeing Sangyeon coming to both of your rescue.

When you finally came to, you were left with just a few minor scratches and nothing major. You demanded to know where Changmin was and eventually found it lying on the operation table—the same one you were lying on 5 years ago. An oxygen mask was attached around his face, along with an IV drip by the side. 

According to Alfred, it seemed that Changmin was systematically subjected to a wide range of shock therapy and torture over the few years that he was captured alive by the psychopath himself. Eventually, Joker decided to take things a step ahead and injected various serums into his body, eventually leading to his breakdown. Hence, he decided to let Changmin take over his identity for a period of time while he went into hiding.

It was definitely a lot and hard to take in for you. You couldn’t imagine how brutal it was for Changmin over the past few years, all wounded and injured from that fateful day, only to be taken back to The Joker’s lair and left to experience all of the barbaric tortures he had up his sleeve. 

You stood right at the windows of the operating room, placing your hand on it while trying your best to hold back your tears. This went on for a few days—it was best to let him rest after all.

Sangyeon was staying for a while as he was still on the mission to track down Mr Wayne’s location, and he would often check up on you as well, ensuring you that Changmin would be alright and he would wake up real soon. 

All you could do at this point was hope for the best and that Changmin would return to his usual self when he woke. 

The bright glaring lights blinded Changmin’s eyes as he finally struggled to open them up. Once he has finally adjusted his sight, he tries to make sense of his surroundings. 

He was back at the Batcave—all patched up and had an IV drip right into his arms. He tried turning his head around, trying to take in everything as he struggled to regain his memory. 

And that was when he remembered that the both of you were up at the lighthouse, desperately trying to escape The Joker. 

Almost immediately after that thought, a pair of arms wrapped around him tightly as he tried to sit up from his bed. 

It was you whom he had been longing to see. 

God, how much he had missed your embrace. Your scent, the warmth you gave, and your bright, bubbly persona that radiates whenever you are around him. 

And now he’s back to witness it all close-up. 

He returned the hug to you, squeezing a little tightly and clinging onto you for dear life. He wouldn’t let you go anytime soon, and he wants to savour the moment and make it up to you after being away for years. He slowly turned his head to take the sweet strawberry scent of your hair—ah, you were still using his favourite shampoo. He couldn’t help but to also rest his lips on your scalp as well. 

“Changmin… I don’t even know where to begin…” You muffled since you were squeezed into his big muscular chest.

“Let’s just stay like this for a while, hmm?” 

Silence. But it wasn’t awkward in the slightest bit. Instead, you both appreciated it—a lot was happening in both of your minds. 

He’s back. He was back in his comfort zone, former residence, and home. 

You were his home. 

There were just so many things he regretted back then too, how he wasn’t able to save you and ended up being held captive and tortured by The Joker himself. Most importantly, he regretted that he couldn’t tell you how he felt about you, especially when he had seen you more than just a friend and sidekick for years. 

But now that he was alive and back in the game, it was his chance. 

Gently grabbing your shoulders, he pushes you away so that you look at him deep into his eyes. He takes in a big breath before he decides to spill the beans. What he didn’t expect was that you spat out the same exact thing that has been lingering on his mind, word by word. 

“So uh, I thought you should know that I’ve had feelings for you for years now.” You both said at the same time. It took a few seconds for the both of you to process what the hell actually happened before bursting out in loud laughter. 

“Gee, Y/N. And I thought it has been one-sided for years, and all those flirty remarks I’ve made were just for show, and my efforts have gone down the drain.” 

“Well, I’m pleased to tell you those flirty remarks worked.” 

You both giggled before Changmin decided to press on. “So when did this lovey-dovey feeling start?” 

“Maybe around when I was 12?” 

“Hah! I win. I’ve liked you ever since you came into the slumps.” 

“That isn’t a victory, Changmin. It just shows how whipped you have always been and how easily you actually fall in love with someone.” 

“Hey, it's not my fault when my love interest is actually a rockstar who excels at everything she does. Mind you, she is the best computer wizz I’ve ever seen with that long luscious brown hair of hers.” 

“Yeah, you’re insufferable.” You huffed. 

“But admit it, you like it.” He winked back at you, causing you to slap him on the chest while rolling your eyes back. 

It was when he decided to lean in a bit closer while gently placing his fingers around your chin, lifting your face so that he could see you clearly. 

“Since my princess literally saved my life, it is time for her prince charming to return the favour, no?” 

You gave him a confused look. “Whatever are you planning, Mr. Ji Changmin.” 

“Something that starts with the letter K.” 

He then swipes his finger on your lips to feel those luscious, juicy lips once before crashing his onto yours. And he was right all these years, after all—on how good they tasted, and it was definitely a kiss that was worth the wait and savouring. 

You didn’t reject it at all and proceeded to adjust your position so that it was easier to ease into the kiss. Tilting both of your heads to grant more entrance while your fingers moved up into his hair, Changmin did the same while his other hand rested on your waist. 

How badly he wished to stay like this forever. To kiss you, hold you tight, and never let go nor fail you again. He made a promise to himself this time that he was definitely not going to repeat the same mistake, and he was no longer going to hurt anyone else.

Including you.

The intense moment was abruptly cut short by a low grunt coming from behind. It was Sangyeon.

“Well, it seems as if I have chosen the wrong timing, haven’t I?” 

Oh, how badly you knew he somehow did it on purpose. You were definitely going to make him pay real soon.

Changmin being innocent, brushes him off and asks if something was the matter (since, technically, he hasn’t encountered how flirty he could be). 

“I’m here to ask you about Bruce. I’m sure you have some information that is worth hearing about.” Sangyeon then crossed his arms, and immediately his facial expression shifted, and you both knew well that it was time to get back into business. 

Once Alfred came to ensure that Changmin could continue his daily routine as usual, Sangyeon immediately cut to the chase and began pressing on the topic of importance. 

“It was definitely a recent thing, I would say. The Joker tortured me for a few years before finally making me into his other half to take over his dirty job for him while he disappeared into thin air. And it was recently when I actually saw how he was dragging a body down into the basement of his lair. If it aligns with what you have in mind, then I’m sure it is worth checking it out.” 

All of you pondered what Changmin said. It could be Mr Wayne who was under the hands of The Joker at the moment. According to Sangyeon, there have been reports of sightings of the man on the most recent site where Mr Wayne was last seen. 

“So that would be the first place for us to look at, I suppose?” Changmin questioned.

“Supposedly, yes,” Sangyeon answered bluntly. 

Just as all of you would start gearing up to head out to the place of interest, the batcomputer began blaring—it was from Commissioner Gordon. Picking up the call, all of you were met with a very distraught commissioner. Something must’ve happened. 

“You guys have to see this right now.” 

Immediately, the commissioner forwards a link that redirects all of you to a live webcam. 

It was live. And there on screen sat a badly wounded individual, tied up on a wooden chair with only a single light bulb above his head as their only light source. 

It was Batman.

The Joker swiftly turned the camera towards him, and he placed this huge menacing grin on his face, knowing that he was up to no good once again. 

“Welcome, my fellow watchers to tonight’s grand show! Ah, it seems as if the entire GCPD & the Bat Family are here to witness the epic performance of the century!!” 

The Joker then turns the camera back to Batman as he begins circling him, continuing with his act. 

“Now, I’m pretty sure we all recognise this lovely individual right here. Isn’t it a bummer how he’s all wounded up badly? When he is supposed to be the strongest superhero in Gotham City?” He began laughing and then slowly stood behind Mr Wayne, bending down to rest his hands on Batman’s shoulders. 

“It seemed as if my very first experiment had failed terribly, given that Robin had escaped thanks to Batgirl & Nightwing. Perhaps the 10,000 volts of shock therapy & the dosage of my serum weren’t enough throughout the years Robin was held captive at my lair. But fear not, ladies and gentlemen! For I have a new subject now, the famous Batman himself, and I wonder what would happen if I turn him into a Joker?” 

The madman then walked over towards the right, and his hand gripped the latch of a switch, and all of you wished you did not have to witness what came next.

Pulling down the latch, it triggered the shock machine and Batman was screaming at the top of his lungs, clearly in a lot of pain while the high electricity flowed through his entire body. It went on for a good 10 seconds before The Joker finally decided to turn it off. Then, he walks towards the front of the camera, completely blocking Batman out of the picture. 

“Here’s my suggestion, fellow Bat Family and the officers at GCPD. I will be kind enough to tell you my location. Come to the abandoned Nightville Amusement Park in an hour. I’m pretty sure your “father” here would want his children to come save his ass, no?” 

The Joker then laughed menacingly again before ending the livestream. 

Oh my god. 

Batman is now in the hands of The Joker. And he has clearly shown all of you that he wasn’t kidding and meant serious business. If neither of you were careful, Mr Wayne would be next in line to get killed. 

All of you will definitely have to come up with an actual plan and strategy before heading to the site, and this time you will stop this whole fiasco the psychopath himself has planned. 

Thankfully, that was where Sangyeon came in and he began to take charge of everything and everyone as he gathered both sides to listen closely to his words. 

“Are you with me, lads?”

The clock struck strictly at 10 at night as the three of you arrived at the amusement park. Based on Sangyeon’s lead, he deemed it too dangerous for the officers to tag along at first. The plan was to let the three clear out the place until 80% of the thugs were wiped out, and then the GCPD would step in and scope the place out. Commissioner Gordon couldn’t agree more. 

On the other hand, Alfred remained at his position in the Batcave in front of the monitor screen, keeping you three updated with everything going on around your surroundings while being the middle person to communicate to the GCPD upon Sangyeon’s orders. 

As you three stood in front of the amusement park gates, Sangyeon decided to break the ice and loosen the atmosphere for a bit. He focused on Changmin, who was clearly doing a few stretches here and there.

“So how does it feel to be back in the Robin suit, young lad?” 

“Is it bad that the suit’s gotten a little tighter?” 

“Well, guess that’s some good news for you, Batgirl.” He then poked his head out to look at you, who were standing on the far right side. 

Dear heavens, Lee Sangyeon. I swear, for the love of God— 

“What about yours, mister? I’m sure all of the time that’s gone to leading the Teen Titans and patrolling Blüdhaven has taken a toll on your romantic relationship.” You fought back, but clearly, he doesn’t back down easily.

“Nah, I have my ways. She’ll come back to me when she’s bored and lonely. She always has been anyway.” 

Huh. So he does have a certain special someone. That is definitely going to be added to your books of “things to stalk more about Nightwing’s dirty secrets”. 

Clearing your throat to bring everyone back to reality, you turned your head back to the entrance, where all of you began to hear the footsteps growing louder each second. 

“Mr Lee, there’s about 60 thugs headed your way. Be prepared.” Alfred’s voice chimed into the intercom. 

“Well, 60 is just a number.” Sangyeon proclaimed. 

“So what do we do now?” You asked. 

Then, Changmin stepped forward and stood in front of you both. “We fight.” 

Immediately, he charged towards one of the thugs and wrapped his legs around his neck, pinning him down to the ground and punching him hard enough to knock the individual out cold. Not wasting any time, he began moving onto the thugs one after another. 

“Gee, your boyfriend’s one impatient little fella, isn’t he?” 

“And so are you, Nightwing.” 

You and Sangyeon did the same by charging towards the enemies. It was as if the tension and atmosphere were different tonight, and you felt the company that you had been longing for years. With both Robin and Nightwing with you, you knew that you were all in good hands and reaching The Joker himself wouldn’t be a problem this time round. 

The three of you worked amazingly as a team, performing a combo of attacks and matching one another’s fighting style almost instantly, even though it was the first time the three of you fought together. Sangyeon was definitely impressed, to say the least, that Bruce had gotten himself some good young sidekicks to fill in his spot after he had left. He was smiling like a proud older brother would as he looked at how you and Changmin battled. 

The enemy was successfully wiped out within 10 minutes thanks to the great teamwork. With that, the screen from one of the televisions that hung loosely at one of the lamp posts started broadcasting what seemed like a live message. 

The Joker. 

“Well well, I must say, an amazing job well done as a team!! Bravo bravo, you three have certainly exceeded my expectations! Now, moving deeper into the parks will not be that easy. So choose wisely and find out where Batman and I could be. Adios for now!!” 

“God, will he stop with all of these taunts?” You complained, getting sick and frustrated with all of his jokes by now. 

Changmin then walked close to you and placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/N. We will definitely get Mr Wayne back home safely.” 

“Yeah… we will this time.” You tried your best to return a smile. 

Sangyeon then makes his way towards you both to inform you that it was best to split up to narrow down the possible location where The Joker and Batman could be. Before he could even suggest the plan, you gripped Changmin’s hands tightly, intertwining your fingers with his. 

“I suppose you wouldn’t mind Robin and Batgirl taking on one side of the park, right?” 

Sangyeon stared at you both for a moment, and you were clearly not budging, standing firm to prove that you were taking no as an answer. 

He immediately sighed and agreed to your request. “Okay okay, lovebirds. Just make sure to do your actual job.” 

You swear if it weren’t for him being your senior and part of the Bat Family, you would’ve whooped his ass and sent him back to his rightful place. 

“Alright, jokes aside. Both of you, please contact me as soon as you find out something. Don’t even try to act bravely and jump into your demise. I mean it.” 

It all sounded too familiar. It was precisely what Mr Wayne said to the both of you 5 years ago. The Sangyeon that stood before you now wasn’t the flirty yet annoying senior you have come to despise. Now this man is feared across the nation, and one you would look up to actually. He was the spitting image of Batman.

“Understood, Sangyeon. You should be careful out there too.” Changmin said firmly. 

“Kiddo, I always have been.” 

Within seconds he was out of sight, jumping down towards the other side of the park as he made his way quickly through the thugs. 

“So, what do you suggest we do then, miss Y/N? You clearly asked me to stay with you.” 

