#he was scouting the place for a heist

[the-sprog]

I think a Batman/DetCo crossover would be perfect especially in the context of how fucking insane Shinichi's parents are.

I was thinking and I realized they're a mix of the Drakes (neglectful in the "never being home" kinda way, rich but it doesn't seem like their child sees a lot of that money) and Bruce ("how'd you learn how to shoot a gun" "my father spent a summer with me in Hawaii to teach me" what an insane scene that was. Not to mention the "yeah. It's a good idea to traumatize our child via fake kidnapping to teach him a lesson about stranger danger :)" and "Shinichi, dear, I know you're 6yo but come investigate this suicide with me sweetie") but they're also above worse (willing to falsify police and government documents for son).

Would Bruce love the Kudos or hate them? On one hand, Yusako definitely has them figured out. He's kinda like Alfred that way.

The Kudos get invited to an event, something like an award ceremony or some kind of cinema festival. They decide to bring Conan as a decoy for Shinichi related questions (usually they'd just use school as an examination why he wasn't there but they've been saying Shinichi is traveling for a case nowadays and it wouldn't do well to contradict that).

Bruce is the one that organized whatever event this is. I wanted the Drakes alive but I also want Damien to meet Conan. So. Sorry Janet and Jack. I'm going full Batfam for this.

Clark Kent is there, though he's technically a plus one. Cat is doing a piece for the event, specifically she wants to interview the Kudos, which is a feat as of late, and needed a last minute plus one (the Kudos are volatile and no one knew if they'd actually show up. When they did, Cat had to rush to get to Gotham before they decide they got bored and fucked off).

Of course, Cat immediately latches onto Conan's existence and assumes that he is why the Kudos have been out of the public eye. But not in the actual real way. She starts by asking general questions about them, their careers, and the event they're at at the moment.

And then she hits them with: "so. I see you've expanded the family. How does Shinichi feel about having a little brother?"

Which breaks just about everyone involved in the conversation.

Immediately Yukiko goes into actress gear. "Oh no he's- this is Conan, Conan Edogawa. He's our nephew. He's been staying with a friend of ours in Japan, but we thought he'd like coming back to the States for a bit!" All while smiling. Meanwhile Conan goes through all the stages of grief and is already building up the script for when he's gonna have to kiss ass to Ai for ending up in the Daily Planet.

Yusako senses this and tries to mitigate the situation a bit. "I'd appreciate if you didn't put him in your article. He's just a kid. And the focus is supposed to be on the event and our achievements, not a gossip piece about our private life"

But then Clark speaks up. Unfortunately he's been listening to the conversation and keeping track of everyone's reactions to everything. And he has a good memory. He has also listened to enough rants from Batman about the KID Thief to know more details than the average person.

"Aren't you the KID killer?" Everyone blanches. "I mean, that child from the KID Thief heists?"

"Uhm..." Conan is stumped. He's really bad at this. Of all the things his parents did, they never left him to deal with the vultures alone. But that also means that in his entire High School Detective career he had more of a "avoid at all costs" kinda mentality when it came to talking to the press directly. Sure they've made articles about him, but he's never met anyone interview him directly.

But again, Yukiko to the rescue. "I think that's enough. I hope you can respect our wishes." She puts her hands on Conan's shoulders as she redirects him away from them.

Clark is a little worried, a little suspicious. But he stops Cat from following them by reiterating that he's a kid and the Planet is not a tabloid newspaper.

Of course pt2, things go as things go when Conan is around a respectable amount of people and someone dies. Immediately Conan is on high alert, but so is Bruce who's worried about how someone could've managed to successfully commit a murder under his nose.

So, the investigation begins. On technically 4 sides. Yusako is doing his own detective work, but he's staying on the sidelines and letting the others be at the center of it all. Conan's special interest has been activated so he's in full inspection mode and putting himself in everyone's business. Bruce immediately contacts Commissioner Gordon, and starts distracting the people at the event while sussing out anyone who might have had a motive and/or opportunity. Clark has engaged his investigative journalism side and is already gathering evidence.

Meanwhile Damien is trying to convince Bruce to let him threaten people with unimaginable violence to make them comply and confess. But then he gets distracted by Conan and starts trying to babysit him but in a "I'm better than you tsk you're so immature" kinda way. Keeping him out of the way by yelling at him and dragging him away physically. Conan is not deterred.

All in all, it's a regular day for Conan, a particularly interesting day for the Kudos, a surprisingly weird day for Bruce, and a very annoying day for Damien.

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

The Cat Burglar's Heist

★ PAIRING: Ceo!Jaehyun x Cat Burglar! Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 19.6k (sorry TT)

★ GENRE(S): Fluff, smut, angst, drama, strangers to lovers.

☆ SUMMARY: When you attempt to rob a wealthy businessman, things don't go as planned. Instead of calling the police, he offers you a job. Now, you're left uncertain about whether you can truly start anew or if your past will come back to haunt you.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: explicit sex, unprotected sex, minor character death, loneliness, theft

☆★ NOTES: probably gonna be my last fic for awhile so enjoy!

People might call you a pickpocket, a burglar, a larcenist, or a simple thief. Whatever the label, it didn’t matter to you; you always slipped away unnoticed. You never hit the same neighborhood twice, always staying light on your feet and never lingering too long in one place. There was only one rule you lived by.

Don't Get Caught.

Maintaining a low profile was essential whenever you scouted a new neighborhood. As the sun beat down, you strolled through the area with a dog at your side, scanning for the easiest target. The shades you wore partially concealed your identity while shielding your eyes from the scorching sun. Your friend’s dog trotted happily beside you, blissfully unaware of the role it played in your plan. If your friend found out you were using his beloved pet as cover for your schemes, he would kill you. You had to keep this under wraps—after all, your friends were all you had. Stealing was the only way you could keep pace with the lifestyle your friend enjoyed.

You refused to be left behind, so the money you made from stealing became your lifeline for fitting in. Each successful job meant another night out, another round of drinks, and another chance to blend seamlessly into your friend group’s lavish lifestyle. You had built your world around them, and you’d do anything to keep up appearances, even if it meant walking a dangerous line.

Daegal fit right in with the neighborhood, his designer leash and collar catching the sunlight. You wandered deeper into one of the city's wealthiest enclaves, surrounded by towering trees that served as natural barriers for the sprawling estates. Luxury cars glimmered in driveways, while some homes flaunted their riches with intricate architectural designs that spoke of unspoken fortunes.

As you walked, Daegal suddenly slowed his pace, his nose twitching at the approaching scent of another dog. You felt your palms grow clammy around the leash; the fewer people who noticed you, the better. You were keenly aware of the risks, and any unwanted attention could spell trouble.

The older lady, her silver hair gleaming in the afternoon sun, approached with her fluffy Pomeranian in tow. A wave and a smile erupted from her, directed toward Daegal, and you cursed under your breath. The last thing you needed was a conversation.

The two dogs tilted their heads, inspecting one another with the calm demeanor that only well-trained pets possess. You could feel her gaze on you, and you forced a tight smile onto your face, betraying none of your rising anxiety.

Wonderful!

"He's so cute! What's his name?" you ask politely, forcing a bright smile.

"His name is Prince, but the kids call him Pudding," the older woman replies with a hearty laugh.

You let a small chuckle escape your lips. "How adorable!"

"And what about this handsome fella?" she inquires, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

“His name?” Your mind races, almost short-circuiting. "He's… Fluffy!” you say, trying to keep your voice steady and convincing.

You know rich people have more connections than they do money, and there's a good chance she could be linked to your friend Chenle somewhere down the line. It’s safer to spin a little tale.

"Well, he's quite the charmer! I'm sure he’s brought you many joys," she continues, obliviously cheerful, while tension coils tighter in your veins. “It’s a pleasure to have you in the neighborhood! Someone as young and pretty as you would fit right in!” Her compliment catches you off guard, and you feel your cheeks heat slightly at her kind words.

“Thanks!” you reply quickly, hoping to deflect attention from the flush creeping up your face. "I love it here."

She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, about a month ago, this really young CEO moved in just a block down. He's a bit too young for me, but my goodness, he’s quite the sight," she said, laughing heartily as she swatted her hand playfully, as if sharing a scandalous secret.

Rich people thrived on gossip, and you realized you didn't have to say much for her to fill you in on exactly what you wanted to know.

"A man like that has to be tied down, right?" you asked, bending down to pet her dog.

"From what I’ve heard, he lives alone," she said, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "Apparently, he works all the time. Word is, he comes home late every night. My husband says he drives an Aston Martin."

Bingo

"Thanks for the heads-up about the neighborhood hottie, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now," you joked, lightly chuckling to keep the conversation light. Just then, Daegal began to fidget, sensing your restlessness, and you took it as your cue to leave. "I’ll see you around, okay?"

As you walked a block down, your heart raced when you spotted a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a long driveway. The houses in this neighborhood were enormous. Although the properties weren’t far apart; the homes were set back from the road, mostly hidden by towering trees that provided an extra layer of privacy.

A young CEO who lives alone and works late.

You mentally sifted through the details you had gleaned from your earlier conversation. He was the perfect target.

Rich people were easy targets. Their homes, adorned with elaborate security measures, falsely reassured them of safety; all it did was signal that they had something worth taking. The flashy yard signs proclaiming "This home is under surveillance by _" told you their security company, which then told you the equipment they used. It wasn't hard to figure out how to disable it from there.

It had been a week since you first gathered your intel. Through careful observation, you had mapped out a schedule for when the house was empty and discovered how to bypass the alarm system. You’d managed to catch glimpses of the homeowner from a distance. The rumors were true; he carried himself with a confidence that only added to his undeniable charm.

Tonight was the night you would make your move. Clad in a black hoodie and sweatpants, you pull your bag over your shoulder and approach the perimeter of the house. Your heart was racing with adrenaline. You navigated the landscape smoothly, well aware of the blind spots in the security cameras. Timing was critical; every second counted.

You pressed yourself against the side of the window, heart pounding as you carefully peeked through the curtain. The green light on the alarm system by the door confirmed it wasn’t armed. This was a stroke of luck. According to your calculations, he should still be at work, and it appeared he had rushed out without arming the system.

You hesitated briefly, knowing this part was your least favorite. Breaking a window was always an awkward and potentially noisy affair. No matter how silent you tried to be, it was impossible to avoid the sound entirely. Taking a deep breath, you picked up a nearby rock, and with a swift, calculated strike, you shattered the glass.

The clatter echoed in the stillness, sending a surge of adrenaline through your veins, but you quickly reminded yourself to keep moving. You reached inside and unlocked the window, then climbed through carefully, stepping over the brittle shards that crunched beneath your feet as they scattered onto the plush carpet.

You found yourself in an open den, its decor exuding wealth and taste. Valuable paintings adorned the walls—masterpieces, maybe—but nothing small enough to pocket. You needed to keep going, focusing on finding something worthwhile.

Peeking your head out of the room, you scanned the hallway. Silence enveloped the house, amplifying the sound of your racing heartbeat. No sign of any pets, which was a relief. You made your way toward the primary areas, passing under the large winding staircase that commanded attention in the center of the home.

The layout seemed to follow suit with luxury; hallways branched off to what you assumed were the kitchen and living spaces. The primary room was likely upstairs, but there were many drawers and cabinets you could check on this level. Eager to find where the real valuables might be stashed, you decided to take a brief look around before venturing up the staircase. You shuffled quietly down the hall.

You glanced into a few rooms—one vast space was styled as a study, filled with leather-bound books and expensive-looking gadgets. A quick search through the drawers revealed a few electronic devices you could easily pocket. Moving on, you turned towards the kitchen, where gleaming countertops hinted at a lifestyle of lavish dinners and entertaining guests.

You couldn’t imagine why he would ever need a home this large if he lived alone; the sprawling floor plan was almost excessive. Each room you passed seemed to hold its own story, yet they stood untouched, as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. The formal dining room sported an enormous mahogany table, set for a feast that would never happen, and the living room boasted a grand piano that echoed a silent invitation to a party long forgotten. The atmosphere felt eerie, the elaborate decor clashing with the emptiness—like a stage set for a play that had never opened.

Your eyes darted toward the staircase. The rich wooden banister glimmered in the ambient light, inviting you to explore the secrets that lay above. You took a deep breath and ascended carefully. As you reached the landing, you spotted a door at the end of the hallway slightly ajar, the flicker of a light spilling into the dim corridor.

When you enter the room, the sweet aroma of cologne lingered in the air like a ghost, a faint reminder of its owner. The sheer magnitude of the space left you speechless. Adrenaline surged through your veins, propelling you forward to the side tables flanking the expansive bed. There, you quickly spotted a discarded high-end watch, its polished surface glimmering in the light. Alongside it lay a selection of intricate rings, each one whispering tales of luxury and allure.

As you rifled through the drawers, your fingers brushed against something solid—a wallet. You opened it, and your eyes immediately fell on the ID card nestled inside.

Jung Jaehyun 02/14/1997

Beneath the ID, you found a stack of credit cards and a few loose bills, all waiting to be claimed. You quickly slipped the wallet into your pocket. You approached the closet, and a gasp escaped your lips as the sight hit you—it resembled a mini-designer store. Expensive shoes, luxurious clothes, and shimmering jewelry lined the walls and shelves, all begging to be claimed. You wasted no time, swiftly swiping rings, watches, chains, and even a pair of stunning shoes, each item adding to the growing bounty in your backpack.

As you rummaged through the treasures, something caught your eye: a safe tucked behind a row of suits. Intrigued, you pushed the garments aside to inspect the lock. Cracking your neck, you glanced at the time—plenty of hours remained before he would return.

Just then, you heard footsteps outside the closet, and your heart dropped. You instinctively moved to hide behind the rack of suits, heart pounding in your ears.

“What the fuck?” A voice sliced through the silence, unmistakably belonging to the man you had been eyeing all week.

You held your breath, peering through the fabric. The hope flickered that he might just turn away and call the police, giving you a chance to slip out unnoticed. But instead, he stepped further into the closet, and your heart raced as you caught your first glimpse of him up close..

His hair glistened with moisture, and he wore nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still cascading down his skin, the steam from his shower enveloping him like a shroud. You had never seen him this close before, and the image was seared into your memory. He looked as if he had been sculpted from stone by the most masterful artist, every muscle defined, every feature striking.

His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the chaos—the discarded clothes on the floor, the missing racks of jewelry, the disarray of his closet. An annoyed sigh escaped his lips, and just as he seemed ready to turn away and leave, his gaze locked onto your hiding spot.

A jolt of panic shot through you, and you instinctively jumped back, trying to press yourself further into the fabric of the clothes. You held your breath, heart racing, as he took a step closer, eyes narrowing in suspicion. It was a moment of vulnerability and danger, a breathless standoff between the two of you.

Don't get caught

His steps were cautious as he approached, each footfall echoing in the silence of the closet. One hand gripped his towel tightly, clearly trying to maintain his modesty, while the other reached out hesitantly toward the clothes.

If it came to it, you knew you would have to fight him off and make a run for it, but with each passing second, you realized just how difficult that would be. He was built solidly and his height towered over you, casting an imposing shadow.

What if he got his hands on you? The thought sent a wave of dread through you. There would be no escaping him then.

Fuck

In a surge of adrenaline, you dashed out from your hiding spot, heart racing. His eyes widen in surprise as you rush past him, but the exhilaration of your escape was short-lived. Just a few feet away, you felt a sudden tug on your backpack that yanked you backwards.

You hit the floor with a thud, groaning as the impact jolted through you. Before you could recover, you felt a strong grip pinning you down, his hand firm against your shoulders. Panic set in, and you thrashed against his hold, fighting to break free, but he was unyielding.

As your struggle continued, exhaustion began to creep in. The fight drained from you, and you finally stopped, staring up at the man who had you pinned beneath him. His wet hair hung down over you, droplets cascading down onto your face.. His stern eyes bore into yours—there was an intensity that made your breath hitch, a mix of disbelief and something else entirely.

"Let me go!" you demanded, though your voice came out weaker than you intended. If it weren't for the predicament you found yourself in, you would have been unable to stop your wandering eyes. The towel around his waist was precariously close to slipping, a detail that, in ordinary circumstances, might have made you blush. But now, survival instincts prevailed over all else.

“If you try to run, I’ll call the cops,” he said matter-of-factly, and the gravity of his threat sent a chill down your spine.

A beat passed, your heart pounding in your chest, and finally, you nodded, conceding to the reality of the situation. There was no escape now; he had you right where he wanted you.

He released his grip on you and pulled himself off the floor, adjusting his towel. “Back to the closet, now,” he commanded, and you shuffled reluctantly back into the space that had formerly felt enticing but was now suffocating.

As you stepped in, you found yourself standing in front of the center island, where the glimmer of jewels had once laid. He followed you, shutting the door behind him, his body leaning against it like a barrier between you and freedom.

“Is everything you took in that bag?” He asked, his tone even, but there was an undertone of curiosity mixed with authority.

With a heavy heart, you hung your head and nodded, pulling your backpack off your shoulders and placing it on the floor in front of you. You could almost feel the weight of the stolen items pressing down on your conscience. You'd had visions of making thousands selling his valuables, the thrill of your heist driving you forward. But now, in the dim light of the closet, remorse washed over you like a tide.

“I’m really sorry, I—” you started, the words stumbling from your lips. What could you possibly say in a situation like this? Sorry, I almost stole a fortune from you? It felt absurd, but you didn't know how to express the chaos swirling within you.

He moved closer, looming over you as his intent gaze seemed to dissect every part of your being. It sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt small beneath his scrutiny. When he reached down, you thought he was about to pick up his possessions. But instead, he grabbed a discarded pair of sweats, and you felt a rush of a different kind of embarrassment as he stood up straight, his towel dropping to the ground. You instinctively looked away, sparing him what felt like an invasion of privacy.

Once he was dressed, he stepped back out of the closet, leaving you with a mix of relief and confusion. "Straighten this up, then come see me. Bring that bag and everything you tried to take with you," he ordered.

You swallowed hard. “Where are you going? Are you going to call the cops?”

Your mind raced with possibilities—how clever would he be if he made you tidy up while the police were on their way?

“Do as I say and you will have nothing to worry about," he replied, and there was an edge to his voice. "I don't like messes; clean that up before I change my mind."

Frustration mingled with a strange sense of gratitude. You were infuriated that he was ordering you around like a subordinate, yet the alternative—a police record—loomed much larger in your mind. Why wasn’t he calling the cops?

Taking a deep breath, you began to survey the mess you had made in your frantic attempt to bag his stuff.

It took you at least an hour to set everything back in its rightful place. You meticulously reorganized the jewelry, aligning necklaces and bracelets, smoothing over the disarray you'd caused. You busied yourself with invisible tasks afterward, finding solace in the repetitive act of pretending to straighten his shoes for the fifth time. Avoiding the inevitable confrontation with him was becoming a game of denial.

“I know you’re done; come here,” he commanded, and you froze for a moment. Biting your lip to gather your thoughts, you hesitantly grabbed your bag and stepped out into his room. He was seated on the massive California king bed, an imposing figure that radiated a mix of authority and casual dominance. Leaning back against his hands, he looked every bit like a king surveying his domain, and the sight sent a fresh wave of nerves through you.

“I know it probably doesn’t mean anything to you, but again, I’m really sorry,” you said, forcing the words out as you handed him the bag.

He took the bag from your grasp without much acknowledgment, his focus elsewhere. “Sit down,” he instructed.

You shifted uncomfortably, the anxiety bubbling to the surface. What more could he possibly want from you? He had said he would let you go, hadn’t he? “Sit where?” You looked around the spacious room, taking in the lack of chairs or any other furniture that might serve as a place for you to perch.

He finally lifted his gaze, his hair still damp from the shower, falling into his eyes. “Sit on your knees, right there,” he said, pointing to a spot on the floor in front of him.

You bristled at the command, a mix of confusion and indignation flooding through you. Kneeling before him felt like a submission you had not anticipated, and despite the gravity of your earlier actions, you hesitated to comply with his demands.

“I—" you stammered, trying to find the right words, but nothing came out that didn't sound foolish or defiant.

Seeing your hesitation, his expression shifted slightly, a mixture of patience and something else in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. "You can either sit down like I asked, or we can have a much longer discussion about how this is going to go," he suggested, his tone low but firm, setting the stage for whatever decision you had to make next.

Slowly, you lowered yourself onto the floor, feeling the cool surface beneath your knees, and looked up at him, preparing for whatever was to come next.

He reached behind him and pulled out his phone, an unmistakable sense of dread washing over you as he dug into your bag, retrieving the stolen items one by one. Each piece felt like another nail in your coffin.

He was definitely calling the cops TT

But instead of pressing the call button, he seemed to be calculating something. “$532,724,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Your throat tightened at the reality of that number. You were going to jail. Panic bubbled in your chest, and you fought the urge to cry.

He ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident on his face. “Let’s see how well you clean up,” he said, standing up and ushering you back toward the closet with a wave of his hand.

