#happy one year to art heist!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chimcess · 1 year ago

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A Picture’s Worth || jjk (I)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader Other Tags: Ex-Art Thief!Reader, Ex-Assassin!Reader, Ex-Gang member!Reader, Gang member!Jungkook, Assassin!Jungkook, Hitman!Jungkook, Thief!Jungkook Genre: Strangers to lovers, gang AU, mafia AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut Word Count: 23.2k+ Summary: After pulling off the largest art heist of her career, Y/N has put that life behind her. However, after 4 years out of the business, she comes home to find a stranger in her house. Warnings: violence, blood, gang activity, mafia activity, mentions of death, actual death, crime, robberies, pickpocketing, graphic depictions of injuries, guns, knives, mentions of past torture, body branding (not too graphic), major character(s) injured, STRONG LANGUAGE, Gang tattoos, Abuse (not JK and Reader), JK is a bit of a himbo, but only with his friends, he’s actually quite scary, I’m not a gang member or anything so I could be wrong about that stuff, I tried my best, eventual smut, mutual pining, kissing (let me know if I missing anything) Author’s Note:Things were getting out of hand, so I made the executive decision to split this into two parts. This one is establishing plot so no smut (yet). Thanks so much for reading. She’s a big girl.

Listen to the Playlist || cross posted to ao3: here

Five years ago

There comes a point in a child’s life that they begin to ponder over what they will become. Some girls I knew dreamt of becoming lawyers, doctors, or astronauts. I remember there being a time when I had thought of more than the mountains I had lived in, possibly moving to California and starting my life over after I was finished with school. I had even played with the idea of owning a salon. I hoped that I would be pretty when I grew up with bright red hair just like Ariel. It was strange looking back on that time and how little had truly changed.

While I had, in some ways, deviated from the life my family had wanted for me, I was still lurking in the shadows and biding my time. Instead of hiring me for hits, the players I worked for enjoyed the finer things in life. Patrons of the arts if you will. Staring up at the Rembrandt painting, it was not a wonder as to why.

Looking over my shoulder, I was relieved to see Hoseok in position. Locking eyes momentarily, I gave him a small, polite smile and returned to the painting in front of me. To the security cameras, we were simply two strangers who had a small moment in time. I knew that we were trying to use signals as much as we could without looking suspicious. A smile normally meant that I was confident I could pull this off. Hoseok’s returning nod was his way of saying he was happy with his own assessments.

The heist would take a few more weeks to plan out. Our buyer wanted 18 different art pieces from this museum, something that was doable with our team, as well as 38 pieces of jewelry. Taehyung and Jimin would be in charge of the operation. Walking away from the Rambrandt, I looked over other pieces with the same intensity to not raise suspicions. While the cameras here were not of great quality, they could still see us and that alone was enough to bother me.

Stealing has always come naturally to me. Second nature. When I was young I pickpocketed, the artform far more refined now that I was much older, and my parents enjoyed how sneaky I could be when I wanted to be. We never stayed anywhere for too long, the last place I had seen them was Aspen six years ago, but my favorite years were London. The Underground was a perfect place to pickpocket. In a day I could swipe over 100 items and no one would be the wiser.

My tastes changed as I grew. There was a time when I hated the idea of being a criminal like my parents were. I disdain violence at the best of times, but there were very few ways of getting out unscathed. It was when I managed to steal jewels from a heavily secured store that I caught the eyes of The Saints. Hoseok was impressed by my attention to detail and offered me a way to get out of my family home. I was sixteen and impulsive. A little over ten years later I was still standing here, pickpocketing the wealthy and giving it to those just as fortunate. It had stopped bothering me years ago, the guilt, but there was always a piece of me that longed for those far away dreams of cutting hair. It almost made me laugh just thinking about it.

“It’s a beautiful painting, isn’t it?” A soft voice asked, suddenly beside me.

Turning, I was confronted with a familiar face. Yoongi hardly changed, his set lips and keen eyes unwavering. There was a long, jagged scar that ran down his forehead, over his eye, and down his cheek. He got the scar when he was still in the Irish Mob back in Boston. He was an earner with those boys and they gave him hell about leaving. Still, he had managed to walk away only to join a different side of organized crime.

“Yes, but not really to my taste,” I joked.

I had never been the biggest fan of abstract work. I liked it a great deal more than landscapes, it was at least interesting to look at, but the lack of effort had bothered me. It would never take off anyway. No one liked over priced paint splatters. Yoongi hummed.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Taking the cue, I stood as he walked off and began counting back from 500 in my head. Everyone would be heading back to the command now. Everything had been squared away for now. Taking one more passing glance at the Rembrandt, I sighed. Hopefully, when this is all done, I could walk away.

With my head held high, I slowly drifted toward the exit. Taking the time to look over art was another great way to cover my tracks. In order to stay a nobody, I had to be a nobody, and only a nobody would stop to look at a still-life of a bowl of fruit. I never did understand why these things were popular. Then, finally, after five more minutes of “ooo”ing an “ahh”ing at pieces I’ve seen every week for the last month, I was out of the door.

Three years ago

Blinking, I stood motionless as I stared at the cracks in the little apartment’s ceilings. It had been a difficult find, something so cheap in San Diego was a steal even if it was only 300 square feet. Smiling, I threw my duffel bag of belongings onto the futon I had brought earlier that day. Finally, things were going to start looking up.

I had flown in from Kansas the week prior and had made the most of cheap motel rooms until I scored this place. I had always loved California and finally I had made it home. Looking around, I found I was not as upset by the lack of space or functioning stove. In fact, it had been the lightest I had felt in a very long time. Only second to when I graduated from Aveda last fall.

Deciding to pick up what little boxes I had with me, I broke them down and tore them into strips that were easily thrown away. I was lucky the place had come with a small, countertop fridge and microwave. The only sink was in the bathroom, a room that was floor-to-ceiling covered in tile with a toilet, small sink, and a shower head. I would have to wear flip flops just in case. The landlord had recommended using a bucket since the hot water only lasted for about 10 minutes.

I did not have much. I had gotten into the habit of packing light and living even lighter, but I was determined to try this differently. I’ve gotten what I have always wanted and I was going to let anyone, or anything, take it away from me. Going to my duffel bag, I began packing out my folded clothes and organizing them into different piles before putting them away. I had bought a tall, skinny wardrobe at the same GoodWill I had gotten the futon from.

Calling out to my phone, I asked Siri to play some music and got to work. I hated silence. Using the small drawers on the left side, I stuffed my underwear and pajamas on that side of the wardrobe. The right side was meant to hang nice things on, but I did not own nice things anymore. Instead hung were two pairs of jeans, a few dresses, and some shirts. I only owned black now. It was the dress code for every salon I had ever worked at- including the newest one. My shoes went on the shelves above the drawers and I made a mental note to buy a better pair of sneakers. I wanted to get outside more often.

Putting away the rest of my things was just as quick. My makeup was stored away on the desk that was attached to the wall beside the fridge. It was meant to be a dining area, but I doubted I would ever have company over to make use of it. My few skincare products were safely stored away in the bathroom mirror, and my kit was under my bed for safe keeping. I was suddenly acutely aware of just how sad everything truly was.

“Well,” I mumbled to myself. “Hopefully I can get enough clientele to get out of this shithole.”

At least, I thought to myself, at least I was free.

With that in mind, I grabbed my keys and headed out into the city. It had been hours since I last stopped for anything and I would have no luck here for the night. Slipping into the hallway, I realized that I was happy. For the first time in a while I felt unadulterated. Things were going to be fine.

Two years ago

Clutching the pizza box with one hand and balancing it on my hip, I cradle my phone with my shoulder as I open the door to my building.

“The earliest I’ll be available is Thursday,” I said, my voice sickeningly sweet.

The customer, Jules, cheerfully asked if I had any availability on Sunday instead. Rolling my eyes, I reminded her that the salon was closed on both Sunday and Monday. This would be the third time I had to repeat myself.

“What about Saturday?” She asked, still as clueless as she had been since I had picked up.

“I’m free from 2pm until 3pm, but if you want a haircut and balayage I will need longer than an hour.”

“How long do you need?” Finally, I heard a hint of frustration slipping through her otherwise cheery voice.

“If you want the full layered balayage it can take up to three hours for hair as long as yours is. It can be shorter if you just want a partial- between 45 minutes to an hour and a half.”

Huffing up the stairs, I struggled to open the door to my floor and used my foot to keep it open while I awkwardly hobbled. Rolling my eyes, I wanted to pull my hair out. This would be the fourth time now.

“I can put you in Thursday morning from 8am until noon. I can also do Friday from 5pm until 8pm. I’m not available again until the following Wednesday.”

Jules hummed, unable to stay silent I found. We had been on the phone for twenty five minutes and I was beginning to get a migraine. She was sweet, and I appreciated her never ending patience, but I was not blessed with the same superpower. I had never been known for my temperament or politeness. I only had patience when money was involved. Shoving my door open with my shoulder, I willed those thoughts away. That was the last thing I needed to think about right now.

Jules was going to make me go rob a fucking bank at this rate. Banks weren’t even my thing. That brought a smile to my face and I put the pizza down on the single counter I had in the kitchen.

“I guess Thursday will work then. I was just hoping to get it done before my birthday.”

Pausing, I sighed heavily. Wonderful. She was a guilt tripper. Little shit.

“What day is your birthday?” I asked.

“Oh! It’s Tuesday. My girls and I are going to the Cheesecake Factory to celebrate.”

And despite my better judgment, I opened my calendar and began looking at my schedule on Tuesday. Knowing I had taken the bait hook, line, and sinker, I just went right out with it.

“We can try something if you’re open to it.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Jules asked, voice perking up.

“I can give you a partial balayage Tuesday and then you can come back Thursday to finish the rest if you want to after seeing the results.”

Jules squealed and began talking very quickly, her excitement palpable. I cringed away from the speaker of my phone.

“That would be Ah-mazing! What time on Tuesday could you see me?”

“I had a cancellation first thing in the morning. I’m free from 8am until 9:45. We’ll get as much as we can during that time.”

“Oh! I can definitely make that. Can we do the haircut on Tuesday instead of Thursday?”

Biting my tongue, I had to stop the smart ass comment I wanted to make from coming out. She was obviously very young or had little experience going to a salon. Still, it’s common sense that we would cut first. I’m not wasting products like that.

“That’s what I was thinking, too,” I settled on.

“Thanks so much, Y/N! See you Tuesday!”

“See you then, Jules. Before you go, can I get some information from you so I can put you down properly?”

After getting her full name, phone number, and email address, I let her go and logged into the salon’s appointment system to add her in. Our receptionist had quit two months ago and we were having a hard time finding a replacement. I tried to tell Tony he needed to raise the pay but he was not budging. Right now we were all stuck keeping track of everything ourselves.

The pizza was not very hot anymore but was warm enough to not be too bothersome. Happy to have some extra money coming in, I went to the fridge and grabbed a soda from it. I bought a small cart to put my microwave on. The mini fridge just happened to fit perfectly below it. The small Keurig I bought myself for Black Friday was right beside the microwave. A snug fit but it worked. Taking a bite of the pizza, I leaned against the counter and groaned.

I was so happy to be home.

Home. It was a word I was still hesitant to say. It was hard to believe things were permanent even after all this time. Some nights I stared up at the ceiling and waited for a knock on my door. Even if Hoseok promised emergencies only it was difficult to know what the guys would consider an emergency. That world was so far removed from this new reality of mine that I feared I was losing my edge. Would I even be able to help them anymore?

With doubt and a recurring nightmare, I fell asleep and dreamt of casinos and Rembrandt.

One year later

Sweeping up the floor, I glanced around the room to find myself alone.

“Great,” I huffed. “I’m going to have to talk to Tony about this bullshit.”

It had been the third time the new hire, Sasha, had left without helping with cleanup. First he snuck out of the back when he was helping Tiesha, and the last two times had been with me. While we tried to keep the boss out of the personal issues we had at the shop, I was not about to let some 19-year-old walk around like he’s above it all. Angrily, I kept sweeping and hoped that the bastard got stuck in the worst traffic getting back on the I-5.

Walking over to Andrea’s station, I rolled my eyes. She always forgot to put her combs in the sterilizing solution. Making quick work of that, I went around checking everyone’s stations to be sure it was all in order. Even Sasha’s. His desk was immaculately cleaned and I gritted my teeth harder. Seems like he’s one of those people. Feeling petty, I skipped sweeping under his vanity and kept going. Not like it made much of a difference anyway. Maybe I should steal his wallet tomorrow and help him look for it.

Fucking idiot.

No, I scolded myself. I am not that person anymore. I would definitely not go back to that lifestyle for Alexander Ivanov. Reminding myself that he was just a spoiled little brat, I continued sweeping hoping it would calm me down long enough to clear my head. If I let any of those ideas foster that would be bad. I’d have every valuable item that boy owned by lunch.

Suddenly the front desk phone began to ring and I chose to ignore it. It was five minutes after closing time and I did not feel like dealing with anyone else today. Sasha had pissed me off enough. I did not want some snotty customer adding to it. The ringing stopped and I was satisfied that they simply left a voicemail.

Turning to go back to the staff room to gather the Swiffer, I was stopped in my tracks by the phone. A part of me wanted to answer it now. It had to be the same person. Still, I was off the clock and that was not a part of my job description. Destiny would handle it in the morning. The ringing stopped. I started walking. It started up again.

Peeved but resigned, I walked to the front desk and checked the number flashing on the screen. It was from out of state. Figures. Usually clients who wanted to come in on vacation called without realizing the time zone difference. Forcing a smile to my face, I picked up.

“Mane Street, this is Y/N speaking. How can I help you?”

“Ten minutes.” The line died.

I knew that voice from anywhere. Shaking, I placed the phone back on its modem and took a second to gather myself. Whatever the emergency was, I only had ten minutes to finish cleaning and get outside. Knowing Hoseok, he would be waiting for me near my car. Better yet, he’d already be in the passenger seat.

Scrambling, I began to mop the floors and Windex the mirrors. I refused to let this unexpected visit stop me from performing my job. I was happy Sasha had left. I probably looked like I’d seen a ghost. You have definitely heard one, my subconscious screamed.

I was locked up eight minutes later. I had been keeping count in my head just as I always had before. It was unsettling just how quickly I had transformed back into the person I had once been. Who was I fooling? I’ve been covering her up with scissors, a shitty studio apartment, and take out. That did not change the overseas accounts, fake names, and stolen jewelry I’ve kept. That doesn’t change the stolen art hanging on my walls.

Rounding the back of the store, I was not surprised to see my vehicle was the only one still there. Squinting, I could see the silhouette of a person’s head in the passenger side. The street light just in front of the pickup was facing the front, their side profile obscured by the light, but I would recognize Hoseok anywhere. He was hard but soft, jagged but gentle, and most importantly, his face was oval with a pointed chin. Anxiety bubbling in my stomach, I put on a brave face and marched forward. I would be right on time.

Hoseok did not say a word as I slid into the driver’s seat or when I closed the door. Not waiting for him to make a demand, I started the engine and turned on the AC. It was stuffy. Hoseok continued to look straight while I buckled my seatbelt and put the truck in reverse.

“Don’t go home,” He finally said.

Dread filled my stomach but I did as he said. Instead of turning left, I went right and headed for the little diner I enjoyed getting a late dinner at. It was the best place for steak and eggs. I was not sure if Hoseok would be hungry but I did not care. We never really thought about those things before.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing what you like,” He spoke again, his voice still gentle. “You look very nice, too. Like the new hair.”

I was always unnerved by this side of Hoseok. He was typically a very loud, energetic, and passionate man. Soft spoken and Hoseok had never gone together. Then again, it had been almost five years since I had seen him. A lot could change within that time. That, or whatever he was going to tell me would require softness. I hoped it was just a personality change from getting older.

“Yeah,” I said. “I’m glad to see you’re healthy.”

Finally, he cracked a smile. “Hadn’t realized you thought about me at all.”

I scoffed, “Of course I think about you. I think about all of you very often.”

This seemed to throw him for a loop. It was weird to speak so openly about my feelings. We had always gone about life with coldness. Being sharp and intense was the only way to survive out there. If anyone saw you as weak or vulnerable then you were finished. That was why Yoongi usually acted as a middle man. He was the hardest, coldest, most impenetrable wall there ever was. Just looking into his eyes you could see that. Shivering, I recalled the time he killed a man with a set of chopsticks while we were in Korea.

“We think about you, too,” Hoseok said, sounding far away.

Turning into the diner’s parking lot, I turned off the engine and got out. Hoseok followed closely behind me and I asked him if he wanted anything.

“I hear the steak and eggs are nice,” He commented, eyes downcasted.

“Is Taehyung keeping tabs on me?” I sneered, anxiety turning into anger.

Taehyung was the tech guy when he wasn’t stealing jewels. He was also a royal pain in the ass who never knew when to cool it. He had been the most upset when he heard that I was leaving the crew and I would not put it past him. Taehyung was just that kind of guy. The gesture was kind, I was certain of that, and came from a place of love. Still, I had asked to be left alone. It seemed like no one really accepted that.

“I tried to stop it but it’s impossible to keep track of everything he does,” Hoseok admitted. “After a while we just accepted the fact that he wouldn’t give it up. He is trying to check in less and less, though. He’s just worried someone will come around and we won’t know about it.”

“And that’s how you knew where I worked?”

Holding the door open, Hoseok thanked me before going inside. Doris smiled at me when I walked inside. She was an elderly woman who liked to help me with my Sudoku puzzles on Sunday mornings. Eyeing Hoseok curiously, I waved at her before finding an open booth. I normally sat at the bar but I did not want prying eyes. Doris would not go away if we sat there and Hoseok was obviously wanting privacy.

“Hey sugar,” Dixie, a waitress from Alabama, greeted us.

She put down two menus and asked us what we wanted to drink. Hoseok ordered a coffee while I got a glass of chocolate milk. The man looked me up and down, amusement coloring every one of his features. I waved him off and looked at the menu. If he ordered steak and eggs I would order something else. Hoseok was a big fan of sharing food even if we both had our own portions.

Hoseok, like many of the guys from the crew, was South Korean. He was born in Gwangju, a city in the southern part of the country, and moved to the US with his friend Namjoon during university. Namjoon went on to become a campaign manager in New York City while Hoseok became an associate of the Gambino family after killing a few guys. Over time the two went their separate ways, but Hoseok always spoke fondly of him. Last he heard, Namjoon had moved to Seoul and was working at the Blue House.

“You all figured out what you want?” Dixie asked, reappearing with our drinks.

Hoseok ordered the steak and eggs while I got their “Rising Roadhouse'' meal. It came with waffles and I knew that would make Hoseok happy. When we were alone again, Hoseok sighed.

“It’s Jimin,” He said.

Bracing myself, I leaned in closer so we could speak quietly. The diner was almost empty at this time of night and I was nervous. This was shit no one needed to hear about. Hoseok got closer to me.

“What’s going on?” I demanded, whispering harshly.

“He’s gotten into some shit with Winter Hill again. Yoongi bailed him out but things are going to shit. They want us to get some things for them to make up for it. We weren’t sure where to go, and Georgie was very specific.”

I breathed through my nose. Jimin was my closest friend during my time with the crew. We thought the most alike, worked the best, and trusted one another. However, we were also hot heads. I had worked on myself tremendously over the years, but Jimin had the worst kind of anger. Talking out the mouth. And to talk to somebody in Winter Hill the way I assumed he had? Jimin was asking to lose a finger. That’s if he hadn’t already. Looking at Hoseok, he seemed to know what question I had on my mind.

“Yoongi made him cut the first joint off. I told him to write an apology letter in blood. I also sent the boss the piece in a medicine jar. Just to be sure.”

Grimacing, I rubbed my forehead. I had almost forgotten the way they do things in the mafia. The letter in blood, however, seemed more of a New York thing. I’d have to get clarification on that later. Leaning back in my chair, I shook my head.

“Unbelievable,” I mumbled absentmindedly.

On one hand, I was very angry that either of them would humiliate Jimin like that. On the other hand, I knew that the boy had put them in a very, very fucked up spot. Either they make amends and punish him or they lose the entire East Coast. If Boston doesn’t want anything to do with them, New York will become weary as well. Even if Hoseok was a Red Pull at one time, he is still an outsider. He was still just an associate.

“What is he looking for?” I finally asked, leaning back in.

“Jewelry. Said they wanted something ‘your old girl’ would like. Said you’d know what to do.”

I smirked. Georgie Boy had always been impressed with my taste. Still, I was not sure about getting involved with all of this. In order to do so would mean helping them stake out a place and I was not going there. I had made my peace. Still, I could not help the part of me that felt excited. I squashed it like a bug.

“I’m not helping you with anything,” I said.

“I’m not asking you to,” He replied. “Just tell us if you’ve seen anything noteworthy lately.”

Dixie came back with our food and I used it as a distraction. I needed time to think. Hoseok and I ate off of one another and I continued to sit and ponder over the new things I had seen at the museum in town. I had gone many times, I had always tried to desensitize myself to the feeling I got when I walked in, but each time I looked around. I knew where every single camera was, I knew how to get into the back, and I was familiar enough with the security system to work around it. Every detail of a heist had already formed in my head that I refused to act on. Just as I knew every museum all the way up to Orange County. There were quite a few jewelers that had caught my eye as well. Still, I knew my answer after a few minutes of silence.

“His daughter’s birthday is soon, isn’t it?” I clarified, making sure my memory serves me well.

“In a few weeks,” Hoseok nodded.

“There’s a pair of earrings at Beverly Hills Jewelers,” I started. “They’re 2 carat, T.W, diamonds. They’re heart shaped. Halo. They’re beautiful.”

“Price?”

“I believe $15,000. They have some nice tennis chains as well that could match.”

He hummed, “I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”

I nodded, “I’ll include a personalized letter as well as a ring from my own collection if that helps.”

Hoseok smiled brightly at me. I knew that had pleased him. Georgie Boy would also be happy. His little girl gets some nice gifts and he gets to wave his dick around like the narcissist is is. In my head, I was already trying to remember the layout of the store. I had only gone inside twice when I took a trip to Beverly Hills. I was having a rough day and I wanted to get back in my element for a while. Scoping out places was always a relaxing thing for me to do. I ended up buying a necklace while I was there so they wouldn’t become suspicious of me. Still, I would have to see it again and show the guys what I was talking about so they could do the hit. That place was heavily secured.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Hoseok said, pushing the last piece of steak closer to me.

Grinning at him I replied, “It was an emergency.”

And then I popped the steak in my mouth and savored the taste. Just for now I would have a little bit of chaos. It would just be Hoseok and I, so that made the guilt lessen. At least this wasn’t something I would have to actually perform. Still, I thought to myself, I was incredibly bored without the little bit of chaos I had before.

Present

Laughing, I cut another piece of brown hair off. Jules stared at me, her hands covering her mouth, while she shook. She was a regular now, always got the same treatment, but when she called about her appointment last week she asked for a bob. Well, giving it to her, it was difficult to imagine just how upset she would become.

Her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and she wanted to show her that she was standing with her. The chemo had made chunks fall out and her mother decided to buzz her head. I had been the person to do that and give her a pamphlet of local stores she could go to and buy nice wigs. Jules, however, had called me late and said she wanted to donate her own hair for her mom. Tony had recently registered the salon with Locks of Love and trained us all in it. Sasha had been the most excited about the prospect. His mother had died from cancer when he was in highschool.

Jules’s hair was thick, dark brown, and wavy. Everything about it was perfect and she was a dream to work with. She always took things in stride and tipped well. Today, I was worried if she would ever come back.

Her hair was long enough that we could keep it at her shoulders. She had always kept it past her butt, just barely grazing her upper thighs, and took pride in it. I was still planning to give her plenty of highlights and a blowout- on the house. I had nothing but love for the girl and I knew how difficult this would be for her. Glancing at Tiesha, she smiled.

“Girl, what are you crying for?” She joked, parting another section of her client’s hair.

I recognized her but was not sure of her name. She always came in for installations or silk presses. Tiesha was always happy to see her, at the very least, so I knew she was a nice enough person.

“I don’t know,” Jules whined back, sniffling and rubbing her reddening eyes.

“Now, you are too damn pretty to be looking like that,” She replied, braiding back another section. “Make an appointment with momma and I’ll hook you up.”

I scoffed, “I can do extensions, too.”