“Well, for starters, let’s look around and get rid of the thugs along our way to find Mr Wayne as soon as possible. Find The Joker, put him behind bars, and that’s a wrap.” 

“Sounds good to me. Lead the way, Batgirl.”

Both of you went to each section of the park and searched every crook and corner to see if there were any traces or clues to where both of them might be. 

If you were to deduce, according to the live footage—they were either at higher ground or beneath the amusement park. You tried searching for a latch which would lead you down but to no avail. 

It was when Changmin finally called out to you as he noticed one of the buildings furthest from you had a little light source coming out from it. It led up to one of the roller coaster rides, and the stairs were clearly destroyed so that the officers could not reach high ground alone. 

Only those of you equipped with the batclaw could swing your way up to the building itself. 

On both of your signals, you both immediately launched your batclaw and quickly made your way towards the source, hoping that it was finally where your mentor would be.

Please, Mr Wayne. Please hang in there. We’re coming.

“Hmm… it seems as if your kids are taking a little longer, don’t you think? The Joker was now swinging his pistol around his hands, growing impatient as there was no sign of either of you coming anytime soon.

That was when Batman slowly tilted his head up as he tried his best to mutter a few words back to counterattack his remarks.

“Don’t… underestimate my kids… they’re a lot… stronger than… you think they are…” 

The Joker immediately threw a punch right into Batman’s face once again. “You know clearly that’s not the right answer, no?” 

“Well, clearly you aren’t thinking straight, Joker.” 

His eyes widened as he turned towards the source of where the voice came from. When he finally did, he found Changmin already in position with a few shurikens within the palm of his hands, and you did the same while holding onto your batclaw.

“Why, if it isn’t my wonderful “son” back in town! How have you been? Papa has missed you loads.” 

“It’s over, Joker. Your spree of crimes ends tonight and you’re finally going to jail after all these years.” Changmin declared.

“Disrespecting your papa, I see. Well, then. I’m sorry but it seems like I will have to teach you and your little girlfriend a lesson then.” The Joker slowly walked towards you with a group of thugs emerging from the shadows behind. Just like 5 years ago, they were all equipped with their weapons, the right to strike whenever. 

“Y/N, let’s do our usual formation?” 

“Say no more, Robin.” 

Both sides struck simultaneously, and a heated battle soon erupted within the building. With the batclaw in hand, you use it to shoot to get the thugs close to you as you knock them out cold with your punches and kicks. Changmin, on the other hand, used his shurikens wisely and aimed at all of the thugs, not missing a target. 

The Joker managed to get this way close towards you both, but he always seemed to have missed his shot or he was often caught by either of you two, pulling him close and throwing punches while he backed off to regain himself. 

As all of the thugs were wiped out, The Joker was now the one being cornered by you two, and he clearly did not stand a chance.

“Hah! Don’t even think that you’re about to win!” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls up a vile of green liquid. However, judging from the container that was used this time, it wasn’t an ordinary serum now.

No. A poison gas bomb! 

“I guess you know what this means then. That saves a lot of trouble. Robin, this is for you!” The Joker was about to throw it at Changmin when he finally decided to change direction and threw it towards you instead.

“Y/N! No!!!” Changmin quickly jumps onto you to push you out of the way as the poison gas bomb detonates. 

But he was in no luck as Nightwing made his way here in time, destroying it before the gas spread around too much. At the same time, The Joker was pinned down by the one and only Batman, who was now free from being tied up thanks to Sangyeon. 

The GCPD officers then made their way here along with the commissioner as they handcuffed the psychopath and started taking him away.

“This isn’t over, Bat Family!! I will be back to haunt Gotham City again!!” Those were the sentences that The Joker kept repeating on a loop till he was out of the picture. 

Eventually, Mr. Wayne made his way toward you and brought you both into his embrace. 

“I knew you both could’ve done it. Welcome home, Robin.” 

Those words were enough to get you both all teary-eyed, primarily for Changmin though. He had longed to be reunited with his mentor, and how much he wanted to apologise for all of the trouble he had caused over the years. 

“Mr Wayne…I—” 

“It’s not your fault, and it was beyond your control. I’m sorry I failed you as your mentor. And father.”

He rests his chin upon Changmin’s head and closes his eyes before muttering something for you too. “You too, Batgirl. You have grown and I’m beyond proud of you.” 

You have yet to hear Mr. Wayne praise you like that. He doesn’t talk much, nor has he ever praised you in such a manner since he wasn’t really great with words. Hearing that from Mr Wayne himself, after all of what you’ve been through, was surely enough to get you bawl your eyes out in front of him. 

Sangyeon notices the little heartwarming family reunion and he can’t help but smile from afar. It was nice seeing how Bruce has gotten a new family on his own, and he is happy how you two were given a new life and beginning with him. A few seconds later, he decided not to interrupt, turned his heel in the opposite direction and started walking away. That is until Bruce’s voice stops him in his tracks. 

“Nightwing. Or rather, Sangyeon. Thank you.” 

He hasn’t heard those words from Bruce either in a very long time. Every time they met, Mr. Wayne often gave him a cold shoulder as he tended to focus more on the mission and rather cut to the chase. But Sangyeon knew that he had always been like that—it was just his way of worrying about his former sidekick. And how Sangyeon will always have a special place in Bruce’s heart. 

Without turning back, he raised one of his arms and began waving. “I’ll see you around, Bruce. Don’t get caught next time.” 

Mr Wayne chuckled for the first time in a while. “I won’t.”

A couple of days had passed since that day and it was time that the Bat Family took some time off to rest up and relax. 

Mr Wayne was stuck in his room most of the time, with Alfred constantly checking up on him—bringing him his meals and checking his vitals to ensure that he wasn’t pushing himself too hard during recovery. Knowing him, Mr Wayne is definitely the type to wander around and get himself busy even when he is in no shape to stand up or perform his daily routines as usual. 

On the other hand, you and Changmin have been spending as much time as you could with one another. It wasn’t easy when Alfred often dragged Changmin down to the sick room, claiming that he hadn’t fully recovered and had no time to play around. You had to muffle up a laugh whenever you see Alfred taking him away to his second home now. 

It was a relatively calm afternoon as you decided to curl up with a novel in your room. Every so often, you would be reminded of what Mr. Wayne had told you last night about everything that has happened until now.

First and foremost, he apologised for keeping you in the dark about Changmin’s condition as he was afraid of losing you as well, and he wanted to keep you safe from The Joker as much as he could. But when you encountered Changmin at the GCPD, he knew his secret wouldn’t last long. 

He has been keeping track of both of your movements even when he was away on league missions, having elicited the help of Alfred. When you helped Changmin escape from the lighthouse, he knew that The Joker was definitely going to target you next without a doubt. Hence, he decided to surrender himself as bait—knowing fully that you both would definitely come to the rescue. At the same time, it also saves time in finding out The Joker’s actual hideout. 

As much as you thought he could be insane at times, you knew his methods somehow always work, and he has definitely thought them through. Giving a little scolding to Mr Wayne was all that you could do before it was time for him to rest up. 

Returning to your novel, you slowly reached the story's climax until you felt someone gently hit your head with a book.

Changmin. 

“Hey, what was that for!” 

“Someone has been too invested or daydreaming to the point that she hasn’t heard me call out her name for over 10 times now.” He crossed his arms while giving you a pout. 

“Ugh, please don’t do that face, for goodness sake.” 

“Why? Because you like it?” He purposely widens his eyes ever so slightly. 

“You need to go see a therapist for real, Changmin.” 

Standing up from your couch, you decided to tuck your book away before walking towards him and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“So, what brings you here today?” You asked while giving a little peck on his lips. 

“Well.” He pecks your lips back. “Alfred said that I’m fully recovered and I should be able to return to my usual routine with no problem.” 

“Should. Changmin.” You emphasised the word.

“Hey, I’ll prove to you that I am one healthy man. What do you say? Shall we go out on our first date?” 

“Hmm, tempting. Where are we going exactly?”

“Well, for starters, I still have to treat you to your favourite Akamaru Ramen that I promised 5 years ago.”

A/N: who knows i might cook up a nightwing Sangyeon fic in the near future 🤭

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @lngwayup

[yootaesowlwrites]

Aw, Your Legs Are Trembling - Q / Ji Changmin

A/N: I feel like Changmin was a bit mean to reader in this, just a bit, but not enough fo rme to add it to the warnings, so I’ll add it as a side note here for everyone.

W/C: 3.2K

Note: Blank blogs will be blocked. I don’t trust y’all, so make sure you  have your age in your bio/desc or something on your blog. Minors DNI.

Prompts: “Aw, your legs are trembling, does it feel that good?” + “Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,”

Warnings: CEO!Changmin, employee!reader, explicit language, smut, office sex, window sex, Sir kink, nicknames, nipple stimulation, dirty talk, light hair tugging, nudism, fingering, mention of bruising, unprotected sex(reader’s on the pill).

Age Warnings: I will not take responsibility because you wanted to read this, but if you’re under the age of 18+, DO NOT INTERACT OR READ. Do not take this as educational, this is fiction!

You stretch in your chair and hear a few joints crack from how long you’ve been sitting, it was well past the work hour, but there was a deadline coming up, and you were working late, your boss, Ji Changmin, was also still working late while everyone else had gone home early, the tension had been high in the office as the deadline was creeping closer. You add the final piece of paper to the file he had requested and made your way towards his office.

“Mr. Ji,” You say after knocking, you hear a ‘come in’ from the other side and push the door open. “I have the file you requested,” You close the door behind you and make your way towards his desk, you hand him the file before taking a step back from his desk to let him read through it. As you wait for him to finish reading it, you couldn’t help but move closer to the window and stare out over the beautiful view he had of the city, and the city look especially beautiful at night.

Changmin looks up from the file and looks at you, taking in how you looked standing there observing the view, he puts the file down and loosens his tie slightly before standing and making his way towards you without you hearing, you only realize he had stood once he was behind you, and you could feel his front pressing against your back and his warmth radiating onto you.

“It’s such a good view,” He says, his tone even as he spoke. “It seems like you like it as well,” You try to keep your breathing even, his scent was slowly invading your nose and filling your lungs, and you could feel your conscious slipping into the most nastiest thoughts. “Want a closer look?” And with that question, you move to turn around, only for him to push you up against the glass, front first, he gently moves your hair to the side before pressing his lips against the back of your neck. Your eyes completely shut at how good it felt to finally feel his lips touching you, being against you, you had been daydreaming about this moment for months now, even getting yourself off to the thought of it.

“Mr. Ji…” You moan out. Your breathing becomes uneven and the tension in the room thickens, was this real or were you dreaming?

“Call me ‘Sir’ when we’re alone like this,” He mutters against your neck, his hands pulling at your blouse, pulling it from the skirt you had on before slipping his hands underneath your blouse, your skin instantly being set ablaze by the touch as his hands travel towards your breasts. “Do you consent to what I’m doing to you?” His hands cup your breasts, and you feel his fingers pulling at the top of your bra to pull it down and expose your breasts for him to feel.

“I do,” You moan out. It felt so good to have him pressed against you and touching you like this. “Touch me more,” You didn’t care if you sounded desperate. He tugs your bra down, pushing the cups below your breast before fondling them, you could feel heat travelling up your neck before feeling your cheeks become flushed with heat. “Oh, my gosh,” You press your hands flat against the glass and moments later you feel your nipples touch the cold glass through your shirt. “Fuck.”

“I will, be patient for me,” He mutters. He takes your nipples between the pads of his fingers before slowly rolling the nub between them. “You need to be ready for me first,” You could feel a sensation going down to your pussy as he played with your nipples, his nose brushing against your earlobe before you feel his lips against them. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited for this moment?” Your head falls back and rests against his shoulder.

“Fuck, me too,” You breathe out and reach behind you with one hand. You run your fingers through his hair before gripping onto them. “For far too long, Sir,” You feel his teeth nibble at your lobe and his breathing was right in your ear, the feeling quickly travels down to your pussy, and you could feel yourself getting wetter. You push your hips back and press your ass right against his crotch before wiggling your hips. Instantly feeling his cock hardening against your ass.

“Fuck, so needy and eager,” He groans into your ear. “That’s so hot of you,” His words were having such an effect on you and your body, you swore his words alone would have you leaking through your panties. His teeth grip your earlobe and tug on it, making you let out a whimper at how good it felt. You feel one of his hands slide down your stomach before slipping into your skirt and cupping your mound through your panties.

“Oh, my, sir…” You breathe out and tug at his hair. His fingers press against either side of your pussy lips and slowly knead into them, you lick your lips as you feel your juices moving around between your lips. “Feels so good, Sir,” He tugs at your earlobe again before releasing it and kissing along your jaw until he couldn’t get any further.

“How long have you been waiting for this to happen?” He asks as he slips his hand from underneath your shirt, you feel his hand grip your shirt at the bottom before feeling your shirt becoming looser around you as he undoes the buttons.

“A while, sir,” You whisper. “A long while now,” He reaches the final button of your shirt before pushing the fabric off one shoulder and then the other, you release his hair and drop your other hand from the glass to let your shirt tumble to the floor beneath you. “I even got myself off on the thought of it,” You feel his hand on your back before feeling your bra being undone.

“You naughty girl,” He mutters into your ear before removing your bra from you. “Did it work?” You gasp as you feel him push your upper body flush against the cold glass, your nipples instantly hardening against the cold surface.

“Fuck, it did, sir,” You gasp. Your walls twitch as the coldness from the glass spreads through your body and quickly heats up, fog was quickly building against the glass in the form of your body. “But this is better than I could have ever imagined, sir,” His fingers press down hard against your folds, and you feel your juices being pushed past your pussy lips and seeping through your panties.