You stared at him, your heart pounding as his eyes scanned the confines of the closet where you'd made sure to return everything to its original place. His expression was unreadable at first, a blank canvas that made fear swirl in your stomach. But then it softened, surprising you further.

“Not bad. What’s your name?” He asked, his tone almost casual.

You swallowed hard before nervously answering, “Y/N.”

“How would you like a job, Y/N?”

Your eyebrows shot up, and your jaw dropped in disbelief. This had to be a sick joke. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m following,” you stammered, incredulous.

“You will work for me to pay off the debt that you owe,” he replied matter-of-factly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Wait, I didn’t actually take anything!” You argued, your mind racing to process his proposal.

“But you tried,” he shrugged, his casual demeanor shifting to something more serious. “It’s about principle. You made a choice, and now you have to make it right.”

“Are you seriously saying I have to work for you to pay off half a million dollars?” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks, a mix of indignation and disbelief gripping you.

“I could always call the police,” he said lightly, but the weight of his words sunk in with more gravity than you expected.

“Whoa now, no one said I wouldn't help,” you laughed nervously, trying to lighten the mood but failing to shake the anxiety coiling within you.

“Great! You start tomorrow. Come in business attire,” he said with a yawn, as if he were sending you off to a regular job rather than a complicated arrangement born out of desperation.

You turned to follow him out, not sure why you're trying so hard to argue him down “Wait, wha—”

Suddenly, a bright flash burst in front of you, and you stumbled backward, temporarily blinded. You blink a few times, trying to regain your bearings. “Ow! What was that for?” you exclaimed, rubbing your eyes.

He smirked as he lowered his phone, the camera still pointed at you. “If you try to run, I’ll post this picture online and tell the world what you’ve done. Then I’ll hand it over to the police so they can track you down.” His gaze was icy as he scrutinized you, taking in every detail. “I have the resources to find you. Don’t make me have to look for you.”

You felt a mix of anger and fear bubble up inside you. “So you’re blackmailing me?” you huff.

“I’m giving you a second chance,” he corrected, his tone slipping back into that unsettling calmness. He stepped closer, grabbing your shoulders with a surprisingly firm grip. “8 a.m. tomorrow. Now get out.”

Before you could respond, he gave you a gentle push by your shoulders, urging you toward the staircase. You stumbled slightly but regained your footing. As you made your way down the stairs and out of his house, Your circumstances settled squarely on your shoulders. He wasn’t just a thief of your freedom; he was now your employer, your keeper—at least for the foreseeable future.

He walked with you to the front door, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. Just as he was about to close the door in your face, he paused and turned back. “How did you get in?” he quirked a brow.

A small, nervous smile crept onto your lips as you fumbled for an explanation. “Uh, I broke a window,” you admitted.

Jaehyun regards you with an unimpressed stare.

“I’ll clean it up tomorrow!” you added, trying to lighten the mood. “Heh… add it to my bill?”

The door slammed shut in your face, the sound echoing in the cool night air. You turned away from the door and took a few steps down the front path, your mind racing.

The situation was certainly absurd.

—

You roll out of bed at 6 a.m. with a groan, the early morning light cutting through your curtains. You’ve never been a morning person, and the thought of facing the day fills you with dread. After washing up, you slip into an outfit that fits the dress code he set for you—a blend of professional and approachable that feels foreign against your skin.

As you glance at your reflection in the mirror, a fleeting thought crosses your mind: what if you just ran away? With the money you’ve saved up, you could leave everything behind and start anew.

Dont make me find you.

His words echo ominously in your head, sending a shiver down your spine. Jaehyun was an enigma; you could hardly wrap your mind around him, but one thing was clear: he had the resources to track you down, wherever you might try to escape.

You gather your things and head out. When you finally arrive and buzz through the gate surrounding his property, it feels surreal to be walking through the front door. Just a day ago, you’d been climbing over his fence and breaking windows—now you were entering as if you belonged.

As Jaehyun lets you inside, you take in the surroundings anew. The sunlight floods the foyer of his mansion, revealing the space you'd barely noticed in your previous haste.

“Stop gawking. I’ll be back down in a bit; I need to finish getting ready. Go clean up the glass you broke,” he commands coldly, his tone leaving no room for argument as he strides back upstairs. His words and the task ahead settle over you as you prepare to face the mess you made, both physically and metaphorically.

“StOp GawKinG….gO CleAn Up thA GlasS,” you mumble under your breath when he’s out of earshot.

You roll your eyes at his cold demeanor, dismissing it as you head toward the den where you had sneaked in during your last visit. Peeking into the room, you’re greeted by a messy carpet littered with shards of glass. At least the window has been boarded up now. As the daylight streams in, you start to appreciate the paintings that line the walls, each one vibrant and expressive in its own right.

One piece catches your attention more than the others—a striking red canvas that emanates an intense energy. The angry strokes twist together in a way that’s both chaotic and mesmerizing, leaving you to ponder what the artist was trying to convey. As you peer closely, you can’t help but notice the name “Jung Jaehyun” inked subtly in one corner. Your gaze travels around the room, noticing the easel and paints tucked away in the corner; it dawns on you that this isn’t just a display but his workspace. The hard wood beneath your feet breaks the carpeted expanse, revealing about a third of the room transformed into an art studio. Impressed by his talent, you find yourself captivated, the earlier tension momentarily forgotten as you admire the skill behind the chaos.

You shake yourself out of the trance, the allure of the art momentarily fading as you remind yourself of your task. You need to find a vacuum and a trash bin—cleaning up that glass is a priority. Determined, you set off through the rest of the house.

You remember stumbling upon the cleaning closet during your earlier escapades, and you make your way back to it. As you wander, a sense of loneliness hangs in the air, and your suspicions about Jaehyun’s solitary lifestyle only deepen. There was no waitstaff, no other residents—just him in this grand mansion.

You finally locate the vacuum in the cleaning closet, and with the trash bin in hand, you retrace your steps back to the art studio. You kneel on the floor, methodically clean up the shards of glass and place the larger pieces into the bin. You finish cleaning just in time for Jaehyun to come back downstairs.

He fixes the cufflinks on his suit before grabbing his keys. “What else should I tidy up for you? Is there a list somewhere?” You ask.

Jaehyun gives you a puzzled look. “You’re coming with me,” he replies.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. “I thought I was…" You trail off.

He lets out a laugh, one that surprises you—it's light and genuine, completely at odds with his usual demeanor. His eyes crinkle up, revealing warm dimples that you find surprisingly charming in that moment. “You thought you were going to be doing housework?”

You roll your eyes. “Well, what else is there for me to do?”

His expression becomes more serious, though the hint of a playful smile still lingers. “I said I had a job for you, and I meant it. Come on.” He opens the door for you, locking the house behind him with a click.

As you both walk toward his car, you can’t help but ask, “Where was your car yesterday?” Strapping yourself in, you feel a mix of bitterness and curiosity about how you ended up getting caught snooping—you really should have paid more attention. If his car had been parked outside, you’d have known he was home.

“It was in the shop,” he replies casually, turning the key in the ignition. “I needed new rims. Have you eaten yet?”

Your stomach growls audibly, and you nod in agreement and Jaehyun stops to get breakfast. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked biscuits fills the car as he orders.

As he goes to pay, you watch him rummage through his pockets, brow furrowing in frustration. It’s then that you feel a pang of guilt. You had meant to return his wallet, found tucked away in your pocket after your first encounter. Nervously, you pull it out and offer it to him, trying to lighten the moment. “Whoops, how’d that get in there?” You joke lightly, but when you glance up, you notice the glare he’s giving you.

“Seriously?” he replies.

You stutter out an apology as you take a cautious bite of your biscuit, almost choking when you see where he’s pulled into next. Your eyes widen as you take in the imposing tall building—it’s sleek and modern, with huge glass windows reflecting the bustling streets of downtown. The heart of the city is alive, and your heart races with both excitement and nerves.

Jaehyun turns to you, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Surprised? I did say I had a job for you.”

“Uh, I thought we were just going to tidy up at home?” you say, trying to mask your nerves.

As you walk through the lobby beside Jaehyun, you can't help but notice the stares that follow you. Heads turn, whispers flit around as employees greet him warmly. "Good morning, Mr. Jung!" They say, beaming at him with admiration. When their gaze finally shifts to you, you catch a mix of confusion and curiosity on their faces. It’s both flattering and mildly embarrassing standing next to someone so well-regarded and polished. You try to maintain your composure, forcing a smile in response, even as you feel a bit out of place.

After navigating through the maze of cubicles and glass-walled offices, you finally enter Jaehyun's office—spacious, elegantly designed, with a view that overlooks the bustling city streets. The decor is smart and sophisticated, reflecting his professional persona. Once the door clicks shut behind you, Jaehyun makes his way over to his desk to settle into for the day.

Jaehyun leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he looks at you with a serious expression. “You’re going to be my secretary,” he states plainly.

Your mouth drops open in surprise. “Wait, what? A secretary?” The idea is almost absurd. “Isn’t that a bit… much? I mean, you do realize I’m not exactly qualified for that, right?”

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Plus, it’ll pay way better than doing house chores.”

With a deep breath, you straighten your posture, letting determination creep in. “Whats there to lose?”

—

Being Jaehyun's secretary meant answering his calls, scheduling meetings, and running errands. Of course you could do those tasks… you just couldn't do them well.

A little desk had been set up in Jaehyun's office, where most of your day-to-day tasks took place. His office boasted expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city. At night, the bustling streets below transformed into a magical landscape, with streetlights, headlights, and stoplights twinkling like stars.

You couldn’t help but blame the close proximity of your workspaces for your increasing difficulty with even the simplest tasks, like getting his coffee order right.

You had brought him his morning coffee, like he asked. You still hadn't gotten used to running his errands in his car. You felt so out of place at the office and the whispers and curious glances from your “coworkers” only heightened your anxiety.

When you finally brought him the morning coffee he had requested, your heart raced with hope for approval. But as he took a sip, his focus remained elsewhere, and he set the cup down without meeting your eyes. “It’s wrong, but you’ll get it right next time,” he said, casually brushing off your mistake. “There's plenty of time for you to improve.”

You bit your lip, anxious to prove that you could handle this role. You didn’t want to be seen as a screw-up, but everything felt overwhelming lately. Jaehyun shoos you away, giving you a task to retrieve printed papers from the printer. Your mind was a flurry of thoughts as you returned, but when you stumbled slightly, you fumbled the stack of papers in your hands.

As the papers fall from your grasp, you accidentally knock over a coffee cup, sending the contents spilling across the desk. The dark liquid splashed over papers, pooling on the surface.

Heart racing, you froze, staring at the mess you had just created. “Oh no!” you exclaimed, scrambling to grab napkins from the nearby drawer, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Just breathe,” he said, reaching over to help you clean up the spill. “How do you call yourself a cat burglar with how clumsy you are?” Jaehyun asked, the bemused look on his face suggesting he genuinely wanted to know.

The napkins did little to absorb the liquid, and you could feel the heat seeping through, burning your fingertips. You let out a small wince, instinctively pulling your hand back. Jaehyun sighed at your reaction, and you flicked your wrist in an attempt to shake off the pain while still trying to contain the mess.

“Just hold on,” you muttered to yourself, picking up his laptop and elevating it to protect it from the potential disaster. The last thing you needed was to add an expensive repair bill to the debt you already owed him.

As you awkwardly juggled multiple items that had once laid neatly on his desk, trying to salvage the situation, you suddenly noticed Jaehyun stand up. He took off his suit jacket and, before you could protest, he used it to mop up the spilled coffee.

You gasped as the coffee splashed onto his jacket, but Jaehyun seemed completely unfazed. With purposeful strides, he walked over to you and gently took the items you were juggling, placing them down safely on a part of his desk that wasn’t sticky. Without a word, he grasped your hands, examining your fingers, which were twitching from the pain and already showing signs of red irritation from the hot liquid.

He blew softly on your fingertips, and for a moment, the world around you faded as you met his gaze. The warmth in his chocolate depths almost pulled you in, but before you could lose yourself in that moment, you quickly pulled away.

“I’ll go grab a towel. That’s going to make the wood sticky,” you stammered, turning quickly to leave, your cheeks burning from the tension that hung between you.

You hurried to the bathroom, running cool water over your fingers to soothe the slight burn. Leaning against the edge of the sink, you took a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. After a moment, you gathered a few items from the cleaning closet, bracing yourself for what lay ahead.

As you walked back, you passed the break room and inadvertently overheard a conversation that made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“She’s probably sleeping with him. Mr. Jung has never taken on a secretary before,” one voice whispered.

“That’s what I heard. Not to mention she’s terrible at her job. She just gets in the way. Last week she accidentally printed 300 copies of a page because she didn’t know to hit the cancel button! We ran out of ink because of her, and now I have to go downstairs for my copies until a new order comes in!” another voice chimed in, laced with irritation.

You bristled at their accusations, knowing they were talking about you. It stung, but you pressed on, scurrying past and heading back to Jaehyun’s office. After giving a soft knock, you stepped inside.

Jaehyun had moved away from his desk, now seated on the couch in the corner of his office. He was typing away on his computer, still nursing the little coffee he had left that you had brought him earlier—a cup you knew he didn’t like, judging by the face he made when he first tasted it. His sleeves were rolled up, the tie discarded on the armrest, and the first button of his shirt was undone.

You tried not to stare, focusing instead on the mess at his desk. Moving over, you began cleaning up the sticky residue left by the spilled coffee.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat. “Is it okay if I drop this off at the cleaners?” you asked, holding up his soiled jacket.

He didn’t look up from his screen, continuing to type away on his computer. “Go ahead, but please be careful,” he replied, pulling his keys from his pocket without sparing you a glance.

“That’s okay; I can just walk. There’s one not too far from here,” you said, attempting to dismiss the need to take his car.

Finally, he looked up at you, his brow slightly furrowed. “You never had a problem with driving my car before. Did something happen?” He asked, setting his laptop aside, his focus entirely on you.

“Well, no, I just don’t want people to get the wrong idea. I mean, I just kinda showed up out of nowhere and suddenly I’m moving into your office and driving your car,” you tried to explain, feeling your anxiety spike. “No one knows why I’m really here, and I can only imagine the types of things people are imagining.”

“What kind of things could they be imagining?” He replied, staring at you blankly.

You laugh at the statement but when you realize he's not being sarcastic, your face drops. You often wonder what kind of person Jaehyun was and what he did for fun. He always seemed to be looking at the world for the first time.

"Well,” you began, gathering your thoughts. “Imagining the types of things I would’ve had to do to get this job,” you said, hoping he would fill in the blanks.

He waited quietly, eyes steady on you, prompting you to continue. “Things like sleeping with you to get this job,” you finally admitted, your heart racing as you vocalized the thought.

Jaehyun's eyes widened, and you noticed his ears reddening, making you wonder if he truly hadn’t known about the whispers circulating around the office. Clearing his throat, he seemed to collect himself.

“You don’t need to worry about things like that,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t want you being gone long. Take the car, and if anyone has something to say, they can come to me about it.”

His gaze was stern, the kind that made you feel as though challenging him would be futile. You could sense the protective edge in his words, and it surprised you. There was a part of you that appreciated his willingness to shield you from the gossip. “Okay, if you insist,” you replied, unable to suppress the small smile tugging at your lips. The gesture felt surprisingly comforting. “I’ll be quick.”

He seemed to relax a little at your compliance, his expression softening. “Thank you. And, uh, drive safely,” he added, almost shyly.

As you walked to the car, you found yourself reflecting on his words. Maybe it was time to focus on proving yourself here, to rise above the whispers and make your mark in the company. Regardless of how you came to be in this position, you were determined to show them—and yourself—that you were worth it.

—

Ever since that day, when you arrived at the office, the halls were silent, and no one stared at you and Jaehyun as you walked side by side.. The building buzzed along like usual. You were relieved. Your shoulders felt lighter in the absence of judgmental glances, and instinctively, you walked a little straighter, head held high, eyes forward rather than downcast.

As you entered Jaehyun's office, you set your things down at the little desk he had allotted for you, diving into your daily routine of answering emails and organizing his meetings. You found your rhythm quickly, the morning shift feeling productive as you ticked off tasks. The sound of your typing filled the room, creating a comforting background noise.

Halfway through the shift, you stretched your arms overhead, stifling a yawn. Out of curiosity, you peeked over at Jaehyun to see how he was faring. He had leaned back in his chair, his neatly combed hair falling over his closed eyes, looking surprisingly peaceful in the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light danced around him, illuminating his desk, and for a moment, you couldn't help but admire how beautiful he looked.

Even after a month of working together, you still didn't know much about Jaehyun's personal life. You had gone over the basics: he lived alone, was single, and kept his family life largely private. Each interaction left you with more questions than answers, and you found yourself scratching your head at the blank spaces in your understanding of him.

You assumed that the high-ranking position had simply been handed down to him—a legacy passed through generations. But you had never heard any whispers about a preceding CEO or what led Jaehyun to take the helm.

Amidst the riddles, the only one you had solved was his coffee order: a no-foam skimmed latte with an extra shot, plus three drip coffees with room for milk. It was a peculiar detail to cling to, yet it felt like a small piece of Jaehyun you could call your own, a little insight he had unknowingly shared during your numerous morning coffee runs.

Your thoughts whirled as you watched him sleep, a wave of warmth washing over you. It was strange how quickly you had grown accustomed to his presence and how much you found yourself wanting to know about the man behind the polished façade. What did he do on weekends? What made him laugh? What were his dreams and aspirations beyond this office?

Suddenly, he’s awake and staring back at you, and you stop smiling, turning to busy yourself. You clear your throat. “You have a meeting at 3 PM,” you mention, making an excuse.

“Thank you,” he responds.

He yawns and cracks his neck before standing from his desk. “We should go grab something to eat before then.”

You don't expect him to take you halfway across town; normally, you just grab him something from the cafe down the street. A bit apprehensive, you worry about making it back on time with the traffic ahead.

Silence engulfs the car as it inches through the congestion. Jaehyun sits relaxed in his seat, his thumb tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel as he looks ahead. You decide to kill the time with some conversation.

“How do you manage living in that large house all by yourself?” you ask, trying to chip away at the silence.

Jaehyun shifts in his seat. “You get used to it, I suppose. It’s peaceful. Quiet.”

“Yeah, but don’t you ever feel lonely? I mean, it’s a huge place. I can’t imagine wandering through all those empty rooms.”

He pauses, eyes still on the road. “Loneliness is…relative. I find solace in my work. It distracts me.”

“But work can only fill so much, right? Everybody needs someone sometimes.”

“Not everyone has someone to lean on, A. Sometimes it’s easier to just…keep to yourself.” Jaehyun looks over.

“I get that. I guess I’ve been on my own for a while too. Never really had a stable family or anything. Just me and the streets.”

“So, what was it like? Living like that?” Jaehyun asks curiously.

“It was tough. You learn to be resourceful and to adapt. But it also gets exhausting.”

You had a rough upbringing; your parents were neglectful, and as soon as you turned 18, they kicked you out. You turned to the streets to get by, making connections with a few questionable figures, but they taught you what you needed to survive. Soon, you were taking care of yourself and hanging out with better crowds.

“Why don’t you talk about your family or friends? It feels like you’ve built up walls—like you’re living in that house, but you’re not really there,” you ask.

Jaehyun takes a deep breath, carefully choosing his words. “It’s complicated. I’ve lost people—friends, family… When you start at the top, it’s hard to trust anyone. Everyone has their own agenda.”

You wince slightly at his words; of course he didn’t open up to you. Trust issues are understandable, especially after you tried to rob him.

“Sometimes, you just have to take a leap of faith and give people a chance. You never know who they might turn out to be,” you suggest gently.

He pauses, letting your words linger in the air, before responding with a nod of acknowledgment. As traffic finally begins to move, you turn to look out the window, watching the world blur by.

Eventually, the car pulls into a cozy little bakery nestled on a side street. The overgrown greenery surrounding it gives the place a charming, almost hidden feel. A LED sign in the window brightens the words “Doughyoungs.” Stepping inside, a small bell chimes, and the delectable aroma of freshly baked bread wraps around you like a warm hug. Your mouth waters as you glance around.

The bakery is empty, but it exudes warmth and invites you further in. The display case is filled with tempting treats: crusty artisan breads, flaky croissants, colorful macarons, decadent cakes, and an assortment of cookies. Your heart feels lighter in this space; it seems like a hidden gem, the kind of place that just might feel like home.

“BE RIGHT WITH YOU!” a voice calls from the back of the shop. A tall man in a flour-dusted apron steps into the front room, wiping his hands on the fabric, a broad smile spreading across his face.

“Oh, Jaehyun! It’s been a while!” He steps closer, his tone filled with a sense of familiarity. “You brought a friend?”

You glance at the man’s name tag—Doyoung. It clicks; he must be the owner of the bakery.

“Yeah, this is my secretary, Y/N,” Jaehyun introduces, gesturing toward you. “And Y/N, this is Doyoung. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“His only friend,” Doyoung corrects with a playful wink before extending his hand toward you. “Nice to meet you!”