“Oh, I know. But you’re most definitely a colorist. Julie, baby, Ty will take good care of you, okay?”

“Your mom will be very happy,” Sasha chimed in, his Russian accent thick.

Jules nodded, “Yeah, she will.”

I smiled to myself. That was the best motivator to get through this. I kept as much length as I could and I was still going to try to make her feel pretty with the new style. She had said her friends were excited but her boyfriend was conflicted. He loved her hair. That made me frown. Who the fuck says that to their girlfriend? Especially one who’s doing it for their sick mother.

“I’ve never gone this short before,” Jules said, her composure coming back. “It’s scary.”

“Don’t worry,” Sasha soothed, cleaning up from his last client. “You’ve got the best in the house. Y/N’ll take care of you.”

I winked at the boy. Sasha had grown on me considerably since he was first hired. I had not gone to Tony about his skipping after all, instead I cornered him at work and told him if he ever ditched me again I would get him fired. We were rocky after that but I knew his respect for me had gone up. A friendship blossomed when he confessed he was clueless about doing color. Sasha was an amazing stylist and his precion was otherworldly, but Destiny was right to never give him color clients. I spent a few nights helping him practice on some mannequin heads and he followed me around like a puppy. He had even agreed to clean up alone for two nights while I was in Beverly Hills helping Hoseok scope out the place. We were thick as thieves after that.

“I know that,” Jules cracked a smile. “She always takes care of me.”

“I’m flattered,” I finally said. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plans for you.”

Her smile grew. Jules had been very excited about free coloring. I had told her I was giving myself free reign, and I wondered if she thought I was going to go manic pixie on her. Hopefully some lowlights and babylights would suffice. We had never gone darker before and I thought it would suit the new cut well.

Cutting in her layers, I was happy with how it looked. Her hair framed her face nicely and she would still have enough length to play around with it if she wanted. Jules was a fan of those half-up, half-down looks. Using my comb, I ran through her hair and cut. So far, she had not looked back at the mirror. She seemed nervous too.

“Do you want me to cut your bangs blunt or keep them split?” I asked.

Jules perked up, “Oh! I was actually thinking about trying a new bang style.”

I nodded, “Do you have a picture?”

She opened her gallery and pulled it up. I smiled to myself. Jameela Jamil really did pull off the schoolgirl bangs.

“So in between?” I walked around so she was facing me.

“Do you think it’ll look nice?” She asked, chewing her bottom lip.

I studied her face for a moment.

“You’ll look great, but it might take some time to get used to. They’re a bit more maintenance than blunt or curtain.”

She smiled, “I figured that.”

Working quietly, I began to trim her bangs into the correct shape. They will look their best after I finish styling the rest of her hair. Jules loved it when I straightened her hair after our visits. She never had the patience for it at home and it made her feel special when she got it done here. I would have to let her know that her bangs will look pretty if she curled the longer side pieces to blend them in with her natural waves. With the cutting done, it was time to start the lowlights.

“When is your next appointment?” I asked Sasha.

He was sitting in his chair and texting someone on his phone. He glanced at me before getting back to his screen.

“About twenty minutes. He’s new.”

“Oh, a man?” Tiesha dramatically emphasized the man part. It was not often that men booked with us. Sasha had gone to barber school and did amazing work, but for some reason the idea of going to a salon bothered most men. “He from out of town?”

“I think so,” The Russian nodded. “He definitely sounded foreign. I couldn’t tell where from. Maybe Asia?”

I froze for a moment. I took a breath. There was absolutely no way that any of them would do that. Then I thought of Taehyung. Absolutely not, I scolded myself. That boy feared me more than anybody else. I would ring him by his neck and then let Yoongi know about it. Besides, I said emergencies only. They would have scheduled with me if they were trying to talk. Walking back to my chair, I placed the dye and bleach down on the metal tray next to me. Opening one of the drawers at my desk, I grabbed some latex gloves and foil.

Getting started was simple. Getting the brown, I began painting sections of her hair and foiling them. The foil was not really necessary, but I always got nervous that the parts I did not want colored would get touched. Lowlights were more sparsely added, and unlike highlights, never layers. Making my way around her head, I was excited to see if she would like it. I only went a shade darker than her natural color, so the color contrast was not extremely stark. The highlights were the most important part of the look.

Foiling the last piece of hair, I took the bowl to the sink near the back as well as the brush I was using. Tossing them in and removing my gloves, I heard the bell chime and Sasha’s customer service voice begin. No one could beat Tiesha’s, that woman had client relationships like no one I had ever met. They adored her.

“Come sit and we can get started,” Sasha seemed more excited than usual.

I guessed the guy wanted something a bit different from his normal caseload.

“Alright,” I sighed, clapping my hands. “Let's get this bleach started.”

Walking back into the main room, I paid no mind to the customer sitting in Sasha’s chair. Jules was FaceTiming with someone and I grinned when I recognized her mom’s voice. She seemed very cheery today.

“Oh, I love that length on you,” Martha gushed, her accent only picking up on certain words.

“Gracias, mami,” Jules beamed. “Do you think Carlos will like it?”

Martha waved her hands around animatedly when she talked. I had learned that from the many times she came to the salon with Jules. Now, she was shaking them violently.

“Who cares?”

I laughed and got to work on her highlights.

“I said the same thing,” I chimed.

The three of us talked as I worked. Martha always enjoyed asking me about the craziest customer of the week, and I usually indulge her. This week it had been a very convoluted, pastel rainbow color job. She wanted the top half white and the bottom portion colored. She booked out my entire day, gave me hell about every insignificant detail, and then left a $2 tip. Sasha got to hear me rant and rave about it when we were cleaning that night.

“She’s never allowed in my chair again,” I finished, setting a timer for everything.

The lowlights had been sitting for twenty minutes while the babylights would need about 15 in order to develop the way I want them to. Thinking, I was certain the lowlights would be fine going two minutes over the usual time. They would be hardly noticeable regardless.

“You’ve had worse,” Sasha pointed out.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “But those women tip well. I don’t care how rude you are- money is money. That chick is a pain in the ass without the benefits.”

“She has nothing on Kimberly,” Tiesha joked.

I groaned, “God, don’t even put that name into the universe. She’s due back soon.”

Sasha laughed. “She does pay very well. Don’t blame you.”

“Who’s Kimberly?” Jules asked.

I gave Tiesha a look before answering her.

“She’s a regular. Tony was her go-to guy, but he’s only in twice a week and it doesn’t line up with her schedule. He sent her over to me. Let’s just say she takes picky to a new level.”

Jules snickered, “What does she like to get?”

“Usually a platinum blonde, layered cut. On paper it’s not the most difficult thing in the world, but she makes it much more complicated than it needs to be.”

“Complicated?” Tiesha exclaimed. “That woman is super rude, always late, and acts like she knows everything. I’d tell that bitch to kick rocks.”

Her client laughed out loud.

“That might be true,” I reasoned, checking the foils. “But, she always tips well and shouts me out on her socials. So, can I really complain? Besides, I’m used to her.”

Checking the foils again, I was happy with the color they were and decided to take the foils off early. Stopping my timer, I asked Jules to walk over to the rinsing station. I was happy this was my last client. Sweeping up the hair, I left it in the dustpan until I was ready to begin the tedious task of preparing it for donation. Putting on a new pair of gloves, I willed this day to be over already.

I knew something was off when a new motorcycle was parked out front. Briefly checking the plates, I was even more weary when they were from Jersey. I knew far too many people in that corner of the US. Still, I told myself that it could be anybody. Perhaps one of my new neighbors was from Hobokan. That was highly unlikely, though. Eyeing the red leather jacket hanging from one of the handles, I only knew one person who owned something like that. I guess I will be seeing Jimin tonight. The thought bothered me far more than I thought it would.

Taking my time going up the stairs, I considered calling Hoseok and demanding to know why Park was sniffing around my apartment. I knew I should have moved out, should have tried something new, but the thought of leaving the only home I ever knew bothered me. Using the time climbing to my advantage, I slowly steeled myself. Jimin could smell weakness from a mile away. He was also one person who could convince me to do bad things.

The excitement that ran through me at the idea sickened me.

Starting at the 4 on the door, I braced myself. When I walked into that hallway all traces of the new me had to disappear. There can be no laughter, no crying, and no open hostility. I would have to be a blank slate. With one small breath, I pulled the door and went into the hall.

There wasn’t a body in sight, but I knew better than to go off of that. Jimin could get into my apartment with relative ease. No one would notice either. Everyone else that lived was too busy making ends meet to pay attention to the stranger sneaking into my house.

Taking my keys out of my purse, I unlocked the door and walked inside. I could smell him. It was, however, not Jimin. Jimin only wore Orange Blossom by Jo Malone. Whoever this was smelled like baby powder and flowers. My guard completely up now, I continued further into the studio and kicked the door closed behind me. Whoever it was, I knew had been standing behind the door. The smell was not as potent as it had been before.

Going into the kitchen, I shrugged my coat off before throwing it behind me. I heard it hit something and it was a blur after that. I quickly snatched a kitchen knife from the drying rack and threw myself to the ground. The man grabbed my hands. Kicking his inner thigh, I rolled from underneath him and shot up. He threw his arms up.

“Stop!”

Ignoring him, I threw the knife. The man reacted quickly, catching the blade in between his hands before throwing it down on the floor. While he was distracted, I slid on the floor and grabbed the pistol from under my bed. Pointing it at the man, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

Without saying anything, I aimed for his left shoulder and fired. The silencer muzzled the shot, though the pop was still nasty. It worked better with a pillow added to the equation. I doubted any of my neighbors would notice the sound, however. The man shouted, stumbled back, and leaned against the fridge.

“You shot me,” He exclaimed, shocked.

“Who the fuck are you?” I barked, aimed for his other shoulder.

“You wait to ask me after you-”

I shot again. He gritted his teeth and sank to the floor. The wounds were leaking blood but I tried to not let it bother me. This guy broke into my house. This time, I aimed for his right knee.

“Who are you?” I asked again.

“Jungkook,” The man, Jungkook, answered. “I’m with The Saints.”

Lowering the barrel of the gun, I stared at him for a second. He was with my crew? Since when?

“Who sent you?” I asked, aiming at his chest now.

If he was going to get found out, he might be more inclined to lunge before I could call anyone.

“Yoongi.”

Slowly, I reached into my back pocket and got my phone. I was relieved the screen hadn’t cracked during the outfall. Slowly, keeping my eyes on Jungkook, I started typing in the number I knew by heart. If he was lucky, Yoongi would pick up. If not, then we weren’t moving until someone did. After the second ring, a rough voice greeted me.

“August.”

Training my gun on his head, I spoke.

“There’s someone claiming they know you in my apartment.”

After a few seconds, Yoongi’s voice was hard when he replied.

“Who is it?”

“Says his name is Jungkook,” I replied evenly.

I was fully prepared to pull the trigger. Jungkook stared the barrel down without fear. I only hoped he would go down quickly and quietly.

Yoongi sighed harshly, “Fucking Jimin.”

Gripping the handle tightly, I placed my finger on the trigger. I only needed the okay now.

“He’s fine,” Yoongi was annoyed. “I sent Jimin but I guess he got the kid to go instead.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I put the gun down. Jungkook visibly relaxed then and moaned in pain. Raising a hand, he cradled his left shoulder and hissed in pain.

“Fucked him up,” I admitted. “He was in my apartment when I got home.”

Yoongi hummed, “Take care of him. He’ll let you know what’s going on. We have a problem.”

He hung up before I could respond.

I hated when he did that. I had no idea who Jungkook was, or what he was here to tell me, but we were on the same team. And I just shot him. Twice. Putting the gun back in its original spot, I reached a little further behind it and retrieved my first aid kit. Jungkook sagged in relief.

“Sorry,” I apologized, helping him take his shirt off. “Didn’t realize you were with us.”

Jungkook hissed when I applied alcohol to the wounds. It would take me a while to get his patched up, but I was capable of doing it. Years of friendship with The Saints would do that to you. Looking at Jungkook, I was taken aback by how attractive he was.

All of the Saints were good looking, but this guy had an aura about him. His hair was wild, pitch black, and down to his shoulders. His skin was gently tanned with small moles dotted sporadically across his body. What caught my attention the most was the shiny, silver lip ring he donned. That was an oddity in our world.

“My fault, shouldn’t have broken in without a warning,” He replied.

“I saw the bike outside and thought you were Jimin.”

He hummed then winced. I knew those bullets did not feel nice. Taking my time and trying to be gentle, I used a pair of tweezers to get them out. Jungkook bit his lip so hard he drew blood.

“Yeah,” He breathed out. “Let me borrow it for the ride.”

“Park,” We both knew what I meant by that.

For the next hour we sat in silence. He let me work and I listened to every sharp intake of breath, groan, and moan. I felt guilty about everything, but I also had a certain level of apathy. The guy was nobody to me. Not really. Same crew doesn’t mean we’re friends. Still, if they sent him here then that meant they trusted him enough to come. That told me a lot about him.

After I placed gauze over the stitches, Jungkook finally spoke again.

“Jin hyung said you were harmless,” He chuckled. “I’ll let him know he’s wrong.”

Ignoring his comment, I went to find him something to wear. I doubted he would be able to fit any of my things. He was huge, a tall man with big arms, but I could make something work. Grabbing a loose fitting dress, I threw it to him.

“I don’t have anything for a man, so that will have to do.”

He nodded and put the dress on without complaint.

“I’ll pick up something for you later,” I continued. “Did you come alone?”

Jungkook shook his head, “Hyung’s around. He was going to come but an old friend called so he sent me.”

“Kai?” I wondered, already knowing the answer.

Jimin and Kai were good friends. They had known one another since they were kids and got involved in crime together. I’d only met the guy in passing the few times he had visited Boston, but I was not very familiar with him. I knew he was a drug runner on the west coast but that was where my knowledge stopped.

“Yeah, said they had business or something.”

I hummed, “Would you like to lay down for a moment?”

Jungkook was very obviously in pain. He tried to deny it for a minute but ultimately took my offer. Going to the fridge, I pulled out a can of Ginger Ale and gave it to him. He accepted it readily.

“Sorry about the gun,” I offered, sitting on the floor. “Jin’s right. I’m usually pretty harmless. I didn’t even own a gun until I left The Saints.”

Jungkook shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t expecting company.”

Opening my own drink, I eyed him. He was far too calm. My guess was this was not his first time being shot. Trying to find other wounds was pointless, however, he was too clothed. I hadn’t even thought to check when I was helping him earlier.

“Why’d you come inside anyway?” I asked.

Jungkook grinned ruefully.

“Hyung said he’d call you.”

That pulled a laugh out of me. Park probably forgot about it. For someone as dangerous as he was, he could be irresponsible. I remember when we were scoping a jewelry store together a few years back, Jimin had completely forgotten where the cameras were by the time we left. I had to go back myself a few days later to make sure his guesses were right. We had never let him live it down. Yoongi did not think it was very funny.

“Typical,” I said.

“Yeah.”

Jungkook’s eyes slipped closed. He was so completely at ease in my presence it was unnerving. Taking a sip of my drink, I looked at him in bewilderment. He was so much like Taehyung, trusting and easy going. It was difficult to imagine what role he played in the crew. He could have taken my place but I doubted he was as good. He had come here, hid behind my door, and then ambushed me. Then he was surprised when I acted like he was an enemy. Chuckling, I put my drink down. Yeah, just like Taehyung.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes still closed.

Wiping the smile off my face, I replied. “Just thinking.”

We did not talk again. I was sure Jungkook had dozed off, but he kept waking back up again. Getting up, I began looking for some pain medicine to no avail. I had not needed to put myself to sleep in a long time. Grabbing my keys from the floor, I told Jungkook I was heading out for a bit. I got no response. Patting myself down, I knew I did not have my phone and picked it up from beside the bed. Jungkook was lightly snoring.

Slipping from the room, I locked up and went downstairs. Typing in the last number I had for Jimin, I was not surprised that it was no longer in service. He changed phones like you change clothes. Deciding to call Taehyung, I went to my contacts to find him. He was the only person I saved.

“Hello?” His voice was deep and hoarse.

Glancing at the time, I realized it was much later than I thought.

“Sorry about the time,” I replied. “It’s Mouse.”

I heard shuffling on the other side. Taehyung had gotten himself a girlfriend, Jennie, and I was almost positive she was relatively clueless about his life. The last time I talked to Hoseok, he had said she thought he was a tech guy who was helping a start up. He must have been with her now if his silence was anything to go by.

“Sorry,” He said, voice low. “I’m not alone.”

“I just need Park’s number and you can get back to bed.”

Saying the numbers slowly, I typed them into my keypad as I made my way through the dark streets.

“Thanks,” I stopped walking once I got to the gas station around the corner. “Get some sleep.”

“It was good to hear your voice,” He replied, more awake than he had been. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Night, V.”

“Night, Mouse.”

Hanging up, I stuffed my phone into my back pocket and walked into the store. It was deserted except for the cashier. Giving me a stiff nod, I ignored the man before going to the back of the store and getting some bottled water. I never trusted the tap in the building. Afterwards, I got a bottle of Nyquil and Advil before going to the register.

“Let me get a pack of Marlboro Black Menthols,” I told the cashier.

Taking out my phone, I took my ID from the attached wallet as well as my debit card. The man held the pack of cigarettes and took my ID. Briefly looking it over, he scanned the barcode before scanning the cigarettes. Handing the ID back to me, he began scanning my other items before bagging them.

“Your total is $26.87.”

Nodding, I inserted my card and typed my pin. Putting my card back into the small wallet, I put my phone into my pocket and took the bag.

“Have a good night,” I said.

“You too,” He replied.

Leaving the store, I opened up my keypad and pressed the call button. Jimin picked up after four rings.

“Hello?” He answered, voice brightly and bubbly.

He always answered unknown numbers like that just in case. Jimin always prioritized having the upper hand over anything else. Anyone looking for Park would never connect him to the voice on the other side. I, however, was familiar enough with him to see through the facade.

“You got your boy hit,” I said, cutting right to the chase. “I had to give him a dress and Nyquil after popping two in him.”

Jimin laughed loudly, his fake voice gone. This was why we were friends. Our senses of humor were far too warped due to our upbringings. In another world we would have been enemies belonging to different clans, but I liked this timeline far more. Park was a great guy when you looked past the insecurities, anger issues, and tendency to seek violence.

“Jungkook’s wearing a dress?” He exclaimed, still laughing. “God, you have to take a picture for me.”

I rolled my eyes, “Explain why he’s here. I would ask him but I stepped out to get some medicine for him.”

Jimin’s laughter abruptly cut off. That feeling of dread returned. If Park was getting serious then that meant whatever the situation was must be more than I thought it would be. I was expecting them to need me to help them with a heist, but I was getting the feeling it might be more than that. Jimin sighed.

“I can’t get into specifics right now, but you need to get the fuck out of California.”

Going up the stairs of my complex, I paused.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re not safe here anymore.”

Growing angry, I shouted. “Enough with the cryptic messages, Park!”

Continuing to go up, I kept looking around every corner I went to. This was the worst fucking timing I could have had. Things were finally going well for me, I had friends and a job that I actually liked, and I had to give it all up again. Tears filling my eyes, I shoved open my door and slammed it behind me.

“I told you I can’t get into specifics, but there’s a reason I’m with Kai right now. You and Jungkook need to get out of that apartment as soon as possible. I don’t care where you go but you need to leave.”

Jungkook sprung up when I kicked the edge of my bed. Pointing to my phone, I mouth ‘Jimin.’ Getting on my knees, I pulled out my duffle bag from underneath the bed and threw it at the other man. He looked at me when he stood up. I noticed the way he winced and held up the bag in my hand.

“Copy,” Was all I replied.

“Get to Boston. Don’t take the truck.”

“Give me something to work with,” I demanded, taking the Advil out of the bag and tossing it to Jungkook. “I can’t be blind.”

“Cмерть не за горами.”

My entire world stopped spinning. I could hear my heart beating, feel my lungs pushing the air out of my body, while my eyes were frozen. Every single inch of my skin shivered, goosebumps springing up, and I broke out into a cold sweat. This was no heist.

Hanging up on Jimin, I went to the window above my bed and opened it. Throwing the phone as far as I could, I turned to find Jungkook waiting for instructions. Staring at him, I decided to take a leap of faith.

“Ты один из нас?” I asked.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

Gritting my teeth, I snatched the duffle from him. Jungkook continued waiting for me to tell him what to do. I pointed to my bathroom.

“Take everything from the mirror cabinet and put it in the bag. After that, grab what you can from the wardrobe and stuff it. Only take one pair of shoes and a pair of heels. That’s all I’ll need.”

He got to work quickly. Going back to the bed, I took out my gun and the spare ammo I kept locked up at the very back corner. Placing the ammo in the duffle, I took my first aid kit from the kitchen floor and tossed it in as well.

“Do you have a gun?” I asked Jungkook.

“Yeah,” He replied. “It’s in the jacket downstairs. I thought you would feel more comfortable if I wasn’t armed.”

Packing my small makeup collection, I felt myself shutting down. Bad girls don’t have feelings, and I was fucking heartless. Yes, I told myself, heartless. It was harder to pretend now than it had been, I was rusty and in desperate need of a distraction. The thought of finding my old family in the shadows was always frightening, but the thought of them looking for me was far more unsettling.

“Done,” Jungkook announced.

Realizing I had zoned out, I quickly put my makeup in the duffle bag and closed it. I had no time to dwell or be afraid. Heartless, Mouse, Heartless. I hated that name. Shaking my head, I pulled myself together enough to sling the duffle over my shoulder. Jungkook went to take it but I held my hand up.

“You’re not carrying this with your injuries. Just take that bag and this-” I handed him my gun. “I don’t know how quick you are but it’s probably better than me. I’m rusty.”

He nodded and we made our way down the stairs. Thinking, I began to categorize the cars that were in the parking lot and on the street. My truck was near the front but the streets were shrouded in light at this time. Jungkook’s bike was also out front. The back had security cameras but was pitch black at this time. I decided the front was the risk I was more willing to take and went through the hallway door on the first floor. Passing the doors, I paid no mind to Jungkook. He was capable and stayed in step with me effortlessly.

We would drive for a few hours, probably stopping at a diner so I could get another car, and keep going until we hit Arizona or New Mexico. I had not decided yet. Going out the front doors, I waved Jungkook away while I walked down the street. He went to get his jacket but left the bike behind. He was back beside me in a few seconds.

Crossing the street, I had my eyes on a Honda Accord parked on the curb. It was definitely a ‘97 model. I could start her up in a heartbeat. Unzipping one of the side pockets of my bag, I pulled out a switchblade and zipped it back up. Going to the driver’s side, Jungkook stayed at my back while I tried the handle. To my surprise, it opened. Stepping to the side, I gently tapped Jungkook’s back. Turning, he quickly shoved the gun into the backseat as I opened the door. After seeing that the coast was clear, I motioned for him to go around the car while I popped the truck. He said it was fine.

Nodding at him, I got into the car. Kicking the steering wheel, I heard the column lock break before swapping the ECUs. Taking my knife, I ripped off the lower center cover. Getting back out of the car, I opened the backseat and threw my duffle inside. Putting my knife back in its pocket, I opened the long side pocket along the front and pulled out my old screwdriver. This was far from the first jacking I had done.

Getting back into the car, I began to pry the steel cover away. Asking Jungkook for a light, I waited while he pulled out his phone from the pocket of the red jacket. He was lucky no one had taken it. With the flashlight on, I turned the switch from off, past run, to start. The car came to life instantaneously. Waving the light away, I threw the screwdriver into the center console and placed the car in drive. Finally closing the driver’s side door, I peeled off into the night.

The radio came to life and Amy Winehouse sang loudly as I got onto the I-5.

“Til’ the chips were down

Know you were a gambling man.

Love is a losing hand.”

Jungkook was very quiet. I had just followed exit sounds and continued to drive toward Arizona. It was the least exciting state, and the people who lived there were far too judgemental outside of Phoenix, but it was the best way to get to the airport. That airport was far too big and strangely laid out that I knew we would be difficult to pick out in a crowd. Glazing over at Jungkook, he was holding the pack of cigarettes I had bought earlier.

“They’re for Jimin,” I suddenly said, switching lanes. “They were his favorite last time I saw him.”

“I think he’s smoking Camels now,” Jungkook replied.