“So fucking naughty and dirty of you,” He says lowly into your ear. “You should tell me about your imagination sometime,” He reaches up and grips your jaw to turn your head towards him. “But not right now,” His lips press against yours, kissing you hotly. You instantly reach back and grip his hair to keep him from pulling away, he pulls your panties to the side and slips his fingers between your folds, making you gasp into his mouth. Squelching sounds come from between your legs, and you feel his fingers slowly rub around your clit, which caused your hips to jerk at the attention your sensitive clit was getting.

You could feel your lungs quickly running out of air and starting to burn, his grip on your jaw almost felt bruising as he held you in place, tension was building up inside you with everything he was doing to you, with everything he was making you feel. His fingers slide from your clit towards your entrance, and he plunges two digits inside you without warning.

“Hmm-mmh,” You moan into his mouth and grip his hair tighter. His fingers curl inside you and slowly slide out from you halfway before he pushes them back in roughly and extends them, the palm of his hand presses directly against your clit. “HMM!” He breaks the kiss, making you both gasp for air, your lips felt swollen, and you could feel saliva spilling onto your chin. “Fuck Si-sir,” His palm rubbed against your clit as he slides his fingers in and out of you, curling them every few times. “Oh… Oh, my… S-sir,” You reach back with your other hand, and slip it between your ass and his crotch and slowly rub your hand over the prominent bulge.

“Ohh, oh, yes, like that,” He groans out. “Fuck…” His tone was low, and it was making your entire body tense up as your high was building. He pushes his fingers deeper into you and curls them, your back arches as you feel them reach your sweet spot, and you instantly saw stars behind your lids.

“SIR, OH FUCK, I!” You scream out in pleasure, your toes curl into the shoes you wore and a burst of pleasure goes through your body as the tension snaps inside you, your body shakes as you go through your high. “Sir, Sir, oh, fuck, Siiiiirrrrr,” You tug at his hair more and your hand falters against his bulge as you tried to keep rubbing him, but the pleasure felt too good to focus on anything else. “FUCK!” Your legs almost buck beneath you as you feel him rubbing that spot over and over to get you through your high.

“You’re dripping all over my hand,” He whispers into your ear, or at least it sounded like he did, you weren’t sure if he whispers or said it louder. Your body slowly calms do, and you begin taking deep breaths to try and calm yourself down, his fingers disappear from inside you, and you release his hair to press your hand against the glass to keep yourself upright.

“Fuck… Sir, that… fuck,” Were the only words that managed to leave your mouth as you tried to catch your breath and tried to get your spinning mind to work properly again, you open your eyes and look around you lazily. The glass was now completely fogged up around you, except for where your body was pressed against it. You hear the sound of a zipper being undone before hearing fabric hitting the ground along with a ‘clink’ sound, you press your legs together and suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“It’s about to feel much more than that,” He says. You feel his fingers brush against your skin, you gasp as you feel two cold fingers and realise those were the ones inside you, his fingers dip into your skirt you feel him push it down along with your panties, the fabric hits the floor and you carefully step out of them and use your foot to push them aside, your legs felt a little shaky, and you hoped you could keep yourself upright for what was about to happen. He turns you around and pushes your back against the glass, making you gasp at the sudden cold feeling against your warm back.

You feel his hand on your hip and as it slowly slides down to your thigh before moving to the back of your thigh, his hand grips your leg before he pulls it upwards, you hear a loud squelching sound from between your legs as your pussy lips were spread open as he hooks your leg over his arm.

“Fuck, I, oh,” You whimper as you feel the cool air rushing against your wet hot pussy, you feel him press his hips against you before you feel his cock rubbing against your folds, you reach up to hold onto his shoulder with one hand while the other was against the glass, scratching at it already. “Sir…” You watch as he moves his hand between your bodies before feeling him rub his cock along your folds, lubing himself with your juices. “Oh, fuck, Sir, sir, yes.”

“Nice and wet for me,” He mutters before pushing the tip inside you. Your jaw slacks and you let out an inaudible moan as you feel him slowly push himself into you, slowly stretching your walls and filling you, your nails dig into his skin. “Fuck, taking me so good, fuck.”

“Oh, ngh, fuck, I,” You blabber out, you press your head against the window and let your eyes fall shut, your body immediately begins tensing up again as another high was being formed. He pauses once he was fully inside you, taking a moment to get used to your warm wet walls around him, that were just asking him to fuck you as they pulsed around him. “Sir…”

“Hmm,” He lowly hums before pulling his hips back and slamming back into you. Your tits bounce at how harsh his first thrust was, and you tried to grab onto something, anything with your free hand.

“Siiiirrrrr,” You whine, the sounds, the feelings, it all felt so good and yet it felt so filthy and naughty of you both. “Oh, Ohhh, shiiiit,” Your moans mixed in with his groans bounced off the walls, and you were thankful that it was only the two of you in the office building, otherwise everyone would hear just how good he was making you feel. “I… oh, uhhh,” You could feel a heartbeat forming in your clit and the leg you were standing on was starting to become tired. “Siirr,” He leans closer, pushing your leg even further open and manages to push himself deeper into you. “OHH NGHH,” His pubic bone hits your clit with the deeper angle, and you could feel your legs starting to tremble.

“Aw, your legs are trembling, does it feel that good?” He coos out as he thrusts his hips into yours, hitting so close to the spot that would make you see stars and possibly collapse into his arms from pleasure. “Should I lift your other leg also and fuck you properly against the window?” Your walls clench around him, and he lets out a low groan. “I’ll take that as a yes,” He pushes himself fully inside you before pausing.

“SIIIRR!” You scream as you feel his cock shift inside you as he picks your other legs up, pushing you fully against the window while hooking your other leg around his arm also, his hands pressed into the glass as he spreads your legs more open. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, siiiiirrrr,” Your knees were trapped over his elbows as he thrusts in and out of you, his pubic bone constantly hitting your clit. You could feel your muscles tightening up and your high quickly rushing to build. “SIIR!”

“That’s it, let me know how good I’m making you feel,” He practically growls. Sweat was building between you both, and everything felt hot and sticky. “Milk my cock, cum for me, show me what a good girl you are for me,” His words went straight to your pussy, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer. You reach up with your other hand and grip onto his hair, while your fingers managed to break the skin on his shoulder. “Fuck, yes,” He harshly thrusts into you, and then you feel it. The tension inside you snaps, your back arches against the glass and your toes once again curl inside your shoes.

“SIIIIRRRR!” You moan loudly as you come undone around him. His hips seem to move faster at the feeling and sound of your release, your walls clenched around him, milking him for his cum to fill you. “OH, MY, UHM,” Your chest rises and falls quickly, and your entire body shakes with the pleasure going through it, fuck, it felt so good.

“That’s it, make a mess on my cock,” He groans. His hips stutter into yours as he begins chasing his own high, just feeling your walls clench around him and hearing how good your orgasm made you feel was enough for him to get close to his own orgasm. “Make a mess on my office floor,” You let out a whimper at his words, not realising how much your arousal was dripping down his balls and making a mess on his thighs and possibly on the floors also.

“Sir, sir, fuck, fuck, it fe-feels so go-good,” You manage to moan out, your body was absolutely buzzing with pleasure, and it was a feeling you could barely explain. His hips snap into you and his head falls back.

“Ohh, fuck…” His moan was low as his release hits him, you could feel his cum spilling into you and his hips slowly rocking into you as he eases himself through his high. You were slowly coming down from your high as you felt him go through his, your grip on his hair and shoulder slowly loosened, and you lifted your head, opening your eyes. You blink a few times to adjust to the light before looking at him, his Adam’s apple bobs as he breathes in heavily and his hair was uneven from all the tugging you did to it, beads of sweat coated his neck, and you could see some patches of sweat against the white dress shirt he had on.

“Fuck… I, this, it… good,” You mutter as you feel his hips still against you and his cock stills inside you as it slowly grows soft. He lifts his head to look at you, taking a moment to gather his thoughts and catch his breath.

“Let me take you home,” He says and slowly lowers one of your legs to the ground before the other, you lean against the window as you feel your legs shaking. His cock slips from you and your mix releases spill from you, coating your inner thighs. “Such a pretty mess,” He takes a step back before turning around to pick up his underwear, you swallow as you watch him pull it on. What did this mean for the both of you? You watch as he pulls his pants on and zips up his pants before fastening his belt, he lifts his head to look at you before stepping towards you, he bends down to pick up your skirt. “Did I leave you in such a daze you forgot how to dress yourself?” Your lips part and you look up at him. “Hold onto my shoulders, and I’ll help you,” You reach up and grip his shoulders before lifting one leg and feeling him slip your skirt over it before switching sides. He pulls your skirt up to your waist before picking up your panties and tucking them into his pants pockets. “This is mine now.”

“Sir, I…” You begin to say. You push yourself away from the glass and feel the mess between your legs slipping down your thighs. “I’m going to need that,” He picks up his blazer and slips it on.

“It’s late, let me take you home,” He says and makes his way towards the door, you swallow and follow behind him, fuck, the mess between your legs was so fucking distracting, how were you supposed to keep yourself composed, and sit in his car… Sit in his car… without.

“Sir, your seats…” You softly mutter, hoping your words would convince him to give you your panties back, but it is like he hadn’t heard you at all and continued walking. Moments later, you found yourself in the passenger seat, pressing your legs together as you felt the mess seeping into your skirt and possibly leaving a mess behind on his seat.

[ylangelegy]

some version of you ꩜ changmin x reader.

── .✦ 💌 reader uses she/her pronouns. includes: idol!changmin, reincarnation, soulmates, high school sweethearts, past lives, inspired by Goblin (TV), tbz ensemble. tw: mentions of death.

── .✦ 🚏 title is a reference to noah kahan's stick season. self-indulgent and inspired by a specific quote from Goblin: The Lonely and Great God! cross-posted from ao3.

── .✦ 📟 wc: 1,700+

When her friends take her to a The Boyz concert, she feels so inexplicably unwell the moment they step on stage. The nausea hits her with full force when her eyes land on the main dancer.

Before, when she was getting into the group, her heart would seize up at the sight of him. She never figured out why. But it was much more overwhelming now, unbearably so. 

She figures she just has to go to the bathroom. She’s breaking away from her friends, fighting through the crowd, when she looks over her shoulder and takes one more look towards the stage. The audience had broken into applause; the number was done and the boys were taking conservative sips of water. 

Their eyes meet.

She misses the look of recognition that passes his face, because her knees buckle and it all goes black. 

The concert screeches to a temporary halt as the medics usher out the poor girl that passed out. Later on, the boys talk about it backstage, mumbling things about crowd crush and dehydration. Changmin slips away to the bathroom where he splashes his face with water. 

He looks up in the mirror and sees himself in the school uniform of his past life. He blinks, and suddenly he’s back in the leather jacket of his present life. 

He never thought he’d find her. He had tried so hard to look for her, too, and all of it was useless. He had hoped and prayed that being part of a K-Pop group would make it easier for her to find her way to him. But not like this. Never like this.

He gets asked if he’s okay when he returns to everyone else. “I’m worried about the girl who fainted,” he answers. It’s a half-truth. He turns to their manager. “Can we find out who she is?” 

They tell him they’ll update him. “Please do,” he says, heart in his throat. The wait is the hardest part. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait much longer. 

Changmin insists that he can be the one to go to wherever she is, to make it easier for her. So they meet in some obscure cafe in her province, in Anseong. She can’t fathom why he’d go out of his way. She doesn’t know he’s traveled much farther in search of her. 

When she sees him, she feels the palpitations again. This can’t be normal, she thinks, but then he looks up from his coffee and the world goes quiet. 

It’s her, Changmin thinks. It’s really her. 

He always wondered what his first words would be to her after all the time and space. It turns out to be, “Please don’t faint this time.” 

She laughs, sits across from him. “I’ll try,” she says, and all Changmin can think is he’s home. He’s finally, finally home. 

There are archived newspaper articles and television reports about the incident that took their lives. The lives where they met, that is.

The one where he was Ji Changmin, class clown, no plans yet for college. She was the student council president with several scholarships to her name. 

Somehow, they made it work. Their relationship amused their peers, but Changmin was better because of it, Changmin was better for it. He was young, but he knew in his heart of hearts that he would marry this girl someday. And, by the looks of it, she thought the same. 

They had just decided to both aim for Yonsei University when the annual field trip happened, and the bus carrying their entire class careened off a cliff, and not a single soul aboard survived. 32 dead in Gyeongsang. 

Changmin and her were found side-by-side, their fingers intertwined. They had been sharing a pair of earphones just before the crash. She was half-asleep on his shoulder. It happened too suddenly, too fast for him to do anything but hold her hand. 

At the threshold of reincarnation, the two share a cup of tea with each other. 

They’re told that humans have four lives: A life of planting seeds, a life of watering the seeds, a life of harvesting, and a life of cherishing the harvests.

She has three more lives ahead of her. He has one left.

“Find me,” he begs. He doesn’t say, You are what I cherish. You are all I want. 

Her eyes sparkle with tears. She promises him, “I’ll find you.” 

When she goes ahead, he waits until his drink has gone cold. The Grim Reaper, taking pity on this forlorn boy, sneaks him the gift of memory. 

Ji Changmin is reborn in Cheongju-si. He knows the Grim Reaper meant well, but memory turns out to be more of a curse.

He spends half of his life avoiding buses and wondering where he’ll find her. 

It’s common knowledge that Changmin doesn’t need glasses. Fans find it endearing that his specs have no medical grade; sometimes even no lenses, just frames. 

Changmin the idol doesn’t need glasses, but the Changmin of Changnyeong Daeseong High School did. 

And so Changmin wore them on stage and in photos, in hopes that it would make him more familiar to her. If she ever saw a picture of him. If she ever looked him up.

