Fics like working for the knife

Minho’s heart drops, eyes scanning every inch of the inside of the safe. It’s empty. “Is this what you’re looking for?” A voice calls out to interrupt his thoughts, masculine and teasing. In the moment it takes Minho to react he decides that it must be the owner of the house. But when he finishes turning his head, a stranger stares back at him. He wears a long black coat, soaked from the rain, a hood pulled over his eyes. He leans casually against the wall of the bedroom, smirking. In a gloved hand he holds a small, black box. Perfectly sized to the inside of the safe. Minho freezes in place, lowering his body into a fighting stance. “Who the fuck are you?” The man lazily pulls a pocket watch out of his coat pocket, and examines it closely. “Took you ten minutes to get it open. Not bad,” he tuts, “But you cut it close. You’re lucky she’s a chain smoker.” He gestures toward the garden, where the housekeeper was still smoking, oblivious, out in the rain. “Otherwise you would’ve gotten caught.” (OR: Minho is a veteran thief. Jisung beats him at his own game.)

Fics like working for the knife

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