“Can’t win them all.”

Sighing, I relaxed a bit more in my seat. So far, we have not been followed. Then again, I could be missing something. Tracking was not a strong suit of mine, and in my experience, the Russians were very, very evasive when they wanted to be. Still, I allowed myself a moment to breathe.

“How do you know the boys in Brighton?” Jungkook asked, voice quiet and soft.

I thought about it for a moment. It was a rather long story, but knowing that we were familiar with the same people made it feel easier. Deciding to probe him for information first, I formed a plan in my head on how to go about this conversation.

“Have you ever heard of the person called Pыбка?” I asked, my American accent showing through. It had been a very, very long time since I had spoken Russian, and even then it had always been a second language that I learned from my time with the Shulaya.

“Ivan’s girl, right? The one who was murdered a few years back? What about her?”

Sparing him a quick glance, I spoke.

“Do I look dead to you?”

Jimin and I had known one another longer than anyone else in The Saints. He had been the last person to join the crew, and was deep within the Shulaya before he went to Jersey to join Hoseok’s team. I would never forget the look on his face the first time he saw me, or the fact that it took him all of ten minutes to get fully committed to keeping me safe. Everyone called me Mouse. Jin had come up with it after joking about me being able to live in someone’s attic and they would never know. It caught on and it was the only name anyone on the streets knew about. The ‘Little Fish’ of Shulaya long forgotten after the first two years of hiding. However, it seemed like my face had been seen by somebody and Ivan was not happy about my disappearing act.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook said in awe. “We’re so fucked.”

I laughed, “Have some faith. Ivan is scary, but he’s also impulsive. I know him better than most and trust me- he doesn’t know how to keep his cool. Between Boston and NYC, I doubt he’ll get very far into their territory without raising hell.”

Jungkook made a strange noise.

“I’d be far more afraid of Yoongi than any of those Wiseguys.”

Scoffing, I saw the exit I needed to take in order to pull up at the last Holiday Inn before the long stretch of nothing at all. Jungkook seemed to see where my mind was going and began to look out of the window. After briefly going over what food options we had, we landed on Taco Bell.

Ordering our food was simple enough. Jungkook was a huge tomato hater and was very upset to find that his Crunch Wrap had been ‘ruined.’ The motel seemed to have a few quests and I hoped we could get a room. Jungkook offered to pay. The frontdesk lady was kind and found us a room within 5 minutes.

Using the elevator, I asked Jungkook if he still had the ‘thing’ with him. He nodded but said no more. It was probably better that way. Throwing my duffle bag onto my bed, I realized that Jungkook was still wearing a dress with the pants he had come inside in.

Digging through my bag, I found a pair of sweatpants that would fit him well enough as well as an oversized nightshirt I rarely ever wore. I usually slept naked. Tonight, I will try to make my partner feel comfortable.

Throwing the clothes on his bed, Jungkook perked up a bit and seemed to be fine with their sizes. I wondered if he had been wearing more uncomfortable clothes at one time and shook my head. He had walked into this motel wearing that. Yes, Y/N, he has definitely been far more uncomfortable than tightly sweats.

“You can take the bathroom first,” I pointed to the door. “You need it more than I do.”

Jungkook nodded, “Would you mind helping me get out of this thing? It still hurts to move my arms around too much.

Looking at him, I pinned him with an unimpressed look. We were not having one of those moments. Still looking at Jungkook, I unzipped the pouching with my switchblade in it and pulled the knife out. Walking to Jungkook, I quickly worked on the right side of the fabric. The left side was even quicker. Gently lifting his arm just enough to see his armpit, I cut the short sleeve from the bottom, following up with the top, and up the high neckline. Repeating it on the other side, the blood-soaked garment pooling to the floor.

Jungkook seemed frozen. Looking at his face, his eyes were wide and staring at the blade in my hand. Thinking he might be uncomfortable with me standing so close to him with a weapon, I walked back to my bed.

“If you need help getting the shirt on, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook replied.

Picking up the spare clothes, he walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. The water was on a few seconds later. Fully alone in the room, I looked around and decided to throw out the dress. With the torn up dress safely put away in my duffle, I tried to figure out what to do while I waited.

Taking Jungkook’s phone off of his bed (he used a flip phone just like Yoongi did on the job), I quickly found my way to the contacts. Hovering over Jimin’s number, I paused. Not thinking about it for too long, I pressed it and placed my phone to my ear. He answered quickly.

“Where are you?” Jimin asked, voice very low.

“Are you safe to talk?” I replied, voice just as low.

I could hear the way Jimin rolled his eyes, a small groan leaving his lips.

“I’m fine,” His voice was still soft. “I’m at a casino right now. Did you steal his phone?”

My blood ran cold. Most of our guys loved gambling, but Jimin had always thought it was a dumb pastime. I knew Ivan had been trying to expand the Russian influence in Los Angeles, and I hoped that he knew what he was doing. Jimin tended to run into situations without contemplating everything. Instead of grilling him, I decided to ease his worries.

“We’re safe. Heading east.” I looked around the room distractedly. “And no. I’m using it while he’s taking a shower.”

Jimin sighed in relief, “Kook is a good guy. He’ll keep you safe long enough to make it back to Boston. I’ll be on my way back in a few hours.”

It was better to keep things vague. Just like I had not said where we were headed, Jimin’s answer could mean anything. I heard Jungkook cry out but he was quiet soon after. I hoped the work I had done was keeping. I had told him to keep the stitches covered.

“See you soon,” I forced a smile on my face. “I got you a pack of cigarettes.”

Jimin laughed, though it sounded more forced than normal.

“Stay safe. I have to go.”

I hung up without another word. If he had to go then he had to go. The shower was still running and I was bored again. Looking at the door, I was tempted to walk around for a while. I had a feeling I would get myself into trouble if I did, but I was curious to see if I could get some extra clothes for Jungkook. Possibly a set of car keys, too. Looking at the bathroom door, I figured he was going to be there for a while.

“Fuck it,” I said under my breath.

Getting my room key, I slipped out of the room quietly.

The hallway was deserted, not a body in sight, but I had a feeling I could get something if I looked hard enough. Going to the elevator, I spotted a young couple laughing. Slowing my walk, I was happy to see that they were getting on the elevator.

Angling my body, I was practically jumping up and down when my eye caught on their room key. This would be too easy. The elevator chimed signaling someone was getting off. Quickly moving my body, I relied on their clinginess to sneak into the corridor without a problem. A group of people pooled out of the elevator and I drifted into their numbers.

The couple stood to the side and waited for us to pass. Using my foot, I tripped a young woman in front of me. She stumbled while I placed myself in a position to trip over her. The both of us dropped. The woman fell into the man. Falling, I shuffled closer to the man’s hand while the woman began apologizing profusely.

Quickly snatching the card from him, I slipped it into my pocket while I stood up. Adjusting my clothes, I quickly apologized as well. The couple waved the both of us off, seemingly unbothered, before getting on the elevator. Nodding to the woman, I turned toward the way the couple had come from. Looking at the keycard, I made my way toward the door with the number on it. I was lucky the woman and I had similar hair styles, but I was aware of Holiday Inn well enough to say that most of their cameras did not work.

Glancing up at the camera in the middle of the hallway, I was positive it was not working. Typically there would be a small, red dot that showed it was recording. Today, it was off. Letting myself in, I knew I had to be quick and clean.

Tonight I would only get clothes. Car keys were something I would have to snatch in the morning over breakfast. Someone would notice their keys missing in the middle of the night. Locating a large, black suitcase on the floor by the foot of the bed, I pulled it up onto the bed and unzipped it.

Carefully sifting through the clothes, I only pulled out enough for two outfits before gently placing everything back smoothly. They would probably be a bit big on Jungkook, but I doubted he would mind very much. I swore he was wearing a belt, but I had not been paying enough attention to know for sure.

Going to the pockets of the bag, I was happy to find a container of hair pomade and hoped it might make Jungkook happy. He would be able to do his hair if he wanted. Grabbing a pack of hair bands and a pair of boxers, I was ready to leave. Going into the dresser, I pulled out the complimentary bag they gave every guest, I shoved the clothes in it before leaving the room. With the keycard in my hand, I dropped it in the spot the couple had been before making my way back to my own room.

Jungkook was sitting on his bed drying his hair when I came in. He was wearing the sweatpants and t-shirt I had given him. I was glad he was able to get it on alone, but I felt bad I had not been here to help him. Holding up the bag, I tossed it his way.

“The first robbery I’ve done in four years,” I shook my head. “You should feel special.”

Jungkook opened the bag and grinned at me. His hair went just past his shoulders when it was wet, his fluffy curls weighed down by the water. Sifting through the bag, he seemed the happiest about the hair ties.

Getting my own clothes, I let him know I was going to take a shower. Getting under the hot water was a healing experience, and for the first time today I let a few tears slip out.

I was terrified, frustrated, but mostly- pissed.

Twelve years ago

Hands bound, I let my body relax. Ivan’s eyes were blazing, his anger palpable, but I refused to look away. He would never think I was weak again. Walking closer, the Russian yanked me up roughly, one of the straps of my sundress breaking.

“What the fuck did you do?” He seethed, his accent thick and almost incoherent through gritted teeth. “You always ruin everything you touch.”

Slowly, and with great care, I pooled spit into my mouth. With a quick gurgle, I spit in Ivan’s eye. My rebellion had angered just as much as it had excited Ivan. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wanted to be as far away from him as possible, his hands burning my skin. Slamming me down, Ivan roared in anger before delivering a swift kick to my stomach.

Gasping, I tried my hardest to keep the vomit down. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wished I was with Alexei. He would never have treated me like this. As if the thought had transferred over to the man beside me, he kicked me again.

“Alexei is dead, Лох,” He shouted. “You’re mine now.”

With another swift kick, I cried out. Then, without warning my stomach twisted. Another kick. Finally, I threw up all over the concrete floor beneath me.

For now. I was yours for now.

Present

With a new set of car keys in my hand, I walked into the parking lot. Jungkook was on the phone, but quickly hung up when he saw me approaching. Raising an eyebrow at him, I waved him over and we began walking together. Clicking the unlock button, I smiled when I saw the yellow Porsche. The two of us placed our things inside without a care in the world and drove off quickly after.

I had found the targets for today the night before while walking around the hotel late last night. It was a young woman and her mother. The two of them had been a whirlwind and gave the staff hell. Unable to sleep, my head headaches from exhaustion, and their bickering only pissed me off more. Unfortunately for them, they had made a big show of their money and decided to brag about their car.

It took a few minutes to switch out license plates and even less time to steal her car keys this morning during breakfast. They were staying for another day and had not planned on leaving the hotel at all. Jungkook laughed once we were a safe distance away.

“I’m still in shock at that woman’s entitlement,” He shook his head. “Did you see the way she flipped out when they ran out of bacon before her ‘precious angel’ could get any?”

Chuckling, I kept my attention on the road.

“Her attitude was the only reason I swiped this thing. I would never get into something so obvious.”

“It was as easy as stealing candy from a baby.”

Feeling confident from the jacking, I decided to play along.

“Do you steal from babies often?”

Jungkook giggled cutely, “I’ve cut down to twice a year.”

“Oh?”

“Halloween-” He counted with one finger, and lifted another, “-and Easter.”

“Easter?” My eyebrows pulled in as I laughed incredulously.

Jungkook grinned lazily.

“Stockings are so last year.”

It was becoming increasingly more difficult to think of him as a member of the mafia. While my age had made others test my abilities far more often than the others I never believed anyone doubted who I was. There was a look in your eye, this coldness, that separated you from the rest. I could pick out a killer in a line up- we were one in the same. However, Jungkook was impossible to get a read on. His boyish charms and good looks were not uncommon, but the innocence in his smile and the brightness that remained in his eyes were unsettling. Everything about him was unnerving. He was disarming and that alone was frightening.

Realizing the car had become quiet, I turned the radio on. It was a habit of mine. I did not like the silence. I hated it. Some trashy pop song blasted but I did not care. Jungkook did and began to look for something he liked more.

“What do you like?” He asked, pressing the screen to change the stations.

“Pick whatever,” I replied, flipping off the guy who cut me off.

Arizona was the worst state I had ever been to. The drive was not as awful as Texas, nothing will ever beat the twelve hours of hell to still be in that damned state, but it was not much better. Outside of Phoenix the towns were not as grand. Tucson gave her a run for her money, but never came close to the busy city. Driving through the desert, I asked Jungkook to pull up the directions to the airport. I no longer knew my way.

“How did you meet the guys?” I asked, eyes on the road.

Jungkook picked a pop station and leaned back in his seat.

“Through Jimin,” He replied. “They needed help dealing with someone. I had just left New York and we ran into each other in Vegas. I liked everyone so I decided to join.”

Raising an eyebrow, I quickly turned my head so he could see my expression.

“Ivan let you leave?”

“I wasn’t a member,” Jungkook mumbled. “Just an acquaintance. I was for hire.”

That was not what I had expected. Jungkook did not seem like a killer, but I had been proven wrong many times. When I lived with my parents I had met many assassins I would have never guessed who they were just looking at them. Even talking with them it was impossible to detect. Looking at the man, I found it hard to believe that we were from the same background. While I had ran from that life, Jungkook ran toward it with open arms. In fact, he seemed to pay it little mind.

“What family are you from?” I asked. “My family was under The Table.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up.

“You’re from the Underground?”

I nodded, “I never really wanted that life. I’m a much better thief anyway.”

Jungkook rubbed his bottom lip. I forced myself to focus on the road. Even if we were the only people out here, I did not want to risk anything. I had stolen the car and the plate and getting stuck out here would be hell.

“I’m with Sacarii.”

The Sacarii was the sister organization to The Table. While my family had mostly dealt with members of gangs and high profile families, members of the Sacarii were the people who went after other assassins. Stealing another look at Jungkook, I looked at the tattoos on his arm and tried to find his symbol. All of us got one, mine was a tiger on my right side, but the ink was too difficult to look at while driving.

“I have a tiger lily,” Jungkook said, noticing my assessment. “I have a few of them, actually.”

Lilies are from Japan, but I knew Jungkook was Korean. His name alone gave him away. Waving my hand, I asked him to explain when he got it.

“My family moved to Japan when I was fifteen. I had my first kill there so we decided that I would get something to represent that. The prayer hands on my back were done by the organization after the ordainment.”

Ordainments were very common. It was the process an assassin went through to become an official member of their organization. Their families were no longer defined by blood but the common experiences each one shared. The Table and the Sacarii were one big family, but oftentimes we did not get along with one another. Civil at best and competition at worst. Prayer hands with a rosary were the tattoos everyone got. It was large, covering the entire center of the back, with the family oath written above and below it.

“I never got mine,” I admitted. “I ran off before my ceremony. That’s when I met Alexei.”

“How old were you?”

Smiling sadly, I replied. “Thirteen.”

“Oh,” He said. “I didn’t know they got people that young.”

“Well, he saw me kill someone and wanted to keep me. I doubt you knew him- he died a few years ago.”

Jungkook nodded, “Yeah. What was he like?”

Laughing, I spotted a gas station and decided to stop. We were at half a tank, but I wanted to be safe. Jungkook took out his wallet and handed me a twenty.

“He was a better man than his brother,” I answered, taking the money. “He knew how to stay calm and respect other people. Alexei always kept good relationships with the other families. Ivan is an idiot who can’t handle criticisms of any kind.”

“He’s that awful? I mean, I only know him through brief meetings.”

“I’d rather be dead than serve him again,” I opened my door. “But you already know that.”

Settling in my seat, I glanced over at Jungkook. He looked tired and I let him know it was fine to sleep. He nodded and slipped his eyes closed shortly after. Taking my new phone out of my pocket, I decided to make a quick phone call before we took off. Jungkook and I had picked up a flip phone from Walmart on our way to the airport. It was more secure than any smartphone. Dialing the number, I waited.

“Hello?” Hoseok picked up.

“I’m landing in Massachusetts,” I replied, knowing he was aware of the situation by now. It had been a day and a half. “Pick me up at our spot.”

“Jin will be there.”

“Copy.”

Hoseok sighed heavily, “Is the kid okay? Heard you shook him up.”

Glancing at Jungkook, I was shocked he was snoring.

“He’s fine,” I replied. “He’s definitely in pain, and tries to keep his movement to a minimum, but hides it from me. Attempts to, I should say. I took care of him as best I could but Agust should get his hands on his ASAP.”

Hoseok hummed and I knew he was nodding. He was a very animated, lively person and could not sit still for long. He got into a fist fight with a Russian who took offense to his hand movements.

“See you when I see you.”

“Three o’clock,” I said before hanging up.

Sliding my phone back into my pocket, I finally buckled my seat. Shaking Jungkook awake, I told him to put his belt on. He grinned at me lazily before doing it. He fell asleep again quickly.

Happy to have a window seat, I watched as we began to take off. It had been a while since I was on a plane. The last time was when I was running to California as quickly as I could. Kansas had been nice when I had first left The Saints, but it quickly became suffocating. The silence and mundane town life made my skin crawl. California had seemed like it would be better, more fun, but it had become just as mundane after a while.

I had always gotten bored easily. It was why I enjoyed pickpocketing. As a kid, my little hands and unassuming looks had made it easy. I never planned on getting good at it. At the time it felt less damning in comparison to what the people in my life wanted me to do.

There was a time when I was happy killing, pleasing my family had always felt good, but that faded when my teenage years approached. Running away to New York was a quick, impulsive decision I had made when I was afraid of my future. Staring at the clear, blue sky, I scoffed.

I had run away from one hell into another. I went from that one into another. The Saints were my family, but I would be lying if I said I felt they were any different from what I had always done. Kansas had been my first attempt at normalcy, and San Diego had been me living in that world.

And I loved it, in my own way. It was nice to have a routine. It felt good to have friends, even if they were the most surface level friendships I could allow myself to have, and I owned my own things. I had earned what I had.

Now I was flying back to a place I was not sure I belonged anymore. I felt two halves of myself fighting one another. One half wanted to run again, to disappear, and get as far away from this place as possible. Then there was the other side of me, the twisted, dark, nasty side of myself that was reveling in all of this. My excitement was hard for me to figure out, and I began to doubt myself.

Had I ever really wanted this life? Has it all been a dream? A fantasy of a perfectly serene, normal, and legal lifestyle I had never known? Finding a cloud, I rubbed my temples and sighed.

I doubted I would ever have an answer to that question.

Five years ago

Standing around the table, all of us went over the plan again. They were doing construction on the roof, so that would be the quickest, and easiest, point of entrance. I would go first while Hoseok and Jin dressed as police officers to take out the security guards in the back. Taehyung would take care of the cameras before this. Yoongi would follow behind me along with Jimin. I would lead the team after we had taken over the museum.

Looking over at Jimin, he was already looking at me. Everyone knew that this would be my last mission, and he had taken it the worst. We hardly spoke and he actively ignored me. I was surprised he was acknowledging me at all. Breaking eye contact, I went back to explaining the pieces we would be taking.

“Don was very specific about these three pieces,” I said, pointing to the Rembrandt and two pieces of jewelry. “These are our high payouts. Get these first. After that we can make quick work of the rest.”

“Who did you say the others were going to?” Yoongi asked.

“The rest are split up between some vendors I know,” I replied. “Freddie Newman, Diane Pollack, and Dwayne Smith. The jewels are for Georgie Boy, Archie, and two others. Park’s handling that.”

“This is a big job,” Hoseok mumbled. “Will the six of us be able to get it done?”

I nodded easily.

“Yes, we’ll have all the time in the world once those guards are taken care of. I’m planning on this being an hour- two at most.”

Looking back at Jimin, I was happy to see he was grinning at me. We would be fine. Deciding we had gone over everything, I walked away from the table.

“We’ll leave at midnight.”

“Copy,” Jimin replied.

Smiling to myself, I left the room and went to the kitchen to find something to eat.

Getting off the plane, I kept Jungkook close as we made our way to baggage claim. Being on the East Coast again was uncomfortable. I knew this airport like the back of my hand, knew every nook and cranny of these streets, but I still felt out of place. I was even more unsettled knowing there were people looking for me.

Standing by the conveyor belt, we waited for my duffle bag to come out. Jungkook looked around, his scouting looking natural, and I kept my eyes on the bags. It came out a few minutes later, and I slung it over my shoulder. Jungkook wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into him.

“They’re here,” He whispered, a soft smile on his face. Lips brushing the top of my head, he started walking and kept me close. “They don’t know me, so we’ll be fine.”

Forcing a smile on my face, I wrapped my arm around his waist. My heartbeat quickened, and I found myself enjoying the way his body pressed into mine. Allowing myself a small glance around us, I saw two familiar faces near the escalators. Dimitri and Anton. As we neared the escalators, I knew they would notice me unless I acted very differently than what they remembered.

Deciding to commit to our charade, I lifted my head up towards Jungkook. Kissing his cheek, I was able to hide my face from the two men. Jungkook stepped onto the elevator first. Turning him to face me, I grabbed his face and pressed our lips together. He was soft, gentle, and tasted like the licorice he’d gotten on the plane. He wrapped his arms around my waist and melted into the kiss. Pulling away, head pressed against his, I looked at the steps.

“We’re almost at the top,” I mumbled.

Jungkook nodded and slowly moved away from me. Angling his body towards the front, he kept an arm firmly around my waist as we got to the top. Sparing a single glance behind me, the two men were none the wiser. Smirking, I ran my hand up and down Jungkook’s back in silent praise.

Walking further and further away from the others, Jungkook’s arm did not move. I stayed close to his side, happy to have someone to lean on. It made sense now. Jimin sent him because he was less known to the others. Ivan would know him, and the people closest to him, but someone like Anton would be blindsided by his presence. They were expecting one of my boys. Stepping into the sun, the two of us were quick to hail down a taxi and slip inside.

“We’re running a bit late,” I announced, buckling in. “Can you take us to the Hood Milk Bottle?”

“No problem,” The cab driver replied.

It was barely a 10 minute drive, but airport traffic made it feel like forever. Jungkook and I did not talk. Our closeness from earlier was officially stopped, and I felt silly for missing his warmth. Looking at him out of the corner of my eye, I grew shy. Just moments ago, his arms were wrapped around me. Catching sight of the tiger lily on his elbow, I had to quickly look back out of the window.

God, he was fucking hot.

Pulling out my phone, I found a new message on it.

Unknown: Eating a lobster roll outside

Rolling my eyes, I replied.

Y/N: Of course you are. Two minutes.

Unknown: Lunch on me

Flipping the phone closed, I shoved it back in my back pocket. Looking out of the window, I did feel nostalgic. It had been such a long time and yet things stayed the same. There were a few new shops where old ones used to be, but the places I remembered the most fondly were still around. The mixed feelings I had were beginning to weigh down on me.

Pulling up, I smiled. Hood was such an iconic, fun place. Looking back at Jungkook, I was touched to see him paying the cabby. Saying goodbye, the two of us got out of the car. The duffle had been in my lap. Jungkook stared up at the giant milk bottle in awe.

“Jin said he'll buy us lunch.”

Jungkook smirked, “What do you recommend?”

Walking toward the snack stand, I shrugged my shoulders.

“I’m getting a lobster roll, but if you’re not into that, the soft serve is great.”

Walking around the side, I saw Jin sitting on one of the picnic benches eating. I was more surprised to see he was still enjoying his food than the purple hair. Jimin must have convinced him to do that. Whistling, I smirked at Jin and waved.

Jin was the oldest out of all of us, and spoke the least amount of English, but we were close. Standing, he offered me a hug which I happily accepted. Clearing my throat, I began speaking in Korean.

“You look nice,” I ruffled his hair. “This color looks really good on you.”

“Thanks,” He shoved my hand away. “Lobster roll? Thought you might have missed the New England taste.”

Nodded, I turned to Jungkook.

“What do you want?” I asked in English.

He shook his head at me, “Chocolate ice cream.”

When he spoke Korean, his voice was much deeper. Grinning at him, I looked back at Jin.

“One lobster roll and one chocolate soft serve.”

Going to order our food, Jin told us to sit and wait. Jungkook sat down next to me, his elbow on the table with his head resting on his fist. I was unsure of what to make of the look on his face. He seemed so… fond of me. No one had ever really looked at me like that before. I was used to anger, annoyance, or fear, but fondness was uncharted territory. The closest person I could think of had been Alexi, but even then he had always looked at me as a child. Jungkook did not.