Even when they reconnect, he cheats a bit by keeping them on around her, hoping it will jog her memory, if he looked exactly like the boy she once fell in love with. 

It gives her headaches and takes the wind out of her. Something inside of her screams every time they’re together, and she can never quite place why she’s so affected by him. 

On their fourth or so ‘date,’ she finally asks, “What are you doing here?” 

He’s booked and busy. He’s performing stages on music program broadcasts, preparing for a world tour. And yet. And yet here he is, sitting across from her in middle-of-nowhere Anseong, over 70 kilometers away from where he’s expected to be. 

Changmin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “What do you mean?” 

“If you’re just here to check in on me because I passed out at that show—” 

“This—” He clears his throat and lowers his voice. “This has never been about that.” 

“Then what is this about, Q? What are you doing here?” 

He gives her a look, then, one that is inexplicably expectant and sad all at once. He looks like he wants to say something. He seems to decide against it at the last minute.

(In fact, all he wanted to say was that she should call him Changmin. Not Q. He didn't want to be Q, not to her.)

He settles on, “I like you. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

It’s not.

She leaves first, then, refusing his offers to walk her home. The throbbing in her head subsides with each step away that she takes. Maybe this is for the best, she thinks to herself. Someone like Ji Changmin is bound to find someone else, someone better. 

Except he knows he won’t. Changmin gets himself so messed up that Sangyeon and Juyeon have to pry the bottles of soju out of his hands. They’re worried, they tell him. But they can’t help if they don’t know what’s going on. 

Changmin drunkenly blabbers on about reincarnation and the Grim Reaper, sufficiently spooking Chanhee and Sunwoo. They all eventually pick out the core of his issue: There’s a girl. There’s a girl who doesn’t like him back and he’s taking it hard. 

When they go on tour, they all try different approaches at helping Changmin heal. Sunwoo points out attractive fans. Sangyeon sits with Changmin and listens. None of it helps.

After the months-long trip overseas, Changmin gets over his fear of buses and shuttles straight to her. He had walked her home once or twice, so he knows which neighborhood to head for. He stands outside her gate for a couple of minutes before ringing the doorbell.

And when she emerges, wide-eyed with surprise, looking every bit as the girl he didn’t get enough time with, Changmin knows there is no someone else. There is no someone better. 

All he manages to say is, “Please.” What goes unsaid: I lost you once. I can’t bear to lose you again.

She’s staring at him like he’s insane. But then she sighs, steps aside, opens her door a little wider.

“Come in,” she says. “It’s cold outside.” 

It takes four months for her to be comfortable with him, and another six months for her to concede that she cares for him romantically. When she eventually tells him, he smiles so brightly that it almost hurts to look at him. 

The headaches never really go away. She brought them up to him, once, and he fell into contemplative silence before asking, “Do you want me to leave?” 

She thought about it for a moment. “No,” she decided. “I want you to stay.” 

Stay, he did. They go back and forth from Seoul and Anseong, though Changmin is keen on shouldering her expensive cab rides to his dorm instead of having her take the bus.

He likes sharing music with her and going on dates that are reminiscent of high school— afternoons in arcades, evenings along Han River. She finds it endearing; she indulges his every whim.

One day, she falls sick and he rearranges his plans to tend to her. He’s dabbing a damp handkerchief on her forehead when she reaches up and holds his wrist, her fingers pressing into his skin.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, panicked and worried. 

“Changmin,” she says in a voice that’s barely a gasp. 

“Yeah?” 

“Changmin.” 

He sees it, then. The recognition. The ghost of a memory. It might have been the delirium speaking, the illness taking over, but Changmin’s throat closes and he strokes her hair as he holds back tears. He’s not even sure if she’ll remember this in the morning, once the fever has passed, but it doesn't matter.

“Right. Hi. It’s me,” he stutters. His words fail him spectacularly.

She’s openly crying now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she sobs. “I didn’t recognize you.”

“It’s okay. I didn’t think you ever would.” 

“You waited… For so long.” 

“And I’d do it again,” he says fiercely. “Hey, listen. I’d do it again. You found me. That’s what matters.” 

“I found you.” 

“You found me,” Changmin repeats.

In the distance, the radio is playing the song of some Western folk artist. And I'll dream each night of some version of you that I might not have, but I did not lose, the singer croons. 

Changmin is done dreaming. Changmin is done losing. 

“You found me,” he says, again. He presses a light kiss on her lips. Their first one in this lifetime.

She never has another headache again after that. 

[ourdadai]

changmin ( the boyz ) lockscreens ♡

[sanaxo-o]

Lonesome (Ji Changmin)

Warnings: cheating, drinking, kissing, cursing, just hurt with no comfort lmao, genuinely just plain angst with no happy ending :)

Word count: 2594

Sana: Hihi back with our series Emails I can’t send fwd. It genuinely took me ages to write something because I kept jumping from one member to another and ally was just so understanding 😭. A huge huge thanks to @winterchimez @invuwrld and @from-izzy for beta reading this and giving me their suggestions. Love you guys <3

“One more of this please.” You say with your eyebrows arched together. Placing your aching head in your hands you heavy out a small, tired sigh as you think back to the times when you were still happy.

Ever since you were young, all you ever wanted was your love life to be filled with joy and happiness. You knew that was not it, you saw all the hardships your parents went through when they were together but they always found their way back to each other. That was true love in your eyes.

You always dreamed about finding a man who loved you just like your dad did; you remember your older brother talking with you about the girl he used to like. You were envious of that feeling he had because you never felt it, but when you saw your brother wail over the same girl who used to bring that silly smile to his face, it made you question if love was really what you thought it was.

You think back to the time when you promised your brother to never cheat on your future partner, the way his eyes glistened with tears because he was the one who got cheated on made you swear that never in your life will you ever cheat on your partner. That is if you ever find one.

And when you did find the one, you thought that’s all you will ever need. It was as if your life was complete and you were now with the man you would love forever.

Being with Changmin truly did change your life, the way your eyes would sparkle whenever you saw his smile or when he would do those small gestures for you unknowingly made you feel like you were the only person who would ever matter to him.

You thought you would never lose him, not with the way your relationship was going on a smooth pattern but life had different decisions for you.

When you got together with Changmin, you knew it was gonna be difficult in the beginning. The man was known for having commitment issues; he was popularly known for only dating for a month and then ghosting them.

But you thought what you had with him was different; you guys went through your relationship for over a month. Hell, you surprised everyone when you both celebrated your three months anniversary.

You never thought that it would all come crashing down like this, not when your love for him was so strong.

You should have known, you were not the one when he stopped gazing at you with love in his eyes, the way he started snapping at you for the smallest things and then apologising for it blaming that he was just stressed.

You were afraid— to be his history when you dreamed about being his present, past and future. Well, then it might just remain a dream then, right?

Taking a sip of the alcohol that was placed in front of you, you looked around your surroundings, the very place where your relationship started falling apart.

—x—

Flashback

Entering the crowded club, you try your best to stick around with Changmin. Coming out to clubs three times a week was never your thing. Yes, you went to clubs, but it was only for rare or special occasions.

But considering the fact that Changmin was a huge party animal, you knew you would have to come to some of the parties along with him. You were his girlfriend, after all.

“Wait, where are you going?” You ask Changmin with a small voice as you grip his hand tightly. Afraid you might get separated in this crowded place.

“I will just look for Juyeon, you should go and get yourself a drink. I will be back in no time.” Saying that Changmin gave your forehead a small kiss as he dragged you to the bar counter, “Order some drinks for yourself while I go and talk to Juyeon about something, hmm?” He says as he caresses your hands softly while lovingly gazing into your round eyes.

You could see the sparkle still present in them. It never seemed to disappear when you were with him, which warmed your heart.

Giving him a small nod you watch his figure disappear into the room full of people. Heaving out a sigh, you order yourself a mocktail, even though you are not in the mood to drink alcohol.

—x—

Heaving out a sigh you grip onto your phone as you look at the time displayed on your screen. 12:37. It has been more than an hour since Changmin walked away to have a talk with Juyeon, and still there was no sight of him.

Getting up from the stool, you hand the bartender the money you owe him as you start walking away from there to search for Changmin.

Going around the dance floor, there was no sight of Changmin. Getting worried, you go up to the second floor to search for him. He should most probably be there, right?

Walking up the stairs you start feeling nauseous, being around all those drunk people whose bodies kept on brushing against yours made you sick. You could smell all the sweat which made you want to throw up.

As you reach the second floor, you start walking towards the spread-out couches. Looking around you could feel your legs coming to an immediate halt when you saw Changmin talking with some other person, a woman to be exact.

You could not believe your eyes, he left you there all alone while he was chit-chatting with some other girl.

Taking slow steps towards him you noticed Changmin look up at you, but his eyes did not sparkle like they used to before.

“Hey, I was looking for you…” you say quietly. Too afraid to speak any louder knowing your voice may break if you do so. “I think I will leave now. You can have fun and stay back. I don’t feel so good anyway!” You say in a rushed tone as you turn on your heels and walk away from there.

You expected Changmin to come after you, too, maybe drop you off or something but when you did not feel any presence behind you, you lost all hope.

Exiting the club, you remove your heels and hold them in your hands as you sit down on the footpath, too heartbroken to even think about looking for a ride back home.

Looking up at the night sky, you stare at the moon shining its light down on you brightly.

Sniffing you bite back your tears as the previous scene keeps on playing back in your mind. You knew you were gonna lose him, it was obvious, but you did not want to let him go.

Flashback ends

—x—

“Miss, I think it’s enough for now. You’re drunk, and we need to close. Could you please call someone who could pick you up?” You hear the bartender say to you. Looking up at him you nod your head and stand up from your chair.

Stumbling on your way to the exit, your hands hover above his contact name. Despite all the things he has done, why is it that he’s the first person you could think of in this situation? Why is it that your fingers subconsciously clicks on his contact name as you wait for him to pick up?

“Hello?” You heard Changmin’s voice beam through the other line. Heaving out a sigh you sit down on the very footpath you were on when you encountered Changmin with the girl that day.

“Could you pick me up?” You slur out. From the way you were speaking, Changmin caught onto the fact that you were drunk.

“Where are you?” You hear him ask while telling him the name of the club you hang up on him before he could reply back.

Staring down at your empty hands, your mind drifts back to the time when you started noticing Changmin distancing himself from you.

The way he would always space out while you were talking, the numerous times he reached home late with the smell of a different perfume on his clothes.

—x—

Flashback

It was a day everyone was eager for; you guys were gonna graduate. A new era and a chapter were about to begin tomorrow.

You were more than excited for this day; you graduated from university with flying colours, you already applied for different jobs which you were sure you would enjoy, but most of all, you were happy that you were able to share this moment with Changmin.

You knew he was happy about graduating, but there was something else on his mind.

Approaching you with Juyeon beside him, he stood right beside you while he held onto your waist as he told Juyeon to click a picture of you both together.

Looking up at his face you noticed the difference in them, he was not smiling like usual.

You wanted to push him away, yell at him, ask him why everything changed between you two.

You wanted to scream at him and ask ‘Why were you somewhere else when you were next to me? Why were you thinking about her when I was right there with you? Did you imagine her face when we would kiss?’ You had so many questions, but all of them were left unanswered.

Flashback ends

—x—

“Y/N…” you heard a voice call out your name. Looking up, you saw Changmin getting out of his car as he walked towards you.

Standing in front of you he gently pulled you up as he supported you so you could walk towards his car.

Opening the passenger door, he gently pushed you inside, making sure you were secured by the seat belt.

Hiding your face in your hands, you could feel your tears escaping your eyes, your body shaking with each sob.

“Y/N? What…what happened?” You heard Changmin ask from beside you. Placing his hands on yours, he pulled them down so he could have a better look at your face.

“Everything…everything is wrong…” you sob out, your voice cracking at the end.

“What do you mean?” He asks softly as he wipes your tears away. Pushing his hand away harshly, you look away from him, staring out the window you look out the window.

If the circumstances were different, you would have loved being out with him like this; kissing him in the car underneath the moonlight was something you always enjoyed when you were with him, but who knows he might be doing this with someone else too.

“Why would you do this to me?” You ask softly as you turn your attention back to him.

“I don’t get it…” he says softly as his face displays nothing but confusion.

“Why can’t I be the only one in your life? Why did you have to cheat on me? Why?” You sob out as you hit his chest multiple times with your fist.

“I…I am sorry.” Was all he said as he gripped your hands in his, stopping you from hitting him. His hold was still gentle, but his gaze wasn’t. It did not hold the same love in them like it used to and it pained you more knowing you were not the girl in his heart anymore.

“Were you thinking about her with your hand on my waist? Were you thinking about her face whenever we kissed? Was her name in your mind even when I was with you?” You question him, letting out your feelings and not having the strength to keep them in anymore.

Sighing, Changmin let your hands go as he looked ahead of him; nodding his head he could hear your sob escape.

“I hate the fact that you’re not there with me when I wake up...I hate the fact that you would run out for her, even if it’s the middle of the night. I still think about our very first kiss, but it pains me knowing it’s not the same for you.” You ramble out.

“I am sorry…” was all he said again.

“You know what’s more funny? I feel lonely even when you’re with me because it feels like you’re never around anymore. I would rather be alone than feel lonely…” you say with frustration as you move your hair out of your face. Chucking you rest your head on the seat to try to calm yourself down, “You know it’s funny how you’re gonna leave me now that I am in love with you. Can I do that to my problems too? Will they leave me if I fall in love with them? Because I don’t think I have the energy nor the strength to do anything.” You say as a tear slips down your eyes onto your cheeks.

“Don’t say that, please…” he says as he tries to grab your hand, only for you to push it away.

“Did you even give a fuck about me, Ji Changmin? Was this all just a game for you?” You say as harshly wipe your tears.

“No, I did love you, but…but she’s different, Y/N. I feel more free around her…” he says, his voice coming out small.