The three of you settle down at a small, round table in the corner of “Doughyoung’s,” sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the inviting atmosphere. A warm plate of croissants sits in the center of the table as Doyoung pours steaming cups of coffee for you and Jaehyun.

You reach for a flaky croissant, the buttery aroma enveloping you. You’ve just met Doyoung, but your instant fondness for him grows as he recounts hilarious stories about Jaehyun, leaving you wiping a tear from the corner of your eye at one particularly embarrassing tale.

“How long have you two been friends?” you ask, still chuckling.

“We go way back to college,” Doyoung replies, a reminiscent smile on his face. “We were both fresh out of high school, and honestly, we couldn’t have been more different. He was this focused, ambitious guy trying to conquer the world, while I was just… well, trying to figure things out.”

You nod, picturing the difference between the two of them. “What about you?” Doyoung adds, leaning in with a mischievous glint in his eye. “How did you manage to land such a serious guy as your boss?”

You stuff your mouth with croissants, desperately trying to think of an answer that isn’t a lie.

“Sorry to cut story time short, but I have a meeting at 3,” he says, finishing his coffee and rising to push in his chair. You follow suit, a little relieved that your escape has come so soon. Doyoung was kind and you couldn't bring yourself to lie to him, but you couldn't exactly tell him you had attempted to rob his best friend.

“It was really nice to meet you, Doyoung,” you wave goodbye, offering a genuine smile as you shuffle out after Jaehyun.

Doyoung smiles and waves as you leave, his infectious energy lingering in the air. The drive back is quiet, but this time, the silence feels different—more comfortable. The gentle hum of the engine and the sounds of the outside world fade into the background as you steal glances at Jaehyun, who remains focused on the road ahead.

—

Since you started working with Jaehyun, today was probably the first time that everything seemed to go your way. You even managed to finish your tasks early. As you straighten up your desk, gathering papers and tidying the space, you’re on your way out when he walks in, his expression curious.

“You’re leaving?” he asks, making his way toward his own desk.

“Yeah, I finished up early,” you reply, grabbing your bag. “I was just going to catch the bus home.”

He nods, pausing for a moment. “Did you organize that pile of paperwork I gave you?”

“All organized and labeled,” you confirm, a sense of pride swelling in your chest.

“What about that email I sent you to look over? Did you make sure everything was in order for that conference?”

“Done and scheduled,” you say, feeling accomplished.

Jaehyun looks like he wants to say something more, as if he’s searching for another reason to keep you there. “Well, if you’re finished, we can head out together,” he suggests, beginning to pack his briefcase.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a hint of hesitation in your voice. “If there’s something you need to finish up here, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I can finish it at home,” he replies, already standing and heading toward the door.

You share a brief glance, and there’s something in his demeanor that tells you he genuinely wants your company. You can’t help but smile as you follow him outside.

When you get back to Jaehyun's house, you expect him to finally let you off the hook, but instead, he keeps you around a little longer. He finds minuscule tasks for you to do while he works in his study—organizing his files, dusting the bookshelf, separating his pens by color—anything to keep you in his office with him.

“Jaehyun,” you yawn, stretching your arms overhead. “I’ve done everything! I’ve even organized your books by the Dewey Decimal System. I think it’s time for me to head home.” You really don’t mind Jaehyun’s company at all; in fact, you enjoy being around him. Plus, every task you handle for him counts toward the debt you owe, but it’s getting late, and the last thing you want is for him to fuss about you driving home in the dark.

He glances around the room, searching for another task to assign you, but all he finds is a sigh of resignation. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stay over?” he asks, looking genuinely concerned. “There are plenty of rooms for you. It’s getting late, and you seem really tired. I don’t want you to fall asleep at the wheel.” He closes his laptop, giving you his full attention.

You think it over. Spending a night in his mansion feels like the opportunity of a lifetime. Staying here is akin to a luxury hotel experience. You weigh the pros and cons in your mind, but then a concern arises. “I don’t have any extra clothes,” you say.

“You can wear mine,” Jaehyun offers, and your face heats up at the prospect of slipping into one of his shirts—an oversized garment that would probably swallow you whole.

“I guess that would save me the commute of having to drive back over here in the morning.”

You can’t help but smile back, finding his stubbornness endearing. It’s moments like these that make you realize he might be holding onto you not out of obligation but rather because he enjoys your company. After all, he’s been doing everything in his power to keep you around, perhaps because he is alone most of the time. You’d probably become the closest person to him after Doyoung.

"Well, if that's all, I'm going to go get in the shower,” you say.

“Ill meet you upstairs, I just want to finish this up,” he says

You head upstairs, navigating your way to Jaehyun's room with an ease that comes from having spent so much time in his space. You step into the bathroom connected to his room and turn on the shower, relishing the luxurious feel of the gold dual heads—it’s almost like being in a spa.

As the warm water envelops you, the stresses of the day wash away. The towels are fresh and warm as you step out, feeling utterly pampered. You can't help but marvel at the abundance of skincare products lined up on the counter, likely a key contributor to Jaehyun's flawless complexion. After cleansing your face and brushing your teeth with an unopened toothbrush you found in his bathroom pantry.

Peeking your head out of the bathroom door, you confirm that the coast is clear. With nothing but your towel wrapped around you, you make your way toward his closet. As you rummage through his clothes, memories flood back to the first time you were here—a completely different feeling, one of nerves and uncertainty. Little did you know that you’d be invited back as a guest, spending the night in his company.

Finally, you find a large shirt that looks incredibly comfortable and toss it over your head. Pairing it with some pajama pants that are a bit loose around your hips, you tie them with the strings, feeling cozy and at ease.

With a determined smile, you head back downstairs, wanting to say goodnight to Jaehyun. As you enter his study, though, you find him fast asleep, his head resting on a pile of documents. His hair is pushed back by a pair of glasses you haven't seen before, and you can't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. You never realized how taxing it must be for him to carry the weight of the company on his shoulders.

Gently, you shake him awake. “Jaehyun, come on, let’s go to sleep,” you whisper softly.

His eyes open slowly, taking a moment to adjust as he rubs them and slides his glasses back on. Confusion flits across his face before recognition sets in, and he begins to put his things away, a little disorientedly, but it makes you chuckle lightly.

You watch him for a moment, your heart swelling with fondness. You wish you could do something to help him relax—an idea pops into your mind. “I’ll meet you upstairs, okay?” you say before darting back up the stairs.

You run a warm bath; you make sure to adjust the water to just the right temperature. Bubbles foam up and you lay out his clothes neatly on the counter—a clean, comfy t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, paired with some fresh socks. The soft tune playing from a speaker fills the air, adding to the calming ambiance.

You hear the heavy footsteps of Jaehyun making their way up the stairs, and you work quickly, eager to ensure everything is perfect for him. When the door finally opens, he lumbers into the room, flopping onto the bed still clad in his work clothes.

“Come on, I ran you a bath,” you coax, gently taking off his glasses and tugging him up from the bed. His eyes are still closed, but he doesn’t resist, letting you guide him toward the bathroom.

“Your clothes are right here,” you say, pointing out the set you prepared for him. “Just let me know if you need anything.”

As you start to step away, eager to give him some privacy, he unexpectedly grabs your wrist. His grip is gentle yet firm, and he turns you back to face him. The air is thick with tension as he pushes you up against the sink.

“Help me undress,” he says sleepily, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes—a sight that makes your heart race. You’re practically chest to chest, and the proximity sends a rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Your face heats up and you find yourself a stuttering mess. Jaehyun seems to realize what his words imply “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m saying,” he fumbles, suddenly a little more awake. “Excuse me, I’m just really tired.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” you reassure him quickly, your cheeks ablaze. “I want to help you relax. I can do that.”

He looks down at you, and you briefly meet his gaze before you shyly avert your eyes. As your hands shake, you manage to unbutton his shirt one by one, the fabric parting to reveal flawless skin beneath. He stands there, shirt completely undone, his gaze holding a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, and you find yourself captivated by his happy trail, your knees feeling weak beneath you. Jaehyun’s hands gracefully move to his belt, taking charge of the moment. You watch, entranced, as he slowly removes it, each movement deliberate and inviting. Your heart races in your chest, a frantic drumbeat that drowns out the soft music still playing in the background. You could practically feel the air thickening between you—a magnetic pull that makes you want to fall to your knees for him—to surrender.

His belt clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the quiet bathroom, but then a hand catches under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. You’re drawn into the depths of his eyes, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off him. “I’ve got it from here, thank you,” he says, his voice low and confident.

Reality crashes over you like a wave, pulling you back with a jolt. You process the situation: Jaehyun standing before you, his pants hanging loosely around his waist, his shirt sliding from his shoulders. Heat floods your cheeks.

In a rush, you scramble out of the bathroom, the words tumbling from your lips in a hurried mess. “R—right, I’ll be in the room across the hall. Good night, Jaehyun!” You don’t dare look back, your heart racing as you leave the bathroom, and you swear you hear a deep chuckle escape him, warm and teasing.

You slip into the bedroom across the hall, the plush bed feeling foreign and oddly comforting at the same time. You let out a heavy sigh, shaking off the feelings that swirled between you two.

The silence of the house wraps around you. It’s an odd comfort, yet it amplifies the sense of isolation that looms over you. You stare at the clock on the nightstand, ticking slowly towards the early hours of the morning. You toss and turn under the covers, unable to settle. Thoughts of Jaehyun haunt you—thoughts of the way he looked, the way he made you feel—the anticipation, the nervousness. You cover your face with the pillow in an attempt to silence your racing thoughts.

Suddenly, a soft but loud crash reverberates through the house, breaking the stillness. You sit upright, heart pounding in your chest. A sense of dread settles in as you carve your way through the shadows, crossing the hall to Jaehyun’s room.

“Jaehyun?” You call softly, knocking gently on the door, but it creaks open at your touch, revealing a scene that makes your breath hitch. Jaehyun is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking disheveled; his face pales from what you can only assume was a nightmare. There’s sweat glistening on his forehead, and you can see the stark tension in his shoulders.

“Hey, what happened?” You take a step in, closing the door behind you.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “I just—I had a nightmare. It’s nothing.” He waves you off, but you can see the unsteadiness in his demeanor.

“No, it’s not nothing,” you assert, walking closer. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. You can talk to me.”

His eyes meet yours—a fleeting vulnerability. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you say softly.

“I dreamed about… losing my family. It’s a nightmare I’ve had more times than I can count.” He lifts his gaze to meet yours, and you can see the pain that runs deep.

You quietly urge him on, your heart thrumming within your chest. “What happened?”

He swallows hard before continuing. “I used to live here, in this house, with my family. It was our summar home. Life was chaotic but… it was fun. My parents were always busy with the company, but they made time for us. Then…it just all fell apart.”

You can hear the tremor in his voice, the unsteady strength behind each word. “There was an accident,” he finally admits, his brow furrowing as if the very thought is a wound that never heals. “A car crash that took them away from me in an instant. I inherited everything. This houses the company and the money. Sometimes I feel like an imposter, like I’m not good enough for all of this. It helps that there are fewer memories here. Its emptier.”

Your heart aches for him, the stark reality of his loss weighing heavily in the air. “I’m so sorry, Jaehyun,” you whisper, feeling a surge of compassion for the boy he once was. You couldn't imagine how alone he felt. The weight of an entire company thrust upon him at such a young age. You understand why he found it hard to let people in.

“It’s been years,” he continues, “but every now and then, I wake up in a cold sweat, feeling their absence like it was yesterday. Sometimes Its so bad I won't sleep at all.”

You step closer and sit beside him on the bed, your heart aching to comfort him. “You don’t have to carry this by yourself. It’s okay to talk about it. It’s okay to feel. You deserve to express that pain instead of bottling it up.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of your own past pressing against your chest. It feels only right to share your truth with Jaehyun now that he’s opened up about his own pain. “I get it, you know—feeling like you’re not enough. I felt that way growing up too,” you begin, your voice steady yet soft as you look into his eyes. “I didn’t have the stability of a family like yours. My parents were often absent, lost in their own world, and I was left to navigate everything on my own. I longed for connection.”

You pause, letting your words sink in. A part of you feels apprehensive, but telling your story also feels liberating. “I did meet some friends along the way. They were a bit snobby, but I loved them. They were everything I wanted to be—popular, carefree, surrounded by laughter. I wanted to fit in so badly that I was willing to do just about anything to be part of their world.”

Jaehyun nods, his gaze understanding as he absorbs your story. You take another breath, your heart racing slightly as you reveal more of your past. “I started to steal. Not just to survive, because there were times when I truly needed food, but mostly to impress them. To show them I could be just as cool, just as daring. Those friends were all I had, and I felt like I was grasping at straws. I never wanted to feel alone again.”

As you speak, you can see the pain in Jaehyun's eyes—he understands the need to connect, the lengths people go to feel accepted. “Most of the time, I felt like a fraud. Like I was pretending to be something I’m not. Their world wasn’t mine, but it was better than being alone. I guess in some way, I thought being with them would fill the emptiness, but it never did.”

“I know what it feels like to wear a mask,” he says, his tone gentle yet earnest. “It’s exhausting isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you reply, a small but relieved smile creeping onto your face. “But sharing it feels freeing. I think that’s why I wanted to tell you. Seeing you so vulnerable made me realize that maybe it’s okay to let myself be seen, too.”

Jaehyun reaches out, tentatively placing his hand over yours. It’s a small gesture, but it ignites warmth where your hands connect, sending a comforting pulse between you.

But just as the moment deepens, a loud crack of thunder rumbles outside, reverberating through the walls, making the lights flicker. A flash of lightning illuminates Jaehyun’s startled expression, momentarily freezing both of you in place until you’re instinctively drawn closer. A storm rages outside.

“Let’s… let’s just stay like this, okay?” You murmur, catching his gaze before looking down at your joined hands. “Just for tonight.”

He nods slowly, the tension shifting into something more profound. You slide under the covers beside him, and even though there’s a noticeable space between you, his warmth envelops you. The moment sinks into something intimate, something that goes beyond the mere physical closeness or the warmth of shared body heat.

— Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you hesitate before answering an unknown number. But curiosity compels you to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Where have you been?” The voice on the other end drips with annoyance. Taeyong. Just hearing him makes your stomach churn. It's a voice you've been avoiding, one you hoped you'd never have to hear again. It reminds you too much of the past your trying to forget.

You bite your lip, your gaze flickering nervously around the bustling cafeteria. It’s lunchtime, and the air buzzes with chatter as people gather at tables. Jaehyun is tied up in a meeting, leaving you surrounded by a few friends who have become a surprising source of comfort. You've been at the company long enough now that the initial gossip has faded, allowing you to forge genuine connections beyond just your complicated relationship with Jaehyun.

You cover your phone as you pull it down from your ear and mouth a quick sorry to your friends as you make your way somewhere else secluded.

“Sorry, you caught me at a bad time,” you murmur, moving away to a quieter corner.

“A bad time? You've been ghosting us for weeks! We have a big job lined up and need you back,” he says, impatience slicing through his tone.

“I told you, I’m not doing that anymore. I’m in a good place. I can’t mess this up,” you reply, your frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

He scoffs, a sound that irritates you more than it should. “You think you can just bail on us? When we had your back when no one else did?”

His words resonate, stirring unwanted memories. They taught you everything you know about survival.

“Without us, you’d be scraping by,” he adds with a cocky lilt that grates your nerves.

“What do you need me for?” You huff.

“A quick job. In and out. Johnny’s got his eyes on this jewelry store. Thinks it’ll impress some girl he’s crushing on,” he explains, the casual tone in his voice only making you more uneasy.

“A jewelry store? Are you serious? You know that’s risky,” you almost yell before you remember where you are.

“Yeah, well, the guy’s moving across the globe. Apparently, his heart is in Vegas or something. Listen, you owe us. Let’s call this your last job before Johnny bails.” He says.

You pause, weighing your options. You knew how persistent these guys could get and you didn’t need them digging too deep into what you’ve been up to. If they found out about Jaehyun, your not sure what they would scheme.

“If I do this, you lose my number. Don’t ever contact me again. I appreciate everything you guys did for me, but I’m trying to move on.” Your voice is firm.

“Great to have you back, princess. I’ll send over the details,” he says before hanging up.

Your hands were shaking and you could feel your throat close up as tears began to well in your eyes. You wanted to cry. You lean against a wall, trying to calm your breathing.

You could always ask Jaehyun for the money; whatever Johnny was looking to score from the jewelry store, Jaehyun could match it; the only issue is you already owe him enough and Taeyong would definitely ask you where you got such a large sum of money.

You could not get Jaehyun involved. You didn't want him mixed up in any of this. This was your problem, your past, that you had to fix.

You tilt your head back, trying to will the tears away. If Jaehyun found out—Jaehyun couldn't find out.

You try to act normal when you head back up to Jaehyun's office. You bury yourself in paperwork and emails as an excuse for how unnaturally quiet you were today. You couldn't avoid him all day, though.

“How was lunch” he asks after returning from his meeting.

You don't turn to acknowledge him; instead, you give him a “it was good” before returning to your work. He doesn't comment on how quiet you have been but you definitely see it in his eyes that he wants to. He walks to his desk without another word. He knows when to give you space and probably figured now was one of those times.

—

You were making mistakes again. The chaos of the office felt louder than ever as you stumbled through the busy halls, your arms full of files that seemed to have a mind of their own. Papers slipped from your grasp, fluttering to the ground like fallen leaves as you scrambled to collect them, heart racing as you barely managed to avoid having someone step on the important documents.

The printer was your sworn enemy today; it jammed at the worst possible moment, leaving you flustered and anxiously trying to free the stuck sheets while praying no one noticed your struggle. You were constantly tripping over your own feet, rushing back and forth, trying to juggle tasks that felt increasingly overwhelming.

Jaehyun's eyes lingered on you longer than usual, suspicion bubbling just beneath the surface. He could let a few things slide, but it was clear he was picking up on the fact that something wasn’t right.

Finally, you excused yourself, heart pounding as you left for the bathroom. Clutching your phone tightly, it buzzed with a message that made your stomach drop. You glanced down and read:

[Meet us at xxx on Sunday at 3 AM].

This was it—tonight would be the night.

You quickly composed a response, your fingers trembling slightly as you typed. As you headed back to the office, you tried to shake off the brewing anxiety. With every step, you reminded yourself that soon, after tonight, you wouldn’t have to hide anything else from Jaehyun. After tonight, everything could go back to normal.

You had packed a small duffel bag. Its contents reminded you of the significance of the night ahead. Dressed in all black, you made your way to Taeyong's place, the night air cool against your skin. As you arrived, the tension in your stomach twisted tighter when you saw Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta waiting for you.

“Hey.” you greeted, trying to sound more confident than you felt. You joined them, your heartbeat thumping in your ears as you went over the plan, going through every detail. The stakes were high; robbing businesses was far more complex than the petty house break-ins of the past. There was far more security to navigate this time, and your palms began to sweat at the thought of what would happen if you got caught.

“Stop overthinking it,” Johnny said, flashing you a reassuring smile as he finished loading the last item into the car. “It’s gonna be just like old times.”

You rolled your eyes. “This is the last time,” you declared, shooting a look at the back of Taeyong's head as he settled into the driver’s seat but you couldn’t stop the thrill that snuck into your heart. There was a small part of you that loved this thrill, loved the challenge that the night would bring

Johnny slid into the passenger seat, and Yuta hopped in beside you in the back. “I understand if you don’t want to steal, but we’re still family,” Yuta said, his voice calm and steady. “Don’t forget that, no matter what happens.

Your heart clenches painfully in your chest, a storm of emotions battling within you. You knew you were being cold towards them, shutting off parts of yourself that had always been open to them. They were your everything before Jaehyun came into your life, your partners in crime and laughter, and now you felt sickness coil in your stomach at the thought of discarding them for something that might not even last.

You bit back tears, feeling the sharp sting of regret and longing. One part of you mourned the life you were desperately trying to hold onto—the stability, the calm, everything that came with Jaehyun. The other half grieved for the carefree moments you’d shared with Taeyong, Johnny, and Yuta and for the friendships that felt more like family than anything else.

“I’m going to miss you guys,” you finally managed to say, your voice wavering as you fought to steady it. “Let this be it for all of us.” Your words hung in the air.

“Y/N…” Yuta began, an understanding between all of you that couldn’t be voiced.

“Please,” you interrupted softly, desperation coloring your tone as you looked from one familiar face to the other. “I don’t want anything happening to you guys.”

Silence settled in the car. No one answered you; there were no reassurances to offer, no words that could change the precarious situation you were all in. They couldn’t up and leave this life and you knew it.

As Taeyong turned the key in the ignition, the engine rumbled to life, breaking the stillness. You glanced out the window, taking in the familiar streets you had navigated countless times, the memories flooding back.

