Taeyeon doesn't judge by appearances. Well, she tries her best not to judge by appearance when she’s not at work. Because she’s a tattoo artist, and it’s pretty much her job to judge appearances at work. Well, the aesthetic perfection of ink and skin anyway.

But there is no way this girl is eighteen. Her real name might not even be Wendy.

But her ID is so convincing that it’s either the most convincing fake Taeyeon has ever seen, or Possibly-Not-Even-Wendy’s genetics have blessed her with eternal youth.

‘You really don't look like you're eighteen.’

‘You've seen my ID. You know I am.’ Possibly-Not-Even-Wendy says.

‘It could be a really convincing fake.’ Taeyeon doesn’t mention that she’s really convinced.

‘You don’t look that much older than me. Just saying.’ Possibly-Not-Even-Wendy has definitely got a point there. Taeyeon’s in her twenties and still gets carded all the damn time.

She crosses her arms and glares.  

‘I'm legal, I really am.’  Possibly-Not-Even-Wendy is really, really earnest and Taeyeon really can’t believe her gut is telling her to trust this girl. But it hasn’t screwed her over apart from that one drunken kiss, so she’ll listen to it, for now.

‘What did you want done then, O Legal One.’

Wendy pulls the neck of her sweater down and Taeyeon is blinded by pale skin for a minute.

‘I asked what, not where.’

Wendy points under the gentle curve of bones, at the thin, fine script that's hidden in shadow.

'I need this covered up.'

The script is a startling silver, and Taeyeon knows before she asks. 'Is that your mark?'

Wendy nods and retreats into her oversized sweater. It's cute. A little turtle-like, but cute. She looks like a strong wind would send her bowling over. Girl does not eat enough.

Taeyeon knows that soul marks are nothing short of sacred. Years ago, the sacrilegious thought of tattooing one over would have her bursting into literal flames. But today, well, it's not that sacred anymore.

She takes Wendy in. Really takes her in. If she believes the incredibly legitimate-looking ID and her gut, Wendy turned eighteen yesterday.

Eighteen and borderline frantic to cover up her soulmark. It’s a familiar story. Taeyeon rubs at the band of flowers across her wrist and sighs. ‘Tell you what, I’ll ink you, bu