“So you’re saying I tied you down?” You ask with hurt visible in your eyes.

“No!” He screams in panic.

“Well, that’s what you implied!” You scream back at him.

You spare him one last look as you grip onto your bag, “Let’s break up…I cannot do this anymore.” You say as you open the door and leave the car.

Sipping on your coffee as you look out the window, it has been three months since your break up with Changmin.

You did everything you could to move on from him, you jumped from one guy to another but that did nothing since your mind seemingly drifts off to Changmin at the end of the day.

To stop that you even tried going to clubs to get wasted but what you did notice was the fact that you would come back home drunk and cry yourself to sleep while thinking about Changmin only to wake up with a severe headache and a hangover the next day.

You stopped looking after yourself; you did not even eat properly and drowned yourself in work which was not a good decision because you ended up fainting from fatigue.

As of now, you were still on the path of moving on from Changmin but in a more healthy and positive way.

Maybe what you were looking for right now wasn’t a relationship or a partner; you did not want your new relationship to end like your previous one.

You did not want to feel lonely despite having a partner, you would rather choose to be alone than to feel lonely and let yourself get insecure.

Maybe being in a relationship at the moment wasn’t the right timing for now, maybe in the future you would be happier than you are now.

Now you know that loving one’s self comes before loving another, because would it be fair if you gave all your love to your partner, then leaving nothing to yourself? All you knew was that before you got into another relationship you should love yourself first because what you learned from your relationship with Changmin was that there’s no point in being together with someone if you did not love yourself enough.

Taglist: @cloverdaisies @kimsohn @mosviqu @i520cm @deoboyznet

[quaissants]

BUDAPEST   ˳  changmin  :  the boyz

riders biker! ji changmin ・ gender neutral reader + word count 1,186 genre fluff .. suggestive .. what are we warnings suggestive tones .. mention of nausea huwag muna tayong umuwi unknowingly got into something.. else in the process of writing this so ig i could dedicate this to my biker ❤️‍🩹

whenever given the choice of fight or flight, you’ll always scramble before lying across the asphalt. 

maybe that’s why it’s so easy for changmin to catch up to you. regardless of your escape route, he’ll be at your point of interest before you’ve made it halfway. it makes sense now—why the sight painted up ahead, right in front of your apartment complex, doesn’t come as much of a surprise. 

the paragon of a nephilim, he braces his weight against his parked bike; one foot shifted on the road while the other limb stretches out, worn out sneakers tapping beats on the pavement. those sharp eyes are restless; observant gaze shifting across one direction of the neighbourhood to another. although you can’t see where his hands are from the length of the sweater to his jeans pocket, it won’t be long before he’ll flex those lithe fingers to rest on.. something else. 

you just know ji changmin far too well than you’d wish to accept.

there’s no use in bowing your head, frantic mind pretending to be fixated on the cracks in the pavement. a man like him doesn’t forget so easily—he’s well aware he’s the one who gifted you that niki graphic tee. (maybe you can tell him later if you still remember the way he slipped his hands underneath the cotton, kissing your skin with his searing touch.) yet he chooses to entertain your antics, all up until you’re standing by the main door of your residence.

“how are you feeling, darling?” he calls out, setting off the retracing of his mark in your soul with that teasing lilt in his dulcet voice.

frightened, intrigued, ensnared, captivated.. “nauseous.”

changmin stands to his proper height, the loose material wrapped around his toned upper body falling just enough to reveal a sliver of bare skin. a blank canvas you’re quite acquainted with; it’s like he’d chosen that sweater to taunt you. “let’s go for a ride, get some air.”

he’s dangling the bait right in front of your hazy vision, patiently waiting for you to take it. but you try to enforce self-control by replying, “i should head inside now, ‘got a few finals to review for.”

sure, he isn’t looking at you, but you know he’s not swayed by your lie. if he was convinced, he wouldn’t be opening that top box to bring out your helmet. if he believed you, he wouldn’t be walking up to you to secure the safety gear. and if he didn’t know you far too well, he wouldn’t have his charming smirk drawn across his lips as he tells you, “get on the bike, [y/n].”

“i hate to break it to you darling, but you’re not the best at hiding.”

no, he’s not. that charming trickster resting against you loves complementing your inability to avoid him with his refusal to seriously deceive you. at least it works in his favor—he gets a delicious burn in his scalp, courtesy of your firm tug on his tresses. it’s a mere appetizer that leaves more than enough room for the view gracing his upside-down vision.

of course it’s you. you, his darling.. yet not his.

the curve of his smile barely reaches a quarter before it’s exchanged for a frown. an expression you’re barely acquainted with, changmin’s only aimed it at two kinds of people: the fools and the victims of his drunk shenanigans. and while you’ve qualified for either category at least twice during the span of your.. friendship, you’ve never fallen under that countenance.

as much as you want to keep him like that, you can’t stop changmin from turning around to face you properly. stood before you with one hand resting flat on his bike, his gaze roams as if he’s taking in all of you for the very first time. it isn’t the first, nor will it be the last, time he’s done this; beheld your presence like it was something that must be permanently etched in that enigmatic mind of his.

it’s what comes next that rarely stays the same. 

perhaps his calloused hands will dance across your thighs before his blunt nails map out trails along your lower back. he could be in the mood to return the favour from earlier—tilt your head back until it’s resting at the perfect angle, the one where a blank canvas is bared for him. then again, he might be more interested in setting a cigarette between his lips while you hold the bronzed flame between the two of you.

inevitably, changmin proves how familiar you are with his mannerisms by mixing his sequence up this time ‘round.

his warmth cradles your chill; the wobbly thrum of your heartbeat falls in sync with his steady ripples. or so you assume, until he brings your hand right where his heart lies within its gilded sanctuary. beneath your trembling fingers, his rhythm is just as bad as yours—the adrenaline found in this moment forging such a terrifyingly beautiful feeling. you know it scares him,  because for once, those eyes tells you everything that has never left his lips.

and right now, he wants needs you to know that his fear is holding onto hope tightly. so he finally sets a sliver of his foot over the threshold.

“do you want this, darling?” 

do you want me—this indecisive boy who can’t promise you everything, but will give you anything you desire?

“that’s unfair, minnie. you know i can’t say no.”

i will decline plenty of things and people in the world; anything but never you.

his laugh’s picked up by the midnight breeze, a memento for one of the sole witnesses of this scene. it’s a cliche, your indecisive boy complementing his small head tilt with a playful uptick of his lips. you know this part of the flow by heart; already anticipating the connection from the way his breath tickles your skin..

..until it doesn’t happen. assuming there was a buffer, you open your eyes to see what happened. a silly mistake on your part, for you’re immediately greeted by that playful gleam painted across his countenance. 

changmin just couldn’t let the opportunity slip by. a trickster at heart, he boldly waves the bait over your head again, “i thought we drove out here to clear up your nausea. now while i’m no professional, i don’t think romantic cpr is the ideal solution for that-”

of course you bite—or in this case, hook your fingers in his belt loops to close the proximity. there’s no solution as effective as kissing your lover until your lungs interrupt because they do need fresh air to function. still, it’s worth the second dip; so long as he wears that dreamy-eyed look more often.

“one more time, pretty please.”

he’s so gorgeous when he begs. the thought of running doesn’t dare to cross your mind this time. but if ever you do take off, it’ll always be right into his awaiting arms—shortly sprawled on the asphalt together with band-aid kisses as a complementary product.

now that is worth fighting for; he is worth that and more.

𓆩♡𓆪 ─┈ passengers. @stealanity​ @sohnric @lost-leopard-beanie — send an ask / dm to be added !

[0830s]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀[ 23:47 ]

it's just a simple evening, where the peaceful softness of the night caresses your skin, your eyes bathed with the brightest stars, and your ears lulled by the tiniest sounds of a quiet city. the hand of

your lover is clinging to yours, and suddenly his cheerful voice whispers i love you in the wind, witnessed only by the moon. your racing hearts compete with the clatter of falling drops in puddles.

[sungbeam]

𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

demon!ji changmin x reader (no pronouns used, but original fic was f!reader)

love. — what is love if not your steady heartbeat in his ear when he thinks you should be afraid?

4.7k words, established relationship, demon/supernatural creatures au, mild angst, very minor humor, bit of fluff?, mentions of blood, so much intimacy (skinship, cheek/stomach kisses), mentions of insecurities, swearing, use of pet names (love, sweetheart)

read night terrors / peruse the collection post

a/n: this lowkey just became a character study of demon changmin

THERE WEREN'T MANY INSTANCES where you were afraid for Changmin, nor were there many instances where you were afraid of him. You suspected that he strived to avoid either of said instances, especially regarding the latter. After all the two of you had experienced with one another, it seemed important to him that you could trust him and were not scared. 

It was difficult for him to fully accept that he did not frighten you in some way. Part of that reason, you guessed, was simply his awareness of how others viewed his species.

What was he but a mortal's night terror, a creature of evil?

To him, you should have been sleeping with a stake beneath your pillow—or rather, you shouldn't have had enough trust to sleep next to him at all. 

But several months under your relationship's belt was beginning to ease his concerns. The long drives up and down the state, chasing his strange assignments for work, had slowly become something he could look forward to. Sunshine or rain battering the windows, he would glance away from the dense fog outside to see you holding on desperately to the waking world, or feel your fingers curl around his hand when sleep stole you away. 

Most of the time, it wasn't too dangerous and you didn't mind tagging along with him. You'd grown used to the nomad lifestyle, seemingly content with spending a couple weeks in Moonstone Creek from time to time, and the rest of it with him. 

You loved him; you always made that clear. The ring on your right ring finger was proof that he knew that and reciprocated.

There were always, however, doubts. Changmin always had doubts. 

“—And I'll get that blueberry muffin creamer you liked yesterday, too.” 

Changmin broke out of the bubble he'd trapped himself in at the sensation of your lips against his cheek. This mortal body he had flushed at the feeling, his hand swift to stop you from leaving just yet, like an instinct. 

He wrapped an arm around your waist, and his face was level with your stomach from the chair he sat in. The hotels you usually stayed at on your routes always came with a desk and chair, so you could work on Moonstone Creek's finances or he could research. He pressed a kiss to your clothed stomach, his hand squeezing your waist affectionately. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

Your smiling eyes met his and you combed your hand through his hair once, twice. “I'll be back soon. You just keep your head in those books.”

He grumbled something against your stomach—‘I thought college was the last time I'd be pouring over texts’—and your laugh twinkled over his head. He hadn't even been paying attention to the texts he brought; really, his head was elsewhere today. 

“That's your fault for being an anthropology major and for literally chasing down ancient artifacts as your main source of income.”

“That was so unhelpful.”

Another comb through his hair. He could melt. “Just being honest,” you sang amusedly. “Okay, but I should get a move on. All their pastries are gonna be gone, and their danishes smelled really good yesterday.”

He hummed. “Stay safe.” Another kiss. 

Your hand settled at the nape of his neck. “I will. Love you.”

The words warmed in his chest. Just as you were pulling away, his grip tightened for a moment. “You have Clyde?” He couldn't let anything happen to you. 

“Yes—” you patted your jacket pocket, “—Clyde’s where he's always been. And Bonnie?”

“You know she's not moving,” he said, cocking a brow at you. 

You bit your lip through a small laugh and slowly moved toward the hotel room door, shoving your wallet and the room key into your pockets. “Okay. Happy reading then, love.”

“Unhappy reading,” he groaned into his hand, which was followed by your laugh and the door closing behind you. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile.

He counted a few seconds in case you had forgotten something, then went over to grab his phone from the nightstand. Settling on the edge of the bed, he pulled up the text thread he had between himself and Sangyeon. 

sangyeon: okay so don't freak out [sent an image]

sangyeon: but i found this lying around my house the other day, and i asked lily abt it and she said yn was on the fence abt showing u

Changmin could recognize your handwriting against Lily's in the picture. The image was a clear scan of a piece of paper, who's centerpiece was that of a house. It was a roughly drawn blueprint of a cottage, something small, cozy, homely. The house, as you outlined, wasn't large at all, but with one full floor, an attic, and a porch. There were notes all around the house in your familiar scrawl, writing about the projected cost of each thing—typical of you to think about practicality, even in your fantasy house blueprint—as well as features you'd like installed, like a fireplace and a porch swing.

It reminded him so much of Sena's house in the suburbs in a way… had you thought about this while you were there? A place you could call home, some place to settle down eventually, and finally have a slice of normalcy?

sangyeon: lily said she coaxed it out of yn, which is why yn didn't want to share it and make it seem like she was forcing u into anything u weren't comfortable w

sangyeon: but i think that u love her enough to hear her out

sangyeon: idk… it's ur call ofc whether or not u want to have that conversation yet

Changmin always had doubts. He'd learned during his time on the mortal plane to slow down and feel the weight of another's emotions, and what inevitably came with empathy was insecurity. 

You loved him; that was why his ring was on your finger and you would never bring up the cottage you confided to Lily about. You loved him, and knew that there was an unmistakable itch in him that could only be scratched when he was able to move, to not be chained to one place. But humans were different from demons, and your experiences were different from his. 

He always had doubts that you might never be fully content with this life he led. 

He sighed, massaging his jaw absentmindedly with one hand. Sangyeon had sent him those messages two days ago when you and he were driving to this sleepy town, tucked away at the foot of a mountain range. You'd been asleep when they were received, which was why you didn't see the notifications. Changmin could do as little then as he could now, and he basically replied to Sangyeon that he would think about it and talk to you. 

At some point. 

That was before he realized that it would be all he could think about. There was no word for 'selfish’ or 'selfless’ in demonic culture. It was either you did something to help yourself or harm yourself—usually, those who didn't act for their own benefit were thought of as weaker willed. It was difficult to dismantle methods of thinking like this in order to view the world and his interactions in a different way. 