—

The blaring alarms pierced the night like a siren's wail as you moved to grab one more bag full of jewelry. Every clang of metal against metal made your stomach churn. Your hands were shaking, and as you tossed another bag over to Yuta, you felt a sense of disgust washing over you. How had it come to this? You stuffed your feelings deep down and concentrated on the task at hand—the only thing you could control. Yuta caught the bag and hurried it to the car, urgency fueling every movement.

Then came the wailing of sirens that sent a jolt of panic through your body. The familiar blue and red lights flickered on the walls of the alley as they crept closer, and your heart raced faster.

“Out now! GO!” Taeyong shouted, urgency slicing through the chaos. You hurled yourself into the car just as the engine roared to life, Taeyong hitting the gas pedal with a force that slammed you back against the seat. Your head twisted around, searching for any sign of the approaching police cars. Relief washed over you when you didn’t see their flashing lights right behind you—yet.

Then, terror gripped you as a police car roared around the corner, lights ablaze, barreling towards you.

“We’re not going to make it!” You cried out, panic rising in your chest like bile.

“Shut up! Let me think!” Taeyong snapped back, his voice sharp and focused.

With skill, he made a sharp left turn and then another, weaving through the streets as your heart thundered in your ears. The fear began to lift, the thrill of escape practically intoxicating, until the dreaded sight of the police car revealed itself again, like a predator stalking prey.

He maneuvered the car swiftly into a dark alleyway, the bright streetlights fading behind you, swallowed by the inky shadows of the narrow passage.

“Get out!” Taeyong shouted suddenly, and you whipped your head around to look at him, wide-eyed, disbelief painted across your face.

“Are you crazy?” you exclaimed, your pulse racing even faster. The alleyway loomed dark and empty beyond the car.

“What are you—” Yuta started to say, confusion evident in his voice.

“I’ll lead them away; just go!” Taeyong insisted, urgency etched deep into his words. “We don’t have time!”

You knew if he was caught, he would never snitch—Taeyong was loyal, he would take the fall for you without a second thought. But the prospect of him behind bars was more upsetting than you'd ever anticipated.

“That wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” you murmured, helpless, as Johnny dragged you along through the darkness. You struggled to comprehend what was happening through the haze of tears obscuring your vision. Out of instinct, you pulled off your mask and dark jacket, tossing them into a nearby trash bin.

With your heads down, you walked in silence, the distant sirens haunting the air. It wasn’t long until Kun, Yuta’s friend, pulled up to a nearby park to pick you all up.

You didn't go home that night. Instead, you ended up at Chenle's place. He didn’t ask any questions when he saw your tear-stained cheeks; he simply pulled you inside and set about making some tea to soothe your frayed nerves. Chenle was always the one who understood you the most.

Tonight, the weight of secrets felt heavier than ever. You couldn’t keep it all inside any longer. As you sank onto his couch, the dam broke, and you began to tell Chenle everything—from the very beginning to the events of the night. Sobs wracked your body as you relayed the tale, the guilt and shame spilling out with each word.

You were a liar, a thief, a fake.

Chenle sat in silence for a moment, absorbing your confession. He let out a heavy sigh and rose from his seat, your teary eyes tracking him as he rummaged through his cupboard.

“We’re gonna need something stronger than tea tonight,” he said, pouring you a shot.

—

When you wake up the next day, a piercing headache pounds through your skull. You had fallen asleep on Chenle’s couch. Blinking against the sunlight filtering in, you glance around the large living space and spot Chenle sprawled on the other end of the couch, still blissfully asleep.

Rummaging around the couch cushions, your fingers finally brush against your phone. You remember that you powered it down last night, a decision made during the chaos of emotions. You turn it back on, the screen lighting up and revealing a barrage of messages.

YUTA [taeyong got away last night] [Just keep your head down and we should be fine]

JOHNNY [TY PULLED THROUGH LET'S GO!]

You can’t help but roll your eyes at that. “Selfish bastard.” you think, feeling a stir of resentment alongside the relief.

JAEHYUN [are you coming into work today?] [are you hurt?] [if your sick i can bring you something] [call me when you can]

You wince at the notification count—Jaehyun had called you at least five times this morning

Just then, Daegal, Chenle’s dog, leaps onto the couch, nudging your leg. Chenle stirs awake, cracking an eye open, squinting against the bright light that seeps into the living room.

“Taeyong was able to get away somehow,” you inform him quietly.

“Don’t know whether I should be happy or upset about that,” he replies, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I’m sorry about lying, and I’m sorry for bothering you, but this was the only place I knew to come.” You let out a heavy sigh, tossing your phone down on the coffee table.

“If it makes you feel better, I’m not upset that you lied,” Chenle says, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I understand what you were going through, and if that’s how you made ends meet, I won’t judge you for it.” He stretches and yawns, then narrows his eyes playfully at you. “What I am mad about is the fact that you’ve been seeing a hot CEO and didn’t tell me about it!”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his playful reprimand. At least you wouldn’t lose your best friend. You crawl toward him on the couch and envelop him in a warm hug. “I love you,” you smother him with affection.

You sit across the table from Chenle, a steaming plate of breakfast in front of you. As you tell him everything about your relationship with Jaehyun—the sweet moments, the little things that made you blush—it feels like a breath of fresh air. It takes you back to those late-night gossip sessions in high school, a sense of comfort washing over you. For that brief moment, you felt like yourself again, like the world around you wasn't being held together by a single string.

But soon reality creeps back in. You check the time and realize you can’t put off Jaehyun's calls any longer.

[im ok]

[where have you been?]

[Can we meet?]

[i can meet you at home]

Your heart clenches at the word ‘home.’ You aren’t sure when you two became this close, but the thought of lying to Jaehyun anymore feels unbearable.

As you approach the house, a heavy silence envelops you. It’s eerily quiet; the only sound is the faint shuffle of papers filtering in from Jaehyun’s study. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation ahead.

You clear your throat, your voice slightly shaky. “Hey,” you announce, trying to keep your tone steady.

Jaehyun looks up, his expression distant and unreadable. “Where have you been?” he asks, setting aside the documents that had consumed his attention. Frustration flickers across his face as he stands and closes the distance between you. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, the muscles evident even beneath the wrinkled fabric of his work clothes, a testament to the long day he’s had.

He leans back slightly against his desk, exuding a mix of authority and weariness. His glasses sit low on the bridge of his nose, casting a shadow over his eyes and intensifying his gaze as he studies you, waiting for an answer that feels heavy in the air

“I was at a friend’s,” you reply, your words catching slightly in your throat.

“Why weren’t you answering my calls? What’s been going on with you lately?” His voice is firm, perhaps too firm, sounding too much like your boss, and you can feel your irritation simmer.

“It won’t happen again. I’ve just been taking care of some business,” you mumble, but it feels inadequate.

“You need to let me know if you’re not going to show up!” he says, and you can see the frustration etching lines across his forehead. But beneath that, there’s something else—something more worried.

“Is this all I am to you? Just another one of your employees you have to keep track of,” you challenge, the heat of your annoyance flaring. “I’m sorry I didn’t show up to work, Mr. Jung!” You spit his name like it’s a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Don't do that. I was worried about you!” He snaps back, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and concern.

“I just needed some time!” You fire back, defending yourself but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Time for what? I’ve been giving you time! Time to text, time to leave, time to make calls to whoever it is you’ve been talking to,” he replies, the edge in his voice sharpening with jealousy.

“Why do you even care who I talk to?”

His lips are on yours in an instant and he kisses you for the first time. You can feel his anger, frustration, and annoyance at you through the way he kisses you. It was as though the heavens had opened and a lightning strike had struck you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. The kiss was electrifying, sending waves of warmth cascading down your spine, and you felt as if your lips were two magnets with an irresistible force drawing them together. The kiss is harsh, and your teeth clink together as you kiss him back with just as much heat. Everything that had been boiling within you—the frustration, fear, and anxiety—pours out as you let it all go. Your fingers pull at his hair, and you bite at his lips. His hands grip your hips roughly, like he's barely holding himself back from breaking you. He pulls you against him, and you can feel him hard through his slacks.

The tension in the room was high, and when it snapped, it was like the barriers that you both worked hard to keep up around each other had fallen.

He switches positions with you, pushing you up against his desk as he kisses down your neck. You have half the mind to be mindful of the things that litter his desk, trying not to knock anything over as his hands explore your body. He senses your hesitation and clears his desk with a swipe of his arm, not breaking the kiss in his haste. You moan into his mouth as he lays you down flat against his desk.

“Who have you been texting?” he asks, his chest heaving. You knew it must have been eating him up over the past few days.

“It was no one. I’ll explain later, just don’t stop,” you whine and pull him back to your lips.

Your fingers start working at the pesky buttons of his shirt. You try to work them one by one, but only get half way before you give up. You slide the fabric half way down his shoulders.

You run your hands down his back, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your palms. His hands move to your shirt, pulling it over your head with ease. His lips trail kisses down your collarbone, causing you to arch your back involuntarily. He pulls your bra open, the fabric falling away to reveal your breasts. His mouth descends on one nipple, his tongue flicking against the sensitive nub as his hand cups the other breast, squeezing gently. His tongue circles your nipple, teasing and tormenting until you’re practically begging for release. His hand slides lower, slipping beneath the waistband of your sweats. His thick fingers pinch and tug at your clit, rubbing it in tight circles that elicit moans from your lips. You’re soaking wet, and it’s not hard for him to slip his fingers inside your tight pussy.

Your eyes meet his, and his pupils are dilated, like he’s lost in pleasing you. His fingers pump into you at a steady pace, and your thighs spread wide for him, giving him complete access to you. His hand presses against your abdomen as he curls his fingers inside you. He wants you to feel it.

“Say you’re mine,” he commands. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” your voice trembles, and you can feel your stomach clench with how close you are. Your back arches as you squirm under his ministrations. He leans down and attaches his mouth to your clit as he fingers you, and that’s all you need before you’re cumming all over his fingers. He continues to suck and lick at you until you’re pushing at his head to stop.

Once you have caught your breath, you pull your clothes back on as a heavy silence engulfs the room. You know you need to tell him the truth. You need to tell him what happened.

“I robbed a jewelry store.” You say as he helps you down from his desk.

He freezes, eyes widening in disbelief. “You did what?”

“There’s nothing to worry about! It’s over, okay? I just didn’t want to lie to you anymore,” you say defensively.

“Are you serious? What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into this! It was my past that got me here. I can’t rely on you to fix everything for me,” you explain.

“But you were the one who taught me not to bear it all alone!” he counters, hurt flashing in his eyes.

“Not this Jae, I couldn't drag you into this. I care about you way too much”

“And you think I don’t care about you? You throw yourself into trouble like it’s nothing, and you want me to just forget it? Tell me what really happened.” His gaze is piercing, demanding honesty.

You tell him everything.

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment. “I didn’t want our lives to cross paths like this. I thought I could leave that stuff behind but they kept reaching out. It was just one last job, and I thought I could handle it.”

“You should have told me. I could have helped,” he says, brow crinkling in frustration.

“I was scared,” you admit, stepping closer to him. “Scared that getting you involved would get you hurt.”

Jaehyun sighs deeply, processing what you’ve just shared. “No more secrets, okay? You need to promise me that.”

—

The way your life had fallen into rhythm with Jaehyuns was scary; you couldn’t help but worry about what would happen when this arrangement finally came to an end. You found yourself practically living in his home, spending almost every day together. You cherished the moments you shared working side by side. Each laugh, each quiet evening, felt like a treasure you never wanted to lose. Still, you understood that, like everything else, even the best things must eventually come to an end. You just hoped that day would remain far off.

Unfortunately, today was that day. After the countless hours you’d spent with Jaehyun, both on and off the clock, you had officially repaid your debt. Of course, your coworkers gathered around the dinner table at the prestigious restaurant had no idea. They believed you were simply celebrating your one-year anniversary. You forced a smile; would they still see it as a celebration if they knew the full story behind your relationship with Jaehyun?

The atmosphere in the restaurant was a blur of laughter, clinking glasses, and the delicious aroma of carefully prepared dishes. As the celebrations for your one-year anniversary at the company unfolded around you, a wave of anxiety gnawed at your insides. You had worked hard for this moment, but all you could think about was what came next. You glanced down the table, where Jaehyun sat, a warm smile plastered on his face as he engaged in conversation with your coworkers, but he hadn’t looked your way once.

It was a stark contrast to the intimacy that you two shared. He didn’t bring up that night. He didn't bring up how he made you promise that you were his. For awhile, you thought you had just imagined it all but you could feel the shift in your dynamic. His touches lingering a little longer and the way his eyes wandered to you when he thought you weren't looking.

You find yourself looking back on your relationship with Jaehyun. Surprisingly, Jaehyun wasn’t the cold, distant person you first encountered; now, he trailed after you like a loyal puppy, and there was something sweetly comforting in the role reversal. You remembered how he had seemed so vast and imposing on your first day at the company, while you had followed him around like a lost puppy trying to match his stride. Now, as you walked through the hallways with your head held high, Jaehyun was the one keeping pace behind you, as if he feared losing you.

But as you looked at him now, across the expanse of the table, he felt miles away. The realization that the debt you owed him was fully paid loomed over you, casting a shadow that threatened to eclipse the joy of the evening. What would happen after tonight? How would your relationship change? You couldn’t shake the nagging fear that everything you had built together might soon unravel.

The cake arrived, beautifully adorned and lit with candles, drawing enthusiastic cheers from your coworkers. Jaehyun raised a glass to toast the moment, and when he glanced around, his eyes skated over you without recognition. You blinked, a pang of hurt lacing through you as the reality of it all settled in.

After the dinner wound down and laughter faded into the background, Jaehyun drove you back home—well, to his house. The silence hung between you like a tightrope, and it was nearly suffocating. Once inside the house, the familiar warmth enveloped you.

Finally, unable to contain your feelings, you broke the silence. “Jaehyun,” you started, your voice trembling slightly. “Why have you been so quiet tonight?”

He paused, fingers brushing through his hair as he leaned against the kitchen counter. The flickering light above cast shadows across his face, making it difficult to read his expression. “I—” he hesitated, eyes dropping to the floor, “I know your probably getting ready to leave since the debt is paid and I guess I was just preparing myself for that”

Your heart raced. “Is that why you haven’t brought up that night in your office?”

"I just didn’t want to grow more attached than I already am. I thought if I could pretend that night never happened, it would hurt less when you left.” He takes a deep breath as he searches your face for the right words to say. “I want you to stay with me. I know you’ve paid me back for everything… but I need you to understand that I want you in my life for reasons that go far beyond debt.” He took a breath, as if gathering the courage to continue. “I care about you. More than you know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jaehyun. I'm not going anywhere you don’t want me to,” you say, stepping closer to him and cupping his face.

Jaehyun reached up, touching the hand that was caressing his face. “Then let’s stop pretending that all this is just transactional. I want something real.” The sincerity in his gaze melted your worries away, replacing them with something brighter, something full of possibility.

When he leans down to kiss you, your fingers caress his cheeks, memorizing the contours as you breathe in the essence of him. His hands roamed over your hips, exploring with an urgency that both thrilled and comforted you. The way they eventually tangled into your hair was possessive, a silent promise that he wasn't going to let you go.

Your bodies pressed together tightly and with every passing second, the kiss grew hotter, needier, and wetter as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. You panted softly, surrendering to him, allowing him to take over completely, losing yourself in him.

As the fervor of the moment intensified, you felt his hands traveling back down to your hips. Before you could process what was happening, you found yourself being lifted off your feet. Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his waist, anchoring yourself as he backed you up against a nearby wall. The cool surface contrasted sharply with the heat radiating between your bodies.

The makeout session became heavier and more desperate as passion consumed you both. Each kiss felt like a promise, filled with hunger and longing, as if you were trying to convey everything that words could never fully express. Finally, as your lungs burn for air, you part, a thin string of saliva connecting you.

The way he looked at you suggested a man starved—and that only fueled your desire to explore him further. As his hips rocked against yours, a low moan escaped your lips, the friction backing your toes curl. You welcomed his touch and his kisses but you wanted more. You wanted to take your time, savoring each curve and contour of each other’s bodies.

His face nestled in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shivers racing down your spine. A dampness was forming in your panties, an exhilarating rush that clouded your thoughts. Gathering the courage, you gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to break the spell that enveloped you both.

He lifted his head, planting soft kisses along your neck, climbing up to press a tender peck against your lips. He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes holding a raw sincerity that made you forget the world around you. “Should we stop?” he murmured, his voice low and earnest.

“It’s not that,” you replied, your breath coming in soft gasps as you regained your composure. “I just want to move to the bedroom.”

You expected him to set you down for a moment, but instead a gasp slipped from your lips as he tightened his grip. He effortlessly began to ascend the opulent winding staircase. The walls were adorned with portraits, their painted eyes following your every movement, as if they were witnesses to this unfolding moment. Rich mahogany railings glimmered under the soft light of the chandelier.

You felt like a princess from a fairytale, swept away on a wave of romance and fantasy as he carried you up the staircase. Yet, amidst the enchantment, a small knot of doubt tightened in your chest—a complicated mix of guilt and disbelief. You don’t deserve this, you thought, battling the insistent voice in your head. This isn’t your life.

This dreamlike encounter with Jaehyun, who seemed to embody the very essence of Prince Charming, felt almost too good to be true—like a scene plucked straight from a storybook. The way he held you, the intensity of his gaze, and the atmosphere were intoxicating. But hessitation tugged at you, casting shadows over the light of your fairy tale.

As he gently set you down on the edge of his bed, Jaehyun kneeled before you. He looked up, his deep eyes searching yours as if trying to read the secrets hidden within.

“What’s wrong, pretty?” he asked, his voice a low, soothing murmur that seemed to wrap around you like a protective embrace. His hands enveloped yours, thumb stroking over your skin in a languid, comforting rhythm.

You forced a smile, desperate to maintain the illusion of this fairytale moment, but you knew better than to lie to him. Jaehyun had a way of seeing through your facades, as if he had developed some sixth sense when it came to understanding you. The light in his eyes flickered, a mix of concern and curiosity, as he waited for you to speak.

This was all so surreal—when the world outside seemed so turbulent, here he was, the embodiment of calm and acceptance. But as much as you tried to bask in this moment, the shadows of your past crept in, reminding you of who you once were.

“About that night…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, throat tightening. Sudden shame washed over you like a cold wave. “I can’t help but feel like I don’t deserve all of this.

Jaehyun’s gaze softened, and he leaned in closer, brows furrowing slightly in concern. “Everyone has a past. What matters is who you choose to be now.” he said gently, as if unfurling your tightly wound shame with each word.

“But I’m a thief, Jaehyun… I tried to steal from you. I lied and even robbed a bank” The admission hung in the air.

“I don’t see a thief when I look at you; I see someone who has struggled but is capable of so much more. Someone I care about.” His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

You looked down at him, finally meeting his gaze, and in that moment, you saw a man who would stop time for you if he could, who would pause the world just to shield you from its harshness.

He was your man.

Without a second thought, you leaned in and pulled him into another kiss, the warmth between you igniting once more, filling the room with an undeniable heat. He broke away for just a moment, a playful glint in his eyes, before he gripped your hips and effortlessly lifted you. In one swift motion, he tossed you onto the middle of the soft, inviting bed.

You bounced with a delighted laugh, the sound echoing through the air as you playfully crawled back toward the headboard, an exhilarated sparkle dancing in your eyes.

Jaehyun crawls to you and you tug off your blouse before he reaches you. It was like he couldn't keep his mouth off of you. He kisses the bare skin of your chest and stomach as his hands toy with the button on the dress pants you wore at dinner. He tugs them down your legs until your only left in your bra and panties. When he's done, you push at his shoulder until your able to sit up, stradling him.

You begin undressing him like the time in the bathroom but this time he lets you strip him down until hes in his boxers. You could see him straining against the fabric of his boxers and you whimper. You had to have him in your mouth. He tries to lay you back down, insistant on taking care of you but you shake your head; thats not what you needed right now. You connect your lips and grip him through his boxers. He lets out a slight gasp, and you can feel him twitch in your grasp. His eyes are closed, but you can see the tension in his jaw and the way his hands grip the sheets beneath him. You’ve been thinking about this for a while now, about how you want to unravel him, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left.

“Can I show you what's been on my mind?” You whisper against his lips, your voice low and sultry. “Do you trust me?”

His eyes flutter open and he nods. You slide down until you settle between his legs, your fingers trailing over the fabric of his boxers and you kiss along his chest. Finally, you pull him out of his boxers. His tip is a pretty pink, begging for your attention, and there’s a vein that follows along the base of his cock, pulsing with every heartbeat. You make a mental note to pay extra attention to that. His breath picks up before you can even do anything, and when you finally tear your eyes away from his cock, you see that his cheeks are dusted pink and his ears are red. Even at a time like this, you find him endearing. You smile, but it comes off more sultry than you intend.

