#i know so many people who had to apply thrice

[veggiefritterz]

i need to tell EVERYONE my disability funding was approved today this is so awesome

[barrenclan]

went absolutely nuts one night at 4 an and stsrted absolutely screaming about how you could have been anyone by roar is rainhaze coded before i just passed out before i could finish writing this

Sell off the licensing rights to your mind

(Very easy to pin this line on Rainhaze, he gave his mind to Defiance whole-heartedly, before he himself had even realized.)

You'll sit through some ads before you can see the light

(Can be interpreted as his heel-digging to embrace the Defiance beliefs, not only the resistance he presented but the gradual process and conditioning he went through. Depending on the perspective this line it can be interpreted as him finally understanding the gift of slaughter, or in a metaphorical sense the light at the end of the tunnel, repesenting the death of the old Rainhaze and the birth of a Defiance broken tom.)

Life doesn't mean a thing until you've almost none

(Can align with the beliefs of Defiance directly, so many animals take their lives for granted, submitting to the roles relegated to them and labeled solely as hunters or prey. Only until you understand you can be so much more and see the beauty in killing can you then understand you have power.)

You could have been anyone

(Very fitting lyric, if only he hadn't gone this path, perhaps a mate would have lied away from him, maybe even kits. A loving uncle who helped support his nieces and nephews through their struggle to unserstand their identities. A brother who could provide care to his deeply scarred sibling. A cat who above all else loved his family, instead of the grotesque, twisted love his mind was warped into believing.)

You can find Jesus in every thrift store

(In every single Defiance member lay a fragment of Deepdark.)

And you can catch hell, condemned by the Lord's billboards

(And when he wills it, he can tower above you as the almighty jury he is and damn you.)

Wildfires opalize the skies

While they try thinking of ways to monetize

Ways to monetize

Life doesn't mean a thing until you've almost none

You could have been anyone

I love it when people do all the analyzing work for me!

Well, I wouldn't blame you for just the name. I like it with her, though! I don't think I've ever gotten a song suggestion for Rosey.

And I've seen the way the seasons change when I just give it time But I feel out of my mind all the time In the night I'm wild eyed, and you got me now

What a sweet and romantic song for such a pair of weirdos! Deepdark is always associated with "paleness", though, and I think Prowl being sappy is pretty funny.

Good morning, how's the weather dear? My feelings are so clear I just wanna be with you Doing what you do, always Show me how to live <- big darkprowl energy

"Death Thrice Drawn" has the word 'pining', automatic Pinepaw song. Haha, but I also like it as a song for both Pinepaw and Cormorantpaw, musing on their relationship.

Hotshot, have you got a clue how long I've been pining for you? Spent so many sleepless nights in unbaptized decline

The awful truth has eluded you for too long Uh-oh, everything you know is all wrong

Oh, more vocaloid! Songs about barren, abandoned wastelands always fit PATFW.

I can imagine this song being sung by a young Pinepaw.

I'm missing a house That I've never called home I'm missing a time that I've never known I remember a tree, had a whole leaf of my own But now we're reaching spring Was it just a dream? I don't know

The children hum a hymn And I'd like to run away But to leave would be a sin

A distant memory that itches my brain Now it remains a dream

I am always here for more Kate Bush! This song is really beautiful, and I'd definitely apply it to Asphodelpaw, though I think Mallowstar is a bit too old for the relevance. Perhaps more young cats throughout BarrenClan's history?

But he didn't have the money for a guitar (What could he do?) (Should have been a politician) But he never had a proper education (What could he do?) (Should have been a father) But he never even made it to his twenties What a waste Army dreamers

Give the kid the pick of pips And give him all your stripes and ribbons Now he's sitting in his hole He might as well have buttons and bows

My mom is a big fan of Eurythmics, thanks for suggesting it. I can imagine Slugpelt walking through the warm spring rain of BarrenClan, thinking about her past with Cashew.

Here comes the rain again Falling on my head like a memory Falling on my head like a new emotion I want to walk in the open wind I want to talk like lovers do

Want to dive into your ocean Is it raining with you?

I think I've been suggested this song before, yes! I agree, though perhaps this would fit Saltburn's Clan even better. PATFW is not set in a desert after all.

When the last light warms the rocks And the rattlesnakes unfold Mountain cats will come to drag away your bones

She twines her spines up slowly Towards the boiling sun And when I touched her skin My fingers ran with blood

I don't believe it has! I haven't even heard this Mitski song before.