Changmin abandoned his phone on the nightstand so that he could step over to the window and shove it open. The lever was rusty and squealed as he cranked it counterclockwise to let in the fresh pine morning and the natural white noise. 

Maybe this would help him focus on work or gain the courage to talk to you when you came back.

Changmin barely glanced up in time to see a blurry mass hurtling toward his face. “Shit.” 

He dropped to the floor.

A gleeful and tinny laugh like the rattle inside an aluminum can filled the room. The spike of shock in his heart was replaced very quickly with red, hot annoyance. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grunted, clambering to his feet, eyes narrowed on the pixie who had invaded his space. “Don't you fuckers ever knock?”

The pixie was only about a foot and a half tall, its translucent, membranous wings fluttering at the speed of a human eye's blink. This one in particular had a pair of orbs as dark as the lowest circles of Hell for eyes and two racks of jagged teeth lining its gums. The pixie buzzed around the room, careful to remain out of Changmin's reach. 

Fuckass supernatural mosquito….

“You hide your true form, demon,” its voice crackled like tin foil. “Naughty, naughty.”

Changmin's nostrils flared. “What's it to you, imp?”

“The darkness that lies deep within you—I can smell it—hear it.” The pixie zipped around the room over Changmin's head, and he gritted his teeth, attempting to clamp his hands around it. It squealed in delight, black eyes going wider and wider as if it could gaze straight into his soul. “What if we open the door, demon? Ah—I smell a human in this room!”

He stiffened. “You’re only smelling my human form,” he bit out.

“Must you need a reminder? I can smell your true form and I can smell lies.” 

Changmin stumbled back as the pixie flew directly in front of his face, then fluttered out of reach before he could snatch the piece of shit out of the air. The organ in his chest continued to hurtle toward overdrive—the pixie could smell you. The pixie could smell you. “I will rip the wings from your back if you even think about touching my human,” he growled. 

The pixie gasped, clapping its tiny, pale hands. “Oh-ho! The claws become you! Won't you show a little more skin, demon?” 

His eyes turned down to his hands, palms turned upward, the tips of his fingers turned an ash gray. Where his chipped fingernails had been, now sat a full set of dagger-sharp claws. He hadn't even realized he'd transformed them. 

“What color does a pixie bleed?” Changmin lunged for the pixie with his claws outstretched. 

The pixie dove out of the way, the claw just barely missing the edge of its leg. “Does your human taste divine?”

“None of your fucking business.”

“Not very fun are you, demon?” The pixie whizzed past his ear, behind his head—Changmin whirled about on the ball of his foot. 

He slammed his palm forward, claws denting the plaster, nightstand digging into his thighs. As the pixie rose up toward the ceiling to stay out of harm's way, Changmin climbed onto the bed, determination coursing through his veins. 

“Would you like a riddle?”

Changmin swiped his hand, relishing in the splatter of clear liquid that glittered in the air—blood. The pixie's eyes widened, this time in fear. “Why would I want a riddle?”

A tremble marked the pixie's voice. “Twin halves of old, sealed by a third / like matches, they will spark the world to burn—” Its words were cut off as it swooped out of the way, its clear blood trailing behind it as Changmin's breathing grew heavier, eyes narrowing. “To save three—”

A loud crinkle, akin to a dozen small bones being crushed. A shrill shriek, nails on a chalkboard. A demonic smirk as he clutched a fragmented wing in his clawed hand. 

“You were saying?” he taunted, bringing the flailing pixie close to his face. Changmin couldn't deny the rush of deep, animalistic satisfaction that purred in his chest at his caught prey. Whatever this pixie had in mind for you would never come to fruition. 

“You're a fool to not heed my warning—” it spat, its agony spilling in glittery globs, “—such actions are so true to your species, my liege.”

The impact of the title came accompanied by a flurry of something bright yellow and fuzzy thrown right into Changmin's face. Alarmed, he dropped the pixie and scrambled to claw the dust out of his eyes and mouth. He spluttered and spat the substance onto the hotel room floor; upon hands and knees, he tried desperately to get ahold of his bearings. 

What the fuck was this stuff?

He could hear the blood pulsing in his ears, feel the transformation taking place. There was energy going toward places on his body to grow extremities he hadn't seen in years. 

No, no, no—

Changmin gagged on the pixie's dust, its acrid taste a reflection of the bitter effects to show. He screwed his eyes shut—willed his body to take control of itself. When his hands went over his head, he swore at the feeling of the twin horns curling out of his crown. 

Every one of his once-human senses were dialed to eleven. Voices and car motors and leaves crunching bombarded his ears; the intricately disgusting layers of odors in the carpet separated themselves beneath him. The sensations overwhelmed him from disuse. He held his head in his arms, panic weighing down and around his bones. 

When the transformation was complete, he was left in haggard breaths. His arms shook as he pushed himself onto his hands and knees, then to brace against the hotel bed. 

The pixie was gone, naturally, and likely escaped out the window from where it came in. 

Changmin splayed his clawed hands beneath him on the white sheets. 

He shook his head, attempting to clear his mind and reign in the sensations to focus on the most important ones. Everything else could be background for now; all he needed was—was that. 

There—it was faint, but approaching by the second. Humming.

It was a soft, familiar sound that curled around his taut spine with the tenderness of a lover's caress. A heartbeat followed, slow but steady and sure. The pattern was also familiar, accompanied by leisurely footsteps and the smell of dark coffee and pastries. 

If he could just focus on those sensations in particular…

Then the thought hit him like a truck. 

That was you. The voice, the heartbeat, the footsteps.

You would return at any moment and see him in this state. Changmin could practically feel the fear that would roll off you in waves (or was that his own?), and he lunged for the bathroom. 

He stumbled into the dark chamber, fearing the reflection he'd find in the mirror should he turn the light on. The door slammed shut behind him and that darkness enveloped him. 

There was your heartbeat again—ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum—still faint, but becoming clearer. 

Slowly, he raised his head up to face the mirror on the bathroom wall. The dooming sense of acceptance dulled his own reaction. 

Twin horns, onyx in color, curled out from the tufts of his hair, hard and unmistakable. His skin had taken on the grayish tint of his kind from the black blood that now ripped through his veins. There were the claws, of course, and the slim, wiry tail speared at the end with a sharp spade and a mind of its own. Fangs, jagged and like small knives, peaked their points out past his lips, and he snapped his mouth shut to keep the forked tongue from tasting air. His eyes had become that of a predator's, the pupils dark as night and slimmer in shape—all the better for a deeper field of focus. 

In Hell, the consistent lack of bright light made it so that pinpoint eyes were sought after; it was better to see in the dark and pick apart the deep shades of red, black, purple, and blues. And, well, any sudden movement. 

Changmin didn't know why he tried to fool himself into thinking keeping the bathroom lights off would change anything. 

Your heartbeat was coming closer, louder. His breathing was beginning to even out as he matched his own to the sound of air rushing through your trachea, then exhaling through your nose. 

He could get himself back to his human form before you got back. He could do it—he swore he could. 

Focus.

It required so much focus and energy, but… but he could do it. He could do it before you saw him like this, before that calm heartbeat became erratic, and you became afraid—afraid of him. 

His breathing deepened as he sucked in a lungful of oxygen. In… out. 

Going from demonic form to human form in the mortal plane would be easy. 

It should have been easy. 

Seconds passed, and your footsteps approached from down the hall. There came the crinkle of a paper bag, shuffling of cardboard, as you shifted things in your hold to grab the room key from your pocket. The aroma of the pastries and coffee you brought back wafted into his nose, but not with the strength that your scent permeated every one of his senses—

Why couldn't he shift back? 

He curled his hands into fists on the counter, frustration making his fangs scrape against each other. 

Why wasn't he able to shift back? It was supposed to be easy—

The door outside clicked open and fell shut. “Changmin? Hey, I'm back.”

He stilled. The words to call back to you were lodged in his throat, unable to form upon the accursed forked tongue in his mouth. Panic seized him by the ribcage and he suddenly found it suffocating to breathe. 

There was silence on your end, and he could hear your heartbeat slowly begin to quicken. “Are you—are you okay? The wall's dented, and the—and the sheets…” 

Your footsteps arrived before the bathroom door, and at the same time he heard the door handle jiggle, he slammed his hand against it to bar you from coming in. 

Changmin could feel your leap of fright; his shoulders sagged with regret. It probably wasn't the best idea to do that. “Don't—” he cleared his throat from the grittiness there, “—don’t come in.”

Your heartbeat calmed then, after hearing back from him. “I won't,” you promised. “Is everything okay?”

I look like a monster. Some dumb fucking pixie made it so I can't shift forms. And I can't lock the stupid door because my nails are too long. 

But you didn't need to know all of that. 

He hung his head, attempting to feel that tendril of power in him that he could grapple onto to trigger the transformation. Nothing. “I'm… I'm fine,” he choked out. “I—” 

The corded necklace that was hidden beneath his shirt swung out into his view. His half of the pendant was not pulsing with life like yours was; it was connected to your heart, after all. But he curled his fingers around it nonetheless, his ears singling out your pulse. 

Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum...

“... Changmin? Can I do something to help?”

He needed time. Fuck, he just needed to wait this stupid pixie dust out. His first thought was to send you away so you wouldn't see him at all. The next was a counter to the former—he needed your pulse. That was his anchor. 

The energy was slowly seeping from his bodily stores to sustain this form in this realm. Maybe if the pixie dust didn't wear off, he could tire his body into transforming. 

Your voice came out even softer. “Hey, what's going on, love?”

His forehead hit the door, eyes fluttering shut. “I'm not… I don't look like myself right now.” The self you're used to, at least. “A pixie came into the room and—and it threw something at me to force me to transform.”

“Into…?”

There was a light thump sound from the other side of the door as you leaned against it. Your warmth radiated through the wood, and the little monster inside him leaned into it. “My demon form.”

Changmin loathed the silence, your held breath. The acceptance washed over him in a deafening wave like his head was being held underwater. 

“Okay,” you exhaled, finally. “That’s okay… and so you're not able to turn back, is that it?”

His eyes couldn't help but narrow. “You're not scared.” The scent rolling off you wasn't that of fear. 

“Why would I be scared of you?”

Changmin's breath shuddered. There were plenty of reasons for you to be scared once you saw him. This body was made to harm. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“I'm not scar—”

“I could hear it from the street, Yn.” He didn't know what to do about the leap in your pulse, the way that steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum tripped over itself. Something at the back of his mind urged him to continue—to tell you everything and convince you to be scared. “I can feel the heat from your blood and smell the hotel soap on your skin.”

A beat passed. “That doesn't scare me.”

If you were anyone else, he would have laughed in your face. Foolish, foolish human. But you weren't just anyone else, and he couldn't get your terror out of his head. 

When he didn't say anything for a moment, you murmured, “Love, can I come in? Can I see you?”

Changmin swallowed. “I don't want to scare you.”

“I know—but I trust you.” Your hand warmed the door handle on the other side, the soft clink of his ring against the metal echoing through the material to reach him. “Do you trust me?”

(If demons ultimately were motivated to do things that would help them, then he should open the door. To his brethren, a human willingly walking into his clutches was a mark too easy not to lose. But the reason they would want you to come in through the door was nowhere near the same reason he wanted you to. 

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

He leaned his weight off the door. 

With his body mostly hidden behind the slab of wood, he carefully cracked the door open, his claws wrapped around the outside, so you would be fed his demonic form gradually. You'd seen the claws before when he'd gouged a siren's eyes out. But your eyes drank in the ashen skin around his features—death incarnate—from the slits of his irises to the spirals of ebony piercing out of his head. 

Your heartbeat took off, galloping wildly as he revealed more and more of himself while you stepped into the bathroom. The thunderous rush of your blood echoed in his own ears; it was a tantalizing sensation. 

There was a nervousness to your movements. Your lips were tight, hands slightly shaky. But above all else, your eyes remained tender and worried, and he might have fallen to his knees if he wasn't clutching the door. 

“Do you want to close the door?” You asked. 

Even now, you wanted to accommodate him. He gave a small nod, but added, “Can you—can you turn around?”

You dipped your head once, then turned your back to him. 

(So much trust… When did he earn all of this? From what did he deserve to have your back to him in this context? He could slit your throat in a blink, but you would throw yourself into Hell if he asked.

If demonic culture didn't have a word for selfish or selfless, then what was this?)

Changmin closed the bathroom door and swallowed everything into darkness once again. He could hear your shallow breathing; you were trying to keep it steady, because you knew he could hear it as clear as a bell, but it wouldn't fool him. 

He took a step closer—then faltered, as he reached a hand out for your shoulder. He retracted his hand to his side. “You can turn around.”

Eyes watched as you slowly turned your body back around. You were fidgeting around with his ring, twisting the dark metal back and forth, as you lifted your eyes up and down his form. 

There was that catch in your breath again. Changmin's shoulders were so tense, he couldn't decide if that was from how high-strung he was or from the energy steadily being spent from his body. He'd probably last about another hour or two before collapsing. 

The bathroom was deafeningly quiet, with only your breaths and heartbeat keeping his insecurities company. He wanted to shrink into the collar of his shirt under your gaze, eyes blown wide as the moon. As you soaked him in, his eyes roved over your face—searching, searching, searching. 

At last, you tried for a soft smile. “You don't scare me.”

“I don't?” But he couldn't smell fear on you, couldn't make out any clear displays of it. He'd looked for them all. Your heartbeat had calmed, but your expression had never lost that something. 

(Was this love?)

You stepped forward once, and then again, until you stood with your toes touching and noses almost brushing. You shook your head and reached up to brush your thumb against his cheekbone. 

So warm… so gentle. 