You gather spit in your mouth to wet your tongue, savoring the anticipation as you lean in closer. The moment your lips wrap around his tip, he lets out a sharp gasp, his body tensing. You take him into your mouth, feeling the warmth and saltiness of him as you bob your head gently. You circle his tip with your tongue before pulling off to lick him from base to tip, spreading your saliva and making him slip easier into your mouth.

You look up, meeting his gaze as you take him deeper, your throat working around him. Jaehyun’s head is thrown back, his chest heaving as he tries to keep still, but his hips betray him, thrusting slightly into your mouth. You moan around him, the vibrations sending shivers down his spine. Each time you pull off, you leave a trail of saliva connecting you, making your next descent even slicker.

“Fuck…hah,” he breathes, his voice rough and strained. “You feel so good.”

“When was the last time someone did this for you?” You ask, your voice muffled around his cock, noticing how sensitive he is.

“I can’t remember,” he groans.

“We’ll have to fix that, won’t we?” You say seductively, your eyes locked on his as you take him back into your throat, not holding back as you show him the pleasures he had probably been withholding from himself. You moan around him, pumping him vigorously as you suck on him, making a show of giving him the sloppiest head possible.

He was polite in the beginning; he didn’t push your head or tug your hair, and he didn’t buck his hips. Instead, he gripped the sheets and bit his lip, trying to control himself, trying to be a gentleman. But after he hits the back of your throat a little too roughly and you gag on him, he loses it. The way your throat convulses makes him bury his fingers into your hair, pressing you down until your nose is nuzzling against his happy trail. Tears burn your eyes as you let him drown in his pleasure, your own arousal building in response.

You know your panties are ruined at this point. Your free hand snakes down between your legs, your fingers gliding over your clit, circling the swollen button as he uses your throat. You barely notice the ache in your jaw, too consumed by the sensations coursing through your body. Suddenly, he pulls you off, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.

“Lay down,” he commands, his voice gruff and urgent. You don’t even have time to follow his command before he manhandles you onto your back, his hands moving with a mix of urgency and precision. Desire and desperation swirl in his eyes as he practically rips your panties from you, his fingertips grazing your inner thighs as he strips them away. He’s far too impatient to unclip your bra, so he just pushes it up, exposing your breasts to the cool air.

Your back arches into his touch as he attaches his mouth to your nipples, flicking and nibbling at them with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. You moan, your nails scratching down his arms lightly, urging him on. He kisses down to your thighs, leaving a few love bites along the skin there that have your hips twitching for more. Finally, he pulls back, his eyes raking down your body like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“Hurry, I need you,” you cry, your voice breaking with urgency, your fingernails digging into his arms.

He shushes you with a kiss, his lips pressing against yours in a brief but intense moment of connection. Then he lines himself up, coating himself in your slick, making sure he’s slick enough to slide right in. Your breath hitches when he presses against your entrance, the head of his cock nudging at your folds. You were definitely feeling how big he was. Not only was he long, but he had a nice girth as well, stretching you in ways that had you clenching your teeth a little at the sensation.

“Relax,” he murmurs, his voice soothing as he begins to push in. “Let me in.”

You gently press him back, creating a space between your bodies, your eyes drawn to where your bodies connect. You can feel him deep inside you—only a third left before hes in completely and you already felt full. A soft whimper escapes your lips, vulnerability flashing in your gaze as you look up at him, searching for assurance.

“It’s okay, baby. You can take it,” he whispers, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

You stay still, allowing the initial sting to fade, his fingers intertwined with yours, rubbing gentle circles into your skin as a calming gesture. You focus on the warmth of his hand against yours and the tension slowly dissipates. The discomfort begins to melt away, replaced by a delicious ache. You give him a slow nod, a silent agreement, and he takes that as his cue. His hips pull back, and you can’t help but watch, mesmerized, as he slips out—he was so big but still so perfect.

“Keep your eyes on me, baby. Focus,” he urges, his voice a deep rumble that resonates in your core.

You meet his gaze and its so intense you almost shy away. “Thats right baby, im right here”

One of his hands grips the underside of your thigh before pressing it up against your chest. your back arching involuntarily at the delicious rush of pleasure that courses through you. You could feel him in your gut in this position. His eyebrows furrow in concentration as he drills into you again and again. Short, fast thrusts gradually deepen into long, languid strokes that have you pushing at his hips weakly.

“Fuck, Jae… it’s too deep,” you cry out, your thighs trembling.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you empty and momentarily disoriented. “Turn around,” he commands, a sheen of sweat glistening on his brow. You pout, suddenly regretting opening your big mouth.

Taking a deep breath, you prop yourself up on your hands and knees, glancing over your shoulder at him with a pleading gaze. “I can take it, I promise,” you reassure.

“We’ll see,” he replies, his tone low and teasing, as he leans down to lay a line of soft kisses down your spine.

You shudder at the gesture and just as the last kiss lingers on the small of your back, you feel him slip inside again. This position gives him more control but he isn't as deep as before. You roll your hips back into him, urging him to fuck you as deep as he was before.

But he slows, his thrusts coming to a halt as he watches you move, his gaze dark with pleasure as he just watches you fuck yourself on him. He hums a noise of pleasure. He lets it go on for a little while longer before he is gripping your hips and stilling your movements.

“Let me take care of you”

He pushes the space between your shoulders, urging you down into the softness of the mattress until you're face down, ass up. With one hand gripping your hips, he resumes his thrusts. Picking up a brutal pace and this time you don't fight it. Each thrust strikes with precision, sharp and calculated, as he takes you from behind. His movements are relentless.

A low growl reverberates from deep within him. In an instant, he pulls you up until your back presses against his chest, your body perched in his lap as he continues to drill into you. You tilt your head back against his shoulder, gasping as his hands roam over you. One grips your chest, kneading your breast, while the other slips between your legs to expertly rub your clit. You let out unrestrained moans, the sounds echoing in the room without a care.

Your thighs tremble and you can feel tears prick your eyes as the overwheliming sensation consumes your body. Each thrust, each caress pushes you closer to the edge, and your chest heaves as you squirm in his hold. It was too much.

“I got you. Let it go baby.” he whispers breathily in your ear. His hand that was kneading your breast moves to hook beneath your shoulder, anchoring you down as he thrusts deeper, pulling you back into him as his hips drive into yours.

It isn't long until your an incoherent mess, until finally you collapse against him as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave. You moan shamelessly, feeling your heat pulse around him and coating his cock as your release spills out, dripping down his balls. Jaehyun groans, his arms wrapping tightly around you as he holds you in place, burning himself into you over and over again until hes lightheaded.

“Just a little more, baby, please. You can take it, yeah?” Jaehyun's voice wavers slightly, the raw need evident as he edges closer to his release. The urgency in his tone drives you wild. With a few more deep thrusts, he finally reaches his peak, filling you with thick, hot strands of cum. You shudder in his grasp, a wave of pleasure washing over you as he exhales harshly, breaths mingled with soft curses. “Fuck… mmmh… fuck,” he murmurs.

Jaehyun breathes as he slowly tries to catch his breath. You both take a few moments to come down from your high. His grip loosens at last, and with a gentle touch, he pulls out, laying you delicately on the mattress. You sink into the sheets, breathing heavily as he gets up to run a bath.

A few moments later, he returns, scooping you up in his strong arms. Together, you step into the warm water, which soothes your tired muscles instantly. You sit in front of him, letting the warmth encapsulate you as he takes on the role of caretaker, washing your back caringly.

He massages your shoulders, and you let out a content sigh, a sound that embodies the perfect blend of exhaustion and bliss. The water laps around you, and you feel a sense of tranquility settle in, wrapping around you just as warmly as his hands.

After you both wash up, you're enveloped in a comfortable silence. You were too tired to talk anyway. You lean back against him, feeling his fingers play in your hair. Eventually, when you finally muster the energy to pull yourselves from the bath, he wraps you both in warm towels. You don’t even bother with clothes, opting instead to pad back toward the bedroom

The bed was a chaotic mess, sheets crumpled and soiled from the nights activities. You yawn, too exhausted to even think about changing the linens, and way too impatient to wait for Jaehyun to take care of it. Without hesitation, you reach for his wrist, pulling him gently out of his disheveled room.

You guide him into the room across the hall—the very one where you first stayed. As you get under the covers, you tug them up and slip in beside him, legs tangling with his as you get comfortable.

Jaehyun can’t tear his gaze away from you as you settle next to him, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating your features. Your eyes feel heavy, and you yawn again, surrendering to the fatigue. “Go to sleep, Jae, stop staring like a creep,” you grumble, nuzzling deeper into his chest.

“I'm afraid to,” he admits, his words muffled against your hair as he leans down to press a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Why?” you ask, brows furrowing in concern.

“Because I’m afraid that when I wake up, this will all be a dream,” he confesses.

“Jaehyun. I’m right here,” you murmur with a soft yawn, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second. The warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a sense of comfort that makes it hard to resist the pull of sleep. “I’ll always be… right here,” you promise, your words fading into a whisper as sleep finally overtakes you.

[danikamariewrites]

Heist

Mob!Azriel x reader AU

Note: another day another Mob!Az fic for you all to think about teehee.

Warnings: mentions of violence and blood

You giggled as Azriel lightly nipped at your cheek, his hand trying to sneak into the bowl of cookie dough. “Az,” you laugh out, smacking his hand away. “You can have some later when the rest of the Boy Scouts show up.”

Azriel rolls his eyes at the nickname. “I’ve told you, we are not Boy Scouts, we are-”

“A highly trained and dangerous group of powerful families that are allied.” You say, mimicking the overused statement. “Yes, yes I know Azzy, geez.” You tease, bumping him with your hip.

Moving from his grasp you bustle around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and plates. Azriel’s kitchen was gorgeous, and criminally under utilized. When you moved in it was all black and white, barely any ingredients or extra appliances.

“Oh this won’t do.” You had told Azriel, demanding you go shopping for every and anything you’d ever need for a kitchen. You gave the place a complete makeover, painting the walls and cabinets a lovely sage green and replacing the countertops. Adding an island and dark wood table and cushions to the breakfast nook the room was complete.

Coming back to stand between Azriel and the island you start scooping out the cookies. “You really don’t have to do this, you know.” You shrug, a generous scoop of dough and chocolate chips falling from your spoon. “I want to. Plus, I never really got to bake since work took up too much time. And your meetings go on forever, you guys absolutely need snacks.”

Leaning down Azriel presses a kiss to the back of your head. “You’re amazing, my love.” He says softly. You lean back into his chest, tilting your head back to stare at his pretty face. Turning, you hold up a finger with dough on it. Azriel’s eyes light up at the treat, licking it from your finger. Pushing up on your toes you peck his lips, murmuring, “I love you.”

Before Azriel could pull you to him and go for a more heated kiss, Rhys walks in, clearing his throat. “They’re here Az.” He nods at his brother, signaling Rhys’s dismissal.

A heavy sigh leaves his nose. Holding your face, Azriel gives you one last kiss. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

An hour later you were balancing a tea tray laden with chocolate chip cookies in your hands. The guard at the door smiles at you, knocking and opening one of the double doors for you. You nod in thanks as you quietly make your way to the occupied half of the table.

It was a small group today. Only Helion, Eris, Kal and their second and third in commands, along with a few other key members of their organizations. Reaching between Helion and Rhysand, you gently place the tray in the middle of the table.

The men looked hesitant to reach for the snack at first, but also didn’t want to be rude. “Thank you, my love.” Azriel says, giving you a small smile from his place at the head of the table. “Of course,” you whisper.

Azriel leads the conversation back to their plans, “Now, we can’t stand for this. The Molina family made us look like fools and trust me gentleman, that will not happen again. This robbery has to be big.” Odd, you thought to yourself, Azriel’s MO isn’t home robberies.

The pictures of the mansion in question spread across the table caught your eye. It’s familiarity had you titling your head, wracking your brain for where you’d seen it before.

then it hit you. The paintings on the wall! You knew them because you delivered them! Your lips parted slightly in surprise at your memory.

You felt Helion’s attention on you as he asked, “What’s wrong?” Your eyes snap to his deep brown ones, cheeks tinting red in embarrassment. Azriel takes his tone as rude but you brush it off, knowing he’s just curious about what you’re seeing.

You look to Azriel, not knowing if you have the right to give your input in a meeting. You didn’t want to make Azriel seem less in charge or something.

Azriel gives you a soft, encouraging look. “Go ahead, y/n. Tell us what you see.” You nod at him, dragging the picture of the paintings toward you. “These paintings are fakes.” A confusion spreads over the room as a few huh’s sound around the table.

“My boss got his hands on the real ones somehow, these are like rare pieces, hell museums would kill for these. Before he sold them I honestly thought they were in the Louvre. But he sold them to Molina Jr. who also requested fakes to display, since he bragged so much about buying them. They aren’t very good fakes if you ask me though.”

Helion brought the image closer to his face, attempting his untrained eye to see the falsity of the paintings. Kal snatched it from him, giving him a you-don’t-know-shit-about-art look.

Conversation bubbles around Azriel but all he can focus on is you. You and your beautiful, passionate, intelligent mind.

“Where would he keep the real ones?” Eris asks, breaking up the conversations and Azriel’s concentration on you. Though that didn’t last long. As soon as you opened your mouth Azriel was laser focused on you.

You give Eris a knowing smirk, “His vault, where I helped deliver the paintings.” Cassian and Kal let out laughs or triumph as the others gave you approving looks. Rhysand unrolls the blueprints to the mansion in front of you. “Alright y/n, point us in the right direction.”

Two hours later the heist was planned perfectly thanks to you. You waited in Azriel’s office as he bid his guests goodbye. Kicked back, sitting in his kingly leather chair, your feet propped up on the desk.

Hearing the door click shut you perk up. Azriel grins, strutting over to you. Crossing his arms he leans against the desk in front of you. “I don’t think I could’ve planned that without you.” You shrug at the praise. “Eh, you would’ve gotten by.”

Azriel nudges your feet off the polished wood, chuckling at you. Lifting you up and pulling you into his lap you immediately lean against his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt.

“You’re too modest, my love. Everyone was telling me how brilliant you are.” You giggle, burying your face deeper into Azriel’s chest at the compliment. Hooking his fingers under your chin, Az tilts your face up to meet his shimmering hazel gaze.

“My clever girl.” He hums, pressing his lips to yours. You slip your arms around his neck pulling him closer. Azriel stands, gently placing you on his desk. He nudges your thighs apart to stand between your legs, deepening the kiss. “I think you deserve a reward,” his voice had taken on a deep and seductive tone. That smirk promises a very pleasurable reward. Tugging on Azriel’s dark locks he pulls away from you, dropping to his knees.

——

Tonight is the big heist. When Azriel had kissed you goodbye you plastered a convincing smile on your face, trying to ignore your heart pounding so hard against your chest you thought it was trying to escape.

You were always nervous when Azriel went out with his men for a job. Pacing the TV room, more like a theater, you dug your toes into the carpet to focus on something other than Azriel. You had lots to keep you distracted like a book, your favorite show cued up, your phone. However, moving around was a necessity right this very second.

The first time Azriel went on a job after you moved in was a disaster. You had a panic attack so bad not even Baxian, your bodyguard, could calm you down. Baxian was on the verge of calling Azriel as he walked through the front door. It made him contemplate never leaving you again.

You still can’t decide if you’d rather Az not tell you and just be blissfully ignorant. Or if you would still worry if he was out until all hours of the night. You’d probably still worry but worse.

In the silence you paused at any creaking or popping that sounded in the house. About to settle on the couch to pick an activity, the unmistakable sound of the front door opening.

Staring at the doorway to the TV room you held your breath. You didn’t want to see Azriel if he was hurt. You didn’t think you could stomach the sight of his blood.

Footsteps grew louder and louder until Azriel was staring at you. He was unscathed. Safe. And home.

You let out a cry of relief, running into his open arms. Azriel pulls you flush to his body, tucking your head under his chin. You revel in his warm touch. A smile spreads across your lips at having him back home.

Pulling away, you stare up into his tired eyes. “Everything went ok?” You ask softly. Azriel nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It went perfectly, all thanks to you my love.” He says, exhaustion lacing his voice.

“Come on you,” you squeeze him around the middle. “Let’s get you to bed, baby.” You move to his side, pulling him along. “Sounds perfect, my love.”

Tucking into bed you couldn’t shake this feeling in the pit of your stomach. Watching Az sleep peacefully you snuggle into his side, holding on to him. Just in case.

[oifaaa]

Wait what the hell is happening on the current arc? It sounds like this comic year should be erased from the public consciousness.

Sure spoilers for Gotham war but Bruce was sleeping for a wee while bc of the fall out of night terrors he also lost a hand and bc of failsafe he's also not really himself rn bc of him unlocking his secret personality of zur - anyway catwoman calls everyone to a meeting to tell them what she's been up to which is that she's been scouting the goons from the other villains and training them so they only steal from the rich which obviously Bruce doesn't like so he starts going after the people selina has been training - most of the bats are kinda just on the sidelines but are more in-line with selina apart from Jason who is completely on selinas side (except for in his own solo Gotham war side story which I honestly don't know when it takes place bc in it selina and Jason fall out bc jason doesn't actually believe any of the goons are gonna change and they'll crawl back to joker and the rest eventually ) but in the main story Jason is very much on selinas side to the point where she's helping him distract Bruce - the first time Bruce and Jason fight the rest of the bats (dick Tim cass steph and duke) show up and Bruce beats quiet a few of them but is struggling a bit against Jason at the end until damian swoops in to save him - damian and Bruce retreat to the redbrick House (which has been Bruce's base basically since alfred died a few years back) the next morning a lawyer comes to the redbrick to tell Bruce someone has brought Wayne Manor which is surprising to Bruce so he rushes to the batcave to find out oh no vandal savage has brought Wayne Manor - Bruce and Jason end up fighting again when Jason is pulling another heist with a few of the goons but this time Bruce kidnaps Jason and injects him with something he claims it changes Jason personality so every time he feels adrenaline he will basically have a panic attack - dick at this point is looking for Jason but ends up finding damian Tim also shows up and damian gets handcuffed to a street lamp - batman shows up and starts fighting dick and Tim and dick finds out what Bruce did to Jason- Bruce ends up fleeing leaving damian behind which obviously really upsets damian - back with Jason selinas lieutenant shows up and reveals she's been vandals daughter this whole time and wants to know if Jason would be interested in immortality only for her to realise Jason's too far into his fear to really be of use to her so she leaves him alone in honestly one of the most heartbreaking panels I've ever seen

[bippiti]

bishops k. brekker

an first kaz fic! lmk what y’all think

pairing kaz brekker x healer/ tailor reader

req yup

wc 1.8k

synopsis after a heist goes terribly wrong, you’re the one who comes to kazs aid

heads up typical soc violence, fighting, broken bones, stab wounds, not proofread

dangling off of a high building wasnt kazs ideal way of spending his friday night. but here he was, covered nails digging into the crumbling roof of some rich merchers mansion.

before going on any further i suppose some back tracking is in order.

a while before one of the dregs monitoring the ports overheard a group of stadwatch talking about some rather valuable cargo. precious gems, fine arts, and antique instruments were all set to come in the following month, and we’re to be delivered to a marcher named Stefan Terpstra.

further investigation from inej led to the discovery of an auction being held at terpstras manor. this of course, meant a heist.

kaz already had the blueprints in his office, saints knew where he got it from. but now all you had to do was figure out what roles to play. since they were all too recognizable you were key to this going well.

while you were first and foremost a healer, you were still a relatively skilled tailor, with the proper materials you could alter someone’s face and have it not revert for almost half a day.

the night before kaz called all of you down ti go over the plan again. after you changed inej and jespers face, they would go to the auction posing as a wealthy couple. while the party before the auction is taking place kaz would sneak into the safe, pick the lock, and then him and matthias would collect everything they could carry. nina would be with them to ensure no hold ups took place, and all the while you and wylan would be on the roof scouting out for potential threats.

it was simple enough, you’d had a million harder jobs than this one. so it was kindve funny how almost everything went wrong

before anything even started there were issues with the clothes. the fabric of the dress inej was supposed to wear was really itchy, and when you peeled it away from her skin you saw the rashes and raised red bumps forming. you fixed it easily, but it still had you pushing for time. once their faces were altered and ready, they were off to the manor.

this is when the second problem came up. after everyone went to sleep following kazs rundown, wylan spent the rest of the night working on a few potassium nitrate bombs. (more commonly known as smoke bombs) he kept a fire on low heat as he mixed sugar and the potassium nitrate together. the combining process took hours, but the yield was impressive. 8 bombs total, 4 for inej, 4 for jesper. and there were 8 left on the table as he came up the stairs after hearing the horses set off.

great. since they both were more than capable of holding their own it wasn’t a total disaster, but it was a night wasted sitting at a desk.

once you all arrived things seemed to be going smoothly, jesper floated from person to person, making conversation and laughing along with other party goers. you could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of jealousy on wylans face before he turned away. while jesper was frolicking inej was say at the bar, nursing a drink that looked to be at least 15 kruge overpriced. while going up the stairs you met with kaz and the others, wylan gave them 4 of the bombs, and w kaz gave them the timeframe. 15 minutes, in and out then they should be done. if they weren’t on the roof in time then they were to rendezvous at the neighboring farm a few roads down.

problem 3: it had been almost 15 minutes and there was still no sign or the others. you checked your watch nervously and you heard wylan kicking at the rocks to your left. on your end things had been fine, no other gangs or stadwatch had shown up.

as of on cue, the door burst open and matthias and kaz ran out

if i’m you hand my been concerned the moment mightve even been funny, kaz had what seemed to be his weight in gold adorned around his neck, and a painting almost as wide as you strapped to his back. matthias wasn’t any better, he had to crown crookedly placed on his head and had bracelets up to his elbows, and what looked to be a violin case strapped to his back.

they were telling at you both to jump into the tree, something about a few bodyguards catching them and nina staying behind to fight a few off.

kaz shrugged off what he had on and gave it over to wylan who put in the bag. matthias followed suit and the propped up the bag and took off. scaling down a building wasn’t kazs forte which is why he was supposed to go back through and out the building, but that obviously wasn’t an option. while you were trying to figure out what to do, some men came through the door and went at you.

growing up you learned how to fight, so you were that bad. as you dodged a punch and countered you saw kaz fighting in your peripheral. instead of having his cane be a part of his weakness, he had managed to turn it into one of his strengths. as he swung it at what seemed to be the last man you straightened your back, letting out a breathy laugh. both of you were bruised and by the inhale you just took you had a rib or two broken. the heavy steps of someone coming up the stares broke you out of your trance. as the woman came up the stairs you wanted to crawl up and die. she was huge her biceps were always as thick as your waist and the look on her face showed she wasn’t here to play.

you were never one to back down though so with a deep breath you began to form your hands. because tailors could alter physical appearance and bone structure you had been trying to take it to the next level. while so far it had only worked on the dead you thought it might work. as you brought your hand up her arms began to pulse, changing shape in an almost grotesque way. she began to stride over to you before a heavy crack made her turn around.

kaz wasn’t really sure what you were doing, but he could tell you were going to have to focus in order to do so. as he began to fight the woman her arms began to.. change. they became smaller, larger, then began to shrink onto themselves. she vegan to maker her way to you again. before he could do anything else he felt his feet tip back and he fell. he opened his eyes to see his hands barely holding onto the brick wall. he prayed to saints he didn’t believe in to help him hold on.

you saw kaz plunge and your mind went on autopilot, you felt your power wash over you and you watched her legs began to shrink, growing smaller and smaller until there were none left at all. in the back of your head you heard someone laugh, it was scary, shrill. it took a moment before you realized it was you.

snapping back into reality you left her there, rushing over to kaz who was by the grace of saints still hanging on. you grabbed him by the arm and yanked him forward, sending you both rather harshly to your backs.

you breathed in once more as you shakily stood, kaz did the same, pain evident on his face. during this whole mess his cane had landed up in the dirt below you both. together you began to long journey back to the barrel.

