Warnings: Language, violence, sexual situations, vandalism
Summary: He’s an artist. He does it all for the ‘art.’ Tattooing. Racing. Sex. All because he thinks they’re beautiful. There’s no one here that doesn’t know his name, because it’s everywhere. On every graffiti-filled wall, every tattooed skin, every cheer of the crowd. His name is there somewhere, because it’s all his—this world. And when he lays his eyes on you—well, he’s never seen anything more beautiful. And he’s going to make you his masterpiece.
“Damn, if you don’t slow the fuck down, you’re going to crash.” Jongin calls as Jongdae gets out of his car. “I like fast, but that’s a death wish, man.”
“Live fast, die young.” Jongdae answers with a laugh. “It’s the only way to live.”
Jongin snorts, slapping his back harder than he needed to. “You’re a damn hypocrite.”
Jongdae shrugs, a lazy smile on his face. “No idea what you’re talking about. You gonna go now?” Jongdae asks, swiping his hair out of his eyes as the night air cools him down. “To, like, some chick’s place?”
Jongin flashes Jongdae a grin, and that’s all the confirmation he needs. Jongdae sighs, heading back towards the garage where his tattoo parlor is. “Well, fuck you.”
“Aw come on.” Jongin wraps an arm around Jongdae’s neck, giving it a firm squeeze. “You can find any chick you want, if you weren’t so picky.”
Jongdae slaps Jongin’s hand away, although his only reaction is a laugh. “I know damn well I can fuck any girl I want. But that’s ugly, and I don’t like it.”
“Right.” Chanyeol says, taking a long drag of his cigarette as he leans against the doorway to the garage. “He only goes for the gorgeous ones. Be too picky, and you’ll end up with nothing, Dae.”
Jongdae throws his head back, a loud laugh echoing through the night. “Nothing? Please, I own this place.”
“Self-proclaimed.” Jongin scoffs. “I’m the King of the Streets.”
“Nah.” Jongdae grins. “Your inflated ego doesn’t allow you to hear all the people cheering my name during the races.”
Chanyeol throws his cigarette on the floor, stepping on it. “You’re both pretty, girls. Now, are you going to give me a tattoo or what?”
“I never agreed to this.” You groan, though you let your friend pull you along.
“Sorry? I can’t hear you.” She answers with a mischievous grin. “I thought you said you wanted it.”
“Once.” You answer with a loud whine. “When I was drunk!”
“Come on.” She urges, swinging your arm around like a child would. “It’s your birthday! Getting a tattoo would be so cool.”
“I don’t do well with pain though.” You wince at the thought, now regretting ever saying it on a drunk whim. She never lets go of things like this, especially when she has that glint in her eyes. You know her way too well. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Stop shitting me.”
She snickers, holding her arm out as if she’s presenting something amazing. “Viola, EXO Customs!”
You take a good look at the place she’s pointing at. The garage looks pretty run down, but sturdy. At least it doesn’t seem like it’ll collapse on you. You wrinkle your nose at your friend, feeling skeptical—well, more so than before. “There? It looks like shit.”
“Shut up.” She pulls you along again. “It’s the best around. Very famous. Tons of hot guys. You’ll love it, I promise.”
Entering the garage, you find it surprisingly hot, despite the ACs blasting cold air. And damn, she was right. The receptionist flashes you the cutest smile you’ve ever seen, though his face is anything but cute. He’s hot; really, really hot.
Which is probably why the AC feels even more nonexistent right now.
"Welcome!” The man greets. “I’m Byun. Got a car for repair?”
“No actually,” your friend pushes you forward a little, a wide grin on her face. “My friend’s here for a tattoo.”
“Oh, great!” He smiles, pointing into the garage. “The tattoo parlor’s in the back. The one with a glass door.”
“Thanks!” She says with a wink, voice higher than normal. You roll your eyes. Ugh, she’s trying way too hard.
You walk past several people who are working on repairing cars, the sounds of machines whirring and metal clanging. Some of them are under the cars, but the others are equally as handsome as the receptionist. It’s quite intimidating, actually. You would never voluntarily walk into a garage like this alone.
You friend knocks on the glass door. You can’t see inside since the binds are down. “Um, hello?”
There’s a loud yelp that comes, the steady zapping sound of a tattoo gun. After a moment, it goes quiet. The door opens.