I better ace that interview I better ace that interview I should tell them that I'm not afraid to die

I wanna see the whole world I wanna see the whole world I don't know how I'm gonna pay rent I wanna see the whole world

[mademoiselle-red]

Exactly one year ago on this day, I posted my first ever fanfic to ao3, The Thrice Told Tale, inspired by and in response to Mary Renault’s The Persian Boy. I wanted to write this fic because I resented the way Renault marginalized Hephaestion and Alexander’s romance in her story. To be fair, many tales have already been told about this pair of friends-maybe-lovers, so I see the artistic appeal of plucking a less well-known of lover of Alexander, the eunuch Bagoas, from obscurity and imagining a story based on this relative blank slate.

But I resent it because published fiction that focuses on a romantic relationship between Alexander and Hephaestion are still few and far in between (Jeanne Reames’ Dancing with the Lion series is a fantastic example, if you are craving A/H in professionally published fiction). Five decades after the publication of The Persian Boy, the legacy of Renault’s depiction of Alexander and Hephaestion in a sexless platonic marriage looms large. I dislike her portrayal of an Alexander who divides physical and spiritual love between two partners, and I was baffled by her depiction of Hephaestion as a flat boring man with no personality and aspirations in life outside of being Alexander’s friend and lover (in both Fire from Heaven and The Persian Boy). I think I would have disliked Hephaestion as I had disliked Andrew in The Charioteer, in favor of the much more vividly drawn protagonist Bagoas, if not for the fact that I came into the book already knowing and loving the histories and stories about Alexander and Hephaestion.

So from the beginning, my attitude towards the work I was adapting was hostile. But I didn’t want to simply write yet another fanfic set in the universe of TPB that focused on Hephaestion instead of Bagoas. Instead, I wanted to respond to the work on a meta textual level. My beef was with the very conceit of Renault’s novel, not the events in the story per se. The novel is told in first person by Bagoas, it is his story of his romance with Alexander, and in telling his story, he attempts to mythologize both the conqueror and their love story. Throughout the novel, our storyteller struggles against one primary narrative rival: Homer. Inspired by the story of Achilles and Patroclus from The Iliad, Alexander weaves Hephaestion into his personal mythos, the very fabric of his self-identity and emotional security.

Reading the novel this way, I realized that I didn’t just want Hephaestion to win against Bagoas in the fictional world of TPB. I wanted Alexander and Hephaestion’s story —and the story-archetype it has come to represent —to win against Bagoas (and Renault’s) subversive retelling. I realized that my stance towards Renault’s novel was not rebellious. It was reactionary. I’m on the side of the Alexander / Hephaestion establishment, and it’s long history of adaptation, from medieval chansons to 19th century paintings.

Alexander and Hephaestion are popular to this day, even in Renault’s fandom, despite Renault’s best efforts to sell Bagoas / Alexander, because it has that millennia of narrative heritage, from the historical Alexander, who immortalized their story through his extravagant displays of grief, to the historians of antiquity, who eulogized the deep bond between the two men. And A/H also appeals to people because it fits into the familiar story archetype of a deep and ultimately doomed love between a tragic hero and his loyal friend: Achilles and Patroclus, Lancelot and Galehaut, Roland and Olivier, and Gilgamesh and Enkidu.

In TPB, Bagoas tells tales about the love between a great Persian conqueror and his eunuch boy in order to create a new cultural framework for Alexander’s new life, where the ideals of Homeric and Platonic love no longer apply. And so in my fic, I bringing a Babylonian storyteller into the palace and have him perform for Alexander and his court the Tale of Gilgamesh. The tale shows him that men have longed for love between equals, for a partner with whom one could fight side by side, long before the Greek philosophers created rules to make it chaste and “pure”. He can have his friend, his lover, his equal partner in life and war, all in one man. In this “exotic” land with its foreign values and foreign traditions, Alexander finds in my fic a familiar love story. He no longer needs Bagoas’ story to connect emotionally with his newfound home.

[malottie]

1, 6, 12, 39

get asked things, dork (affectionate

welp, get your reading glasses out everyone

1: 3 things that shaped me into who i am

-1: luck. from the classic things like being born in a wealthy western country, being white (not inherently lucky but made me privileged/safer), having a relatively nice familly with no financial struggle, etc, to smaller stuff. like, it's a miracle i was never bullied in school. if it wasn't for that one person, maybe i would've died. i had free access to the internet since i was like 9, and somehow never stumbled on stuff that was inapropriate for my age

i consider myself quite lucky, despite all the hardships

-2: being trans. sorry to the people who think it's cringe when we make it our whole personnality, but it is litteraly so important. so central. i cannot fathom what i would be like if i weren't trans. that's just not the same person