-

the door to the slat burst open as you carried a passed out kaz. it was well into the night, so the was nobody there save for the crows and some dregs. as you hauled him over to a table inej and matthias swiped it off, maps and cards fell onto the floor around you all.

you peeled off his clothes later by later, stopping once you got the his shirt. as you unbuttoned it you signaled for the others to leave, you assumed kaz wouldn’t like them to see their ‘all powerful’ boss in such a position.

as your hands ghosted over his chest you let your manic deep putt of you. you mended the broken ribs, the fractured wrist, and the cuts he had gotten on his back. they were deep, but not enough to make them life threatening. as his skin stitched itself together you began to focus on your own. by the time you were done rearranging your own bruises and scrapes you were far too tired to rid his face and body of the bruises. instead, you patched him up, wrapping bandages around his stomach and back before shrugging his coat on over him.

as you bridal carried him up the stairs you took a moment to appreciate his face. you didn’t let yourself stare very often, kaz was observant and he could pick up the slightest of glances. you looked at the curve of his nose, the shape of his lips. they looked soft, kissable even

before you let yourself get too carried away you opened the door to his room, taking his coat, hanging it, and then taking his gloves and placing them at his bedside.

before you left you filled a bowl with warm water, dipping a towel in you began to rub small circles into his face, ridding it of the dried blood that was starting to form. once the water turned crimson you dumped it out.

kaz awoke the next day, he wasn’t in any more pain than he was used to, but he was still bruised beyond belief. he didn’t remember much other than clinging onto you as you both made your way back to the slat.

he brought his hand up to his head, he needed to figure out what had happened. after finding jesper and figuring out what had occurred, he didn’t know what to do. how was he supposed to thank you? how could he in words, explain how thankful he was it was you that saved him, you that helped him. you. you. stupid you.

y/n l/n.

the only person that had managed to win over dirty hands heart

[an-au-blog]

Yo your Shuggy King/ Jester AU is such a good take and I swear to everything holy i'd do unspeakable things to get more of it! Like like like --- like, what if Buggy's not even a jester and was really some third rate theif there to steel some expense trinket or another at some feast and he gets caught beacuse hes a pretty shit third rate thief and just somehow got lucky that the right door was unlocked somewhere but now these folks are ushering him in to entertain the king and his aristocratic asshole friends and he doesnt know what to do!!!! He should have just stuck to picking pockets at taverns and now he's in front of the king and -- wow, OK, so the king is kind of hot? -- nothepoint!!! -- they're all looking at him and he just... the feast turns into a roast and it's so unhinged and also a commentary on all the shit buggy really feels about these rich stuck up assholes and the king is dying from laughing so hard so he just... keeps going? And then he is asked to stay on full time and, sure, why not? Beats the streets any day and plus hes closer to treasure and can just buy his time and strike it rich but then he gets legit invested because don't these assholes know what the people need? What they want? 1 guess and the first one is already wrong because apparently everyone has their heads so far up their asses that they can't see the real issues in the kingdom so he accidentally speaks out of turn and totally out of place but the king, like, listens? He's listening to him. He's taking Buggy's advice and... oh shit... he might be in love now....

Ohhhh you did not just spike my interest back into an au that flopped like a month ago

This is sooo... I'm speechless because yes??? yes please!?!?

Also hi, sorry it took me a little to answer, i try to answer asks in order of who sent one first ':)

Buggy never stops taking small things. Trinkets no one in the castle would miss. But such trinkets outside the castle go for quite some berry. Unfortunately for him, some of the guards caught wind of what he was doing so they start following him around. He meets up with his friends and heist buddies on the outside, selling and buying and they see it all.

He still had connections that only multiplied once he got to in the palace.

One day they practically throw Buggy in King Shanks's feet and started listing all the accusations he was very rightfully blamed about and he thinks that was it. He was going to die because liked the weight of money in his pockets.

And the King is furious. He's shouting and spitting venom. No one had seen him this angry in a while, or maybe even ever. But the most shocking thing was that he was angry at the guards who caught Buggy. He claimed that Buggy was sent by him personally into the city to scout out the common folk. After all how could he know what the people need and lack if he can't leave the castle. He tels them he doesn't need such incompetent and naive people in his guard but he'll send them off with just a warning.

He was talking so convincingly that even Buggy started believing him.

When the doors close and it's just them, Shanks falls to his knees to inspect Buggy for any injuries.

The king is in his royal garments, the ones that probably cost ten times more than what he stole through the whole week. And he's just sitting there, worrying because Buggy's elbow got scratched when he was tossed in the marble floors.

After a good amount of time, Buggy still getting away with way too much, decides to test the limits. A lot had changed since the first time they met. But Buggy was still convinced that there was no way an attractive, powerful and charismatic king like Shanks was genuinely interested in a jester who only tells him what to do and steals from him. And for what? What was Buggy giving in return? Criticized the court and sneak around. Sure they messed around sometimes but the king could have a dozen way more beautiful women at his feet in a second if he wished so. So why?

One night, he feels ballsy and takes a knife into their bed. He hides it under his pillow and waits for the right time to come. He thinks that him and the king had gotten their lines so blurred that Shanks didn't notice the knife, but it wasn't true. Because when it happens nothing changes.

Buggy was fast. The king was already curled up in him, so it took only one motion for the jester to straddle him and put the knife up to his throat.

Shanks was smiling. His hands still running up and down his thighs. And the jester is so confused. If he pushed a bit harder he was sure he would have drawn blood. So why? "Why aren't you scared of me?Why do you keep me around?"

To which the answer sounded so simple it almost didn't register in Buggy's mind. "Because I relish in your presence. And you have my favor." He put his hand on the one holding the knife. "I know you won't kill me..." it wasn't arrogance. It wounded more like comfort.

Because of course he wouldn't. If he did, what would he do? He'd have nowhere to go. And the people would get some snot-nosed brat who would ruin the country. Where would he run? Who would he reside in? Who would love him like this?

Buggy didn't know how but he ended up crying in his king's arms that night. Worst part was - it was the most comforting place the jester had ever been to.

Idk something like that, I probably missed something I wanted to add but oh well

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

hcs for 60s riddler with a henchmen/goon s/o?

Just started wacthing 60s batman stuff and just

I love him so much hes so silly

"Yes, Boss? <3" 60s Riddler x Henchmen!Reader

Yessss very cute! I have such soft feelings about 60s riddler because he's so fun. I can't stay mad at him.

TW: slightly suggestive

It started as a for-hire gig. You needed the money and he needed an extra hand. He couldn't exactly do all the heavy lifting himself, after all! He's doing more than half the work via his brilliant brain!

At this point in his career, he's used to at least one of his goons (usually a woman) swooning over Batman and his infuriatingly narrow view of justice and righteousness in every heist. Even when they've outright flirted with him! When you seem interested in him and you don't fall for those boy scout charms... That piques his interest.

Even after the first heist goes bust, you come back. That never happens to him! Normally you're all so disposable and you don't want to be involved in a life of crime after turning tables with him, bla bla, some boring drivel- But he notes you further. Then you actually tried to answer his riddle. You got it wrong, but...

It was enough that he focused his attentions and affections towards you shortly after. Twirling you against him and placing a peck against your cheek and whispering sweet nothings as he smoke-bombs the dynamic duo. A daring escape is fitting for just the two of you, no? It's more romantic that way.

Nothing really keeps you apart. His grand mannerisms, his, quite frankly, bat shit ridiculous plans, jail... You two end up meeting in the middle again and again. It eventually gets to the point that he purposely makes sure you get out and not arrested so you can "take care" of his things. Surely this is a grand gesture that doesn't escape your notice. Trust. Vulnerability.

Before you know it, you're staying at his place. He could have waxed poetic on how much he enjoys your company and made puns to poke fun at it. Yet he just smiles and tells you to stay as long as you want. Not-so-subtly encourages you to bring more and more of your things over.

Of course he knows how it looks. The implications of it. Let them talk, pretty thing. You were "his" the moment you took that first job. Anyone who can't see that is a dullard undeserving of your time. He already has a fun little heist set up if anyone gives you grief for it...! He was thinking... sticking their feet to the floor while stealing all their valuables. Get you something nice!

You're no longer a henchman. You're his equal, his partner and the one he'd run away with at a moment's notice. Of course, if you wanted to still call him boss and follow his every order... He won't complain! And then you get that huge laugh, cracking himself up.

[raewritez]

for the want of the sun | chapter 18: The Heist

When night comes, I’m ready. I’m ready to sneak around, I’m even hoping I’ll get to chi-block one of these guards. I’m practically tugging on Zuko’s arm to get him to our designated meeting place.

“Come on, they’re probably ready!” I whisper. He’s dragging his feet to annoy me, I’m sure. When we round the corner, Jet is there, leaning against the wooden post of the deck. His eyes lift lazily to greet us, and his mouth curls up in a smirk.

“There you are. We ready?”

Zuko and I nod. I feel the excitement thrumming through me, pushing me up onto my toes and keeping me bouncing. It’s been too long since I’ve done a good heist.

We discuss quietly under the heavy cover of the night, murmuring between ourselves as the adrenaline grows. Jet finally nods and gestures for the group to start forward. 

“Smellerbee, you take the lead. Scout out the area.”

I watch as she scales the wooden post, hopping above deck and disappearing. It’s a minute, two, before she pops back over the edge. “All clear,” she whispers.

Jet looks at Longshot, who raises his bow and situates an arrow with a rope attached to it. He fires at the tallest beam, just above Smellerbee’s head, who hisses in annoyance. The arrow burrows into the wood, and Longshot tugs on the rope, the material holding strong. 

“Okay,” Jet breathes. He looks at me. He lifts his arm toward the rope. “Ladies first.”

Feeling a bit nervous with everyone’s eyes on me, I walk forward. I try to meet Zuko’s eyes as I pass, but he’s looking upwards. I wrap my hands around the rope and pull, lifting my feet, the strain on my arms becoming evident as I wobble. Hey, it’s been a while.

I feel a warm hand placed on my shoulder, and Jet’s looking at me with a grin. I flush, a bit embarrassed, and a bit annoyed by his look that suggests he didn’t expect anything from me. He tilts his head to the side. “Need a boost?”

“Yeah, please,” I say begrudgingly. He kneels down beside me, cupping his hands and reaching for my foot. 

“There you go,” he whispers, his voice gravelly. “One, two, three.” I’m pushed upward, and I scramble to grab the rope as I pull myself the rest of the way. I reach for the floor of the upper-deck, grabbing onto the planks and shimmying onto my stomach. Smellerbee offers her hand and I grab it, using her to lift myself up.

“Thanks,” I say, watching as Jet pulls himself up effortlessly behind me. Then Longshot, then Zuko, who of course makes it look easy. 

When we’re all standing, Jet points forward in a “let’s go” gesture. The captain’s quarters are lit with lanterns, and there is the soft muttering of dinnertime chatter. We hurry single file, Jet in front, followed by Zuko and Longshot, and me in front of Smellerbee. We sneak around the corner, waiting for Jet to give the “OK” signal. When he looks back at us, we reach inside the windows, sweeping the food that rests on the windowsills, just taunting us. I pull out a box, smelling the familiar aroma of spicy chicken that has my mouth watering. I hand it to Longshot, who hands it to Zuko, who hands it to Jet. When we have all the dishes out of the room, we sneak below the windows, back to Longshot’s rope. 

“Hey!” A voice booms, and a heavy man rounds the corner where Jet is crouching. Quickly, I head the other way, going as fast as I can around the square structure. “What are you-” the man says, but he’s on the ground before he can finish his sentence. I jam my fingers into his pressure points, sending him crashing to the ground, silent. 

I look up, standing over him. “They probably heard that.”

Everyone’s looking at me with surprise, except for Zuko, who looks unphased. When no one moves, I hurry forward, picking up a box and running for the rope. “Let’s go!”

I bring the box close to my body and grip the rope with one hand, pushing myself off the ledge and hissing at the burn on my skin. When my feet touch the ground I set the food down, and gesture for Longshot, who’s at the top, to hand me his box. I reach and grab it, and he slides down the rope, offering a hand to help Smellerbee with her’s. Soon, we’re all down, and we conceal the boxes of food with our bodies, walking quickly to where Iroh waits for us.

“Not bad, sweetheart,” Jet whispers in my ear. I jump from the proximity, and he grins. For some reason, I find myself grinning back.

—

“Oh my spirits,” I groan, shoveling another dumpling into my mouth. My words are hardly audible, but I can’t bring myself to care. “This is so good. I could cry.”

“I think I am,” Iroh says, gazing fondly at his serving of green curry. He’s right, I think I see the sheen of tears in his eyes.

“From what I’ve heard, people eat like this every night in Ba Sing Se,” Jet says. “I can’t wait to set my eyes on that giant wall.”

“It’s a magnificent sight,” Iroh sighs.

Jet looks at him. “So you’ve been there before?”

“Once,” Iroh glances down. “When I was a different man.”

Eager to stop this conversation from progressing, I lean forward. “So, what brings you all to Ba Sing Se?”

Jet meets my eyes, surprisingly serious. “I’ve done some things in my past that I’m not proud of. That’s why I’m going to the city: for a new beginning. A second chance.”

“That’s very noble,” Iroh speaks sagely. “I believe people can change their lives if they want to. I believe in second chances.”

My eyes find Zuko, not even purposefully. He’s staring out at the ocean, looking tense. “Yeah,” I say softly. He glances over, finds me staring, and looks away.

“What about you?” Jet asks. “You’re all traveling together?”

I nod, giving him a smile. “Yeah. I guess you could say we’re going for the same reasons. Just a chance at a safer life.”

“Hmm,” he muses. “Come to think of it, I didn’t catch your name.”

He’s speaking to me, not Iroh or Zuko, and luckily I’m not important enough to have my name reveal anything incriminating about myself. “I’m Y/n.”

“Y/n,” he repeats. He smiles, not the cocky, teasing one I’ve grown used to in the past few hours, but a real one. “It’s nice to meet you. You’re not a bad fighter.”

“Well, yeah, she could’ve told you that,” Zuko scoffs, his voice startling both Jet and I out of our focus. Jet sends him a look, and his mouth curls up knowingly. I glare at Zuko in annoyance. If he has a chance to be hostile, he’ll take it, even to the person that just gave us the best meal we’d had in months. 

Jet stands. “Come with me,” he gestures to Zuko. He walks along the ship’s railing, and Zuko stares after him for a moment before following.

We all watch as they leave, curious. 

I turn to Smellerbee and Longshot. “So, where are you guys from?”

They share a look, and Smellerbee turns back to me. “The forest.”

I nod. “Oh. That’s cool. You guys have known each other a long time?”

“Yeah. Basically forever.”

I smile. “That’s nice. Same with me and…him.” I stop myself before I say the name of the Firelord’s son, instead pointing in the direction where he and Jet went. Nice save. “What do you want to do once you’re there?”

She rolls her eyes, but I can tell it’s not directed at me. “I just want to, you know, live my life. Without the fighting. Without the Fire Nation.”

I look down at my lap. I play with the string of fabric from my shirt. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

—-

taglist: @aquaamethyst96 @kaygilles

[absolute-rehydration]

IF WE ALREADY HAVE SPYPER AND SNY💀

(this sny and spyper render is not mine btw i found it on pinterest, couldn't find the og artist)

GET READY FOR MY SIDETRACK ABOMINATION CREATION HEADHACK MUTILATION I CALL THE

SCY AND SPOUT💀🤩

the head hacking gave me a migrane🤩🤩

my gawd SCY (scout) HAS NO DAMN BUSINESS TO LOOK THIS DAPPER AAAAAAAAAAAAAA💖💖💖😭😭

(I GAVE HIM THE SLAY LIGHTING 💖💖💖💖⚾🧢)

I AM MENTALLY DISTURBED MY SPOUT (spy)

HE FEELS WRONG😭😭

I ADDED A FRIED CHICKEN, HE STILL FEELS WRONG😭😭💀😔

(ngl i wanna make more renders of him now💀🖐️)

-----INCOMING TEXT DUMP, IMAGES STOP HERE--------

I also assigned somesort of au lore👁️👁️ bcuz why not (also i suck at character building I just wanted to pour my random thoughts hoohaa)

- IN this universe :

spy has scout's personality (God forbid) - so he is now a snarky, loud arrogant lousy french con man who thinks that he is a gentleman and could seduce anyone, (he's just horrendous, much worse than scout)

he has less eccentric tastes than the og spy, he is a football and baseball fanatic, he is known as the kookie european who dedicates his time to geeky shit (scout-like shenanigans) bro doesn't know what table manners r

but by some miracle, scout's ma found him cute?

he pulled a joseph joestar🤩once scout turned 2, he wasn't ready for the child support and fatherhood

TLDR; SPOUT (spy) IS A (40+yr Old) MAN CHILD, BUT WITH THAT FACE NU UH😭😭💀 ----------------------------------------------

Scout has a bit of spy's personality but with a mix of that noir-ish vibe ya know??💀

he grew up knowing his father left his mother, and this made him spiteful, he pushed himself to become a man of classy crimes like espionage, smuggling, heists and infiltrations for his motive is to provide for his financially struggling mother, later on these activities became his hobby to get to elite places, drink the finest wines and steal from the elites.

he's a lady's man just like og spoi, he is a young rogue with a calmer demeanor

TLDR; he's serious and dapper now🤩😇he's still snobby and arrogant but in a classy way

(yeah i didn't think scy (scout) through o well)

------------------------------------------------------

Why did i switch their personalities??

BECAUSE IT FUNNI💀

BRO IMAGINE SPY GETTING HYPED OVER FRIED CHICKEN SAYING IT IS AN AMERICAN TREASURE TO THE FRENCH

[katy-133]

TF2 Blender Guide: Scout's Dog Tags Soft Body Mesh

This is a surface deformer mesh for Scout's dog tags. It can be used to add Soft Body physics to the dog tags, allowing the necklace to rest naturally on Scout using gravity, instead of trying to animate the necklace with its bones. Here are two .blend files. One contains just the mesh and Empty (the file named scout dog tags mesh.blend).