His fangs gleamed in the dark when his lips parted. “You've been through so much,” he croaked. “Don't I look like them?” Them, the few creatures who had made you go on the run in the first place? Did creatures like him not haunt your waking world and nightmares? How could you bear to sleep next to him at night?

“If you're trying to convince me you're a monster, then it won't work.” Your fingers trailed down the plane of his face and he reached up to grasp onto you before you could retreat. “Does it hurt?”

At that question, he couldn't help the small, raspy laugh that bubbled out of his chest. 

“What?” You asked, the corners of your mouth lifting upward. 

“It's no—” he shook his head, his tongue darting out to slip over his lips. His fingers rearranged around yours and held them close to his chest, his thumb finding the familiar characters of his name wrapped around your digit. “—nothing. I just… you still care.”

Confusion flickered over your face, but was swiftly replaced by something softer. “Of course I still care.”

“I could hurt you.”

“You could have hurt me a long time ago.” But you haven't. 

Changmin swallowed again, relishing in the warmth that radiated from your palm wrapped in his. “No, it doesn't really hurt,” he whispered. “I just can't sustain this form for very long.”

Your eyes shone. “How long?”

“A couple hours at most,” he said, fangs grazing his lip. “I'm trying to wait out the pixie dust—”

“Pixie dust? Aren't you supposed to be flying?” Your grin was flooring, but he managed not to falter. At his deadpan expression, you patted the back of his hand. “Sorry, don't get your horns in a twist.”

“Yn—”

“It was right there; I had to.” 

Even he couldn't suppress the curl of lips for long. He just… Hell, he just loved you. Even if he now had slits for pupils and knives for teeth, nothing could mistake the blatant fondness in his features. His eyes could be pitch black, but he would still find a way to express silently how much he adored you. 

You pursed your lips, the mirth leaving your face for a second. “Do you need blood? How long until the pixie dust wears off?”

“I'm not sure, but I'm not taking your blood.” He sent you a pointed look when you opened your mouth to retaliate. “It's like you have a death wish from the amount of times you've offered me blood. I'm not dying, sweetheart.”

“You could be…”

“Technically, I'm undead—”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, whatever.” Your nose wrinkled up for a second, and then you were wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his shirt. “You’re still Changmin to me. You're still the guy I'm in love with.”

His arms came around your form and he tucked his face into the crook of your neck, careful to keep his horns from hitting you. He suffocated himself on the feel of your skin, the subtle bump in your pulse just beneath the surface. Despite everything, you still trusted him enough to put his teeth so close to your scars. You didn't run away from him, from the true him. 

(Was this love?)

He wanted to hold you here forever. His human. “I love you.”

Your body tensed in surprise, and it nearly chased him away until you squeezed him tighter. He felt your lips against the place his human heart would have been. Changmin always had doubts, but you were so good at calming them. “I know.”

And haven't you always known?

Changmin had known, too, even if he'd searched long and hard for the doubt. All this time of sharing your space, your warmth, your company—he knew. 

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed!

night terrors fic / collection

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @luumiinaa @lotties-readings @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @gluion @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @bjnet

[neoraso]

[22:08] trying to kiss changmin without messing up your face masks

[wolvesland]

─── 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐖 ֪

→ Ji Changmin x Leitora

→ Palavras: 970

→ Autor(a) se inspirou na música da Lana Del Rey, Diet Mountain Dew.

AVISOS: menção de cigarro, changmin é inseguro em relação a si próprio (um pouco), fluffy, reconfortante (um pouco).

📌 masterlist

© all rights reserved by @sanaxo-o

© tradução (pt/br) by @wolvesland

Sentado junto à janela do seu apartamento, o rapaz solitário olhava para fora. Os seus olhos não tinham emoções, mas havia tantos pensamentos a passar-lhe pela cabeça que só ele sabia.

As ruas movimentadas da cidade não lhe prestam atenção. A chuva batia de vez em quando na sua janela, enquanto o céu escuro da noite iluminava o seu rosto.

Os monstros em sua mente dificultaram o sono do rapaz, ele não queria nada mais do que correr para os seus braços, mas sabia que não podia fazer isso. Mas, ao mesmo tempo, não conseguia deixar de se ver indo para o seu apartamento a altas horas da noite, sempre que os monstros na sua mente lhe dificultavam a vida.

Foi o que ele fez esta noite, levantou-se do seu lugar, pegou as chaves de casa e foi diretamente para a sua bicicleta que estava estacionada no exterior.

A brisa fria da noite atingiu-o, mas ele não se importou o suficiente para ir buscar um casaco para si, só tinha uma coisa em mente: estar nos seus braços.

Ao chegar ao degrau da porta, tocou a campainha com impaciência. A porta se abriu lentamente quando ele estava prestes a bater novamente. Inspirou profundamente e viu tudo.

Ali estava você, a namorada dele. O seu cabelo estava solto e amarrado numa trança e o seu rosto olhava para ele com olhos confusos, mas acolhedores. Abriu a porta para ele entrar, Changmin entrou e fechou a porta atrás de si.

Segurando você junto a ele, respirou fundo e fechou os olhos enquanto tremia um pouco, pegou você, se dirigiu diretamente para o seu quarto.

Colocou você gentilmente no chão, ele próprio se sentou ao lado da sua cama quente, aconchegante e fofa. Não se atreveu a dizer uma palavra, porque já sabia que você tinha idéia do porque é que ele estava ali outra vez.

— Pesadelo? – Você perguntou com a sua voz suave enquanto se aproximava de Changmin para o abraçar como sempre fazia.

Abanando a cabeça Changmin segurou o rosto entre as mãos e exalou um suspiro profundo.

— Eu não conseguia dormir, tinha demasiados pensamentos na cabeça. Ia voltar a fumar, mas parei, sei que não gosta quando eu fumo. – Changmin não quis continuar a frase.

Você ficou calada e não disse mais nada. Sabia que detestava quando ele fumava, mas não era essa a única coisa que o fazia ficar calmo? Mas é bom que ele esteja a tentar deixar de fumar.

— Você acha que vamos estar apaixonados para sempre? – Changmin perguntou do nada, o que fez você congelar.

Parando no lugar a mão que estava a acariciar o cabelo dele, você olhou para Changmin com olhos ilegíveis.

— Eu... Eu não sei Changmin. Acho que nos apaixonaríamos para sempre, mas não sei o que o futuro nos reserva... – Você disse em voz baixa enquanto retomava o que estava a fazer, mas parou quando Changmin se afastou.

— Eu não sou bom para você, estou sempre inseguro em relação a mim próprio. Não vai querer um parceiro assim no futuro. – Changmin vê você abanar a cabeça enquanto segurava novamente a mão dele com as suas suaves.

— Te amo, aconteça o que acontecer, estar contigo é como uma montanha-russa. Nunca se sabe o que virá a seguir, mas não tenho medo disso, porque sei que estará lá comigo quando acontecer. Talvez a velocidade nos aproxime mais, talvez eu goste da forma como a nossa relação nos mantém sempre em alta. Eu só... Adoro, pois você está lá para mim. Não me interessa se não é bom para mim, continuaria a te querer. – Dizendo isto, você se inclina e beija suavemente os lábios de Changmin.

Os dois lábios uniram-se em sincronia e Changmin se esquece dos seus pensamentos mais íntimos que o estavam a consumir. Os esqueceu, porque estava com você.

— O que me diz? Vamos ao 7/11? – Pergunta Changmin assim que se afastam. Ao ouvir a pergunta, você riu em adoração.

— É muito tarde, tem certeza? – Você perguntou, embora já estivesse a levantar da cadeira e a pegar nos óculos de sol em forma de coração.

— É de noite, não precisa disso... – Changmin disse, embora gostasse que você usasse isso. E nunca houve uma garota tão bonita como você.

— Não importa. Nós estaríamos na tua bicicleta de qualquer maneira... – Dizendo isto você afastou-se em direção à sala de estar e pegou em dois casacos, um para você e outro para Changmin.

Ao saírem de casa juntos, mais uma vez, Changmin se esqueceu do seu passado quando estava com você. Ele não ia deixar que o passado o impedisse de fazer o que queria.

— Me deixa te mostrar a que velocidade posso ir. – Dizendo isto, Changmin ligou o motor da motocicleta e arrancou, o que fez você gritar de surpresa enquanto o seu riso ecoava pelas ruas vazias de Nova Iorque.

Ele sabia que não era bom para você, mas estava disposto a se tornar suficientemente bom para ti. Ele sabia que a queria na sua vida para o resto da vida, nada importava. Foi você que o salvou dos demônios interiores e o fez sentir-se melhor consigo próprio.

Era isso que ele queria e precisava. Ele tinha muito em que pensar, mas quando se tratava de você, você era o centro da atenção dele e nada mais o importava.

[winterchimez]

Forbidden | Ji Changmin

SUMMARY: you have been separated from your childhood best friend, Changmin for years. so when you both finally reunite on a mission together, he is no longer the childhood friend you have once come to know of, and things were going to take a turn for the both of you.

PAIRING: spy Changmin x spy f!reader

GENRE: ex-bffs to lovers au, angst, crime, suggestive

WARNINGS: nc-17, violence, mentions of gambling, mentions of human trafficking, kissing, making out

WORD COUNT: 3,168

A/N: here is the 3rd entry from my 100 followers event, and this was requested by my 妹妹 @sungbeam 💕 the way you chose that specific prompt lmao i knew i had to deliver some ✨good food✨ for you, and i hope it was worthy of your taste miss beam 😮‍💨 (it might be a bit rushed so i humbly apologise i wrote this in one sitting)

“Agent Y/N, reporting in.” 

You knocked at your boss's door and stood there enthusiastically, awaiting your next mission. 

It has been a while since you were deployed on field missions, hence the excitement you felt when you received a code entitled “S-Rank”, which indicated the highest rank of difficulty of missions that only a selected few are allowed to participate in. 

You have been with your current agency for a few years, and through hard work and determination, you rose up to one of the higher-ranking agents in the field. With that, you are mostly deployed on the field, dealing with many missions that are far more gruesome and dangerous, which could eventually cost you your life if you weren’t careful enough. But you were a fighter—a soldier equipped with wits and extraordinary martial arts skills. 

As a result, you have been placed on training duties where you were assigned to train the new recruits to prepare them as they make their official debut on the field. Not that you were entirely mad about it, since martial arts was one of your fortes, but you surely miss being on the field and on an actual mission. 

Hence, you couldn’t contain your excitement for the day, and you couldn’t wait to gear back up and return to your comfort zone. 

Your boss—Director Ji, was pretty pleased with the number of upcoming recruits that were going to officially join the team, as several agents were currently abroad to fulfill their own missions. In other words, your company desperately needs potential ones who could take on field missions. 

This time, however, he hands you a red folder with all the necessary information about the mission. You knew what the red folder exactly meant—ones that could indeed cause a life or death situation, and there is no room for even a single mistake for this one. Usually, these were given to the elites, not even to higher-ranking agents like yourself. 

The Elites are the best of the best, and they excel in every possible scenario or situation that they are in, no matter how brutal the mission may be. They do not engage much with the other agents except for the director himself, as they are often sent away far abroad to handle much more trivial matters at hand. 

If your director has handed you such a folder where it’s not meant for you on a usual basis, that could only mean one thing. You were to step in as a substitute and be paired with at least one of the members from the elites and fulfill the mission as swiftly and hassle-free as possible. 

As you were about to turn back and take your leave, your director stopped you just in time to inform you that this mission requires some more training than usual, and you were to be paired up with one of them to prepare for the big day.

Training with one of the elites? Obviously, how could you ever say no? It is definitely a dream come true for you as you have always admired them from the shadows. Enthusiastically, you nodded and agreed with the offer as you stepped out of the room.

“This is going to be so much fun.”

“I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you.” 

The brunette shoots you with that cold and blunt statement, and in return, you give the male the biggest frown of the day. 

As much as you were enthusiastic the entire morning as you prepared yourself for whoever would join you for the mission, the excitement immediately died down when the infamous elite member, Ji Changmin, stepped foot into the training room.

Your ex-childhood best friend. 

Both you and Changmin go all the way back to kindergarten, you both were literally neighbours up till high school. You have spent both of your childhood together, to the point that you both knew exactly what were the biggest insecurities each of you had, even knowing how many crushes you had and how you both are hopeless romantics. 

But as Changmin and his family moved away after graduating high school, you both lost contact with one another, never speaking or keeping in touch for many years. 

Until you graduate from university. 

Somehow, you have managed to stumble upon the Director’s Ji company, which he has been operating secretly for many years—thanks to one of your seniors who recommended you to him. He was more than delighted to take you in, knowing how you eventually pursued criminology and eventually keen on the idea of becoming a spy yourself. 

That was when you were reunited with Ji Changmin. You were beyond ecstatic when you first saw him in person again. You wanted to run into him, give him the biggest embrace, and take in all his scent—one you have missed so dearly after all these years.

But the male eventually shut you off before you could do anything. He was nowhere near like the Changmin you used to grow up and love—he was now cold, often very stern, and would work alone instead rather than with others. 

Because of that, you have never gotten the chance to talk things out with him, and you realise that it’s best for you to keep a distance from him now. 

Never in a million years would that day come so soon for you both to reunite on a S-Rank Mission. 

His simple yet cold statement immediately ruined your mood, and you were about to fire back at the male. But he was already prepared with his gear and gloves, waiting for you to join him on the training mat. 

Given his demeanour, you knew that dragging his time would be a fatal mistake right now, and you had no choice but to equip yourself with the necessary items and join him as fast as you could. 

As you make your way to his way, you can’t help but notice his appearance. His hair was parted to the side, and a little scar was situated right on his left cheek. He was wearing a simple black tee, but you couldn’t help but notice how buff he had gotten and how the shirt was clearly a little too tight for him. 