-3: having weird ass parents. by that i mean that they're almost not like parents, more like... people i lived with that cared for me? i of course mean that in the sense that i don't have any special emotional attachment to them and all, but also that it doesn't feel like they raised me because they transmitted so little to me. my way of seeing the world, my hobbies, my fears, my political opinions, my general knowledge, my understanding of myself and others, my skills, i got them from, well, not them. the internet school, my friends, but not my parents. truly, i don't really know these people

6: best and worst part of being online

i've been here most of my life, so all the bad is just part of it. yes, that's where all the haters are. sure, all of the horrible things in existence can be found here. but that's also where my friends are. that's where community is. that's my only way of accessing at least 50% of what makes me happy. it has taught me so much about the world and myself, has held so many fulfilling experiences for me

if i had to choose 1 worst, i'd say transmisoginy i guess? i dunno, girl, i'm not even popular enough to get hate mail

12: a piece of advice i'd like to give

like i said in a previous post of mine i'm just 18. i'm like a baby. i feel like the least qualified person on earth to be giving advice. but i'll say one thing: advices are kinda bullshit. in essence they're opinions you think will be helpfull to someone else. but in my experience, they rarely are, especially when talking about life choices, mental health and the such. i watched hundreds of hours of self help videos, listened to people, went to therapy, and i felt like a fucking moron. i knew all the things, i had the advice, but it wasn't working. in the end, what helped me crawl out of the pit is time, love, and a bunch of stuff i'll never know about. find what works for you and ditch what doesn't; it's not because a piece of advice is true that it is helpful. searching for your solution will probably work better than just trying to apply the solutions others found

39: a youtuber i'm obssessed with

hard and specific

brennan lee mulligan? absolutely obssessed. a youtuber? not really

thegreatreview (he's french)? amazing youtuber. so fucking talented. obssessed? not really

dougdoug? obssessed by his entire cinematic universe for a while now. a youtuber? maybe 50%? it's all twitch streams highlights

john and hank green? ok i'll stop there

let's settle for brian david gilbert then, the man so nice they named him thrice. please buy his bed.

most well known for his Unravelled series on Polygon's channel, like the one about the sonic bible or the one about the smash bros osha violations, his personnal stuff is simply perfect, sometimes whimsical, like "i wish that i could wear hats" or "Pumpkin Cowboy", sometimes horrifying, like the one about the american healthcare system or "Teaching Jake about the Camcorder, Jan '97", often a mix of both, like "we like watching birds" or "earn $20K EACH MONTH by being your own boss". his comedic genius is at its best when it is also at its weirdest. he's also the guy who made the sibling dance song, i guess

[shirosfics]

On the tragedy of Dazai Osamu, and a “whimsical” god (aka my way of comforting myself after reading BSD chapter 109)

⚠️ Spoiler alert! ⚠️

⚠️ Spoiler alert! ⚠️

⚠️ Spoiler alert! ⚠️ (important things must be said thrice)

(Edit: while I am still blown away by 109, I don’t think Asagiri is going to off Dazai this easily. Still. If it does happen, my point still stands.)

Ooohhhh boy chapter 109. Chapter. 109. 

Even Ayatsuji-sensei spoke about how bad things on Bungou were getting on his Twit—X, oops, thanks Elon—account and calling Asagiri-sensei (lol) — and Asagiri-sensei replied! You know it's bad when The Ayatsuji Yukito-sensei says it's bad.

Let’s start with my darling Dazai. As someone who adores L and has lived through L’s death in Death Note, what’s happening to Dazai right now is… painful (extremely) but not unbearable. 

So, for someone who adores Dazai, I know none of us want him to die, but in the unfortunate event that he does… I'm going to try to use logic to defeat my sadness.

This is just me trying to make myself feel better, really. Read at your own risk.

On the tragedy of Dazai Osamu, and a “whimsical” god

Dazai Osamu-sensei (I always refer to the character by surname, and the real life Japanese literary counterpart with the suffix “sensei”, both as differentiation and a sign of respect) was someone who had perceived himself to have lived a tragic life. And I use “perceived” because objectively, Dazai-sensei had been someone born into a pretty good life, it was his perception of his life that was tragic, especially after his idol Akutagawa Ryuunosuke-sensei took his own life.

Asagiri has always mentioned the tragedy of Dazai Osamu, specifically, his friendship with Oda and the Buraiha*, was the inspiration for Dazai’s character and storyline. As we have seen in Dazai Osamu and the Dark Era, and Dazai and Fyodor’s conversation in Mersault, it is clear that Asagiri has Dazai take the view that everything in the world is chaos, and while Dazai thinks that god does not play dice, he certainly is whimsical. This was something that Dazai had always known, and once again demonstrated to him painfully in the form of Oda and Gide’s final battle. The “good” does not, according to Dazai’s version of god, have any more right to live or to live any longer than the “evil” does. 