“I didn’t know you spoke Korean,” He said, speaking the language.

“I know a lot of languages,” I replied. “I’m mostly fluent in English and Russian. My Korean is good, but I’m not fluent by any stretch of the imagination. I speak a decent amount of Spanish as well.”

“That’s so cool. Mine are Korean, Japanese, and English.”

Jin was back with our food.

“Eat it in the car,” He said, “Everyone is waiting for us.”

“Is Park back in town?” Jungkook asked.

Jin shook his head, “Not yet. We haven’t heard from since yesterday.”

I knew we would talk more once we were out of the public eye. There was only so much we could say out here. Taking my roll, I followed Jin. Jungkook ate his ice cream happily, his eyes sparkling with joy. It was my turn to smile fondly.

Pulling into a small driveway, I was confused. I did not recognize the house. Painted a calming sky blue with black shutters, a well-groomed lawn, and a small flower garden, it was unassuming and plain. Looking over at Jungkook, he seemed happy to be here.

“Where are we?” I asked.

Jungkook smiled at me, “Yoongi’s.”

Taken aback, I froze. That had been the last person I had thought of. The last time I had seen everyone, Yoongi and Hoseok were living in a shitty condo in South End. While I was confused, and even unsettled, by the changes I was also pleased. It felt good to see Yoongi living more civilly. I wondered what had changed.

Hopping out of the Jeep, I met up with Jin and Jungkook at the hood before following behind them. The house was pristine and the small cul de sac was quiet. Eyes bulging out of my head, I fought back the urge to laugh out loud at the sight of a bird feeder on the edge of the lawn.

Standing on the small porch, the three of us huddled close together. Jungkook gently moved my body in front of his, successfully shielding my body from the street. Leaning back slightly, I brushed my back against his chest quickly before straightening my back. I was beginning to lean into my growing attraction, but knew better than to take it any further than small touches. The airport had been for survival- nothing more.

Jin knocked, the rhythm the only familiar thing about this place, before the door swung open. On the other side, a woman peered out at us. Her hair was short, wildly frizzy with unkempt curls, and bright red. Her eyes were brown and skin alabaster. The green dress she wore looked nice on her full figure. She smiled brightly at Jin, saying hello with joy. Her voice had hints of an accent but it was too faint for me to pick up.

“It’s nice to see you Johanna,” Jin greeted, kissing the woman’s cheek before gesturing towards me. “Johanna, Mouse. Mouse, Johanna.”

The red head gave me a polite smile before offering her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mouse.”

“Y/N,” I corrected, glaring at Jin. “Y/N is fine outside of business.”

“This is business though, isn’t it?” Johanna tilted her head at me, a mischievous glint in her eye. I decided right away that I liked her. “Come in. Hello Kookie.”

“Hey Jo,” The man replied.

Stepping inside, I looked around. The inside was just as perfect as the outside. Brightly colored walls with pops of color scattered around, mostly in the art hanging on the walls, with plants everywhere. It smelled like apple cinnamon and Pinesol. The hardwood floors were loud as we walked along them. The size of the living room was bigger than my entire apartment. Catching sight of a collage of photos, I looked over them the best I could as I walked.

All of them were nice photos, family photos, but one caught my eye. Yoongi was smiling, a rare sight, and his eyes were shining brightly. He was on the beach, arms wrapped around Johanna tenderly, while she had a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. She wore a white dress that hit her just at the ankle, a long, thin veil clipped onto the back of her head. The Saints were there along with a few people I did not recognize. Belatedly, I realized that I was looking at a wedding picture. A wedding I had missed. A wedding I had never been invited to. A wedding I had never even knew. Eyes glued to the photo, I cause a glimpse of Jungkook in a far-off corner, almost completely cut out, but he had been there.

I knew my hurt feelings were unjustified. I had been the one who told them to leave me out of their affairs. I had said emergencies only. Still, I found myself growing increasingly alienated. I truly had no place here anymore. The only purpose I had ever served was monetary gain. The friendships I had built along the way were as fickle as the ones I had in New York.

Arguing with myself, I struggled to stay present. As we walked deeper into the house, the need to run presented itself all over again. Everything I had known was gone. Everyone was different. Everything was different. Sparing a glance over at Jungkook, a seed of resentment began to grow in my chest.

No one had ever referred to me as affectionately as they had Jungkook. No one had ever seemed endeared by my failures. Hell, none of these guys even acknowledged my feelings half the time. Staring at the back of Johanna’s head, I found that I didn't really like her that much anymore. She was loved. I was tolerated.

Still, I told myself that they had come for me. They had wanted to keep me safe. And yet, the insecurities that had always lived in my head reared their ugly head and reminded me that it was for their own good. I was useful. As long as I would be of use to them, then I would be protected. It would never be the same reasons they would fight for Johanna. They would fight for her because they wanted to keep her safe.

I could feel eyes on me, but I ignored them. I did not want comfort from Jungkook. I just wanted to get this over with so I could go back to San Diego. Even if they were surface level, those friendships were still more loving than whatever the fuck I had here. I hated Boston. I hated New York. I hated the entire East Coast.

“Y/N?” Johanna called out, looking back at me with concern. “Are you alright?”

Nodding, I replied.

“I’m fine. Just lost in my head.”

I hated the edge my voice had taken on. I hated just how much I had to control myself around these people. I wanted to scream, shout, cry; whatever. I just wanted to feel myself lose control for a little while. The woman did not believe me but offered me a smile regardless.

“I asked if you would like a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” I replied.

Jin seemed suspicious of me but said nothing at all. He had always known I liked my space. Still, I could tell he was worried. I knew my thoughts were out of line, I knew that I was over thinking and attempting to overcompensate, but it was impossible to stop it from happening. The downward spiral was difficult to manage.

Suddenly, an arm was wrapped around my shoulder. Jumping, I whipped my head around to see Jungkook smiling at me. It was a goofy smile, one that he pulled when he was feeling playful, before he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“What happens when you get water on a table?” He asked.

Taken aback, I opened and closed my mouth several times.

“What?”

“It becomes a pool table.”

Mouth agape, I blinked in disbelief before shoving him away. I let out a small laugh and shook my head at him. Where in the world had that come from?

Seokjin was laughing, hands clapping, and praising the younger man for the joke. Jin was a big fan of dad jokes and enjoyed making them up whenever he could. Typically, you would have to know enough Korean for them to make sense, but they never failed to get a few chuckles out of me. The ridiculousness of the jokes coupled with the corny delivery was always funny. Johanna placed a glass in front of me smiling fondly at Jungkook.

“He’s a mess,” She said, looking at me in faux exasperation. “I don’t know how you survived the trip here. He talks too much.”

Shaking my head, I took a large sip of the water.

“It’s better than the awkward silence Yoongi brings along.”

She laughed, knocking her head back.

“Touche,” She giggled. “He is a bit intense sometimes.”

“You’ve been in Boston for an hour and you’re already turning my wife against me.”

The voice had come from behind me. Spinning around dumbly, I was face-to-face with Yoongi. The scar on his face was just as prominent as it had always been, taking up his entire left cheek into forehead, but his eyes seemed lighter than I remembered. He was skinnier than the last time I saw him, too. He was wearing a simple black shirt with a pair of jeans. He seemed completely at ease.

“Hey kid,” He greeted Jungkook with a grin. “Heard Mouse got you good.”

Jungkook flushed, ducking his head while rubbing his neck.

“Oh?” Jin chimed, his voice mocking. “The great Sacarii taken down by a little mouse?”

Rolling my eyes, I sighed heavily.

“He didn’t even try anything,” I admitted. “I was the aggressive one.”

“He was just an idiot,” Jin teased.

Yoongi tsked, “Park was the bigger idiot of the two. He’s going to give me an aneurysm.”

“You’re too hard on him,” Johanna gently scolded. “You know Jimin has a roundabout way of being right.”

Jungkook laughed, “A broken clock’s right twice a day.”

A silence fell over our group. It felt unnatural to be standing in a nice kitchen talking over mundane topics with everyone. It was a long ways away from the roach infested alleyways and closed off apartment complexes. I lived with Jin, Jimin, and Taehyung when I was in Boston. Our small one bedroom was always cluttered, overcrowded, and was the main spot for our meetups. The conference room had been stuffed between two twin-sized mattresses with a large, round table in the middle of it all. I slept on the pull-out sofa in the front.

“I guess we should talk,” Yoongi said, looking me up and down.

“I guess so,” I replied.

Walking over to him, I realized that no one else was following. Looking back at the other three, they simply looked back. Sighing, I let it go. Being alone with Yoongi was not an unwelcome thing, but it had always made me feel like I was in trouble. Laughing at myself, I followed the man out of the kitchen and into the dining room. This time I was the one who was in trouble.

Walking out of the dining room, we were now in a small reading room with a staircase. A green, stand-up piano was tucked away between tall bookshelves and more plants. Following Yoongi upstairs, I refrained from looking too closely at things. The house was much bigger than it looked. Walking past a few doors, we stopped before Yoongi opened one.

Gesturing me to follow, I smiled at the sight of the old table. It was far too large, held six chairs, and was cheaply made. Someone had refurbished it and I wondered if it had been Johanna. She seemed to like everything to be nice and neat. It was an aesthetically pleasing layout, but this room was all Yoongi. The dark colored walls and furniture were in stark contrast to the otherwise white house. Taking a seat at the table, I pulled out the chair directly across from him.

There was a line up of photos scattered on the desk along with a few letters. I recognized two of the women but the others were unfamiliar to me. Looking around, I scowled when I saw a picture of Ivan. I would be lying if I said he was physically unattractive. Ivan had always had this air around him and coupled with his angular features and blue eyes it was no wonder why women chased him. I knew him, however, and the slope of his cheekbones and the perfectly groomed dirty-blonde hair did nothing but repulse me. He looked everything like his brother. He looked nothing like his brother.

Picking the photo up, I looked closely. It was candid. Someone had been hiding when they took it since the man seemed to be unaware of the camera. He was smoking a cigarette and behind him was a beach. Trying to figure out where he could be was hard, but it was nowhere near New York. It was too sunny, the waves too high, and I could see a surfer in the background.

“Johanna took that,” Yoongi suddenly said. “We were in California. It’s where we got married.”

Mind racing, I kept looking at the picture. Ivan had been close to me. Very close, in fact. Trying to figure out how I could have been traced, I thought of Kimberly and winced. It would take no time at all to figure out if it really was me. He could just send some random into the salon after seeing a post. I looked different but I was still me. He could have scouted out the place for months without me being any wiser. Closing my eyes, I dropped the photo.

“He’s known where you are for a while,” He continued. “He had asked Jungkook to take care of you a few weeks ago, but the kid refused. He knew your face. Ivan’s been trying to figure out the best plan of getting to you without pissing us off.”

“So he thought forcing me back to New York was the best option?” I spat.

Yoongi nodded, “In his mind, you’d be under his claim again so we’d have no authority. Either he’s crazy or stupid.”

“Both,” I replied. “Always both.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Eyes searching the pictures for more signs, I grew angry.

“Why are you only just now telling me?” I demanded, picking apart each detail of the photographs. “I should have known from the very beginning.”

“I thought so, too,” Yoongi defended. “It was Jimin telling us to cool it. He thought he could get it under control since he’s known Ivan for so long. It didn’t work out and Jimin was kicked out of the family.”

“What?” I shouted.

Ivan was losing his damn mind. Jimin was the closest thing to Alexi those boy had after Ivan took over. They loved him, I loved him, and to watch him get kicked out over me would have been a massive blow to Ivan’s credibility. Loyalty was gone from New York it seemed, and it would only be a matter of time before Ivan came to the same conclusion. They don’t make them like Jimin anymore. He was only trying to keep the peace. Thinking of my friend, I willed back my tears. He had wanted me to stay in California. He didn’t want me to come back.

“They’re not doing well,” Yoongi admitted. “Georgie Boy and I talked and he’s with us regardless. The Italians haven’t been appreciating Ivan’s ways either. Hoseok spoke with the Gambinos and they said they’ll light up the Russians if they get into their territory again.”

“Again?”

Yoongi smiled without humor.

“Ivan’s boys were selling in the Gambino’s turf. Didn’t end well for them. They aren’t going to tolerate that shit again, and the other families are on the lookout as well. Have to say, the boy has lost his fucking mind.”

Going over the information, I felt more confident than I had before. Ivan was hoping to get me back into his arms first. Then he’d kill me. Or keep me. It was impossible to know for sure. Either way, he had a rude awakening if he thought my boys were going to let it happen without consequences. Thinking back to my thoughts when I first came inside, I reminded myself that we were connected. I meant more to them than property. They weren’t Ivan.

They weren’t Alexei either.

Shoving that thought down, I refocused on the photo of Ivan. He looked worse than I had last seen him. His age was beginning to show, and I sneered at the sight of the family tattoo. I had been claimed by many groups in my life. The tiger for my family, the slope-edged star on my collar bone for Alexei, the clerk on my ribs for my skill with a blade, and St. Anthony for The Saints. Ivan’s name had been cut into my skin by the man himself after I killed a rival without permission. The scars were faded now, but I never liked to show my stomach anymore. You could still see the carving and I would always know they were there.

Eyes zeroing in on Ivan’s calf, I saw red as I caught sight of the dagger entwined by a snake. It was in the same spot as mine. They all represented something.

The star was commonplace for all Russians while my clerk was far more specialized. I got it after I helped Alexei take care of a snitch. I hated thinking about that night, but it earned me my stripes. I got my dagger a few months later. The dagger was rare, only given out to a leader of a “suit” of thieves. Alexi had promoted me, and I controlled my own section of New York alongside him. Ivan did not deserve that tattoo even if he was the boss.

“Can I ask you something?” Yoongi said.

I nodded.

“Why would he want you back so badly? He hates you.”

I smiled ruefully, looking up from the picture.

“I’m Alexei’s girl and he finds great pleasure in keeping me around just to spite him. Even if he’s dead, it’ll never be enough. Breaking me down was always the goal.”

“Were you and Alexei…”

Yoongi did not need to finish the sentence. It was a fair question and one that everyone asked at some point. The Saints never liked picking into my past too much. They knew it had been rough, they knew what Ivan and I’s relationship was like, so they put it to rest. Yoongi had seen my stomach once, said he was going to kill him one day, and never brought it up again. Latching onto the memory, I further reinforced that they cared for me. This was not a dangerous place. These are my friends.

“No, Alexei would never. I was only 13 when we met. He was 19. We were like siblings more than anything. More than he and Ivan ever were.”

“Ivan was jealous?” I nodded. “Typical.”

“He’s the one who killed him, you know,” I leaned back in the chair. “I was there that night. That’s why Ivan hates me. I know too much.”

Yoongi shook his head in disbelief. It was a completely different world than he was used to. The Irish took care of their own. While it may have involved violence and punishments being handed out from time to time, there had always been unwavering loyalty to one another. For Hoseok it was the same. Snitches were snitches but you always had people you knew were on your corner. When Ivan saw an in he took it, even if it meant killing his older brother, and everyone suffered for it. I had not said anything out of the code of ethics we built, but that never stopped word from spreading. Everyone knew Ivan killed Alexei but no one could prove it.

Yoongi sucked his teeth, “They know you came home. Jimin let us know about that. He and Kai have been all over this shit.”

I hummed, “They had a couple guys at the airport. Jungkook and I got past them easily, though.”

Yoongi looked at me strangely now. It was in between concern and pride, but I figured it was the closest thing to friendly I would get from him. It was not his fault his face looked the way it did. Wanting to lighten the mood, I decided to ask him about his wife.

“So, who’s Johanna?”

Yoongi actually cracked a smile.

“She’s a nuclear engineer. Works at BU and moved to America seven years ago.”

“How’d that even happen?”

Yoongi shrugged, “I don’t even know. We met at a restaurant Georgie took me to. She was there with some friends. We bumped into one another and she gave me her number. I didn’t call but we ran into each other again at a bar. Stuck like glue ever since.”

Gently smiling I replied, “Sounds nice. I’m glad you found someone.”

Yoongi looked down bashfully. He was like an entirely new person now. Yoongi had never been one to show emotions outside of anger and annoyance. Even with us he had been a hardass. It was strange but nice at the same time. I liked it more than the robot I was used to.

“She’s a good person,” He whispered, suddenly serious. “Sometimes I wonder if I should have left her alone. She deserves better than a life of crime and being entangled in my bullshit.”

I understood where he was coming from.

“You could always leave. Runaway to Iceland and never look back.”

Yoongi grinned, “I thought about it but I don’t have any skills outside of this. What would I do? Unlike you, some of us have never thought past our horizons. Besides, I have other people to think about.”

I also understood that as well. I had been afraid of change for a long time, and I had known I wanted it for a while. I was unsure how long they had known one another, or had been together, but Yoongi had always said he’d die in Boston. I doubted he thought that way now.

“It’s okay to be selfish,” I mumbled. “Things haven’t been easy and there were times when I missed the craziness, but I can say it’s an experience everyone should have. I love both of my lives, but I’d be lying if I said I’d choose this over California.”

Yoongi nodded in thought. We would drop this conversation and likely never pick it back up again, so I knew I should say my peace now. Whatever he decided to do would ultimately be on his shoulders, but I thought it would be okay to push him to follow his heart’s desires. I was a dreamer and I hoped the others would find a dream to hold onto as well.

Walking downstairs, I was tired. The traveling had finally caught up to me and I wanted to get some rest while I could. Walking into the kitchen, the three of them were still talking. Johanna had started to cook something. It smelled nice but my stomach churned at the thought of food. Making my presence known, I yawned loudly and stretched my arms above my head.

“Sleepy?” Jungkook asked, completely at ease.

He looked right at home here. Briefly I wondered if he stayed here often enough for that to be the case. Yoongi hated other people in his space, but he had changed since I last saw him. Jungkook, however, did not seem like someone who would like living with other people. He was mostly quiet, sweet, but standoffish at times. Jin grinned at me.

“Sorry to say I’m full,” The older man took a sip from a glass. I could not tell what it was and did not care to know. I rubbed my eyes dramatically and yawned again. “Jimin and I are rooming together. I doubt you want to take the sofa. Let’s just say I’ve been taking advantage of his absence.”

“I’ll take what I can get at this point,” I replied with another yawn. Shaking my head, I groaned. “God, I hate it when that happens.”

“Jungkook can keep you,” Johanna offered. “I’d let you stay here but my niece is spending the weekend. I don’t want to put her in a bad position.”

I knew what she meant. I would not want to put a child in the middle of this bullshit either. Looking over at Jungkook, I raised my eyebrow in silent questioning. He nodded back at me with a grin. I smiled back at him.

“We should go while we have daylight,” Jungkook said, a pair of keys in his hands.

I had no idea where they had come from.

“I can wait,” I protested. “You should eat first.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be fine. You haven’t slept since yesterday.”

“Y/N!” Jin scolded.

I non committedly waved him off. Scrunching my face up at Jin, I mumbled something close to ‘leave me alone,’ but I was doubtful it came out properly. Fighting to keep my eyes open, I leaned into Jungkook’s side as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. Guiding me away from the kitchen, I knew I heard Jin make a comment about how close we were.

“You’re just jealous she likes me more than you,” Jungkook snapped back.

“Does not,” Jin replied, childishly whining.

Johanna laughed and I could hear Yoongi coming down the stairs. Jungkook lead me back into the reading room and turned left. Going down two steps we were in front of a door.

“Be safe!” Johanna called out.

“Always, noona,” Jungkook replied.

Leading me to the room, I realized we were in a garage. I was again surprised. There were two cars, both of them very nice and sleek, surrounded by expensive tools and equipment. Back in the day, I would have swiped everything in this room and stole one of the cars. Now, I was being led toward the black Marcedes on the farthest side of the room.

“This one’s mine,” Jungkook said, attempting to fill the space.

“First one we haven’t stolen,” I joked.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I melted into the seat before Jungkook was in the vehicle. Opening the glovebox, I moved my legs out of the way as the man dug around the compartment. Finally he pulled a smartphone out and quickly turned it on. A few minutes later, the garage door was opening and we were pulling out of the large driveway. We passed Jin’s Jeep on the way out and Jungkook could not help but make a snide comment about the ugly car. I felt comfortable enough to try and fall asleep.

“You know,” Jungkook announced, making my eyes snap open. “You’re the coolest person I’ve ever worked with.”

I chuckled, my drowsiness making it difficult to focus.

“Thanks. You’re not that bad.”

“I’ve been useless for the entire trip,” Jungkook argued. “You stole the cars, got me clothes, made sure we were able to get flights without getting into some shit for it, and you always tried to make me feel more comfortable.”

Snorting, I looked over at the man.

“I shot you.”

Jungkook burst out laughing.

“I broke into your house.”

“Eye for an eye,” I offered, laughing.

Jungkook spared me a look in order to flash one of his blinding smiles. I noticed now that his front teeth were slightly bigger than they should be.

“Really,” Jungkook was serious again. “I feel bad for being dead weight. I’ll make it up to you, though. I’m not really known for stealing cars or running off into the night, but I know how to kill someone.”

Looking at me again, Jungkook’s boyish smile and light eyes were on. In their place were hard lines, a slightly down-turned pout, and a coldness that surrounded him I was unaccustomed to. While earnest, his expression felt wrong. Jungkook was sunshine and this felt like an eclipse.

“No one is going to touch you. I’ll cut their fucking hands off finger-by-finger if need be to get my point across.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked, confused.

We did not know one another. Hell, I shot this fucking guy. And yet here he was devoting his life to keeping me safe. It was crazy. Then again, this life was like that. Putting myself in Jungkook’s shoes, I thought about it the other way around. Would I kill for him?

“Because you’re my friend,” He answered without hesitation. “You’re my friend and I would like to get to know you better.”

Yes, I thought, I would kill for this kid.

Humming, I decided against saying anything else. I was far too tired for this conversation. Letting my body win, I closed my eyes and leaned against the car window. I fell asleep quickly, but I found no peace. Ivan’s face flashed through my mind, his eyes alight with anger, and my blood was all over his hands. My screams echoed in the background. He placed his knife against my skin again and drew a “V” right next to the “I.”

Eleven years ago

Standing beside Hoseok, I stared up at the apartment complex wearily. It was small, bricked, and disgusting. I could smell trash and smoke everywhere and people were yelling. I did not like it here. Not at all.

Looking over at the older boy, I made sure to show him my discontent. I could admit that South End was nicer than my old place in Brooklyn, but only for the quieter atmosphere. Everything else was just as nasty. Hoseok shoved me forward and scolded me for acting like a “freak.”

“People are going to know you’re new,” Hoseok complained. “Then I’m going to have to break their fucking head open for stepping out of line. Then Yoongi is going to dislike you. So, just fucking walk and keep your head down.”

Anger flaring, I stopped. Hoseok bumped into my back. Groaning loudly, he went to yell at me again. Scowling, I elbowed him in the stomach harshly. When he groaned and grabbed his stomach, I turned around and punched him in the face. While he barely moved, eating the hit easily, it seemed to get the message across.

“Don’t talk to me like that, bitch,” I seethed. “You’re not my dad.”

Waiting for Hoseok to hit me back, I stood there with my fists balled up. He looked at me intensely, his hands still clutching his stomach. His eyes went from my face to the small patch of exposed skin on my stomach. Knowing exactly what he was looking at, I pulled down the too-short shirt and yelled at him again to hit me.

Instead of violence, Hoseok simply took up straight. Breathing through his nostrils, he seemed to be calming himself down. I could see the start of a blackeye forming where I had hit him. My regret began eating away at me instantly, but I refused to back down. He deserved that hit. He needed to know I was not going to be his little plaything.

Hoseok just continued to walk, telling me to follow, and I could tell he was trying to be nicer this time around. Confused and more uneasy than before, I kept my hands ready for a fight. I was not sure when this nice-guy act would stop.

Being shaken awake, I realized we were at Jungkook’s. Glancing at the time, I was shocked we had driven almost two hours. We were parked in a small lot with a large brick building to the right. Jungkook turned the car off and got out. Quickly following him, I wondered where we were.

It was a nice place. They looked like townhomes and I could smell someone barbecuing. Jungkook looked back at me, a few paces ahead, and continued to walk around to the front. Every house had large bushes in the front yards. Hydrangeas grew vibrantly along the walkway with spaces to make way for the entryway to homes. Jungkook turned and I followed.