The man that greets you is stunning. His golden hair is half swept up, lazy in a way like he just wanted it out of his eyes, wearing a black tank top and ripped jeans. He makes your heart stop, your breath hitch. The others were attractive, but he’s on a whole different level. And all sorts of alarms are blaring in your mind.
He smiles, eyes lingering on you as he holds the door open. “Hello ladies. Here for a tattoo?”
Your friend nods enthusiastically, but you can’t even tear your eyes off his face. A man walks out from the room, face sweaty and pale, clutching his bandaged arm.
The handsome man, slaps the other guy on the shoulder good-naturedly. “Make sure not to infect that, ok? Come again if you want another one.”
“Sure, Chen.” The man lets out a small smile. “See ya.”
The man named Chen turns back to you and your friend, stepping aside to let you two in.
You finally snap out of your daze when your friend begins to push you in, and the reality settles in, making you panic. “Uh, wait. Are we really doing this?”
“Getting cold feet?” Chen chuckles as he sits down, patting the chair in front of him. “You sure about this?”
“Come on.” Your friend whispers in your ear. “Getting a tattoo is awesome, but getting a tattoo from a hot guy? That’s a once in a lifetime chance, girl.”
You roll your eyes at your friend, but lie down on the chair nonetheless, feeling your heart pound anxiously. “Um...this is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” He answers. “Some places hurt more than others. Where are you thinking?”
“Um, collarbone, maybe?”
“Maybe? You sound very unsure.” He smiles, raising a brow at you. “A tattoo’s serious, you know? It’ll be more painful to remove, so make sure you’re absolutely certain about this.”
“Look, I’m going to be honest here.” You start with a sigh. “I don’t know where I want it or what it’s going to look like, but I do want a tattoo.” You look pointedly at him, almost challenging. “You’re a professional, right? Can you help me figure out what I want?”
He stares at you for a moment before he throws his head back and lets out a loud laugh. It’s the kind of laugh that lights up the room, that sounds like a laugh an angel would have. “You’re interesting.”
He moves to sit at his desk, grabbing a piece of paper and pen before scribbling furiously. “Collarbone, right? Something big or small?”
“Small.” You answer.
“Colored?”
“I prefer black and white.”
He has a grin on his face when he swirls around again, presenting a sketch he quickly made. It’s beautiful though, the line-work a little rough and sketchy but it’s beautiful. It’s hard to believe he did this in less than five minutes.
“A butterfly?” You ask, tracing the delicate pattern of its wings.
Chen leans down, brushing a strand of stray hair out of your face, his eyes shining with mirth. “Yeah.”
Next Chapter
The Art of Sin Mini Masterlist
EXO Customs Collab Masterlist
A/N: I hope you enjoy it as much as I do! Please check out the collab masterlist and read the other authors’ fics too, because we all put a lot of effort into it! Thanks~
@ilook-soperfectstandinghere14 : Hi there, I recently had a very horrible day at work where comments kept building (mainly from my boss) and I ended up crying… please could I have a EXO or bts or monsta x mafia scenario with any member/s where this has happened and they comfort the reader please?? Thank you xx
Here you go!! Sorry it took a while. And this was a bit rushed, too, so it isn't proofread or anything. I'm really sorry!
xoxo, 🍪
“I'm home.” Your voice echoed through the large mansion as two men in black held the giant oak doors open for you. You gave them a thanks, before continuing on your way.
His mansion was big; which was understandable. For he was the one and only Chen, one of the senior members in the dangerous mafia group EXO. But you knew better than that. You knew him as Kim Jongdae; not Chen. Despite the ruthless façade with the taunting smirk that never seemed to leave his face, you knew he was human, too. He was just Kim Jongdae, someone who needed to be loved.
Meanwhile, you were a simple person who was happily living their life. But nonetheless, fate had other plans and here you were. The significant other to Jongdae. Being his partner was actually easier than you thought, as Jongdae didn't want to put you in danger. Only his team members, his mansion workers, and bodyguards knew about you. Parties and meetings, you prefer to pass. After all, you have your own job.
“Do you really have to work there? You know I make more money than your one year allowance, right?” Jongdae had once said to you, taunting you with a raised eyebrow. You rolled your eyes at him.