The other is a scene with Scout that shows the mesh set up to relax onto Scout's body (using my shots from The Terrific 2Fort Heist collab, linked below), in case you wish to reverse-engineer the simulation I used.

[These .blend files are not available to download through Tumblr, but you can recreate the softbody mesh by following the same necklace soft body mesh video tutorial I followed:]

How to Use:

Credit to Katy133 for the mesh is not needed, but if you use it, please feel free to show how you used it down below.

On how to use it, if you get stuck, please consult the tutorial (timestamp: 6:07) I used to make this mesh: ANIMATION using SOFT BODY Simulations!!! | Blender 3D Tutorial

Firstly, make sure Scout in placed at the World Origin and that he is in his default pose.

Select Empty_hook_dogtags and in the Constraints properties tab, add a Child Of. Set the Target to Scout's rig (Example: Rigify-Scout-IK), and the Bone to the control closest to the back of Scout's neck (bip_spine_3_fk.001). If the mesh moves, press the Set Inverse button.

Select the model for Scout's necklace. In the Modifiers properties tab, add a Surface Deform. For Target, set dogtags_softbody_mesh and press the Bind button. If you get an error message, try a different spot on the timeline, or editing the vertex of the surface deformer mesh (to make sure the necklace model is inside mesh) and try pressing Bind again. Make sure the Surface Deform modifier is placed below the Armature modifier (click and drag the panels to move them). Do the same for the model for Scout's dog tags.

You should now be able to create a Soft Body sim with Scout's necklace.

I used this mesh in the following video:

[justforbooks]

In the 1960s, there was one actor who could justifiably claim that ladies prefer blonds. As the secret agent Illya Kuryakin in the TV series The Man from UNCLE, David McCallum, who has died aged 90, received more fan mail from young women than any other actor in MGM’s history.

With his Beatles-style haircut, his liking for black turtleneck sweaters (which created a fad among viewers nationwide), and an aloof and enigmatic air, through which he sneaked a fair amount of charm and self-amusement, McCallum made Kuryakin into a sex symbol of the period. He provided a trendy contrast to Robert Vaughn’s Napoleon Solo, his fellow spy, who went in for expensive suits and ties.

Although Solo and Kuryakin worked perfectly in tandem, their personalities were at variance, the former being urbane, easygoing and sociable, the latter more reserved, intellectual and intense.

The James Bond film craze had already taken off when The Man from UNCLE series was launched in 1964, so US audiences were used to laidback heroes and their villainous nemeses. However, it was surprising to find a hip Russian alongside the good guys of United Network Command for Law and Enforcement fighting against the evil organisation THRUSH (an acronym for Technological Hierarchy for the Removal of Undesirables and the Subjugation of Humanity), during the cold war.

McCallum, who played Illya with the slightest Russian accent and an occasional Scottish lilt, was also known recently for his long-running role from 2003 in the popular CBS crime series NCIS.

He was born in Glasgow. His parents were classical musicians; his mother, Dorothy Dorman, a cellist, his father, David McCallum, a violinist and leader of the London Philharmonic Orchestra. McCallum Jr won a scholarship to University College school in Hampstead, north London, before being accepted at Rada, where he studied from 1949 to 1951, having given up his ambition, and his parents’ wish, to play the oboe professionally.

In 1951, McCallum managed to satisfy his love for both music and the theatre by landing the position of assistant stage manager at Glyndebourne opera. However, he was called up to do his national service in West Africa. Demobbed as a lieutenant, the 19-year-old McCallum headed for the theatre, which mainly meant stage-management jobs in rep.In 1956, he half-heartedly posted off some photographs of himself to the Rank Organisation, which was scouting for young talent. The photos were seen by Clive Donner, who was casting his first feature, The Secret Place (1957), and he invited McCallum to do a reading.

“Although he was nervous, his voice was firm, and he was very good,” Donner recalled. “I sat and looked at him for a long time. He was very skinny, with a marvellous head and huge eyes. I think he was living in a bedsit in Archway at that time and had little money. We put him under contract straight away.”

Obviously under the influence of James Dean, the leather-jacketed McCallum, playing a young punk involved in a heist, does his best to express teenage angst. In Cy Endfield’s gritty thriller Hell Drivers (1957), McCallum plays Stanley Baker’s brother, on crutches as a result of a crime. In the cast, as a waitress, was 20-year-old Jill Ireland. McCallum and Ireland were to marry a few months before the film’s release. Soon after, they played young lovers in Robbery Under Arms (1957), an adventure shot mostly in Australia. At that time, the couple were often pictured together in fan magazines.

It was back to British realism with Basil Dearden’s Violent Playground (1958), in which McCallum plays a juvenile delinquent gang-leader. Despite a mite too posh an accent, he makes a vivid impression with his drawn features and mop of fair hair.

There followed several more conventional supporting roles, such as radio operators, first on the Titanic in A Night to Remember (1958), and a jumpy one in an Elstree-studio Burmese jungle in the second world war drama The Long and the Short and the Tall (1961). He was even more nervy in John Huston’s Freud (1962) as one of the first of the psychoanalyst’s patients, a young man who assaulted his father because of an incestuous love for his mother.

After appearing as a sympathetic officer in Peter Ustinov’s Billy Budd (1962), McCallum went to Germany to make John Sturges’s The Great Escape (1963), the most expensive PoW picture of them all. Among a starry cast, headed by Steve McQueen, James Garner and Charles Bronson, McCallum held his own among the Brits as Eric Ashley-Pitt – “Dispersal – who devises a way of getting rid of dirt from the digging of an escape tunnel. But more significant for him was the fact that Ireland, who was with him during the shoot, fell for Bronson. Ireland and McCallum divorced; he later married Katherine Carpenter, while Ireland married Bronson.

McCallum, who was already making his principal career on television, was given the secondary role of Kuryakin in The Man from UNCLE, but was soon granted equal billing with Vaughn after it rapidly became clear that he had a huge fanbase. Alma Cogan recorded a song called Love Ya, Illya, which became a pirate-radio hit in Britain in 1966, and as late as 1991, an Argentinian funk duo named themselves Illya Kuryaki and the Valderramas, after McCallum’s character and the Colombian football player Carlos Valderrama.

The first feature-film spin-off from the TV series, To Trap a Spy (1965), in which McCallum had a minor role, did little business. But the second one, The Spy With My Face, co-starring McCallum, really lifted off, followed by the box-office hits One of Our Spies Is Missing, One Spy Too Many and The Spy in the Green Hat (all 1966), and How to Steal the World (1968).

After The Man from UNCLE finished in 1968, McCallum continued to make guest appearances on TV until his second long-running series, the BBC’s Colditz (1972-74), in which he played Flt Lt Simon Carter, a hot-headed RAF officer who is impatient to escape.

Subsequently, McCallum appeared and disappeared as a scientist in The Invisible Man (1975-76), a US TV production, and co-starred with Joanna Lumley in ATV’s spooky sci-fi series Sapphire and Steel (1979-82) as the eponymous extra-dimensional detectives sent to Earth to monitor threats to the time-stream.

McCallum was seldom off television screens over the next three decades, making the occasional sortie into films. He also did some theatre in New York, where he and his wife had settled, notably Julius Caesar in a Central Park production (2000), playing the title role as “a senile old man, suffering from ideas of grandeur” according to the actor; and portraying the Emperor Joseph II on Broadway in Peter Hall’s revival of Amadeus (1999-2000).

In 2003, his looks belying his age, McCallum began playing Dr Donald “Ducky” Mallard, chief medical examiner, in the TV series NCIS, following the cases of the fictional agents of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. His research for the part included studying pathology and sitting in on autopsies. He stayed with the show for the rest of his life, appearing in all 20 seasons up until this year. In one episode, a character asks another what Ducky looked like when he was younger. “Illya Kuryakin” comes the reply.

McCallum is survived by Katherine, their son, Peter, and daughter, Sophie, and by his sons Val and Paul from his first marriage; Jason, his third son with Ireland, died in 1989.

🔔 David Keith McCallum, actor; born 19 September 1933; died 25 September 2023

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[palegalestudios]

I don't think I want to post these anywhere else. Why? Because Tumblr is the only place (I know of) that my irl's don't follow me on. They can't know I fw Transformers /j Anyways here's a human oc concept, along with a Transformer oc concept (kind of). Here is a transcription, as I didn't account for the fact that my handwriting might be too small lol

First Image: Riley 'Star-Boy' Jones, He/She/They, 18 yrs Old - An accidental ally to Autobot Scout Veteran, Quickcircut [Earth Alias Comet, a code name for Riley specifically] - Riley is a government wanted thief, using their artist background to plan out these elaborate heists. - The main reason for these thievings, is as an act of vengeance after a freak accident involving their sibling. [Author's note: Most of what she steals are items involved in the experiments his sibling volunteered in] Now, she steals Cybertronian tech, in hopes of helping her new friend, and hopes to at least save someone this time - Riley had a dream of creating a comic with their sibling, which is why they are artistically gifted and an outside box thinker. She's also a tinkerer, his biggest project being his hidden rollerblades, allowing for quick exits.

Night time panel, Riley is resting on top of Quickcircut in her vehicular form: Riley: If you can't tell me your name... Can I give you a name? Please? QC: ... Only if I can give you a name, human Riley: Yes! Now, what one? There's so many... Hmm... How about... Comet! QC: If I can call you 'Star-Boy' then it's a deal

Sketch Panel, Riley is leaning up against QC as she draws: Riley: How close am I? QC: Star, I get you're trying to cheer me up- Riley: I know, I know! But I told you I could draw. I didn't say I could draw 'Robotic Organisms' as you say

I'm excited to work on this, and of course my inbox is open if peeps have questions

[leonawriter]

I think this is one of the other reasons I love this heist? It doesn't matter that Conan's got him again - he takes what could have been a bad situation, and turns it around on its head. It's not the best ending for the heist, but he still wins.

Not to mention, as far as I know/can see, the Jirokichi heists are ones that he didn't scout for, isn't sure of, and... as a result, it's free gem real estate but overall? It's a grand stage. The primary goal is to amaze the audience, the secondary goal is to check the gems.

In Shinichi and the law's eyes, the fact that he's returned the things he's planned on stealing is a "win" but in Kaito's eyes? he won, because all he needed in the first place was to check them, not keep them.

[riddle-me-ri]

Firstly, I've loved your writing so far! So, before the request I wanna say keep up the good work, you're doing great! 😁 Would it be possible to request something with Jigen having to pretend to be married to the reader for the sake of a heist? Like a "the person we're robbing frequents this couple's retreat and Lupin's called dibs on Fujiko" kinda thing xD (if the concept floats your boat of course. There's no pressure to say yes if not)

a/n: awww omg thanks!! I appreciate the support! I've only started writing for Lupin and gang so it's always relieving to hear I'm doing well lol. And yay my first solo Jigen request and such an adorable idea too! This was so much fun to write! Hope you enjoy!

Jigen Daisuke x Reader - Better Half

Jigen Daisuke could usually get behind many of Lupin's far-fetched plans of master disguises and acting out various roles in order to obtain a massive gain…

But this felt like a certain line was crossed.

Apparently this trillionaire liked to daylight as a loving and doting husband to his wife of supposedly twenty years (but by nighttime he's as gangster as they come with trades and transfers in all sorts of despicable activities).

Lupin figured it'd be best to scout the target when he was most vulnerable and more focused on holding a facade…hence why you four were at a romantic couples’ retreat and Lupin obviously snatched up Fujiko for the role as his “wife”.

If Jigen wanted to find out intel on his own and not look suspicious, that meant you and him had to be false spouses.

Deep down, Jigen knew this was truly the least of his actual worries, and he believed Lupin had an ulterior motive to this plan.

The gentleman thief was aware of Jigen's feelings for you, often teasing Jigen for them, and this just seems like another prominent example of that.

It didn't help that you were playing the role to a T.

“Hey honey, I've got the hotel keys. Do you wanna head up to our room and get settled in?”

Jigen shook his head to stir himself out of his thoughts. “Uh, yeah, let's go…”

In a split second, Jigen quickly grabbed your luggage along with his-this definitely looked good, right?

“Oh, thank you! You sure you got it, sweetheart?”

Just how in the hell did those pet names just slip so easily from your lips? It almost sounded…natural.

“Yeah, I got it, lead the way…” Jigen choked on returning the pet name pattern you had, but you didn't seem to mind as you nodded and led the two of you to the elevator.

Once the elevator doors shut, you exhaled heavily.

“Sorry…I, uh, didn't mean to lay it on so thick…just wanted to set it up from the start, you know? Not cause any suspicion.”

Jigen shook his head. “Nah, don't apologize. You're selling the part well– it just may take me a minute to catch up.”

“No worries, we'll be fine. I’m more concerned about Lupin and Fujiko…mostly Lupin keeping his focus.”