The front was identical to the others. The only difference I could see was Jungkook’s ‘no shoes’ sign right out front. Rubbing my eyes, I continued to wake up and get the crust off of my skin.

“It’s small,” Jungkook suddenly said, “But it’s nice.”

“Where are we?” I asked, stepping into the house and kicking off my shoes.

“Chatham,” He replied, shrugging his jacket off. “It’s out of the way but I like the beach.”

The first thing I noticed was the large, beige sectional in the living room. On the wall was a large television above a faux fireplace. The entire house smelled like wood polish and oranges. I liked the carpeted floors and was pleasantly surprised by how clean everything was. There were no photos or personalized art hanging on the walls, but I guessed Jungkook never really liked those sorts of things. He was personable but in the moment. Jimin was a photo monster.

Thinking of my friend, I hoped he was alright. It was unlike him to go full radio silent. At the very least he would have called and checked in. Perhaps he had and no one bothered to tell me. Catching a glimpse of myself in the large, gold framed mirror hanging above the dining table, I flinched.

I looked just as bad as I had begun to feel. I was tired, my eyes puffy, and I was embarrassed by the drool dried at the corner of my lip. My shoulder was stiff and uncomfortable from sleeping in the car and my clothes looked a mess. Jungkook had my duffle bag on his shoulder and I belatedly realized I have never even thought to grab it. I had not even brought it inside.

“Thank you,” I said.

Jungkook smiled at me.

“It’s no problem. The room’s not being used anyway.”

“No,” I shook my head and walked up to him. Carefully taking the bag, I slug it over my shoulder with a knowing look. “Thanks for grabbing my shit. And for the room. I appreciate it.”

Jungkook scratched the back of his neck and turned red. He was not good with compliments no matter how much he seemed to enjoy them.

“Friends, right?”

I nodded, ��Yeah.”

Walking past him, I distracted myself from my racing heart by figuring out where his washing machine was.

After taking a shower, I tip-toed my way back to the room Jungkook had given me. I had been on edge since I got here. He was kind, caring, and attentive. I had never really seen someone show all three at the same time, and never toward me. My friends and I were subtle types, so to have someone so open and honest with their feelings was a hard pill to swallow. In California it was safe, in California it was expected, in California it was sacred; in Boston it was nerve wracking.

I could never be sure of how genuine Jungkook really was. When I was in his presence, it was easy to say that he was just that simple. Once I got alone it took all of me not to sneak out of a window and run. Hoseok had always said I needed to work on trusting people, so I would try.

I knew my behavior was only heightened by my attraction to him. Attractive people were the worst. Liking Jungkook would not do any favors for either one of us. I would get swallowed up by the life I so desperately wanted to leave, and Jungkook would be stuck in an awkward situation with the rest of the crew if it came to the light. No one would win and the outcome would be the same if I said anything or not. I was leaving Boston as soon as the situation was handled.

Luck was not on my side. As I turned the corner to reach the door of my bedroom, Jungkook was coming up the stairs. Carrying two cups, he flashed me a small smile and walked the rest of the way up. I froze in my spot. Caught red handed, I tried to play off my unsuccessful sneaking and took the cup with a smile. Jungkook did not seem to buy it but looked more amused than anything.

“What’s this?” I asked, smelling it.

“Cocoa,” He replied. “It’s not winter but still chilly.”

I nodded and took a generous sip. It was warm and silky. Humming in satisfaction, I took another sip and licked my top lip. Cocoa was one of my favorite things when I was a child. It was one of the few fond memories I had. Jungkook looked happy.

“Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked. “To get your mind off things?”

It was funny that he thought Ivan was what had been plaguing my mind. I may not be a very violent person now, but there was a time I was ruthless. The Russians did not scare me as much as they once had either. My initial response had been mostly shock, anger, and most of all, frustration. I had not been scared in a very long time. I doubted I ever would be.

“Sure,” I said, keeping my thoughts out of the conversation. What Jungkook did not know will not hurt him. He was only trying to help. “I’m not picky.”

Going down the stairs, I felt the same nervous butterflies growing in my stomach again. We were going to be closer than I would like to be. I was afraid of what that might do to the both of us. I did not know where Jungkook’s head was, but I was not foolish enough to believe that I was immune to any advances. The ball would stay in his court. I had enough self control to let that be a rule.

Sitting on the couch, I curled up on the end and waited. Netflix was already pulled up and waiting. Jungkook sat two cushions away. Picking up the remote from the coffee table, he began scrolling as we talked about possible movies to watch. We ended up on a random Jason Statham film. I watched mindlessly since every one of his movies were practically the same.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook asked me fifteen minutes in, clearly bored and disinterested in the action sequence. I could not blame him. There was no way anyone could use a gun like that in real life, and I was becoming annoyed by the plot armor. “I have ramen.”

I nodded, “That’s fine.”

Moving to stand up, Jungkook waved me off and went to the kitchen himself. Not arguing, I got more comfortable and zoned out once more. It was hard not to feel the pull towards him. All I kept thinking about was the way his lips felt at the airport. Refocusing on the movie, I rolled my eyes at the bomb scene. There was no way in hell you were getting up and walking away from something that big.

Of course, Jason Statham had done just that.

Jungkook came back a few minutes later, two large cups of ramen in hand, and sat down at the sofa. We ate in silence, neither one of us interrupting the bad movie again. When I went up to bed I could only think about how his hands would feel on me.

Taglist: @ippid @jkslaugh97 @destructive-memories @ash07128 @heartjiminie @adventures-in-bookland @canyon-lwt

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writingquestionsanswered · 3 months ago

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Do you have any tips on making characters more plot relevant? I have characters that are important to the story because of who they are and their interactions, but when it comes to their page time or POV I struggle to make their side and individual story meaningful. I’ve been able to add more events that they deal with and add importance to their character, but I feel as if it’s too secondary. I won’t call them afterthoughts but they kind of are. I struggle with having character arcs and development that are a part of the main plot but don’t deal with it directly often.

Making Characters More Plot Relevant

If you have characters who are important to the story in terms of their relationships with other characters, and who you feel need to be a bigger part of the story, here are some things you can do to give them a stronger role in the plot:

1 - Give Them Agency in Main Plot Events - First and foremost, you want to make sure these characters have at least some bearing on what happens in the main plot. Each character should make decisions or take actions that directly affect the main plot, at least once in a while. They can even make decisions or take actions that initiate major plot events even if they're not involved in them.

2 - Create Subplots That Feed into the Main Plot - Can you think of any "side quests" (so-to-speak) that need to be carried out in order for the story to progress that these characters could do? For example, maybe your protagonist has to pull off a big heist in order to solve the story's external conflict, so they are gathering their team. Perhaps some of these characters could go on a "side quest" to locate one of the potential recruits.

3 - Create Main Plot Conflict for Them - Each of these characters should have their own internal conflicts and their own motivation for working toward the story's goal. Can you think of some way to create conflict for them between what they want and what actually needs to happen? For example, maybe they were trained in the dark arts and the reason they are with this heist group is because they left that life behind and no longer want to practice dark arts... but maybe their role in the heist will require them to use dark magic. How will they overcome this conflict?

4 - Utilize their Unique Skills or Knowledge - Consider giving some of these characters unique skills or knowledge that can be used in the fight toward resolving the conflict. So, in the case of the example heist story, maybe one of these characters is really good at creating forgeries. Or maybe another character has incredible stealth skills. By making their knowledge or skills invaluable to the "mission," you can give them more weight and make them invaluable to the plot.

5 - Consider Combining Characters or Reassigning Tasks - Quite often, if you're really honest with yourself, you can probably take some of these important-but-not-plot-relevant characters and combine them. In other words, if you have one character who is important because they're the protagonist's love interest, and you have another character who's important because they're a main character's sibling, is there some way you can combine this into one character? So that this character is both the protagonist's love interest and the main character's sibling? Another option would be to look at important tasks completed by other characters. Can any be reassigned to a character who needs something more important to do? Or could they play an important role in assisting that character with the task?

By utilizing some of the tips above, you should be able to give your characters more relevance in the plot.

Happy writing!

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respectthepetty · 3 months ago

Text

Jack & Joker - Wild Ass Theories

Yin and War are hot. I wanted to start with a fact.

Also, Jennie is in the next episode, so our girl is living her best life!

Theory #1 - The heist happens soon

Random: The two guys Hope sends to go after Joke are the same men who end up tied up by this woman and her people.

Hope seems to be from Jack's neighborhood in the opening scenes, so did Jack teach him how to fight and become an enforcer?

I only have a thirty image limit, but this is vision from the trailer:

Jack goes to collect money from Tattoo and Hoy, but lets them off easy

Later, Hope hits Tattoo with a pan because he feels Jack took it too easy on him

Hoy and Tattoo try to ambush Joke because they think he is the only one who can get Jack out of this business

Joke flips the tables and ties up Hoy while asking more questions

They plan the heist because they need money and to get Jack's attention

Hoy and Tattoo are seen doing something to Aran's bag,

And Joke apparently takes the necklace right off of Aran's neck when the model passes out on the runway with the bag and Tattoo right there, so wouldn't Hope realize who is involved?

So is this why Joke goes to hide out at Jack's house after he gets away from the fight with him? And Hoy and Tattoo spill the beans about where Joke is and this is this why Hope and Jack are fighting outside of Jack's house? I think so!

Theory #2 - Rosé is going to fund Jack's school

The sweet rich girl wants to eliminate debt and help the poor. Plus Jack, at some point, stands in as her bodyguard. That's all I got. *shrugs* It's a vibe.

Theory #3 - Joke's hand tattoo is Jack

Not really a theory but more of an observation because Jack's best skill is sleight of hand. He was able to steal Carbon's wallet without Carbon noticing which is why Carbon couldn't find it to pay.

And Joke switched the tests by distracting the boy when he took his wallet, only two snatch the answer keys when the boy starting arguing with the other one.

Joke has been at this for a bit because he had several aliases.

And the reporter said previous to the most recent store robbery, Joke had committed five other robberies.

And every time, he left behind his signature frowning face symbol, but five years later, he has as smiling face tattooed on his hand, which, once again, is his biggest asset, so does he have it to remind him to do better whenever he wants to use his skills again?

Because he once ruined the happy boy's life who is the basis for the tattoo?

But on his other wrist he has both the frowning face and the smiling face depending on how it is viewed, so is it both of them?

Not related, Joke has a tattoo on his chest. Zoom in.

Theory #4 - Jack will give Joke the ring

Jack gave the boss this ring as collateral, and it has sentimental value since the opening credits show it has two names on the inside (his parents) and Jack's on the outside. In the final scene of the trailer when Joke kisses Jack (after opening his martial arts studio?), there is a glimmer on Joke's hand that has the smiling face tattoo. I think it's the ring!

Theory #5 - Colors

The boys aren't really a Black Brooder and a Red Rascal.

Like they are now, but they aren't. *squints*

Jack was a Cyan Cutie.

He was loyal.

He was chill and happy. (shirt reads "happy place, happy place" over his heart)

Joke was a "standard" blue boy who was intelligent in overlooked ways.

But Joke's red shows up when he is Joker because his braces were red in the exam con.

And his tie was red in the bank con.

So I think even though times have changed, and they have absorbed their current colors, the blue will still be shared between them.

Because it will show up again.

Theory #6 - Aran is Tattoo's boyfriend

I want Mark and Prom to kiss so badly in this show that I'm going to single-handedly sail this ship, so I think when Hoy and Tattoo surprise Jack and Joke, Aran is standing next to Tattoo. It doesn't make sense if they robbed him, but he is the only extra boy with an earring in his left ear, the hair lines up, and he would wear a shirt like that.

Give them to me!

#jack and joker #u steal my heart #I got theories for days #possible spoilers #but I could just be crazy #I need tattoo x aran like I need air #I also hope that Hope ends up being good #color coded boys in love #the colors mean things #like they share blue?#I don't know!

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deconstructthesoup · 6 months ago

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All right, Fantasy High Leverage AU (which I still need a name for) commence:

Riz is the group's mastermind---a guy who quit his job at an insurance investigation agency after he found out that his father, who'd worked for the same agency and was thought to have died in an accident, actually got killed on the job. In the years since, Riz has kind of fallen into himself a little, trying and failing to get a private detective business set up as his mental health slowly gets worse... until he gets approached by someone who claims that something of his was stolen, and Riz is the only person he can trust to lead a team of highly prolific criminals to get it back. And this, of course, kicks off the formation of his new crew:

Gorgug is the group's hacker-slash-engineer, though everybody looks at him and assumes that he has to be the hitter. He grew up learning the ins and outs of computers and machines as a kid, and once he got the gist of it, he started figuring out what exactly he could and couldn't do---never because he was malicious, just because he was curious. This, of course, got him into a lot of legal trouble, and he's kind of gotten wrapped up into the criminal lifestyle because of it. He's the sweetest person ever, of course, which means that a lot of people tend to trust him.

Kristen is the group's hitter---a cocky wildcard who, after getting kicked out of her parents's house due to being a lesbian, didn't have a lot of other options besides joining the military. Though her rebellious nature got her into a lot of trouble, her ability to take a lot of hits and hit just as hard also got her noticed... by the wrong people. Needless to say, she's got a bit of a past, which she easily covers up by cracking jokes and acting as unhinged as possible. Underneath it all, though, she's still crawling out of a pretty dark place, and she both softens up and calms down once she finally starts receiving some actual external validation and support.

Adaine is the group's thief, though, again, people look at her and assume she's the hacker. She and Aelwyn both grew up in an old-money household and spent a lot of time around priceless antiques and art---and eventually, both of them responded to their parents's awfulness by taking up crime, though Aelwyn stole stuff for the Abernants and Adaine stole stuff from the Abernants. As time went on, the two sisters became incredibly talented thieves, all the while pretending to be your typical rich academics... until, of course, Adaine got caught and was promptly disowned by her family. Undeterred, she escaped, and managed to get quite the reputation in the criminal underground under her belt. Weirdly enough, she's also one of the most levelheaded and practical members of the group.

Of course, once their first heist goes wrong and they all realize that they've been tricked, Riz has to pull in some outside help in order to right their wrongs. And he does that by inviting a pair of stepsiblings that he'd run across when he still had his job...

Fig and Fabian are the two most accomplished and renowned grifters that the criminal world has ever seen, and nobody is still quite sure what their origins are---just that they're clearly not biologically related, and that they specialize in stealing art from rich people who can afford it. Fig's the kind of person who's incredible at improvisation and tends to act on the fly, and even her more impulsive actions wind up yielding results (though sometimes, there's unintentional consequences). Fabian, meanwhile, takes careful time crafting the perfect identity to sway his mark, and while Fig warns him about getting in too deep, he's never had that problem... yet. Both of them think very highly of Riz---hell, Fabian even had a thing for him before he realized that Riz wasn't interested in any of that---and both of them are more than happy to add more people to their crew. (And yes, their dynamic in this is partially inspired by Chirp and Squak---hey, two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou, meet other two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou.)

As for some of the others---Ragh takes the Jack Hurley route of being a mark that eventually switches to their side and becomes their lovable best friend, Ayda is a bookkeeper and researcher for Riz's old company who gets accidentally roped into one of their cases and winds up becoming an ally (and Fig's girlfriend), Tracker is a fellow hitter and an old "friend" of Kristen's, Aelwyn's the Archie Leach equivalent who's still semi-working for the Abernants, the Seven all start out as clients and form their own crew over the course of the series, and the Ratgrinders are a crew who start out as actual bad guys, though many of them eventually start working alongside Riz's crew. (Oisin's the hacker, Ivy's the thief, Mary Ann's the hitter, Ruben's the grifter, Kipperlilly's the mastermind, and Lucy's their old friend who hired Riz and everyone else to stop-slash-help them.)

So... yeah!

#fantasy high #the bad kids #leverage #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #ragh barkrock #ayda aguefort #tracker o'shaughnessey #aelwyn abernant #d20 the seven #the ratgrinders

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lyworth · 19 days ago

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Hi, I'm Lyworth! I've been writing in the HL Fandom for a little over a year now. My works are mainly about Ominis x MC (Allegra), who I've also been drawing art for here on my tumblr. Here's a masterlist of my work, with my one-shots placed under a cut to avoid having a very long post. Come say hi if you give them a read! ❤️

Green is the Color - Rated E, Complete

AO3 | Wattpad

Friends to Lovers ♦️ Found Family ♦️ Fluff and Angst

Canon-compliant retelling of the last half of Hogwarts Legacy. Follows Ominis, MC, and Seb well into their adult years. Multi-POV.

"The good thing about not having sight, Ominis Gaunt used to joke, was that he at least had good sense."

A Song of Saints and Sinners - Rated M

AO3 | Wattpad

Rivals to Lovers ♦️ Sass and Banter ♦️ Mystery ♦️Drama

A retelling of the In the Shadows questline, with aged-up characters and a darker twist on Ancient Magic. Multi-POV. Also, a dog named Cat.

“Miss Chant,” came Ominis’ tired greeting. “Why is it always you?”

“Is that it, then?” Allegra said, voice raspy. “No, ‘Are you alright? I’m so glad you didn’t die,’ or ‘What happened to you, I’m so happy you’re still alive?’”

“Are you alright? What happened to you?” Ominis echoed flatly.“I’m so glad you didn’t die.”

The Unfortunate Inevitability of You and Me - Rated M

AO3 | Wattpad

Arranged Marriage ♦️ Pureblood Culture ♦️ Revenge

Ominis' plan has always been to run from the Gaunt name. But now she is involved, and now it is extremely personal. Or: Ominis and MC plan a heist to get out of an arranged marriage, and, oopsie, they fall in love. Ominis POV.

"But what makes this worse—what makes this whole thing worse—is that she is not a stranger, not some girl pruned and picked for this purpose. She is Ominis’ friend. His best friend, who he’s loved from the start."

Fate, Tailor-Made - Rated M

AO3 | Wattpad

Second Chance Romance ♦️ Pining ♦️ Miscommunication

Ominis misses the chance to Kiss the Girl. Nearly a decade later, he finds her working as a tailor, and everything comes rushing back.

The sensation that taunts him the most is the feeling of her lips just there , less than an inch away. He remembers her breaths puffing gently, invitingly against his mouth. Sometimes he can still hear her breath hitch as he leans in. Waiting. Wondering. Wanting, perhaps, just as much as he did.

But what Ominis remembers—and dreams of the most—is the part where he pulls away.

The Desk - Rated E

AO3

Rough Sex ♦️ Brat Tamer Ominis ♦️ Unholy Things are Done on A Desk

A fight can be resolved in many, many ways. Bending his current source of anger over a desk is just one of Ominis' favourite methods.

His hands found the seam of her stockings. They were soft beneath his touch. Allegra was a woman who was always covered in the finest silks and the softest cottons, and as delicious as she felt in them, Ominis had always wanted to–

He fisted his fingers into her stockings, shoved her legs further apart, and pulled at the sheer material until he felt a satisfying rip.

1 New Message - Rated T

AO3

Chat Fic ♦️ Modern AU

Ominis is partnered with a near-stranger for chemistry. For the first time in his life, he finds himself checking his phone more and more often.

Allegra Chant (Chemistry)

2:47 p.m.

Pretty please? <3

Ominis

2:49 p.m.

Pretty please? Are we 12???

Of Aligning the Stars - Rated M

AO3

Pining ♦️ Drama ♦️ Fluff and Sweetness

To Allegra Chant, Ominis shines brighter than anyone else in Hogwarts. For him, she won't wait for the stars to align: she'll go up there and make them. Green is the Color spin-off.

But for now, she came to some other realization: it was incredibly pleasant to just be sitting in History of Magic with Ominis.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanart #hogwarts legacy fandom #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt #ominis x mc #sebastian sallow #garreth weasley #fanfiction #masterlist

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wlwinry · 7 months ago

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okay so about that d20 leverage au that won the poll. we're gonna do this in bullet points bc it just works better for my brain i suppose (see tangled au for examples)

postcanon

several years postcanon

we're talking early to mid twenties bad kids

funnily enough fig dropping out did a great job of setting up this whole thing bc the premise relies on the bad kids, while still loving each other and being a team, eventually splitting off to do their own thing. and their various "own things" spiral into crime, and they lose contact with each other, only to all be pulled into the same job later and end up being a team again. yay!

but first. context

FOR THOSE WHO DON'T KNOW. leverage is a tv series that ran from 2008-2012, following the heists of the leverage team: a group of criminals, each the best in their field (hitter, hacker, grifter, thief, mastermind) taking down corporations and ceos and giving the money to their victims. it's really fun and has the best found family portrayal ive seen in A While

back to the bad kids

fabian drops off the grid first in true dramatic fabian fashion. by faking his death to escape his mother's abuse for good. and then deciding to be better than his father--by doing a better job of stealing than him. he uses his dexterity to his advantage and becomes one of the most dangerous art thieves in spyre. he's the thief

gorgug takes on a few security jobs for the council of chosen when his parents' ownership of the tree is threatened, to ensure they'll have the money to keep their home. this spirals, however, and to keep both sets of parents safe he ends up taking a few jobs on the...more dangerous side. and once you're in, it's hard to get out. he's a retrieval specialist utilizing his specific barbaficer talents--he's the hitter and the maker

the court of stars goes back on their word regarding adaine's payments. with an understanding of arcanotech and her foresight, she takes to siphoning money from the people and organizations who don't need it to ensure that the mordred mortage stays paid, lydia's PT is covered, and that bee applebees's (who moved into the manor midway into senior year) college stays paid. she also takes a few jobs and challenges to pay her own bills. the oracle is, much like in batman, the hacker

being the former chosen one of helio and the lead cleric of a new pantheon gives you a lot of connections, and kristen has always been good at filling in gaps and better at negotiating than people realize. if she needs to cut a few backroom deals, dig up dirt on some prospective allies, she'll do it. the system's failed her and the others before. why shouldn't she work outside of it? kristen is the fixer.

fig's music career takes off--and then the dawn family decides to go after and disgrace sandra lynn after fig makes it clear that she's coming after them for hurting her mom. fig digs more and more into her disguise and con-artist talents to get them to back off, and by the time she takes them down...well, fig (no cig figs) might not be onstage anymore, but she's given some very impressive performances, and she's ready to take a more hands-on approach when it comes to getting what she wants. fig is the grifter

riz doesn't want to take the council of chosen job. he doesn't. his mom's biggest fear was always him following in pok's footsteps, and he doesn't want to work for them after how badly they've failed him and his friends (his lost, missing, or seemingly dead friends), but...they pay well now. really well. better than PI work, and he figures he'll work for them for a couple of years, save up enough to quit, and then maybe try some adventuring of his own. this goes on until he gets a mission: steal a particular set of new arcanotech spell components. his team has already been hired.

his team is the rest of the bad kids

it's one hell of an awkward reunion. everyone is happy to see each other but no one knows what to say, so they focus on the job and try not to think about how this might be the last time they work as a team. riz definitely doesn't let himself think about it.

until it's revealed that this was a ploy by the council to kill them all off. the company they stole for was in on it, because the council promised to put them ahead of the competitors that the team stole from.

unfortunately, they forgot that the bad kids are Very Hard To Kill, and very dangerous when pissed off

riz leads the team in a very elaborate heist to take down the company who was in on the plan and humiliate the council of chosen. it works. it's beautiful. they're a team. heartfelt conversations are had. they fall back into old dynamics with a side of new skills, new goals, new experiences. they missed each other. they love each other.

and then they win. and it's time to separate--except they don't. because they've fought plenty of bbegs in their time...but maybe it's time to take down the enemies that the law can't (won't) touch.

the six of them are the leverage team, and riz is the mastermind.

#d20 #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #if only for the fig leaving thing #leverage au #fabian seacaster #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #kristen applebees #figueroth faeth #riz gukgak #everyone look upon my leverage au and rejoice #okay to rb #in fact please rb and talk in the tags its fun for me

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amee-racle-ofmyown · 5 months ago

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Hey, Amee!! I hope you’re doing well <3

If by any chance you’re up to it, could you please write a fic about Heist Mark being super jealous of Yancy because he and Y/N clearly seem to be into each other?? I LOVE your art and writings and I couldn’t get this idea out of my head <3 (Obviously no pressure, though!)