“Jongdae, I'm (l/n) (y/n), not some sort of famous rich person. I wasn't born into this life, hell, I wasn't even made for this life,” you huffed. “I don’t want to depend on you solely, you know. What if you're not here anymore? I need to make money somehow.”
Jongdae frowned, “I'm not going anywhere. And besides, it's not safe. Please, at least let me assign a driver to pick you up.”
“Sure, Jongdae. (y/n) the mere office worker with an average income riding a limousine? Totally not suspicious.”
That was ages ago. Jongdae let you win almost every argument, so he gave in on that one, too - though he did sometimes assign someone to accompany you. Sometimes, though, you wish he didn't. Some days you wished he persisted on you not having to go to work.
Those days were days like today. You had one shitty day at work, starting from staining your favorite jacket with coffee, a broken printer, computer crashed before you saved your file, a short-tempered boss, and you despised every second of it.
Your heels were discarded on the kitchen floors as you reached on the counter to grab a bottle -- something that can take your mind off of this pessimism, at least. It wasn't helping, though. You found yourself still feeling like shit, if not more.
Walking into the living room, you saw one of his henchmen. You asked where Jongdae was. He said that Jongdae had a meeting, and that he'll be back soon. Great, now your mood was basically six feet under.
You felt helpless, like life was unfair. Where was your comfort when you needed it? You let your tear duck flow open and just started bawling in front of the henchmen. He stared at you worriedly, contemplating on what to do as you cried, sniffled and whined. The man got you a box of tissues, and left you to your privacy as you put on some crappy romance movies and sipped (read : chug) on your drink.
Halfway through the first movie, there was a loud slamming of doors and a faint “Where's (y/n)?!” from the front door. The clicking of his expensive shoes on the marble tiles became louder as he stormed in the living room to bestow upon the sight of your puffy eyes and sniffly nose, and popcorn scattered on the carpet. But his eyes, the ones that you longed for so badly, was focused solely on your figure.
“Hey, baby.” Jongdae gave you a soft smile, his first panicked and cold stature melting away as you broke into fits of sobs again. He opened his hands, offering you a hug which you gladly gave into. Sobs wracked your body, vibrating onto Jongdae's warm ones as he caressed your hair softly.
“It’s okay,” Jongdae hushed your cries. “Just tell me what happened.”
And so, you did. For what seemed like hours, you told him everything that has been bothering you, all the while Jongdae just nodded in understanding. He cradled you in his arms, placing his chin on top of your head.
“I want to quit my job,” you admitted. “It sucks.”
Jongdae frowned, “But you’ve worked so hard on it, and you were the one who fought so hard to keep it. Are you sure?”
“I don’t know, Jongdae,” You ran a hand through your unkempt hair. “I honestly don't know.”
“Well, I’m okay with whatever you choose," Jongdae shrugged. “But really, (y/n). Bad days happen to everyone - including you, and me.
“We just have to suck it. It hurts, but at least you have someone to comfort you - just like you do to me,” he ended with a smile. When you look up at him with red eyes, he continued.
“Remember that one time where I broke the vase near the front door because Baekhyun was being a dick?” he hummed, and you let out a giggle. “It wasn’t my fault! He was the one who jeopardized the mission, and Junmyeon blamed me instead. How unfair.” he pouted.
And so the both of you spent the rest of the night drinking out your sorrows as you searched your memories for funny moments, like the time where a passerby thought that Minseok and Jongdae were a gay couple - “We’re not, for Christ’s sake, I wasn’t even holding his hand!” - and the other time where Sehun had everyone bring him different flavors of bubble tea because he won the bet.
By the end of the night when fatigue kicked in, you were another crying mess - but this time, it was the tears of joy and awe. Jongdae was a bad guy and did illegal stuff for a living, yes, but that doesn’t make his heart any less kind.
You’ve fought. But in moments like this where everything disappears and it’s only Jongdae, his sparkling eyes and boisterous laugh, or his loud whines - you cherished all of them.
Wrapping your arms around his neck, you hugged him tight, whispering a small thank you. Jongdae seemed to be taken aback by the action and he froze on the spot.
Not long after, though, he wrapped his own arms around your fragile figure and hugged you tightly, nuzzling into your hair.
The back pains the next morning from sleeping on that position on the couch was nothing but worth it.
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