Jigen huffed. “You and me both…”

~~~~~

After you two dropped off your luggage you both decided to scope the place.

Jigen wished he could pat himself on the back for how well he kept his cool.

On top of you wearing a swimsuit that revealed more of your skin than usual, you remained determined to stay in the role of a doting and loving spouse.

The intentions of what you were saying blurred between being genuine and just a line.

You kept your body next to his, whether it's by wrapping your arm around his, holding his hand, or your hand resting on the lower end of his back.

All the while, Jigen tried not to get too attached to your affections…albeit in the back of his mind he had to admit he could get used to all this…

Somehow, Jigen managed to stay neutral despite the overwhelming heat that scorched up inside.

His mind was reeling despite the tranquil disposition he gave off from just lounging in a beach chair, waiting for the target or Lupin to show up…

“Jigen?”

Your sweet voice brought him back to the moment at hand.

“Hm?”

“Fujiko just sent me a message…” You got down on your knees beside the chair and leaned closer into Jigen's ear.

“She's found the guy's room…apparently the bastard isn't all that loyal to his loving wife…” You began to whisper in his ear.

Jigen listened intently until out of his peripheral vision, and he saw the very man you were discussing.

He was about to warn you when you suddenly wrapped your arms around his neck.

You pulled his head closer to yours, and you kissed his cheek.

“Thanks for saving me a spot, sweetie!” You swiftly laid down on the chair beside him.

Jigen didn't react immediately as he watched the target move over to the hot tub on the other end of the swimming pool and out of ear shot of you two.

“Nice save, but was that necessary?”

You shrugged. “Why else would a partner get close to their hubby?”

“I'm beginning to think you're enjoying this…”

“And if I am?” You questioned before you could think about the implications.

Jigen brushed his hair to the side to look at you incredulously.

“Well, I guess I can't stop you…”

“Of course you can, just tell me to stop…if you want me to.”

Jigen sighed but didn't answer.

You leaned forward off your chair towards him and ruffled his hair teasingly.

“We can discuss this later, but right now, let's check out that guy's room. Fujiko said he keeps a safe somewhere in the penthouse room…”

“Whatever you say, dear.” Jigen sighed.

“Oh now you use the pet names.” You snickered as you stood up from your chair.

Jigen shrugged as he followed you. “I learned from the best.”

You chuckled. “Sure, you learned from your better half!”

Jigen tsked but still held an amused side smirk.

It wasn't an ideal start to this new development, and he still planned on giving Lupin shit later for this whole setup.

However, Jigen knew he'd also have to thank his friend for giving him a slice of what could be and now what finally will be once this heist is over.

[sparedpart]

introducing: nam wonshik

hi! i'm super excited to be here and introduce you to my boy wonshik! please like to plot and i'll come running, preferably on discord but ims here are good too. info under the cut!

nam wonshik, registered in december 2997. he's got an older brother (hyungjun) and sister (eunbyul) as well as a younger sibling; his mother raised them on a minimum wage salary, his dad has been a deadbeat for as long as he can remember.

he's scouted at a trip to the mall when he's four years old. starts earning merits first modelling boy's clothes, then acting in commercials, before he gets casted for a disney channel-esque sitcom as the little brother. his mother encourages the acting massively (it's extra cash for the household!), wonshik enjoys himself (although he's definitely overworked).

the older he gets, the better the roles. he plays the lead in teen dramas, is typecast as the boy next door. wonshik is barely attending to his studies at this point, but he manages to graduate somehow. when he's 19, he gets his breakthrough role in a heist movie - he plays a conman.

life, after that, is going extremely well. he gets a new place to live in behind closed gates, he can afford all sorts of luxuries, he's got friends, sends money to his family and parties hard. it's good! really good! ...until gyuok disappears, and suddenly wonshik is forced to question if terra is really all that.

what does your muse know him for?

if not for his quick wit on talkshows or his reputation for getting a little too drunk at that one costar's party, then they've seen him on screen as the killer in a horror movie, the love interest of a jane austen adaptation, or in marvel's 50th reboot. (tentative filmography here. please take this with a grain of salt, i'm very indecisive.) wonshik's interested in (e)sports and will talk about it in the terranean version of instagram live.

let's write!

no specific plots, let's brainstorm! friends, fans, exes, flings, friends or exes of family; people who grew up in the same (lower class) neighbourhood, fellow dog parents, and, of course, people whom wonshik has rubbed the wrong way, and anything else we can think of. you can find more info about wonshik on his stats page.

[flameohotpotatooo]

The silver thread

Chapter 1: Did you miss me?

Word count: 5k

Summary: After Hosea went dark in your regular exchange of letter, you heard the news of your old gang and family, how Blackwater heist went down and they escaped. Now you go back to check on them, halting your operation in New York for your family, but it's deeper than what you think.

Tags: Mention of death, not proof read, also english is not my first language so I'm trying, no use of y/n instead it's MC, I'm not american my knowledge comes from researching and media, idk how tags work tell me what to add.

You had to put everything down back in New York to get to the Blackwater. The news of what had transpired was all over the news.

“BLACKWATER LOCKDOWN!”

“BANK BOAT HEIST LARGEST ROBBERY IN YEARS. DUTCH'S BOYS ACCUSED. BOUNTIES PLACED.”

Sending a telegraph to Trelwany in saint Denis to scout and gather information while you handled your business. He was closer than any of your men, and had the connection with the gang and common thieves to get what you needed. As you told him, you set up a meeting a saloon in which you rented whole so nobody can eavesdrop. You had your crow, and 5 men with you in this worrisome mission.

So you are waiting for him, in a rented room in the Blackwater saloon, the window is open letting the chill air in, and your friendly crow sit on the fence. You are looking over a map of the area, marked places you think they might have had hole up there. South and South east is out of question. The place is technically dead end, so it’s north where they run… a straight line up to belly of the storm, in snowy mountains of Grizzles.

You pulled the same plan before. When Hosea took you in, the four of you ran somewhere the law couldn’t run after you. It wasn’t a freezing mountain tops back then but still, Dutch probably hasn’t changed that much.

A series of knock on the door, followed by a pauses and rapid knocks indicates the passcode from your WatchGuard. Trelawney is here, you unlock the door and let the gentleman in.

“My apologize for the delay madam.” He takes off his top hat with a bow, ever so theatrically flourish. “Our boys had made such a mess; it was a delicate work not to attract attention with asking around.”

“How is your wife?” you say, gesturing him to sit as you pour a glass of wine. “Is Saint Denis up to your standards?” He sits and takes the offered glass, looking over to the map you have on display, with a pin on the mountains.

“She only found disappointment in leaving her dear friend behind.” He jokes, following your movement as you take a sit mirroring his, he turns his gaze back to the map as he swirls the wine in glass to let it breathe. “Uh, you truly have sharp wits on you.” he then pulls out a cutout newspaper from his pocket and hands it to you.

“PITCHED BATTLE LEAVES MANY DEAD.

OUTLAWS SEND TRAIN ON DRIVERLESS JOURNEY.

OWNED BY LEVITICUS CORNWALL”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration as you read the article.

“A private train owned by the railroad, sugar and oil magnate Leviticus Cornwall was robbed in broad daylight by masked outlaws. Headed North towards the Grizzlies, the outlaws boarded and stopped the train shortly after it had departed from West Elizabeth. Initial cables sent as of printing time indicate the bloody takeover occurred in order to steal railroad bonds from the personal car of Mr. Cornwall.

Shortly after the robbery, the train was set in motion without a driver or crew, barreling dangerously through the area at a high rate of speed. The train was eventually brought to a stop by engineers and lawmen north of Annesburg, who reported a scene of violent struggle and bloody carnage of board.

Some engineers and guards from the train survived the slaughter but were too startled to report much information of value to authorities.”

“Cornwall? Is he that disparate?” you crumble the paper and toss it into the fire. Too angered to think rational at the moment you stand and walk back and forth.

“Indeed it appears he is. They have lost some men in this endeavor. The Callanders are dead, a young girl named Jenny Kirk from the gang was also killed, the Irish boy, Sean, taken.” He pauses, taking in your restless expression already piecing together your plan and continues, “It is said that Dutch has killed a young lady, innocent and without fault.”

You had to take a moment to think this over. Did you hear that right?

“But…” maybe he has changed to your worst fears. This wasn’t something the old Dutch you knew would do. “What about Arthur?” you can’t help but to wonder out loud. If Dutch has changed into a merciless man, has Arthur changed to something you wouldn’t recognize him?

He always sought Dutch’s approval, he would command ‘jump’ and Arthur would ask ‘how high?’

Trelawney lets the silence linger for your sake, so you can gather your thoughts before you square up your shoulders, having a semi solid plan form in your head. “Where are we going?” he asks, finishing his wine and putting the glass aside.

“Find whereabouts on Sean.” You order, looking at your raven, and it tilts its head looking back at you. “I have a meeting before catching up to them.”

You had a hard time convincing the Wapiti tribe into trusting you to get a mutual ground of helping. Whereas the chieftain, Rains fall, was a calm collected man, easy to talk to, his son was impatient and hot headed, hard to reason with but easy to manipulate.

You don’t blame him though, you had to sit with their shaman and converse about what you need to see, before planning a careful route for all of you.

“Cornwall is a greedy man, drove you out of your house.” You argued, “He will chase you out of here too.”

Rains fall thought you wanted war, so did his son. Eagle flies was all for fighting Cornwall men out of the land, and Rains fall had to chime in his worry of not wanting to fight in their condition. It’s the only ways they know of, but you’ve been in the privilege of being in higher power ranks of society.

“Fighting face to face and front with someone who has power of words is…” you don’t want to insult them, “not ideal and results in a lost.”

“You kill him in silence?” Eagle flies was a bit too excited to think you’re planning an assassination.

“No.” you smile at him, oh to be young. “Give me time, and you’ll see it.” you reassure them.

Before you can continue, sound of rapid stomps running towards your tent. “Chief!” Paytah jumps in, a slight bow in head, addressing to everyone. “The people you told us to watch over are moving.”

You nod to him in appreciation, and look at Rains fall, “I will inform you on what I’m doing. Continuing with Miller’s attempt wouldn’t harm my plan.” He can’t really do anything.

“Very well. We see you off.” He states as he rises, followed by his son. “When she comes back, I’ll send word to you.”

“Thanks, chief.” You bow slightly.

You step out of the tent and look at the men you brought from New York. “Boys, scatter. The eyes are near now. Dames,” you give a piece of paper of massage to one of them, “Send a telegraph to Evangeline back in New York.” He nods and all of them depart for their destination. Each taking a particular area among themselves.

On the ride with three Wapitis, anxiety is crashing your brain, that you didn’t realized they left your sides and you’re moving forward on your own. You didn’t think what would you say as greetings in such time, after how you left 5 years ago…

‘Miss me?’ no, it sounds like a psychopath.

‘You like jazz?’ has jazz made its way here?

‘Should I clean up after you boys?’ what exactly have you done yet to be considered cleaning after their mess? This line is so cringe too.

‘Howdy, pardners?’ WHAT IS THAT!?

Why is it so hard to talk to people? Maybe you can go forward and look at them till they talk to you? How about…

Your anxious train of thoughts is interrupted by the sound of a crash, and someone cussing.

“I broke the goddamn wheel.” You look up to see, Arthur pulling the reins of horses and jump down, followed by Hosea and another man.

“Alright, let’s get it fixed.” Hosea says, as he looks at the broken wheel.

“You need help?” you say in sync with the other man, as you jump down your horse, keeping your head low, face hidden by brim of your hat.

“I reckon we can handle it, ma’am.” Hosea eyes you, suspicious. “Mr. Smith you and me hold the thing up…”

“I insist.” You step forward, closer to Hosea and smile at him, “I ain’t letting my pa do the hard work.” You announce, cheerfully.

It took a bit of second for him to get his reaction before laughing and pulling you into a hug. “Arthur! Looks who’s here!”

You laugh and hug him back. “Yeah, I missed you too old man. Now let get your wagon fix?”

“Charles, this is MC.” He introduces you to the quiet gentleman, with long dark locks, and sepia colored skin, and sharp eyes watching you, then glancing at Arthur. “MC, I think I wrote of Charles in last the paper.”

You glance at Arthur out of the corner of your eye, seeing his unpleased expression. He’s trying to busy himself with the wheel, checking a spot on it which you’re sure he’s been staring at it just to avoid you.

“Nice to meet ya, Charles. Mindin’ I give a hand in this?” you point to the wagon and stand beside him.

“go ahead.” You both crouch, and Hosea picks up a hammer.

“Arthur!” He calls for Arthur, who’s deeply invested in wood texture of the wheel.

“On it.” Arthur answers back, and rolls it towards you.

You and Charles pull the wagon up, you’d expected to be heavier than this, only to realize Charles is basically carrying the wagon.

Holy shit, is this man made of steel? You try to ease his work and help him as much as you can.

“And… there. Put it down.” Hosea taps the wheel few more times just to make sure. “Good to go now.”

You smile at Charles, in mixture of appreciation and apologetic manner.

“Okay let’s get movin’.” Hosea takes back his sit as the shotgun, Charles jumps on the back of the wagon.

You look at Arthur, as he’s still insisting on silent treatment and giving you the cold shoulder.

What a child…

You whistle low for your horse, Midnight.

He’s a black Turkman horse, with Wapiti kids braided his tail and mane. You mount up and ride along the wagon. “You boys made a big splash, eh? Came to visit you, only found the town swarming with Pinkertons.” You look at them, tilting your head.

“If life was predictable, it be boring.” Hosea comments, chuckling a little bit and searching in his satchel. He’s cheery to see you, that’s for sure; but that laugh? He’s worried. He can hide his worries well in front of most people, but even after so time not seeing him, you can practically see the lines dancing around his head.

You were about to say something about that, when all your eyes catch the three wapiti men. They keep watching as your wagon moves on the road, not hiding, but in the plain sight.

Your eye meets their gazes from distance, and after a silent warning on their side, or silent prayer, they ride away.

“What you think?” Arthur finally breaks his silence.

“If they wanted trouble, we wouldn't have seen them.” Charles replies calmly.

“They never want trouble…” You whisper, “It’s other way around.”

“Poor bastards. We really screwed them over down here” Hosea shakes his head.

“What happened?” Arthur asks, urging the horses to go forward.

“We'll follow the river, then cut left inland.” Hosea instructs, pointing to the way ahead. “the Indians in these parts got sold a very raw deal. This is the Heartlands we're going to.” He has his old mortar and pestle in his hand, “Good farming and grazing country. They lost it all.” He shakes his head, in pity, “Stolen, clean away from them, it was, every blade of grass. Killed or herded up to the reservations in the middle of nowhere.”

“How's that different from anywhere else?” Charles asks, a mock in his tone as he’s still watching where the Wapiti stood.

“Well, maybe it's not. I just heard some of the army out here was particularly unpleasant about it.”

You and Charles scoff at the same time.

“Unpleasant. How do you rob and kill people pleasantly? We don't, in spite of Dutch's talk.” Charles shakes his head, a bitter smile on his lips.

“Not anymore we don’t” You whisper to yourself, not known to you, Arthur heard it.

“I fear I was perhaps trying to simplify something more complicated for the benefit of our block-headed driver here.” Hosea jabs Arthur in ribs as he jokes.

You smile. Despite yourself, you missed this. You missed the jokes, the gang… the freedom of once again riding in the wild.

“Hey, don't blame it on me.” Arthur laughs, heartedly, “Never forget this here's a con-man, Charles, born and bred. Just because he sounds fancy don't mean he knows a damn thing about what he's talking about.”

“Well,” Are you in position to joke with Arthur at the moment? You bite back at your lip and direct it at Hosea instead. “Least is, you can bullshit your way, till you have a smart mouth and an attitude.”

“True that.”

A small silent falls in between the three of you. Hosea feeling the tension, and knowing you two, decides to cut in. “What happened to your tribe?” He asks Charles.

Charles takes a fast glance your way before answering; “I don't even know if I have one, at least not that I can remember.” It’s either he has moved on from the feelings, or he’s really good at keeping his words neutral. You decide it’s both and the fact of not talking in details. “My father was a colored man.” He states a fact, that is enough to explain subtexts everyone can pick up on. “He told me he lived with our people for a while, a number of free men did. But when we were forced to move from our lands, the three of us fled. I was too young to really remember much. My whole life I've been on the run.”

You dig in your pocket to hand him a flask of gin you carry, with a nod and sympathy smile. He nods his thanks and continues, “A couple of years later, some soldiers captured my mother, took her somewhere. We never saw her again. We drifted around. He was a very sad man and the drink had a mean hold on him. Around 13, I just took off on my own.” He smells the gin, and takes a small sip and hands it back.

“That was about the age we found these two here, maybe a little older.” He then points to Arthur with his head, “A wilder delinquent you never did see, but he learned fast.”

“Not as fast as Marston and MC, apparently.” He glares at you for a second and you answer the glare with the same energy.

“Wait, I don't understand. What’s the problem between you three?” Charles looks between you and Arthur.

“Yeah Arthur. What’s the problem?” You ask, with a gritted teeth smile. You really don’t understand what his problem is. First you used to think it was about Annabelle, same reason Dutch got distant from you, but the last time you visit, it was clearly not that.

“It's a long story.” He looks at the road ahead, again, ignoring you. “We still headed the right way?

Hosea looks between you and Arthur, and sighs. “That depends. Are we still heading West in search of fortune and repose in virgin forest as we planned? No. Are we heading in the correct direction on our desperate escape from the law eastwards down the mountains? Yes, I believe so.”

“We moving too east, we’ll be in New York by Christmas.” Arthur jokes, or better, shoots the insult at you.

“Well, at least you visit me once, and in Christmas too? You’re the perfect gift Mr. Morgan.” You bite back at him, with a so friendly smile.

“You know this area?” Charles asks Hosea, really uneasy by the energy crackling between Arthur and you.

“A little. I've been through a couple of times. There's a livestock town not too far from here called Valentine. Cowboys, Outlaws, working girls, our kind of place.” Hosea somewhat used to us bickering and barking at one on another, answers, unfazed.

“O'Driscolls?” Arthur asks.

“Probably them too.”

“Pinkertons?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“You chose Horseshoe overlook? It’s a nice place to lie low.” You chime in, seizing the moment of slow riding, you feed Midnight an oatcake.

“how low do you think Dutch is really going to lie? It's just, you know,” Hosea chews on his words before voicing them out, “maybe it's me that's changed and not him, but we kept telling him not that ferry job didn't feel right.” He gestures to Arthur and himself, “Arthur and me had a real lead in Blackwater that could have worked out.”

It did work out… For someone else.

“Life ain’t predictable now, issit?” You voice his old comment back to him, and he rolls his eyes. It's not like Dutch to ignore Hoses's words, Arthur's? Sometimes but never his old friend.

“It just isn't like Dutch to lose his head like that.” Hosea says slowly.

Does he mean the girl he killed in there? Or something else had happened in the mountains.

“Things go wrong sometimes. People die. That's the way it is, always has been. Me, you, Dutch,” He pauses, “MC, we've all been in this line of work a long time and we're still here, so I figure we must've got it right a hell of a lot more than we got it wrong.”

You look at him for a moment. It must be hard on Dutch to loose people. He’s not someone who can walk away from people. If he’s making decisions on the run, with much pressure on his shoulders?

Pinkertons are after the gang. Why they aren’t talking about a scape plan? Maybe you should wait and talk to Dutch.

You’re close to Van Horn. Considering how much money they have from the job… wait…

“You got no money.” You whisper, eyes widened as the reason of this desperation shows itself. Dutch is alone as a leader, he’s whom the whole gang look up to as a savior. A picture he painted of himself as a forgiving father, never yielding, never losing… now he seemed to lose and is scared to lose more.

You look to your immediate right, where Arthur is sitting on the wagon, jaw clenched, knuckles turned white from the peer pressure he’s fisting them on the reins.

Oh dear…

This does interfere with parts of your plan. You thought they ran away with the money so their escape route gets clear and they can be on their way with the cash; But no cash, means they’re at the rock bottom.

Of course! The Cornwall train.

You sigh, massaging your temples. The conversation between Arthur and Hosea fades back in your head, as you piece another plan together.

You got to see the steps of what destiny puts in front of you, before you can save them one by one.

“There you are, brother. Head in there. Follow the track for a bit.” You hear the sing song Mexican accent, and you can’t help but sit straight and look at the source.

“Javi!” You exclaim, excited as you see the dashing fellow step out of the tree line.

“Oh my god,” He cheers in Spanish, “My eyes deceive me?”

“Jump up.” You stop and help him up on Midnight, “How are you?” You reply in Spanish.

“What you doing here? How you found us?” He asks, turning back into English.

“Good question.” Arthur shouts back. “How DID you find us?”

“How ‘bout I tell Dutch that and don’t waste my breath?” You snap towards Arthur and turn back to Javier. “I knew of this place. Hosea and Bessie took me here way back. Thought I can find you here after running away from Blackwater.”

He nods, scratching his chin. “How long you staying, though?” He has one casual hand on side of your hip from behind.

“I came to visit. If y’all are alright… I should head back then.”

“Pretty convenient of ye, don’cha think?” Arthur puts on a cigarette between his lips, and strikes a match by his side.

If your glare could drill holes in his skull, he would look like Swiss cheese. “Hosea didn’t write me back for a month.” It’s not a lie and also every two months you send letters to each other. “You stopped some years back, I asked Hosea if you died, hopefully.”

“Stay disappointed lady. I ain’t plannin’ on leavin’ just yet.”

“There’s hopin’.” You mumble, for a second forgot Javier was behind you and see his grin widening and looks between you two.

“It’s on again, ey?” he teases as he nudges your side in respond you just groan and see the camp ground approaching.

The lake can provide fruitful for resources, and the trees are hiding the spot pretty well. The location is close to a small town, not too near to draw attention though.

The gang is already in middle of making the floor panels for Dutch’s tent, and… is that a man tied to a pole?

The man looks weak and miserable. God, you pity him.

With the wagon approaching, some eyes look your way, and the familiar faces you know have a double take, not expecting to see you here.

“Oh, look ‘er.” You hop down from Midnight, a little boy was sitting near the entrance. From what John told you 3 or 4 years ago, and the letters from Hosea, this should be Jack. “Hi!” you smile and bend down. The kid shifts nervous, and looks at his mother close behind him.

Abigail puts down a crate she was carrying and walks over, crouching beside Jack to his ear level. “Jack.” In a kind type of warning, she looks at him, signaling him you greeted him, now it’s his turn.

“I’m MC.” You say, extending your hand. Is this how kids work? You don’t know. It’s been a long time you talked to a kid. “I’m friends’ of your ma.”

Jack steals another glance at Abigail before accepting your hand, “Hello ma’am. I’m Jack.”

Oh dear, he’s so sweet…

“ ‘s great to meet ya.” You smile and look at Abigail with a smile as you both stand.

“Go ‘long, Jack. See what you find around.” Abigail urges Jack to go, and he takes the chance immediately and runs off.

“ABBY!” You exclaim, and she pulls you into a hug, the happy screeches alerts others, and heads turn your way.

You missed the gang, dearly. There are new faces you meet, like the stand-offish girl in Dutch’s tent Molly, Charles that you met, and the boy tied to the pole named Kieran. Mary-beth and Abigail also told you about a new member Dutch brought from the mountains named Saddie Adler. She’s grieving yet, so they leave her to her peace most of times; there’s also a young boy named Lenny and another man named Micah that have gone ahead to scout.

They didn’t talk much about Micah, the expressions told you enough to keep away from him, but Lenny seems like a type you can talk with “All big brains and books of yers.” As put in by Karen.

With all this people around, the more job there is to tidy the camp, so Mrs. Grimshaw is grumpier than who you remembered her be. Before, she could talk with Bessie and Annabelle, and was in lighter mood… now seems she aged 10 years instead, and girls see her as a mean bitter woman. You can’t relate, being there when she first came into the gang; but saying she wasn’t always like this, makes you sound ancient.

Honestly, you dread meeting Dutch. Last time you saw him, was before Annabelle’s death. You’re still scared he might blame you for it. He’s the last man you encounter in the camp, as he was standing by the lake, accompanied by his right hand men.

“Miss. Prince!” He greets, nodding your way with a polite smile. “Came down from your tall buildings to visit your humble family?”

“You’re anything but, Dutch.” You tease as you walk towards him. “Was worried I didn’t get any papers from you, then I heard the news. Feared something happened to y’all.”

“something did happen, dear.” He shakes his head, putting a cigar between his lips and striking a match to light it. “But we survived.” He opens his arms gesturing to scenery around him like he’s a prophet, a savior, trying to show case his new miracle.

“For now.” Hosea adds.

“Now it is time to prosper.” Dutch deflects Hosea’s concerned tone.

“Arthur and I were about to prosper in Blackwater.” Hosea protests, gesturing to Arthur and himself. “We were onto something big. Then Micah got you all excited about that ferry and here we are.”

This seems unlikely Dutch gets tips from someone other than the famous two he trusts. Also the job was so unreliable to be a good tip. Is this Micah a new outlaw and shoots in the dark? Then Dutch wouldn’t’ve listen to him.

“We have all made mistakes over the years, Hosea, every last one of us.” There he goes, getting defensive “But I kept us together. Kept us alive. Kept the noses off our neck”

So much for keeping the noses off their necks when they have Pinkertons and Cornwall on their trail. And as to alive? There are 3 to possible 4 corpses disagreeing. Together? Sure.

“I guess I'm just worried.” Hosea sighs, shaking his head “I ain't got that long, Dutch. I want folks safe before I go.”

It always pained you how he accepted his death already but ever since his sickness and Bessie’s passing, he showed you there’s a way to redemption. Yet it hurts when someone you hold dear is so ready to die and go away.

You step a little further, giving them space for their talk.

“Me too.” You hear Dutch, also voicing his worries.

“You’re deep in thought.” You bump Arthur with your shoulder.

He looks down towards you, “Just thinking ahead.”

“You don’t see all the plays to think ahead.” You tilt your head, “I can show you though.”

He’s about to respond, but a German accent cuts through both conversations, “Gentlemen, I am going to head into the local town and see if I can strike up a little business.” Straus tips his head towards the 4 of you.

“Of course, Herr Straus.” Dutch nods as the gentleman walks away and talks to rest of you, “I prefer robbing banks to usury, seems more dignified somehow.”

“Of course it does,” you wrinkle your nose, “Poor folk don’t afford banks.” You hated when Dutch brought that shark loaner, but defying Dutch so openly is only allowed for Hosea and occasionally Uncle who jesters his way out of Dutch’s wrath.

“Desperate times, calls desperate choices.” He inhales his smoke and flickers the ash aside, “Providing for a gang in these areas, there’s no more fancy options.”

“Of course.” You don’t want to argue with him out of the gate, you just hang your head low and let the man walk back to the crowd and have his speech.

“Now, everyone, put your tools down for a moment. Come on, gather round. Quickly now.” He gestures for them to gather around him, “I know that things have been tough, but we are safe now and we were far too poor. It is time for everyone to get to work.”

“Get to work, but stay out of trouble.” Hosea instructs. “Remember, we are itinerant workers.”

“Laid off when they shut down our factory to the north.” He puts loops his thumbs in his gun belt, “Now get out there and see what you can find. Uncle, Reverend Swanson, no more passengers.” He points to the men in question then to you, “It goes for you too, Miss Prince. As long as you stay in the gang, of course. It is time for everyone to earn their keep.” You nod, following his words like always.

“There's a town little way down the track name of Valentine, livestock town, all mud and morons, if I remember right. That seems a decent place to start.” Hosea continues the speech, in which Pearson chimes in to remind everyone about the shortage of food.

You stride towards Arthur who was checking his sleeping quarters the girl put together around for him. “Shaking off the cold coat?”

“Heartlands are warm enough to make me sweat without. How’s New York this time of year? Cold?”

“Honestly?” you scoff, shaking your head, “No idea.”

He looks at you, questioning. “What you mean?”

“I told you, I was training.” You tap your foot on the ground, looking at the dust in front of you.

“Yeah, you was training 10 years ago.” He frowns. “Reckon you said it was about to finish.”

“Oh, so you read my letters?” you fold your arms in front of your chest. “I’m busy.”

“And yet,” he walks towards you, standing a foot apart “You don’t seem busy leaving to come here because Hosea didn’t write you a week later.”

You look up at him, still same eyes you remember from all the years. You tried to memorize them all the years you didn’t gaze into them, but now? Each time it seems to hypnotize you all over again.

Why is there so much hurt in his eyes when he looks at you? What have you done to hurt him like this? “I was scared…” you whisper between the two of you, “That something had happened.”

“Nothing happened to your concerns, your majesty.” He has a bitter mocking tone to his smile. “You can leave again.” And he walks around you, out of his tent.

You stare at his pictures beside his bed, pinned to the wagon. The picture of Cooper, and the picture of four of you; with Hosea and Dutch standing behind both of you. Seems the second picture of that day has been lost to the years.

You sigh.

You have to save them from this swamp they’re drowning in, whether he likes you or not. That’s what you promised each other after all.