I'm so happy to hear you enjoy my work, thank you🥺💖 and thank you for your request! it got me out of a terrible writer's block. on that note, sorry this took quite some time, I've been in a bit of a funk of on and off general creative block, and unable to finish any writing at all for even longer. this was a pretty fun challenge! I myself view Yancy platonically so I wasn't quite sure where to go with this initially, and I had to fight every urge to just make this heist mark x y/n dfsjsjsv. that said, it did end up being more heist mark-centric than maybe you intended? in which case, I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself😔 yancy is there but very briefly haha

Don't you tell me that you never even thought, 'maybe we could run'

2,603 words | Read on AO3

‘We're all gonna be rehearsing tomorrow so youse best get some sleep.’

You nod as you close the gate to yours and Mark's shared cell, stifling a yawn.

‘Goodnight, Yancy.’

You hold each other's gaze for a moment, before he turns and heads off, a tattooed hand over the back of his neck and a sweet smile still on his face. You watch as he disappears into the outer hallway and a guard appears to lock up your cell for the evening.

Your long-time accomplice and friend stands at the edge of your vision, arms folded.

‘Having fun with your new boyfriend, buddy?’ he asks, sounding unimpressed and slightly strained.

‘Oh, shush, Mark,’ you chide, but your stomach flips at the notion.

‘Yeah… Well, while you were busy playing Broadway,’ he glances to either side of the cell outside and continues in a lowered voice, ‘I've been hard at work hatching our escape. And I'm telling you, it's foolproof.’

‘Uh huh. As foolproof as your other three failed plans? I really don't wanna get thrown in solitary again.’

‘Please, that was one time! — and I don't see you bothering to come up with any ideas. Even though you pretty much got us into this mess.’

That accusation ticks you off, but you're quick to retaliate.

‘Are you seriously still hung up on that? How is this my fault? You couldn't fly a helicopter, why would you assume I can? You shouldn't have even presented it as an option!’

Your exclamation earns you a couple looks from other inmates slowly filing into their cells for the night.

‘Nevermind that now,’ Mark says, infuriatingly placatingly, ‘do you wanna hear the plan or not?’

The thread of uncertainty that you've been avoiding coils tight in your chest and you pause, wondering how to bring up what's been nagging at you for days.

‘Um, so, I've been thinking. What if… what if we don't try to escape?’

‘Ha ha. Funny joke, pal.’

‘I'm serious, Mark. We could just… stay here and wait out our sentence, if we play it safe we might even get our time reduced on good behaviour. We could be gone in like a decade. Or a few years! Maybe. Probably. Maybe.’ Wishful thinking, perhaps.

He scoffs, as if the idea isn't even worth considering.

‘There is no way you're genuinely telling me to just wait it out. Maybe you haven't noticed since you've been in la-la land lately, but we're not on vacation, we're in prison,’ Mark spouts, voice growing thick with agitation. ‘What was supposed to be the heist of a lifetime, would've set us up for decades to come, is still on the line! And we're on a bit of a time crunch here — I don't trust that warden guy one bit with the Box, or in general,’ he sneers. ‘I mean what kind of name is Murder-Slaughter? Ugh, do we even know for sure if he still has it?’

‘Yancy mentioned seeing it in his office the last time he was there, which was earlier today, so yeah, probably.’

‘Ugh, there you go again about Yancy. It's always Yancy this, Yancy that, blah blah blah, Yancy!’

‘Wh– I was just answering your question!’

‘Y'know what? I'm sick and tired of being the only one taking this seriously while you act like it's all a big party.’

He places a hand on his hip, the other poking a finger towards you as he speaks. It would be comical, if he wasn't acting like a jerk.

‘What's up with you?’

‘What's up with me? What's up with you? You seriously wanna stay in this— this shithole, ‘cause of what? Some pretty face you've known for all of like, less than two weeks??’

‘Oh my God, Mark, it's not that terrible, and Yancy is actually my friend, he's been nothing but welcoming and kind since we got here, and—’

‘Oh, did you forget that he tried to beat you up when you first met? Real interesting, how you let that little detail slip.’

‘We just got off on the wrong foot, he's really—’

It's then that you see it — something in the slight hunch in his gait, the furrow of his brow, his pursed lips and tense jaw — and you wonder why you hadn't noticed before. It's not just anger and frustration, it's something bitter and personal.

‘Mark… are you jealous?’

Bingo. His eyes only widen a sliver, for a fraction of a second, but you're so used to reading him that even the most imperceptible of reactions on his usually very expressive face have become familiar to you.

‘Psh. I'm not jealous.’

‘You so are jealous! Oh my god, you're super duper jealous,’ you say with a grin, revelling in this new information.

‘Shut up, why would I be jealous?’ he protests, trying to sound nonchalant. But it's too late. You've already seen through it.

‘Is that what this is about?’ you say with a laugh. ‘You just want my attention back or something?’

He stares blankly for a moment.

‘Are you serious right now? You actually think the only reason I'm mad is because some random dude just waltzes in and starts acting all buddy buddy with you and you fall head-over-heels,’ he jeers with his hands either side of his face, fluttering his eyelashes mockingly. ‘Hook, line and sinker.’

‘Mark—’

‘I mean, never mind your partner, right? You know, your best friend who you've known and worked with for years? Who cares what he thinks?!’

‘Mark, I—’

‘In fact, he can get punched through a wall for all you care! You won't even bat an eye, as long as there's a random spontaneous musical number immediately afterwards, it's all in good fun!’

‘Ok, that's not fair,’ you push back. ‘Of course I was worried! But I was also surrounded by violent criminals at the time, we've been over this!’

‘Oh, so they're “violent criminals” now? But they're simply “hurt, misunderstood souls” when it suits you?!’ he shoots back, making air quotes to emphasise his point.

‘They're people, Mark! They're allowed to be… multi-faceted!’

‘Lights out, everybody,’ comes a guard's voice, ringing through the hallway as it suddenly becomes dark, save for the glow of dim lamplight emanating from one or two of the other cells.

‘Whatever, let's just get some sleep,’ Mark grumbles under his breath.

‘You always do this!’ you whisper harshly, but inadvertently let the volume slip back into your voice as you feel your blood boil. ‘You try to cut things off and act like the “bigger person” just to get out of an argument that, newsflash, YOU'RE LOSING.’

‘Oh, whatever, what-f*cking-ever!’

‘You're being so damn overdramatic, Mark! It's not like I'm trying to break up our team.’

‘Yeah, well– well maybe we should!’

You don't know why it jolts you like a gunshot when he says it, but it does. His words, the force and resentment behind them, pierce you to your core. It stops any quick-fire response you had at the ready in its tracks.

Regret immediately flashes across his face, but he quickly attempts to cover it with a steely, hardened gaze. ‘Clearly, we want different things. So maybe it's for the best.’

‘Hey!’ one of the guards calls out from across the hall. ‘Lights out means quiet, you two. Don't make us separate you into different cells.’

With a frustrated huff, you reluctantly traipse off to bed, yours being the lower half of the bunk while Mark settles above you.

It really is a rather decent bed. The mattress is nothing special, but comfortable, and the soft blanket is accompanied by an oddly luxurious, fluffy pillow. Definitely above what you'd expect is probably average prison standards. Frankly, you don't know what Mark's problem is with this place. It's honestly not half bad. As far as you expect jails go, it surely could be a lot worse.

You lay back and let your breathing even out, trying your best to allow some of the bubbling anger to die down. Eventually, you hear the guards leave.

Time passes, it could be minutes or hours; it's not like the passage of time has felt right at all to you since that last heist.

It's silent, save for the sound of your breaths and Mark's above you. You're still upset with him, but the sound of him breathing nearby has always been oddly comforting. The two of you have had plenty of close calls as a pair — even times when you had to patch each other up after jobs that went particularly badly. If you got injured on a heist, you couldn't simply call an ambulance or show up at a hospital in an emergency and risk having your whole operation blown. That was simply the nature of your line of work.

At the worst of times, as long as you could hear those steady, even breaths, you could tell yourself he would pull through, and things would be fine.

You idly watch the mattress above you, letting the rhythm of your friend's breathing become a gentle white noise, and think.

You think about that heist and the Box. Ancient, coveted, mysterious. Sitting atop its perch in the museum vault, in all its glory and allure, practically asking to be stolen. The gleam of the gem encrusted in its surface. You wonder if the prize held within would be worth all of this, if you managed to get it back.

You think about Yancy, a little rough and a little troubled and not seeing much point in trying to kick old habits; but fun and soft and sensitive and full of remorse. You think about the feeling of your hand in his when you practise a routine with him, how his whole face lights up when he's excited or falls when he's sad or pensive. You think about how he has made this penitentiary into a home, and these inmates into a family.

You think about Mark. Silly, stupid, steadfast Mark, snarky and thoughtful and loyal. Who isn't actually as dumb as he lets on. Who is resourceful and quick-thinking when a plan needs to be formed. Who makes bad puns and trusts you whole-heartedly, and who always lets you decide which course of action to take, no matter how much he disagrees, simply due to his unwavering faith in you. Mark, your co-worker, your friend, your partner in crime. Who is maybe a little enamoured with you, despite you trying to ignore it. Who you half-heartedly agreed to go on a date with, not having it in you to turn him down, nor prepared for the guilt that would be eating away at you now.

You think about one of the first things he told you when you landed yourselves at Happy Trails: About how he doesn't belong here, but maybe you do. What if he were to leave and you were to stay? The thought breaks your heart a little.

Then, a whisper from above into the quiet, gently interrupting your thoughts.

‘Hey, you still awake?’

‘...Yeah.’

You hear his voice, soft-spoken, but clear enough that you can hear the sincerity laced into it.

‘I… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get so worked up.’

‘Yeah, I'm sorry too,’ you reply, matching his volume.

‘And I didn't mean it,’ he says, and you think you hear the slightest tremble in the statement, almost as if he's fighting tears, and for a second you wish you could see his face, ‘what I said before, about uh, splitting up. I know I joke about that kind of thing all the time, and not coming back for you… But you know I don't really mean it, right?’

You've certainly had your doubts in the past, but those moments seem so far away now; footnotes in a slowly unfolding tale, stepping stones on the journey the pair of you have taken together as you worked your way from theft to theft to get to this point. As much as you'd butt heads over the years, you could always count on each other and you always stuck together.

‘Right?’

‘Yeah, I know…’

‘...And, alright, your lack of interest in breaking out aside, maybe I am kinda jealous.’

‘Ha! I knew it.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ He sighs. ‘It's just… it took us a while to be like we are now and yet, you're suddenly so close to him when it hasn't even been that long, it just doesn't feel fair. I dunno, it's stupid.’

‘Nah, I get it. I'm sorry if I made you feel left behind.

‘And I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pressured into something you're actually just not all that into.’

You feel a bit of tension leave your chest as a small smile appears on your face. ‘I appreciate that.’

In some ways you're grateful for the small bed separating you and preventing you from being face to face. You think it makes this easier for both of you.

‘I don't want to lose you, y'know? I mean, we're supposed to be partners. Ride or die, remember?’

‘Oh, Mark… You know I still trust you with my life…’ You pause, considering your words. ‘For the first time in ages, things feel a little more complicated than just being about us.’

A beat, then you hear him inhale, and he says your name, foregoing any of his usual nicknames.

‘...Are you… happy here? Does he make you happy?’

‘There's things I miss about freedom, sure, but it's not so bad here. And let's face it, our crimes were probably gonna catch up to us eventually, one way or another, right? And Yancy…’ You let out the smallest huff of laughter, smiling to yourself once again. ‘You're right, it hasn't been very long… There's just something about him, I guess. I know he might be a little much at times but I enjoy being around him, and he honestly seems like he wants to make up for things he's done in the past by being here. Maybe nothing will come of this but even so, in a weird way, he kind of makes me want to do better?’

Mark breathes a good-natured huff of laughter as well, and the two of you take a moment to muse on the irony of that sentiment.

‘I just– I can't handle being stuck here,’ he finally says. ‘But you're right, nothing I've tried so far has worked, anyway.’

‘Y'know… Yancy knows all the ins and outs of this place. He could probably help us if we wanted it.’

‘Do you want it?’

Do you want to leave or stay? The real question beneath it all.

You're quiet again, and it feels as if every possibility is laid out before you, only obscured.

‘I don't know,’ you say eventually. ‘I need more time to think. I just don't want you to think I'm making a choice between you or him, there's so many other things I need to consider. That we need to consider.’

‘That's fair… Just don't take too long, ok? Not like we can pause or rewind time, haha.’

‘Right… In the meantime, could you at least try to get along with Yancy and the others? You might like them if you give them a chance.’

‘... Fine, I'll try,’ he acquiesces.

You raise a hand to your mouth to cover a yawn. A far more comfortable silence falls over the room, and you start to feel sleep overtake you.

‘... Hey, Mark?’

‘Yeah?’

‘We're still partners.’

If nothing else, you hope this will reassure him.

‘...Ok. Sweet dreams, partner.’

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jessaerys · 1 month ago

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when i was in high school i thought robert greene's the art of seduction was this super forbidden sexy knowledge that would make anyone irresistible with the power of psychological tricks and gray mortality but like in an intellectual way and this is how i was gonna win my boy crush because like three other girls in my friend group clearly also had a crush on him but honestly?? he totally liked Me for my mischievous ways i was definitely winning. afaik no one ever fucked him and he fell off the face of the internet after high school but last i heard he was identifying as asexual. but i digress. anyway i got it out of the school library but lost it (don't recall how) and because it was private school they charged an exorbitant fee for lost books so it was cheaper to replace them and also, obviously, my parents would have questions. so anyway i saved up and when my parents took us to this fancy restaurant/department store combo (Sanborns) after a JW kingdom hall meeting i went to "the bathroom" but actually went downstairs to purchase the damn book from the book store section and it literally felt like a fucking heist i was crying shaking throwing up etc etc etc. so when i open my purse to pay and hide the damn encyclopaedia sized thang inside, the cashier guy, who can totally see this 16 year old is sweating absolute bullets, he sees my JW bible & religious literature and says something along the lines of "ha ha dont worry my x is a jehovah's witness so i get it :-)" and instead of feeling comforted i wanted to die because at the time i was still deeply entrenched in us vs them cult mentality and obviously The Stupid Worldy People would not understand the profound, shakespearean moral conflict i, a Knower of the One True God was facing as i was knowingly lured into a life of sin by the evil forces of Satan, maybe, i mean idk, it's very nuanced and actually has cosmically life or death high stakes for me personally, He Couldn't Possibly Understand. so anyway, it was truly a mortifying negative experience that the charade of Perfect Certainty and Enviable Happiness i was groomed to uphold my entire life fell for a hot second and i experienced the mortifying ordeal when i wasn't ready which was like blasting a mole rat into the sun but in retrospect that was a really nice thing for him to say. siri play dollhouse by melanie martinez i fucking guess. long story short i returned the new book and my parents didn't catch me that time which is certainly Interesting because they sure led me to believe God had panopticon powers to "make secrets come into the light" but frankly i think i just thot every now and then i succeeded at outsmarting God

why did i make this post. oh yeah anyway i just realized i can read (listen to) the art of seduction by robert greene and it's probably going to be an incredibly pretentious load of bullshit but by god (ha ha) this one goes out to baby alex

#ex jw #allegedly reading

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happilyfeatherafter · 11 months ago

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Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

Happy Friday everyone, sneaking in a little bit late (I've been afk on a fun visit to the UK's biggest LGBTQ+ and Kink archive in London, and it was truly fascinating! Pay it a visit if you're in London.) But now I'm back with more fics that I've read and loved recently.

If you missed last week’s you can find my previous rec lists here for more!

9 February 2024

The Real Prize by @doctorprofessorsong is part two of River's glorious Dean x The Cartwright Twins fics. Dean is reunited with baseball player Joe, now retired, after an eventful case. After introducing his partner Cas, they get to reminiscing, fun, and a boat load of feelings. Only River can make you get this emotional over the aftermath of a gangbang and some voyeuristic partner sharing!

Good Times, Bad Times, Past Times by @lazarus-rose (art by @avalonlights) is another fantastic @deancasbigbang fic that gave me all the time travel feels. Dean doesn't see much of a future for himself with his demon deal looming, but then he meets a future version of himself from 2023. This Dean has his happily ever after with Cas after defeating Chuck and semi-retiring from hunting. But, there's a rogue angel who has gone back in time to kill Dean before he ever went to Hell. Time for tfw to reunite for one last hunt. Brilliantly executed, and masterfully characterised. I just love it when Dean meets Dean!

five minutes to six by saintedcastiel (@aliveboydean) is giving me The Morning Show / Newsroom / Newscaster Castiel! He's been the co-host of Good Morning, Lawrence! for a little over ten years when he stumbles across the story of a lifetime. But after the segment is pulled, he is desperate to unearth the corruption behind the scenes, whilst keeping his co-host, and the man he loves, in the dark. It's got mystery, it's got espionage, it's got heist vibes, it's got intrigue!

becoming of a man by wylf_storm (@denimshortsdean) is another stunning poem, from @winchester-reload's Suptober prompt liminal. Exploring intersecting boundaries, thresholds and transitional stages. Beautifully Dean and Cas, and really layered, every time I read it I find something new.

(we are) two queens by @luckshiptoshore for everyone who's been enjoying Luck's Are You Writing From The Heart? but might have missed this prior gem! Glorious fish out of water meets stubborn self-denial King. And for all your ‘Dean’s inner critic/homosexuality narrator sounds like Crowley’ needs. In which Cas mishears an idiom and chaos (and sexual tension) ensues. The pure joy of there's only one bed fic. Hilarious, sweet, and brimming with frustrated sexual tension as ever!

#happilyfeatherafter ficrec friday #destiel fic #destiel ficrec

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otrtbs · 1 year ago

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okay nat's allowed one (1) sappy post before bed and i'm using it to say that writing art heist has truly been one of the coolest experiences of my life. i have met so many kind and lovely people through this fanfiction that i am very thankful and lucky to call friends <33 it has also just introduced me to so many wonderful people in this fandom who go out of their way to spread kindness and take time out of their day to send me the nicest messages and artworks that they've seen and/or love, and share the cool things they've got going on in their lives!!

art heist let me share my love of art history with y'all and i do cry like a nerd every time one of you comes to me and tells me that you got into art/art history because of something i wrote. (and i especially cry when you send me pictures of art you went to go see that's in ahb! y'all have no idea). i am just very grateful and touched y'all share the love back <33

if you've read art heist, left a nice comment or a kudos, popped into my ask box on here, reblogged something of mine screaming in the tags or comments, said anything nice to me ever,,, i just want to say thank you a million times over and i love you all very very much!! <33 you didn't have to be kind, and i know anonymity on the internet makes it very easy for people to default to meanness so it truly means more to me than i can express <33

happy one year to art heist, baby! i'm so glad this fanfiction has brought about so much love and positivity in my life and hopefully some in yours (sans copenhagen im still atoning 4 that one). bursting w love for all of you and wishing you all the best and happiness this world can offer!! mwah!! <33

#art heist baby!#alright im off to bed its 2 in the morning #lots of love tn !!! im basically the 🥰 emoji #nat speaks

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 months ago

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Fractured Loyalties ~ JHS

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅WORD COUNT: 6.7K

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅GENRE: established relationships, old friends to friends to enemies, angst, not a happy ending, MALE READER, platonic, betrayal, hurt, TW: mentions of death, fighting and blood

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅PAIRING: Hoseok x Male!Reader

‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅⤜MASTERLIST

The gallery was alive with soft murmurs and clinking glasses, the ambient hum of admiration drifting through the air as art lovers gazed at the pieces that lined the walls. People chattered among one another about the meanings of certain pieces they were staring at, coming up with ideas for the background of a painter as if they had any idea.

The whole thing annoyed you if you were being honest. You'd gotten out of this life a long time ago, you hated the people that were into art. Most of them were chauvinistic assholes who claimed to be art geniuses but barely knew which paintbrush was used on a painting but you? You knew everything.

Every brush that caused every stroke. Every tool created every single divert in a sculpture. You were known as the recreator in the underworld but that was long behind you now.

You stood near the back, your eyes tracing the delicate brushstrokes of a painting you were pretending to admire. It was easier to blend into the crowd that way, easier to disappear into the background like you had perfected years ago.

The quiet life suited you now – or so you told yourself. The hustle of the city, the sharp scent of paint and varnish, all of it had lost its allure now, you didn't care for it anymore. It had been nearly four years since you'd turned your back on your old life, cutting ties with the only people who had once made you feel more alive than ever. But you couldn’t afford to feel alive anymore. It was safer to be numb. Safer to pretend to be happy in this sick world than to risk being caught for the thrill of it all.

At least that was the plan until the past came crashing back into your life.

"Y/N.” That voice—smooth as honey, but with an edge like glass. You froze the name that had become a distant echo now feeling like a bullet lodged between your ribs. Slowly, you turned. You already knew who the voice belonged to but you weren't sure you were ready to face him yet but there he was.

Jung Hoseok, standing a few feet away, hands tucked into the pockets of his sleek, tailored coat, his face lit by the soft glow of the gallery lights. He looked the same yet different—older, sharper, with a calmness that seemed more dangerous than comforting now.

You tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat when you saw him, the excitement of your lives together coming crashing back to you all at once. The heists you'd pull off, the money you'd get, everything more exciting than the next. Thanks to Hoseok you were one of the richest men in the world, not that anyone would know if it they were to look at you.

They'd see a man who did well for himself and never bragged about what he had. You did your best to pretend the sight of Hoseok didn’t stir up a thousand old memories, moments of laughter and adrenaline, late nights spent hunched over counterfeits that had to be perfect.

You forced a smile, tight and uneasy as he came closer to you, a giant grin taking over his features.

“Hoseok,” You replied, the word leaving your lips like a half-formed apology as you smiled a little, doing your best to appear happy to see him. You should have known coming back to the city you would have the risks of running into him but you hadn't exactly thought it through that well.

Hoseok’s smile was disarming as ever, but you noticed something beneath it—something calculated. You'd seen that look a thousand times before with Hoseok so you knew he'd planned all of this and it made you wonder how long he'd known about your whereabouts. Hoseok wasn’t here by chance. No, Hoseok had always been too precise for that.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” Hoseok said, his voice smooth but guarded. He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. People didn't even pay attention to the two of you, they walked by as if nothing was happening because, to them, nothing was.

It was two old friends meeting after a long time but to you? This was bad news.

Hoseok only wanted one thing out of you. Money. It was always about the money or the next heist with him.

“It’s been a while.” he finished as he clinked your glass with his own, tipping it back and smirking at you.

“Yeah,” You muttered a little, shifting your weight from one foot to the other before letting out a small breath you hadn't realised you'd been holding.

“A long while.” Silence hung between you both for a moment, thick with the weight of your shared past. You could practically feel your pulse quicken, memories stirring that you'd worked so hard to bury. You wanted to ask why Hoseok was here, but part of you already knew. Hoseok never did anything without a purpose.

“You disappeared on us,” Hoseok said, his tone light, though his eyes flickered with something darker. You could already tell he was pissed off but it wasn't as though you'd cheated him and the boys out of their money. You did what they asked. You told them it was your last job.

"I told you I was done-"

“One day you’re in the game, and the next, you’re gone. No word, no explanation.” You swallowed hard at his tone, it was obvious he wasn't in the mood for your explanations or bullshit.

“I had my reasons.” You put down your glass and turn your body to face him, shoving your hands into your pockets as you waited for him to skip around the bullshit and tell you what he wanted from you.

“I’m sure you did,” Hoseok replied, his gaze steady. His eyes slowly looked you up and down, lingering on your suit before shaking his head at you,

“But here you are. Back in the world, you swore you’d leave behind. The world you claim to hate,”

“I’m not—” You began, but Hoseok cut you off with a knowing look.

“You may not be in the game anymore,” Hoseok said softly, leaning in closer as he whispered in your ear,

“but the game isn’t done with you.” The words left your stomach dropping and you frowned at him.

“What do you want, Hoseok? I don't owe money, I'm clear, I'm out. I've been out for four years,” You reminded him, not that he needed reminding of the time you'd abandoned him and left him alone. Hoseok studied you for a moment as if weighing his next words carefully.

“I need your help.” The mood in his eyes shifted as he looked at you worriedly. It was the first time you'd ever seen the man look worried before but you shook your head immediately. There was no way you were getting involved in whatever shit he got himself into.

“No. I’m done with that life. You know that.”