The way his biceps were clearly so toned than ever, and god. The veins— 

“When will you stop ogling and get yourself together?” He shoots you with an unfriendly look. Clearly, his patience is running out. 

“Fine. God, what an impatient man you have become.” You blurted out by accident, eyes widening as you just realised you had let out your frustration and most inner thoughts. You looked up to meet the male face-to-face, only to realise that he was not bothered by that comment at all. 

He has dealt with much worse before, this is nothing to him.

As you finally got into your position, you raised both of your now balled-up fists and stood in a defensive mood, ready for whatever moves the male would lay upon you. Unfortunately, you were a bit too slow to notice the swift movement he had made, and immediately, you were on the ground, groaning as you felt a slight pain upon your lower chin. 

“Just so you know, I won’t go easy on you just because you are a girl. I’ll have you know that the enemies we deal with on S-Rank missions are far more murderous and barbaric than you have ever encountered. They could potentially become your worst nightmare. If this is how you will act on the field, I’m afraid you will lose your life within minutes.” Changmin spat, and boy, did it hurt as hell. 

Angered, you got back up on your feet as you repositioned yourself again, trying your best to keep up with his swift movements this time. 

This training went on for quite a while, and never once did you manage to land a blow on Changmin himself. Instead, you were constantly attacked at your blind spots and always on the ground, trying to find your way back up again. 

God, this is going to be a hell of a ride. 

The intense training with Changmin lasted for a few days, and the amount of bruises you have gotten thanks to him was uncountable. 

Every day, you would return home and find yourself sitting by your bedside, applying an ice pack and ointment to each and every one of them. It has been quite a while since you have felt like this.

Humiliated and defeated.

This only happened when you were still a rookie, as you were training with your superiors then. Ever since you made your debut, you have done nothing but win in all the physical battles you have dealt with, both on and off the field.

“I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you.” 

His words constantly echo into your mind, and you just can’t seem to get it off as much as you wanted. No matter how cruel they seemed, you knew his words meant well for you. 

This is a S-Rank mission, for goodness sake, Y/N. It is either you defeat the enemy or be defeated yourself. 

Taking in a deep breath as you closed your eyes, you just mentally prayed and hoped that all of the intense training with your ex-childhood best friend has at least done something for you and that you will be well-prepared as you both head into your designated location for tomorrow night. 

Let’s just get this done and over with.

The both of you arrived discreetly at the location, equipped with a radio earpiece to receive necessary transmissions from one another to keep each other in the loop as you both parted ways to scout around the area. 

The target of the mission was to infiltrate one of the largest and most well-known casinos in the heart of Seoul, The Grand Palace, as it is believed that the area itself was used for human trafficking, which explains the sudden disappearance of a handful of women in their early 20s over the past few months. 

According to the information you both were given, as written in the red folder, the CEO of the casino, Mr Kim, was the mastermind behind all of this and had his men surrounding the casino at all times to prevent information from spreading while keeping his gambling business on the run.

Both of your mission was to infiltrate the control room—download all of the necessary information that could potentially expose the hidden and true business the casino was making money from. And, of course, to get the girls out of there once and for all. 

Changmin suggested taking on the latter as he knew the area would be armed with more enemies to keep the girls out of reach. It was best suited for him to take on the role of doing the dirty work instead of you potentially. In return, you were to get to the control room and bypass the security, download the necessary data, get out of there, and pass it on to the FBI, who were already armed and ready for your signal. 

So that was precisely what you did, with no room for arguments this time. It was kind of a maze to navigate to the control room, especially when the casino was filled with many individuals and the place was dark as hell. Yet, you had to bypass everyone while being undetected. To the best of your abilities, you eventually reached the destination, and sure enough, you were met with your worst nightmare. 

Tons of red light laser security filled the room way before the entrance to the control room.

You were flexible, to say the least, but there is no way you could bypass all of these on your own. Whenever you were met in such a situation, you always had your superior or partner to figure it out together. But time was ticking, and you had no choice but to do it all alone this time. 

As you slowly bent through each of the lasers and eventually made your way to the last one, you breathed in relief that there was no one around to notice your presence. But your happiness did not last for long, as you missed out on one of the lasers that was situated close to your right ankle. Sure enough, the alarms have begun going off. 

Panicking, you tried your best to figure out an escape route as quickly as possible. But given the room's darkness, it was impossible to notice anything in particular. 

That is until a lightbulb dings in your mind, and you look up to see a slightly ajar air vent. 

It’s now or never. 

With the equipment you were geared up with, you somehow managed to quickly get into the vent right before security guards came pouring into the room, trying to find the culprit behind all of this. 

You began trying to calm your fast-beating heart down, that is, until you felt a pair of warm hands cupped over your mouth. 

“Have they not taught you well how the very first rule of becoming a spy is not to get caught?” 

That voice. It was Changmin. 

You turned behind to find the male looking very displeased, and he was still cupping your mouth, not letting it go as he was convinced your breathing would definitely blow up both of your covers. Frustrated, you tried your best to fight against his grip, loosening yourself from him and yelling back at him silently. 

“Look, laser securities was not my best forte.” 

“That’s not a valid excuse, Y/N. You literally had one job, and you failed at doing so.”

You scoffed. “Really, Changmin? After all these years, you suddenly show up in my life again, only to turn into this cold-blooded spy with zero empathy left inside of him? Has becoming one of the elites affected your ego that much?” 

Then, there was a slight pause. Changmin’s face then darkens as he scooches closer to you. “Don’t you dare say it as if you knew what I have been through over the years that we were separated from one another.” 

Clearly, you were not backing down this time. “Oh yeah, then tell me. All the bullshit you went through made you turn into such a heartless individual.” 

In the blink of an eye, Changmin cups his hands around your mouth once again as he pushes you down on the surface of the vent. He is now crawling up against you, moving in closer to you. 

“You take that back right now, miss Y/N. I swear if I ever hear one more word from you—”

“Then what?” You muffled. 

Then it all happened. Changmin did what he knew was best to shut you up. As swiftly as he often portrays with his martial arts abilities, he removes his hand from your mouth and plants a kiss directly onto your lips. The whole thing was aggressive and messy, as one would say, he was now kissing you messily, trying by all means to keep your mouth shut as the enemies were still down below. 

On the other hand, you were far too taken aback by what happened, and your eyes were now as wide as they could ever be. Somehow, your body did not reject his touch or the kiss, in fact, you actually liked it. 

Was it because you were too deprived of having him close to you? How badly you have missed him so much? 

And how you never got to confess to him that you had feelings for him right before he left all those years ago.

This kiss was a dream come true for you. And you were not planning to let him go anytime soon. Instead, you moved your hands to tangle in his hair as you opened your mouth slightly to allow for more room for the both of you. Changmin then lays one of his hands on the side of your waist while the other travels up to one of your breasts, giving them a light squeeze. Adding to the tension, he then makes way for his tongue to enter your mouth, trying his best to devour up all of the elicit moans that you were letting out to keep this whole make-out session as quiet as possible. 

And god, how much he loved hearing the moans coming out from you. 

Neither of you planned on stopping anytime soon because this all felt so good. It was as if you both had longed for each other and now that you finally had, you were not going to let him go just yet. 

Finally, after minutes, the both of you were gasping for air when Changmin realised that nobody was in the room anymore. The coast was clear, and both of you were safe enough to return and continue the mission. 

Trying your best to steady your breathing again, you decided to shoot the male with a little tease. “You treat all of your ladies like this?” 

“...Shut up.” 

It did not take you both long enough to be able to infiltrate the control room. With your abilities, you both managed to knock out all of the individuals in the room cold while you went to the main system to download all of the information needed to expose the casino. As ordered by Changmin previously, you wasted no time leaving the premises as soon as possible to get help from the FBI. 

While you were doing that, Changmin made his way to where the girls were kept captive and defeated all the guards on standby on his own. He then managed to free them all and escorted them out, where the police and medical assistants were already waiting for them. 

At the end of the day, the mission was a huge success, and the mastermind and his team were eventually placed behind bars, facing life imprisonment as punishment. 

After returning to your headquarters a few days later, you were then promoted to joining the elites by Director Ji himself, as he was pleased with your performance. However, there was one strict rule that these agents were to follow.

Never engage in personal matters with one another. 

Before you could think about it further, your phone buzzed and you exited your agency, feeling slightly excited as you made your way into the black vehicle already waiting for you. 

As soon as you opened the door and entered, you stared at the male with one of his hands on the steering wheel while the other came up to cup your cheek.

“Say, won’t your dad eventually discover all of this?” You questioned with a concerned look on your face. 

Changmin then leans in to give a peck on your lips. 

“Who says he needs to find out about it?”

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[ericshoney]

Best friend’s bro ~ Ji Changmin (SMUT)

It was a hot Saturday, you was over at your best friend, Lily, house. You two were relaxing by the large pool, taking in the sun in your very tiny bikinis. You two were just chatting and relaxing, when Lily’s older brother walks through, shirtless. You could see his abs.

“Hi girls, don’t mind me working out a bit do you?” He asks, a smirk on his face, showing that large dimple.

“Fine but why are you shirtless? I have a friend over!” Lily shouts.

“Its hot baby sis~” He replies and winks towards you.

You could feel the blush on your cheeks, you had to admit, Changmin was hot! Him and Lily defiantly got lucky genes. You’ve always had your eyes on the older male, his flirty attitude always being the key point in your conversations.

Changmin turns his back to you both and begins working out, Lily  goes back to sunbathing as you secretly admire the man. The three of you falling into a comfortable silence.

“Hey I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You said to Lily after a while.

“Okay you know where it is!” She cheers sweetly. 

You smile at your best friend and glance at her brother. Changmin smirks at you as you wander inside. You walk up to the bathroom to handle your business, wondering why Changmin was smirking like that, you couldn’t deny it was hot, but just why.

As you walk out the bathroom after doing your business, you bump into a hard, sweaty chest. You glance up to see Changmin still smirking at you.

“H-Hi” You said, making the male laugh.

“Hi pretty girl~” He replies casually.

“W-What are you doing?” You ask him.

“I see you, always checking me out. I don’t blame you, I am hot. Your not too bad yourself.” He responds, making you scoff.

“Thanks Changmin.” You said, trying to push past him, but Changmin has other ideas.

Changmin pushes you against the wall, his lips quickly meeting yours in a much needed and heated kiss. You gasp, giving him the change to slide his tongue into your mouth. His hands travel down to your ass, squeezing your cheeks softly.

“Hey Y/n I’m gonna head to the store to get ice cream!” Lily shouts from downstairs. Changmin pulls away for a second so you can reply.

“Okay!” You shout back.

You two then hear Lily leave the house, Changmin smirks again.

“Fuck me.” He said.

“What?” You call.

“I said fuck me, Lil’s gone out and your hot, I’m hot,, let’s fuck.” He said.

Before you could answer, Changmin kisses you, hard. He grabs your waist, his large hands roughly on body. You moan into his mouth as he lifts you up with ease.

“Changmin!” You scream as the boy laughs.

He carries you to his bedroom, throwing you gently onto his bed. He climbs on top of you smiling wide.

“Yes?” He calls, you glance down and see he’s hard through his shorts.

“Admiring the view? This is what you do to me baby.” He said, his voice above a whisper.

You look into his dark brown eyes as his hands travel down to your bikini bottoms, the smirk making its way to his face again when he realises your wet. His thumb circling your clit softly.

“i’m going to make you cum so many time baby.” He said.

He pushes your bottoms to the side, sliding two fingers into you. You moan at the sudden feeling as he moves them in and out quickly.

“C-Changmin... hmm.” You moan softly.

“Is it good baby?” He asks softly

“Hmm.” You moan again.

Changmin smiles and continues moving his fingers, your walls clenching around the digits. You then moan, cumming on his fingers. He chuckles, slipping them out and sucking on them.

“C-Changmin want you in please.” You whimper, wanting more.

“Hmm? Beg for it.” He said as he finishes licking his fingers.

“B-Beg?” You stutter, Changmin laughs and pulls away slightly, pulling his phone out.

“Yes angel, beg. Come on Lil’s still in the store.” He said.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“I have a tracker on her phone. But that’s not the point, you want my dick, beg for it.” He replies.

You look up at the still smirking boy, that dimple deep in his cheek. You was feeling very flustered and horny, seeing the tent in his shorts.

“Please Changmin.” You said softly.

Changmin throws his phone down, moving closer to you, your foreheads touching.

“Please what princess?” He asks.

“Please fuck me.” You cave in.

“My pleasure babygirl” He said with a kiss on your lips.

Changmin then pulls your bottoms down slamming into you quickly. You moan loudly as he moves his hips quickly. His large dick deep in you and you wonder how you managed to fit all of him.

The bed rocks with force, slamming against the wall, you moan in pleasure, your body on cloud nine, the the wave of pleasure hits you.

“Fuck cumming!” You scream.

Changmin chuckles and with another hard thrust, you cum hard all over his bed. He moves quickly and finishes in you, your bodies both covered in a thin layer of sweat. He pulls out gently, kissing your lips softly, both of you smiling wide, until you hear the door open.

“I’m home!” Lily shouts from downstairs.

“Fuck!” Changmin shouts.

You two scamper around his room to get changed quickly, you both running downstairs. You see Lily in the kitchen, unloading food.

“Sorry it took so long, it was busy.” She said, her back to you both.

“Its okay Lil.” You said. She turns around and smiles at you and her brother.

“How come your both sweaty?” She asks, tilting her head slightly.

“Umm, Changmin was showing me some work outs!” You shout in a quick lie, Changmin nodding along.

“Oh, that’s cool! So ice cream?” She calls, holding up three tubs.

You smile, slightly happy for your best friends obliviousness. You all head outside with the ice cream.

You glance at Changmin who smirks and winks at you and you know you two will be having more fun like that in the near future.