“You might be done with it,” Hoseok said, his voice lowering, as he took you by the elbow and led you away. If you lingered by a painting too much it was too obvious, you'd taught him that.

“But it’s not done with you. And it’s not just me, Y/N. The others—Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi—we need you. It’s bigger than just another job. This could be the last one.” You scoffed at him. You couldn't even count all of the times you'd heard him say that. This life was an addiction to Hoseok, no matter how many times he told you it was the last one, that he didn't need to go back, he always did.

“I’ve heard that before.” You stared at him and he shook his head at you.

“This time, it’s different.” Hoseok’s eyes hardened and you stared at him, you almost believed him this time.

“There’s a man. A dangerous man. He’s been in the shadows for years, controlling the underground art market, smuggling pieces, and making people disappear when they get in his way. He’s untouchable, but he has one weakness: he can’t resist a rare piece of art. A very specific one.”

“And that’s where I come in," You mumbled already knowing what he was going to ask you to do. You were the "recreator" after all. There wasn't anything you couldn't do.

Hoseok nodded and let out a small sigh. He'd tried to work this plan out without you but there was no way of pulling it off.

"Without you, we don't stand a chance...It's one job. One. You'll be paid-"

"I don't want the money." You cut him off coldly. The idea of diving back into that world, working on a forgery, was enough to make your stomach twist. But it wasn’t just the art that made him hesitate—it was Hoseok. After everything, after the years of silence, why now? Why him?

"What-"

"I do this. You leave me alone. Forever. No popping up, no Christmas cards, nothing." Hoseok stared at you for a second, you could see the gears working in his head as he worked out the idea in his head. Sighing he nodded and the two of you shook hands.

"Tell me everything." You whispered as the two of you began to walk around the gallery.

“There’s an upcoming exhibition featuring a priceless sculpture. We need to make a replica—a perfect replica—to lure him out of hiding. You’re the best at what you do, Yn. We can’t pull this off without you.” You clenched your jaw, you still had everything you were going to need to pull it together.

“Why me, Hoseok? Why now?” That was the only thing you couldn't wrap your head around. There were many people on the market, sure they weren't as good as you but they could just have easily helped him.

“Because you’re the best,” he said simply and shrugged his shoulders a little.

“And because I trust you.” Trusted you? According to him, you'd walked out on him and yet he trusted you? Scoffing a little you looked at him,

“You trust me? After all this time?”

“More than anyone else, you know you've always been my right hand,” Hoseok replied without missing a beat, you hated the way your heart skipped a beat for that one sentence.

“I know we’ve been out of touch, but that doesn’t change anything for me. We’ve been through too much to let time get in the way of that.” You clenched your jaw, conflicted. It was always like this with Hoseok—he had a way of making you feel like you belonged, like the two of you were still in this together, even when everything around you was falling apart.

“So, tell me more about this plan,” You said finally, setting his glass down on the counter and then glancing at him.

“If I’m going to be a part of this, I need to know everything.” Hoseok’s smile widened slightly, as if he’d known that would be your answer all along, which it was. He would have only kept asking and asking until you'd given in to him.

“Alright,” he said, gesturing for you to follow him to a back room.

You spent the next few days going over every detail of the plan that you could. Sketches and blueprints were bought out, and you'd moved into Hoseok's apartment and slept on his sofa just so you could be close to him while you planned every single detail out. Straightening out the details so nothing could or would go wrong.

Hoseok had already laid the groundwork with the rest of the crew—Jin, Namjoon, Yoongi, and the others knew everything and were in regular contact with you all as you added new things to the plans.

The exhibition would take place in two weeks at a high-end gallery known for showcasing rare sculptures, like extremely rare to the point where they weren't to be photographed. The centrepiece of the event was a sculpture created by a famous artist, one that the crime boss they were targeting was known to covet.

The piece was so rare it was only ever written about in one newspaper and the reporter ended up being killed in an "accident" which Yoongi had informed you was done by the crime boss they were after.

Your job was simple, at least on the surface: create a replica of the sculpture so perfect that it could be swapped with the original without anyone noticing. The crime boss would be drawn to the exhibition, believing he had a chance to obtain the real sculpture, and in the chaos that followed, they would catch him in the act, exposing him to the authorities. Simple in theory.

But there was more to it than that and it was going to be a lot harder to get in and out than it was to create the piece. The crime boss had eyes everywhere—inside the gallery, within the security team, even in the art world itself. One slip-up, one miscalculation, and the entire plan could fall apart. You had to get the forgery right, down to the last detail, or they’d be walking into a death trap. But no pressure, right?

As you studied the stolen blueprints and sketches, a familiar sense of excitement started to creep back into your veins. This was what you were good at. This was where you thrived where you felt most alive.

"You jumped back in faster than I thought," Jimin said with a smirk, sitting beside you as you worked carefully on the clay in front of you. You slowly glanced over at him,

"You had bets on me?" You smirk at him already knowing that a gambling man like Jimin would have bet his life savings on it.

"I lost, no thanks to you." He nudged your arm softly and Hoseok cleared his throat at you both.

"No distracting the artist!" He yelled in a thick French accent before you went back to work and fell into conversation with Jimin. It really did feel like no time had passed and it was just like before.

The days leading up to the exhibition passed in a blur of late nights, meticulous planning, and stolen moments of tension. You found yourself falling back into the old rhythm, your hands moving with precision as you sculpted and moulded the replica into perfection. Every detail had to be exact—the texture, the weight, the way the light hit the surface of the piece. There was no room for error.

Despite your best efforts to keep your focus solely on the work, you couldn’t help but feel the growing tension between you and Hoseok. Old habits, old memories—everything the two of you had once shared hovered just beneath the surface, threatening to break through at any moment.

Late one night, as you worked side by side in the studio, you finally broke the silence first and sighed a little.

“Hoseok,” you began quietly, your voice barely above a whisper, you didn't even know where to start with this but it was something weighing heavily on you.

“Why did you really come to me? You could’ve found someone else. There are other forgers out there.” Hoseok paused, his hands stilling over the plans he’d been reviewing. For a long moment, he didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him as he debated airing everything out.

"Hobi-" The nickname left your tongue with ease and finally, he looked up, meeting your eyes with a rare vulnerability.

“Because I never stopped trusting you. I never stopped… caring about you.” The words lingered in the air as you tried to process what he could have meant by it, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid over the years.

You hadn’t expected that, not even close. The two of you had always been platonic with one another.

“I—” You started to respond, but Hoseok cut you off.

“And because,” Hoseok continued, his voice firm now, as he cleared his throat a little,

“I need to know that I’m not alone in this. That I have someone I can count on when things go south and that person has always been you...”

You nodded slowly, the weight of Hoseok’s words settling in your chest. It wasn’t just about the job. It never had been for either of you.

For a moment, it felt like old times. The two of you against the world, working toward a common goal, trusting each other with your lives. But the shadows of doubt still lingered in your head as you continued to work on the task at hand. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more Hoseok wasn’t telling you, something darker, something that could change everything.

The night of the exhibition arrived with an air of anticipation so thick it felt suffocating. The gallery buzzed with excitement as well-dressed patrons sipped champagne and admired the carefully curated works of art that lined the walls. Every piece was a masterpiece in its own right, but there was no doubt what the centrepiece of the night was—the sculpture.

The original was a breathtaking piece of art, a rare sculpture that had been lost for decades before resurfacing in the private collection of an elusive billionaire. Its unveiling had drawn art enthusiasts, collectors, and critics from all over the world, and it was this very lure that would draw the crime boss out of hiding.

For you, however, it wasn’t the original that held your attention. It was the replica. The fake stood in the backroom of the gallery, awaiting its role in your carefully orchestrated plan. Your hands had sculpted every inch of it, replicating the weight, texture, and imperfections of the original with surgical precision. It was perfect, indistinguishable from the real one.

This was the part you hated the most about working jobs. It was always the calm before the storm was almost worse than the action itself. You stood in the back of the gallery, your heart pounding in his chest as he glanced around at the sea of unfamiliar faces. Somewhere in the crowd, the crime boss was watching, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

You weren't sure who to be more afraid of—the crime boss or the fact that Hoseok seemed just as calm and composed as ever, as though everything was under control. But you knew better, you could see the tension in Hoseok’s eyes, the slight tightness in his jaw that only appeared when things were about to go sideways.

And then, as if on cue, Hoseok appeared by your side, his expression unreadable as he nodded at you.

“It’s time,” he said, his voice barely audible over the noise of the crowd.

“You ready?” You could have sworn you heard his voice shake a little but you took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing nerves. This was it. Everything that you had planned, everything the eight of you had worked for, would be decided in the next few minutes. One mistake, one wrong move, and it would all come crashing down.

“Let’s get this over with,” You muttered, remembering he had promised you he would leave you alone once all of this was over. He would go back to his life and you would go back to yours.

Hoseok gave a small nod before leading you toward the back of the gallery, away from the prying eyes of the guests. The transition needed to be seamless, and the timing had to be perfect. As the crowd’s attention shifted to the curator giving a speech about the significance of the sculpture, you and Hoseok slipped into the backroom where the original sculpture was being guarded.

Jin, dressed as one of the security team, gave them a subtle nod as you both approached. Everything was going according to plan—so far. Jimin's eyes flashed at you as he smiled softly,

“Here we go,” You whispered under your breath as you and Hoseok approached the sculpture. Your heart racing as you both exchanged a look before nodding.

The exchange happened in the blink of an eye. You and Hoseok moved with precision, lifting the original sculpture from its display and replacing it with the replica. The transition was flawless—no one watching would have noticed the difference, not even the most discerning eye, the cameras were covered by Yoongi and Namjoon who had replayed the last few minutes for the guards on duty, to them it was a glitch quickly fixed and nothing to worry about.

"Done." Hoseok smiled and you felt a brief moment of relief wash over you as you realised all of this would soon be over and you'd be free again. For a second, it seemed like they might actually pull this off. But that feeling was short-lived.

Just as they finished the switch, the door to the backroom creaked open, and your blood ran cold. Three men entered, their sharp eyes scanning the room with unsettling precision, you knew their faces from the times you'd poured over the information files that Hoseok had. They were enforcers, the crime boss’s personal muscle and you felt your stomach tighten.

“Shit,” You whispered, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your ears. Hoseok’s face remained impassive, but You could feel the tension radiating from him.

“Stay calm,” Hoseok said under his breath, his voice low and controlled and he reached out for your hand. But you couldn’t stay calm, it was the first time you'd ever been caught, and there was no staying calm in this. Not when the enforcers were closing in on you, not when you could feel the weight of their gaze like a noose tightening around your damn neck.

One of the men stepped forward, his eyes locking onto you as if he could sense that you were the weaker one of the group.

“What’s going on back here?” You felt a sharp pang of fear, but before you could even respond, Hoseok stepped forward, his posture relaxed, as if he wasn’t standing inches from danger.

“Just handling some last-minute details,” Hoseok said smoothly, his voice betraying no hint of the tension that crackled in the air.

“Is there a problem?” He quickly added as he looked at the men. The enforcer’s eyes narrowed as he glanced between you and Hoseok, it was clear he wasn't exactly sure what to believe and you didn't blame him.

“That depends. You wouldn’t happen to be moving around something you shouldn’t be, would you?” He questioned and your throat tightened, but Hoseok remained calm, always calm in the face of danger he didn't care.

“Of course not. We’re professionals. Everything’s under control.” For a moment, the enforcer seemed to consider Hoseok’s words, his gaze lingering on you before shifting back to the replica sculpture. You could feel the weight of the man’s suspicion bearing down on you, and you prayed that the replica was as perfect as it seemed. If the enforcer noticed anything was off, then you were all dead, you started counting the seconds in your head as you waited for them to say something. Anything to clear your head.

Finally, the man nodded and gestured for his colleagues to follow him out of the room. But before they left, he cast one final glance at you, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips that made you want to vomit.

“Be careful,” he warned, his tone laced with malice.

“The boss doesn’t take kindly to deception.” The door shut and you hunched over, looking for the nearest bucket you could throw up last night's dinner into.

“That was too close.” You grumbled at Hseok who didn't even seem to care that you were close to throwing up. He simply nodded, his expression grim.

“We’re not out of the woods yet. The boss is here somewhere, and he’s going to make his move soon. We need to be ready.” He straightened himself out and you nodded, trying to push the fear aside and focus on what had to be done. But something about Hoseok’s tone unsettled you. There was a coldness there that hadn’t been present before—a detachment that made you wonder just how far Hoseok was willing to go to pull this off.

As the exhibition neared its peak, you once again found yourself in the shadows, keeping a low profile as the crowd shifted and moved. The boys were playing along too, pretending to be art enthusiasts and waiting for this whole thing to be over. But as you walked you couldn't help but glance a look over your shoulder, or watch certain people in hopes you'd figure out which was the boss they were after.

Somewhere in the mass of guests, the crime boss lurked, and it was only a matter of time before he made his move. Hoseok had disappeared into the crowd the second you'd come out of the back room, blending in effortlessly. You'd done your best to try to spot him, but there were too many people, too much chaos. You were on your own now and you needed to be prepared for anything.

And then, it happened. A commotion near the sculpture caught everyone’s attention. The crime boss had made his move, attempting to steal the replica, thinking it was the original.

Everything seemed to fall into place—until it didn’t.

In the midst of the chaos, you felt a hand clamp down on your shoulder, yanking you backwards into a dark corner of the gallery, you tried to scream but a hand covered your mouth. Before you could react, you were face-to-face with the crime boss himself—a man with cold, calculating eyes and a smirk that made your blood run cold.

There was a deep scar running from the top of his eye to the bottom of his cheek, Agust D. He was known in the underworld, but you knew him as Yoongi's twin brother, the one that had been thrown to the wolves once his parents realised how fucked up he was.

“You thought you could fool me?” Agust hissed, his grip tightening on your shoulder as you whimpered a little.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice? Is the replicator back in business with my darling brother? You should have never gone back to him,” He smirked at you but your heart pounded inside of your chest as you tried to wrench yourself free but his grip was like an iron.

“Agust, I—” You began, but before you could finish, Hoseok appeared from the shadows, stepping forward with his hands raised.

“Wait,” Hoseok said, his voice calm and controlled. Your heart returned to normal as you realised he was going to be the one to get you out of this mess. You smiled at him and nodded,

“There’s been a misunderstanding.” Relief flooding through you as you let out a small breath. Hoseok was here. He would make all of this better. He would fix this.

But Hoseok’s eyes were cold—colder than you had ever seen them before in your whole friendship. He turned to Agust, his expression unreadable.

“This wasn’t my plan,” Hoseok said, his voice steady.

“It was Y/N’s. He’s the one who created the forgery. I had nothing to do with it.” Your stomach dropped as you realised he was throwing you to the wolves.

“What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. August's smirk widened as he looked between Hoseok and you.

“Is that so?” Hoseok nodded.

“He acted alone. He’s the one you want. We'll hand over the real sculpture later tonight.” Your whole world shattered in that moment as you realised that this had been his plan all along. Betraying you like you had him when you walked away from the game. Hoseok had sold you out. The one person in this world you thought that you could trust, the person who had pulled you back into this world, had betrayed you.

Agust's grip tightened on your shoulder, his smirk turning into a sinister grin as he pulled you closer to him.

“Well, that makes things easier,” he said, his voice dripping with malice.

“Guess we know who to punish now.” Your mind raced, trying to process what had just happened. You couldn’t believe it. Part of you still thought this was some kind of joke, that Hoseok and the guys were going to jump out and save you right at the last second but it never happened. Your eyes locked with Hoseok and there was no regret, no remorse, no guilt. Just a cold calculation.

Everything had changed. The bond the two of you had once shared, the trust you had, all gone.

Hours later, you found yourself in a rundown safehouse on the outskirts of the city, locked in a small room with only the dim glow of a single lightbulb to keep you company. Agust told you he'd deal with you once he got the original away from Hoseok and the rest of them but you didn't hold out much hope for that.

Part of you knew Agust would leave you here tied up and left to die like this, it was the kind of sick bastard he was after all. Just as you were beginning to lose hope for someone coming back, the door creaked open, and one of the enforcers entered. He undid the ropes around your arms before grabbing you by the wrist and hauling you to your feet, dragging you out of the room and down a narrow hallway.

"Where are we going?" You hiss at him as he drags you but he keeps himself silent, his eyes forward as he stormed you.

When you finally reached the destination, you were shoved into another room, this one much larger and filled with expensive-looking furniture. And there, sitting in a leather chair with a glass of whiskey in hand, was Hoseok.

Your blood boiled at the sight of him. Every muscle in your body tensed, your fists clenched at your sides. He wanted nothing more than to launch yourself at Hoseok, to make him pay for what he had done. But you forced yourself to stay held back—barely. Hoseok looked up as you entered, his expression cool and unreadable.

“So, they brought you here,” Hoseok said casually as if this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience. Your jaw tightened as you narrowed your eyes at him, how could he speak so cooly to you?

“You betrayed me.” You spit at him and Hoseok sighed, setting his glass down on the table beside him.

“I did what I had to do, Y/N. You of all people should understand that.”

"Don’t act like this was some kind of necessity,” You snapped, your voice cracking a little. You hadn't realised how close you were to crying until now.

“You didn’t have to throw me under the bus. You could’ve found another way.” Hoseok stood up slowly, his eyes darkening as he took a step closer to You.

“There was no other way. I had to choose between you and myself. And I chose myself. It's a dog-eat-dog world out there,” He patted your shoulder but you moved away from him. Your heart ached at the cold in his voice. This man had once been someone you called a friend but you didn't even recognize him anymore.

“Is that really what you’ve become?” You asked quietly, your voice filled with bitterness as you stared him up and down,

“A coward who only looks out for himself? You used to laugh at people like that.” Hoseok’s expression hardened before he shook his head at you, he wasn't going to let you get under his skin.

“I’m a survivor, Y/N. That’s all that matters.” he laughed a little and you glared at him, looking around the room for something you could use against him.

“You’re a traitor. And you’ll get what’s coming to you.” Hoseok smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched you closely. The two of you had gone toe-to-toe before but only friendly. you wouldn't stand a chance and you both knew it.

“You really think you can take me down? After everything?” your eyes flashed with an anger Hoseok had never seen from you before but you smirked,

“Watch me." Before Hoseok could react, you'd already lunged at him with all the pent-up rage and betrayal coursing through your veins. Your body moved on instinct, fueled by months of simmering resentment. Hoseok barely had time to raise his arms before you slammed into him, knocking you both into a nearby table.

The glass shattered as you crashed into it, sending whiskey splashing across the floor. Hoseok’s face twisted into a grimace of pain, but he recovered quickly, shoving you off with surprising strength. You stumbled back, but your fury wouldn’t let you retreat. You swung for him again, your anger getting the better of you.

“You think you can just sell me out and walk away? After everything we’ve been through?” You spat, at him, your voice shaking with how much your anger was boiling up Hoseok ducked, narrowly avoiding a punch aimed at his jaw. His own hands came up, grabbing you by the collar and shoving you hard against the wall.

“You’re not thinking straight, Y/N!” Hoseok hissed, his face inches from yours.

“This isn’t how it works—this isn’t about friendship anymore.” Your vision blurred with rage, the betrayal burning through you like acid.

“You don’t get to decide that. You don’t get to play with people’s lives and then walk away clean. I was OUT!” For a moment, Hoseok’s face softened, a flicker of something like regret flashing in his eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared. He released you, stepping back with a cold, detached expression.

“You knew the risks and you joined anyway,” Hoseok said quietly, as if trying to justify his actions to himself as much as to you.

"I was out! I was out! YOU dragged me back in!" You scream, shoving him harshly in the chest and into the wall behind him, your fists hitting against his chest but he barely reacted to it.

“I trusted you, I was doing you a fucking favour!” Your fist was about to collide with his jaw when he grabbed your wrist,

"That was your mistake.” The room fell silent for a beat, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Your eyes darted around the room, searching for anything that could give you the upper hand here and beat Hoseok with. And then you spotted it—a briefcase, half-hidden behind one of the chairs. Your heart raced as a plan began to form in your mind. You knew what was inside. Hoseok’s contingency plan. It had to be the real sculpture, or at least something just as valuable—something Hoseok was keeping close in case things went south.

You lunged for the briefcase, but Hoseok was faster. Tackling you to the ground with ease, both of you crashing onto the cold concrete floor as you let out a grunt at the force.

"Sit fucking still!" He grunted, his knee pressed into your chest, pinning you down to the floor as he smirked at you.

“This isn’t going to end well for you, Y/N,” Hoseok growled, his voice low and dangerous.

“You need to stop before you get hurt.” You gritted your teeth together, refusing to back down.

“I don’t care,” You snarled. “I’m not letting you get away with this.” With a surge of adrenaline, You twisted your body, throwing Hoseok off balance just long enough to wrench yourself free and you scrambled toward the case, your fingers brushing against the handle but the door to the room burst open.

Agust walked in, calm as ever as he took the briefcase away from you and chucked it to one of his enforcers behind him.

“Well, well,” Agust drawled, his voice smooth and dangerous, he looked at the two of you, sweating and panting heavily.

“Looks like I interrupted something.” Hoseok straightened, his posture shifting from defensive to calculating in an instant.

“It’s under control,” he said quickly, trying to regain his composure.

“Hoseok’s been lying to you,” Y/N said suddenly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. This was either going to blow up in your face or you were going to get out of this,

“He never planned to hand over the real sculpture to you. He’s been keeping it for himself this whole time.” August's eyes narrowed, his attention fully focused on you now.

“Is that so?” Hoseok shot you a sharp glare warning you to keep your mouth shut, but you weren't going to back down now. If he was going to betray you then you were going to do the same thing back to him.

“I can prove it,” You continued, your gaze locked on Agust before you nodded at the case in his guard's hands.

“Check the briefcase. The real sculpture is inside.” For a moment, the room was silent. Agust's expression remained unreadable as he glanced at Hoseok, then at the briefcase. Slowly, he nodded to one of his enforcers, who opened it,

The enforcer opened the briefcase and pulled out a carefully wrapped object. The room seemed to hold its breath as the man unwrapped it, revealing the gleaming surface of the original sculpture—the very piece that had brought them all to this moment.

Agust's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took in the sight of the sculpture, it was an incredible piece and you'd done incredibly well with your replica.

“Well, well,” he said, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Looks like Y/N was telling the truth.” He smirks over at you as you nod your head. Your loyalty was going to lay somewhere else if it meant getting you out of there alive.

Hoseok’s jaw clenched, his fists tightening at his sides ready to go for you but it was too late. Agust stepped forward, his smile widening as he looked at Hoseok with a cold, predatory gaze.

“You thought you could play me?” he said, his voice soft but laced with danger.

“You thought you could double-cross me and get away with it?” Agust laughed loudly as he looked at him but Hoseok remained silent, his eyes locked on the sculpture as if trying to will it away. But there was no escaping the reality of the situation.

“You’ll regret that.” Agust finished.

In an instant, the enforcers descended on Hoseok, grabbing him and forcing him to his knees, everyone knew you didn't fuck with Agust. He was unfeeling for people who disrespected him. Hoseok struggled, but he was outnumbered, and you could only watch as your former friend was dragged to the ground, powerless to stop what was coming next.

You felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and sorrow as you watched Hoseok’s downfall. The man who had betrayed you was finally getting what he deserved—and yet it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt hollow, like the remnants of something broken beyond repair.

August took your arm in his, leading you out of the room so you wouldn't have to watch the rest of what was about to unfold. The door closed behind you as he chuckled.

“You did well,” he said with a genuine smile. He'd known of you for a long time, everyone in the art world had.

“Seems like you’re not as useless as I thought.” You met his gaze the weight of the moment pressing down on you. You'd survived—barely—but the cost had been steep, a gunshot rang out in the room behind you but you didn't even flinch.

“Now,” August continued, his tone lighter but still dangerous as he walked with you,

“I think it’s time we put this whole mess behind us. You’re going to help me sell this sculpture, Yn. And if you try anything stupid…” He let the threat hang in the air, his smile never quite reaching his eyes and you knew exactly what he was hinting at.

You nodded, knowing you had no choice. You were trapped in a game you didn’t want to play, but for now, you would have to go along with it—if only to survive another day. You stared back at the door where Hoseok had been and then back to Agust, there was one way out of this life and Hoseok had just found it for himself.

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jedijesi · 3 months ago

Text

Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 18

Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy! Reader

Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist

Warnings: Angst/Dramaaa, Smut (oral, piv, public, on the side of a building)

Word Count: 4,800+

Summary: With Felicia's anxiety regarding the recent attacks, Miguel takes her out to destress, but ends up going way worse then he hoped.

co-author: @stclairesplace

A/N: Been a while... whoops... anyhow, its almost the one year anniversary of CCW

“What are you doing?” Miguel sighs, finding Felicia pacing around the living room in the early hours of the morning.

“Thinking.” She sternly replies, her brows knit together as she mumbles to herself.

He sighs and enters the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. He already knows there's no chance of them going back to sleep. After fixing his cup, he settles down in the arm chair, watching Felicia, his head moving as if he were watching a tennis match.

“Alright, what’s going on.” Miguel’s free hand reaches out to grab her arm, pulling her to sit on his lap.

Felicia huffs in frustration, “I’m trying to figure out who’s stealing the tech. At first I thought we had been infiltrated by someone who didn’t have powers, but we would have sensed that. So, it has to be a Spider-Person. Unless… It's Margo Kess. We can’t sense anything about her, she's a projection. It would make sense, but what's her motive-”

Miguel pulls her closer, “You're spiraling.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Felicia looks at him with eyes full of sorrow. “In New York, I could easily pin which villain committed a crime or did the heist, but this… There are thousands- maybe millions of us. It’s going to get more dangerous, I can’t just sleep comfortably at night knowing they’ll make their next move at any moment.”

“I know,” he sighs. “I’ll tell you what,” Miguel rubs his hand up and down her arm. “Let’s have a lazy morning. Then you get changed into something special, there’s an event in New York tonight you’ll like.”

Felicia narrows her eyes at him. “What event?”

“You’ll see.” He smirks.

—————————————

Their destination remained a mystery, right up until Miguel swung them to a smooth stop across from the grand entrance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The towering stone columns and sprawling steps gleamed under the city lights. Felicia raised an intrigued eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile as she noticed the banners promoting a small charity event inside.

Miguel offered his arm, and together they strolled through the museum’s grand halls, the rhythmic click of Felicia’s heels echoing on the polished marble floors. He wore a sleek black suit, perfectly tailored to his muscular frame, and she, draped in her favorite black dress, looked effortlessly stunning. Heads turned as they passed, but neither of them noticed, lost in their own world.

As they moved through the exhibits, Felicia’s eyes gleamed, a spark of joy lighting her face. Her love for art came alive in these moments. She pointed out paintings, sculptures, and tapestries, sharing little-known stories and fascinating bits of history with a passion that left him captivated. He listened, but more than the art itself, he was mesmerized by her—by the way her face lit up with every piece she described, her voice soft but animated, as though the weight of the world had slipped off her shoulders.

For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t burdened by their complicated lives or the ever-present threat of another attack. Here, among priceless works of art, she was free. And Miguel? He didn’t care about the paintings—at least not in the way she did. His focus remained on her, soaking in the way she looked tonight. He silently vowed that he’d do whatever it took to keep her in this state of happiness.

They paused in front of a particularly striking painting of a woman—rich, dark hues layered with golden accents, the brushstrokes alive with movement. Miguel squinted at it, something about it felt oddly familiar, pulling at the corners of his memory.

“Why does this one look so famili-” He broke off mid-sentence, his eyes catching the word “Reproduction” on the small brass plaque below the frame. He blinked, and the pieces snapped together in his mind. He turned to Felicia, whose lips were now caught between her teeth, a guilty look in her eyes as she avoided his gaze.

“Gatita,” Miguel began, a teasing edge in his voice, “you have this exact painting in your apartment.” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “Wanna share how that happened?”

Felicia groaned, “Alright, fine!” She let out a frustrated whisper, unable to stop a small smile creeping up. “I stole it, okay? A few years back.” She gave a dramatic sigh. “You happy now?”

Miguel chuckled, shaking his head, though amusement danced in his eyes. “So, let me get this straight,” he mused, leaning closer to whisper in her ear. “They had to get a copy because you’ve got the real deal hanging in your apartment?”

Felicia shot him a sideways look, clearly trying to deflect. “Perhaps,” she said with a shrug, already turning on her heel to walk away, hoping to slip out of the conversation. “You better not be mad, ‘cause that was forever ago, and I haven’t stolen anything in—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Miguel’s hand shot out, gently grabbing her wrist and pulling her back toward him. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his strong arms around her from behind, holding her close. “Hey, hey, hey… relajate, gatita,” he whispered softly into her ear, his voice like velvet. “I’m not mad at you.”

Felicia let out a long, slow breath as she melted into his chest, the tension unraveling from her body. A soft chuckle escaped her lips as she tilted her head slightly back to look at him. “Good,” she murmured, a playful spark returning to her eyes, “because I’m not giving it back.”

—----------------

Felicia’s gaze lingered on a statue, her eyes tracing the intricate marble curves and exquisite craftsmanship. The statue’s delicate form seemed almost alive under the soft museum lighting, and for a moment, Felicia let herself get lost in its beauty.

“Ugh,” she sighed softly, crossing her arms. “I’ve always wanted this one. I planned a heist and everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Got my stupid powers right before I planned it and, suddenly, I felt too guilty to do it.”

Miguel turned to her, his brow raised with a playful gleam in his eye. His gaze briefly dropped to the delicate string of pearls around her neck, fingers brushing the smooth, lustrous surface as he teased, “Yeah? And these pearls? They seem new. You sure you’re the saint you claim to be?”

Felicia shot him a mischievous look as she turned, leading them into the next gallery. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Her smirk widened, but before she could finish the thought, she accidentally bumped into someone walking by.

“Oops! Sorry ‘bout tha—" Her voice faltered as she looked up, her words turning cold as recognition hit her like a punch to the gut. Staring back at her with those all-too-familiar, vibrant emerald eyes was none other than MJ Watson.

"Oh!" MJ’s eyes lit up, though her smile was laced with a smugness that made Felicia’s jaw clench. “Felicia.”

“MJ.” Felicia’s tone turned sharp, the warmth draining from her expression. Her previously apologetic demeanor vanished as quickly as it had come.

Miguel stiffened beside her, instantly recognizing the shift in Felicia’s posture. His eyes flicked between the two women, his body unconsciously moving closer to Felicia in a protective stance, though he remained outwardly calm.

MJ’s grin widened, clearly relishing in the awkwardness. “You’re looking better since I last saw you,” she commented, her faux-cheerful tone doing little to mask the passive-aggression beneath her words.

Felicia didn’t miss a beat. “Wish I could say the same for you,” she shot back, her voice dripping with venom as she gave a mock frown, eyes scanning MJ up and down.

MJ’s smile faltered, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. But before she could respond, she threw out another blow. “Petey’s around here somewhere,” MJ said in a sing-song voice, waving her hand nonchalantly. “I’ll call him over. It’ll be like a cute little reunion, won’t it?”

Felicia’s jaw clenched, a flash of panic behind her cold exterior. “That’s not necessary,” she replied firmly, her voice sharp, almost pleading.

Before the tension could thicken any further, Miguel, sensing Felicia’s discomfort, spoke up, his deep voice calm but decisive. “We actually have to go,” he said, scanning the crowded gallery for a quick exit. He wasn’t keen on this situation escalating.

But MJ wasn’t listening. “Nonsense!” she chirped, waving into the crowd. “Petey! Come over here!” Her voice carried through the gallery, and Miguel’s hand instinctively tightened around Felicia’s, offering silent reassurance as she tensed beside him.

Seconds later, the crowd parted, and Peter Parker emerged. His easy smile fell the moment his eyes landed on the scene in front of him. He looked first at MJ’s smiling face, then at Felicia, whose eyes had turned into steel, and finally at Miguel. Peter’s shock was almost comical as his gaze lingered on Miguel, struggling to process what he was seeing.

Peter’s mind raced, trying to make sense of it. Miguel O’Hara—his boss—was here, standing next to Felicia in a suit instead of his classic blue and red molecule suit. His hair, normally disheveled from his Spider-Man mask, was styled casually, letting his dark curls frame his face. But what truly stood out was his towering height—6 feet, 9 inches of pure, intimidating presence. He’s known no one that had this tall and demanding presence—except Miguel.

“There you are, Petey!” MJ’s voice cut through the tension, her usual bright cheer masking the awkwardness as she skipped over, grabbing Peter’s hand with casual ease.

Felicia’s irritation was evident in the sharpness of her tone as she tried to brush past him. “Yeah, hi, we gotta go,” she snapped, her eyes narrowing, ready to flee this uncomfortable situation.

But before she could move, Peter’s hand shot out, gripping her arm just enough to stop her in her tracks. Felicia froze, her eyes flashing in surprise, and for a split second, Miguel’s blood ran cold. His eyes darkened, turning a glowing shade of red, and his fangs—normally hidden—began to push through, his primal instincts threatening to take over. The sheer audacity of Peter touching her had every protective instinct in Miguel firing on all cylinders.

Peter quickly released his hold, his eyes darting nervously to Miguel’s now predatory gaze. The flash of fear was unmistakable, but instead of backing down, Peter’s signature mischief kicked in. His lips curled into a sly grin, a glint of faux innocence shining in his eyes as the situation suddenly clicked in his mind. “No way!” Peter exclaimed, his tone feigning surprise. “This must be the ‘new lover’ Aunt May was talking about.”

Felicia’s expression hardened, her patience already thin. She glared at Peter, silently daring him to keep pushing. Before either she or Miguel could respond, MJ, always one to steer the conversation, cut them off with a chipper, “Wait, Petey, does Felicia know?”

Now it was Peter’s turn to falter, his cool façade cracking as MJ’s words caught him off guard. “Oh, um, well—”

“We’re married!” MJ declared excitedly, holding up her left hand triumphantly, the gold band glinting under the museum’s soft lights. She clasped Peter’s hand, flashing both rings with a satisfied smile, clearly enjoying her moment.

Felicia’s stomach twisted, an uncomfortable knot forming as she processed the news. 8 months ago, she and Peter were together and happy, but now… married? The word echoed bitterly in her mind. “Wow,” she muttered, her voice flat and devoid of the typical sarcasm. It was more a word spoken out of shock than any true reaction.

Miguel, sensing the emotional storm brewing inside Felicia, tried to defuse the situation. “Congrats, but we really should go,” he interjected, his tone clipped and direct as he reached for Felicia’s hand, eager to whisk her away from the past that clearly still haunted her. But Felicia didn’t move.

Her eyes locked onto Peter’s, searching for answers. “When did you two tie the knot?” she demanded, her voice steely but calm, though the hurt beneath it was evident to anyone paying attention.

Peter shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, his usual confidence faltering. “Uh…”

“Three months ago!” MJ chimed in, far too gleeful for the situation. She turned to Peter, practically glowing as she looked up at him with adoration. “Can you believe it? We hadn’t dated since high school, but somehow, fate brought us back together. We reunited, and… well, our love was just so powerful, he couldn’t wait to marry me.” She beamed, squeezing Peter’s hand as if sealing the statement with a gesture of affection.

Felicia’s jaw tightened, her teeth grinding in silent fury as she watched Peter squirm, clearly uncomfortable with MJ’s overly enthusiastic retelling of their whirlwind romance. Her mind raced. Less than a year after their breakup, he was already married. Married. It felt surreal. She swallowed down the bitter taste of betrayal, eyes still boring into Peter.

“Must be a canon event,” Felicia muttered under her breath, the words slipping out before she could stop them. The sarcasm was thick, masking her pain with biting wit.

MJ blinked, clearly not understanding the reference. “Huh?”

“Nothing, just seems like a real-life love story,” Felicia replies, her voice thick with irony as she eyes Peter and MJ, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk. “Look at you, keeping secrets from Aunt May.”

Peter huffs, crossing his arms. “She’d never approve.”

Felicia scoffs, the derisive sound escaping her lips before she can stop it. “I wonder why.”

Before the tension could build further, MJ, seemingly oblivious or uncaring to Felicia’s rising irritation, giggles with a saccharine enthusiasm that makes Felicia’s skin crawl. “Well… we’ll tell her after we give her grandbabies.”

Felicia’s eyes widened, her stomach churning at MJ’s words. “Grandbabies! Wow!” She feigns an over-the-top gasp, her hand dramatically flying to her chest as her voice drips with mock excitement. “I thought you didn’t want kids, Peter. Always said it was too dangerous.”

MJ’s eyes narrowed slightly, her voice taking on a condescending tone as she interjected with a bright smile. “Well, Felicia, some people grow up and realize what truly matters in life. Maybe one day, you’ll figure that out too.”

Felicia’s jaw clenches, her hand balling into a fist as her patience finally begins to unravel.

“Or perhaps its the matter of the right person.” MJ smirks.

Felicia was mere seconds away from launching a biting retort, her heart hammering in her chest. But before the words can escape her lips, Miguel’s voice cuts through the tension like a blade.

“Alright,” Miguel says smoothly, his tone firm and authoritative as he steps in, placing a protective hand on Felicia’s lower back. “We best be going. See you at work, Peter.” His crimson eyes briefly flicker toward Peter, narrowing just enough to send a shiver of unease down Peter’s spine. Miguel’s gaze was cold, calculated, carrying the silent message: Don’t push her any further.

Peter nods quickly, clearly eager to avoid further confrontation. “Yeah, uh, we should go too, MJ.”

The two women exchange one last icy glare, the silent battle of wills raging between them, before Miguel gently but firmly takes Felicia by the hand and begins to lead her away from the couple. His grip is steady, offering silent reassurance as they navigate through the crowd together.

As they slip through the backdoor, the cool night air hits Miguel’s face, cutting through the tension that had clung to him like a second skin. He feels it eases, only slightly. But Felicia… Felicia is still a storm of fury, her body radiating barely contained anger. He tosses off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, knowing they’re too restricting. Then he takes her by the waist as his web shooters materialize on his wrists. The webs shoot out of his wrists like a red bolt of lighting. He swings them through the city before stopping, finding themselves atop the black and gold American Radiator Building, the cityscape sprawling before them.

“Fuck!” Felicia lets out a raw, frustrated groan, pacing to the edge of the rooftop, her heels clicking against the concrete with each furious step. “That son of a bitch!” Her voice quakes with emotion. “He’s found the perfect woman to spend the rest of his shitty life with. Those two fuckers deserve each other!”

Miguel watches in silence, his chest tight. He’s used to Felicia’s fire, her venom, but there’s something deeper in her words tonight—a wound that runs too deep for simple anger. She moves to the ledge, her power surging as she sticks to the side of the building. With a cat-like grace, she dangles from the edge, looking down at the blur of people below, tiny ants scurrying through their insignificant lives.

He walks to the edge to look down at her. “Whatcha doing?”

“I’ve never been up here before. Thought I’d check out the view.” She shrugs, her voice distant.

He walks to the ledge, gazing down at her, his heart beating faster. He can’t stick to walls the way she can, so his web-shooters hum to life again. A thin, electric-red web shoots out, wrapping securely around a nearby spire as he lowers himself next to her.

From this angle, the city glows like a distant galaxy, its golden lights shimmering against the dark canvas of the night. “It’s beautiful from here,” Miguel says quietly, his voice layered with meaning. He looks at her, hoping for some kind of response, but she remains silent, her eyes focused far beyond the civilians below.

Minutes pass like hours, the silence thick and heavy. And then, finally, she speaks, her voice breaking through the quiet like a confession.

“I wish Peter and MJ didn’t get under my skin the way they do,” she whispers, her voice raw with vulnerability. “They know exactly how to hurt me.” A tear slips down her cheek, catching the faint light, shimmering like a raindrop before falling into the darkness below. “You’re the one goddamn thing I genuinely care about, and Peter’s gonna strip it away from me.”

Her words hang in the air, sharp and jagged. Another tear falls, and this time, she swipes at it furiously. “God, this is so fucking stupid,” she growls, frustration thick in her voice. “The last thing I ever wanted was for him to have control over my life again.”

Miguel exhales, his heart aching for her. He moves closer, his hand gently tilting her chin so she’s forced to meet his gaze. Her eyes, usually fierce and defiant, are softer now, haunted by a pain she rarely lets show.

“Felicia,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing against her jawline, “you forget who you’re dating.” His lips twitch into a small, reassuring smile. “I’m the leader of the Spider Society, remember? Peter Parker’s nothing to me. An ant.” His voice deepens, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “I created the Spider Society. I built the technology that lets me travel across dimensions—just to be with you. Your pathetic ex isn’t going to change that. Not now, not ever.”

“An ant?” she scoffs, though there’s less bite in her voice now. “You don’t get it, Miguel. ” She runs a hand over her hair, pushing it back as if she’s trying to push away the memories. “He’s not just my ex. He’s this… constant reminder of everything I thought I wanted. And everything I couldn’t have.”

She turns, staring out at the city again. “Peter and MJ—they’re like this stupid fairytale I kept chasing. The hero and his perfect girl. And me? I was just the villain. The cat burglar turned hero… the other girl.”

Her voice cracks slightly, betraying her. She clenches her fists, digging her nails into her palms. “But now, you come along and tell me none of that matters. That I matter. And part of me wants to believe you, but…” She pauses, biting her lip hard enough to taste blood. “But what if he’s right? What if I’m always gonna be second place to someone like her? I mean, out of all the universes, I’m the only Felicia who’s ever become a ‘hero’... You know how many looks I get from the other Spider-people? Even in all the other universes, I’m considered a villain.”

Felicia spins back to face him, her eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and fear. “I don’t need to be saved, Miguel. I never did. I just—I don’t know how to stop feeling like he’s already won, like I can control my future and not be stuck in this cycle of shit.”

She swallows hard, her expression softening as she looks at him. “But you… You make me want to try. And that scares the hell out of me.” She scoffs at the absurdity.

There’s a long silence as her words hang between them. The tears she fought so hard to hold back slip through the cracks again, but this time she doesn’t wipe them away. Instead, she steps closer to him, resting her forehead against his chest. “You’re the only thing keeping me from falling apart right now,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

Slowly, Miguel raises his hand to her cheek, gently brushing away a stray tear with the back of his fingers. His touch is warm, unhurried, as if he’s grounding her, pulling her away from the swirling storm in her mind.

“You’re not second to anyone, Felicia,” he says, his voice low and steady, each word carrying weight. “You never were.” He cups her face, tilting her head slightly so that her eyes meet his again. The way he looks at her is intense—like she’s the only thing that matters in this moment, and nothing else exists outside of it.

“I didn’t cross universes to be with you because I pity you. I did it because I- I… need you.” His thumb strokes her cheek, slow and deliberate. “You don’t have to chase after anyone’s idea of happiness. You’re not some villain in someone else’s story. You’re everything I want—right here, right now.”

The vulnerability in her eyes flickers, but there’s something else now too. The doubt that had gripped her begins to unravel, replaced by a fragile but growing sense of belief. She searches his face, trying to find any cracks in his words, but all she sees is sincerity.

Miguel leans in, his lips brushing lightly against her forehead—a soft, lingering kiss, as if he’s sealing his words into her skin. Then, his hand slides to the back of her neck, pulling her closer, their bodies flush against each other. His breath is warm against skin.

There’s a pause as he pulls back just enough to look into her eyes again. The tension between them shifts—no longer heavy with pain but charged with something else, something deeper.

Unable to hold back the flood of feelings and pent up tension, Felicia leaps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, bringing him into a kiss. Caught off guard by the sudden kiss, Miguel’s initial surprise gives way to a rush of desire. He responds eagerly, his arm encircling her waist as he pulls her close.

It doesn’t take long for the kiss to become heated. Miguel hastily pushes her against the building, finding footing in the golden ledge of the architecture. He groans into the kiss. She moans as his lips move to her jaw and then her neck. “You’re mine.”

Felicia hitches her leg around Miguel’s waist in an attempt to grind onto his cock that strains against his slacks. His hand moves to cup her ass, lifting her in his arms to grind into her clothed core.

“Fuck.” He groans. “I want you.”

“Please, Mig.” Felicia gasps, feeling him grind perfectly into her clit.

“I wanna taste your pussy.” He tugs her dress up.

Felicia’s eyes widened in surprise. “H-Here?”

“I can’t wait. I need it.” His eyes began to glow red with lust taking over.

Her heart began to race in anticipation. “O-Okay.”

Miguel extended the web, leaning back so he was parallel with the ground. “Sit on my face.”

“That's gonna be uncomfortable for you-” Suddenly, Miguel’s free hand grabs her waist, pulling her up and onto his chest.

His claws extend and rip her panties under her dress. Felicia gasps in surprise but it quickly turns into a moan as he leans his head up, attaching his lips to her clit.

“O-Oh, fuuuck.”

Miguel groaned, lapping her dripping pussy up. He loved worshiping her body. He loved the way she melted with just a flick of his tongue. “Such a good girl.” He mumbles into her pussy, the vibrations of his deep voice simulating her more.

Felicia’s eyes roll back, with all the pent up stress she's been having for the past several days, she needed to cum.

Miguel smirked at the way her legs quivered around his face and how her fingers tugged at his hair. As her moans grew louder, his mouth moved faster. She was getting close and he wasn’t going to stop until she was screaming for him.

His tongue trades off between flicking her swollen clit and delving into her throbbing cunt. Her taste and whimpers only made Miguel’s cock harder, straining against his slacks. If he wasn’t using his other hand to hold the web, keeping them from falling, he would have relieved the aching of his cock by now.

As her breaths grow quicker and sounds become louder, Miguel can tell she’s on the edge. “That’s it, cum for me.” His tongue becomes ruthless, desperate to make her cum. His free hand grips her hips, tugging her as close as possible.

With a cry, Felicia cums. Miguel was in heaven, lapping every drop up, enjoying the quaking of her body on his face.

“Fuck, Mig.” She sighed, regaining her breath.

“I’m not even close to being done with you.” He growls.

Miguel moves them to stand, against the ledge again with Felicia legs wrapped around his waist. He hastily undoes his pants with her help, freeing his aching cock from its confines.

“Fuck, I need you.” He groans, pumping his cock that leaks with precum.

He lines his cock up with her entrance and with a fast thrust, he bottoms out in her. They moan together, taking a moment to adjust. Although, it doesn’t take long before Miguel begins moving. Felicia’s moans mix with the sounds of traffic and sirens in the streets below. It was entirely irresponsible to be fucking on the side of the building. There could be crime happening that needs their attention, but the two were too wrapped up in each other to think about the world beyond them.

“God, you’re so tight.” Miguel pants as he picks up speed. His claws dig into the black concrete behind her.

Felicia whimpers, her fingers thread into Miguel’s hair, tugging on it. The sensation makes him growl and bite the sensitive part of her neck.

“You drive me wild.” He grunts between thrusts. “All mine.”

“Oh, Mig” She moans.

“I know, baby, I know. You’re doing so good for me.” He grabs her thigh and hitches it higher, getting an even deeper angle.

Felicia gasps and her body quivers with the surge of pleasure. “R-right there!”

“Yeah?” He pants with a cocky smirk. “Right here?” He moves relentlessly, causing the concrete behind her to crack. “I bet Peter never made you feel this good, huh?” He nips at her neck, watching as her eyes roll back.

She let out a series of moans in response. Miguel loved it when she was in so much pleasure, she couldn’t speak let alone think. It made him feral.

“That’s my good girl. I feel you getting so- ungh- so fucking tight for me. You’re so close aren’t you?”

Felicia whimpers and nods her head, causing Miguel to smirk again.

“I want you to cum hard for me, got it?” He groans as she throbs around him, teething on the edge. “I’m gonna cum so deep inside you if you keep that up.”

Miguel grabs Felicia by the neck, forcing her to look up at him through her heavy lidded eyes. “I need you to cum for me right now.” He growls.

The feeling of him pistoning in and out of her, paired with the tight grip on her neck was all she needed to cum. She came, throbbing around him, moaning his name like a prayer. It was too much for Miguel, he fucked her through her orgasm, filling her with his cum.

The two pant as they calm down from their high. Miguel slowly releases Felicia’s throat, his hand sliding up to her cheek, tilting her face up to look at him. “Fucking perfect.” He says between pants, his voice deep and raw from the moaning.

Felicia smiles weakly before leaning in for a soft and tender kiss.

Chapter 19 Coming Next Week

Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com @ladybeautiful18

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