In fact, as Oda has mentioned, to Dazai, there is no distinction between “good” and “evil”. There’s only each person or each group on their own side, fighting for what they believe is right. Dazai knows this better than anyone else, and simply chooses to support the ADA because of Oda’s dying words. It just so happens that Asagiri chose to tell the story from the ADA’s point of view, and the ADA, as an organisation, upholds the moral characteristics of justice, righteousness, and courage. Sometimes, however, especially with recent development, I see that Ranpo is becoming smart and learning tricks too.

And the whims not only apply to Oda, they also apply to Dazai. In fact, at this point in time, they seem to apply to every single character except for Fyodor. (We will…get to him in a moment. There’s way too little information on him right now for me to say anything, ugh.) 

To Dazai, he and Fyodor could plan many elaborate schemes, but in the end, even they are controlled by the whims of whatever higher power. Some people call it fate—as Chuuya believes—while Dazai merely sees it as someone playing with all the lives on earth. That is what sets him apart from Fyodor—their views on someone’s right to live, and when someone dies. Dazai used to take lives because the concept of “life” itself inherently has no meaning to him, and stopped when Oda gave him a meaning, while Fyodor sees some lives as less important and more sinful than others.

Therefore, even if Dazai did die here, it wouldn’t be because he believed that it’s his fate or not (I’m convinced he’s only using the “fate” angle to wake Chuuya up, which is romantic from a shipper point of view, but it’s not his personal view), but yet another whimsical act of whatever “god” there is out there. There’s a chance Dazai thinks the universe is probabilistic, and that god might not exist. (He just used god in his reply to Fyodor because that had been the phrasing Fyodor had used.)

Again… I’m hoping he doesn’t! It’ll save me a lot of heartache. But my point is, even if he did, we can’t say that we’ve been blind-sided because Asagiri had been building up to it for a while. Because of his namesake, Dazai himself is a characterisation of depression and despair, hanging on a loose thread. Combine that with Dazai’s nihilistic and flippant outlook on life (especially his life!), and also his multiple deaths in canon: 55 Minutes, Dead Apple, Beast… We could and should see him off, and know that that’s how his perception of the world works: it’s fickle, and doesn’t give a damn whether someone’s life or death is fair or not. 

Of course, to us, we’d think that’s unfair because one, he’s Dazai, two, he deserves happiness, and three, he’s part of the good guys and they always win…especially in a shounen manga. But I think as someone who reads a piece of work like BSD, inspired by some of the greatest minds out there, we’d have to respect the worldview while hoping for the best. And also, regarding the shounen manga argument… I’d like to point you to the infamous exhibit: Attack on Titan. 

After the Dark Era and Storm Bringer Light Novels, I think Asagiri has made it clear that he’s not pulling his punches. He’s not Isayama-sensei, but with the way Dazai’s story has developed, even if it did end this way, it’s not illogical, and it’s certainly not bad storyline development. 

It’s just sad and tragic…which fits entirely with the life of Dazai’s namesake. 

Dazai’s probably not dead though! 

The good thing is…There is a high chance he’s not dead. After I got over my initial panic, I remembered that one of the things hammered into my brain during undergrad was the fact that head wound =/= immediate death, or even death. People have in fact lived with head wounds, just with brain damage. The good thing is, we all know who can fix that. As long as Yosano is alive, there is no reason to fear. And she is very much alive the last time I checked. 

There are also some really suspicious visual cues about Dazai’s wounds. Namely the lack of burns, especially since Dazai was shot in the forehead point blank. But that might be due to Harukawa35’s art style, so I don’t have a lot of faith in this. I actually think one of the other torso shots was more dangerous for Dazai than the head shot. There’s an analysis I’ve read on LOFTER on the four shots which is pretty thorough… but it hinges on Asagiri having the medical knowledge, but we all know how awful Asagiri can be at science (remember the heavy water?) sometimes so analysing it using science might not be the most accurate.

I’m going to refrain from talking about No Longer Human because Asagiri has confused himself with the limits of NLH before, and I don’t know whether he’ll remember the rules for NLH this time. 

Lastly, it’s also a matter of how long Asagiri wants BSD to live as a series. It is not a stretch to say Dazai is one of the most popular characters in the franchise. It is difficult to kill off a character like that. At the same time though, he’s also based on Dazai Osamu-sensei, so while people would be understandably upset, they would understand and it would fit with Dazai’s origins nicely too. I definitely wouldn’t want to be his editor right now.

Either way, looking at the comments online right now, I hope a repeat of Isayama doesn’t happen again…when are people going to start understanding it’s a work of fiction…

*I still find it interesting that he chose to leave out Dan Kazuo—how does one leave out THE Dan Kazuo?! I know the guy wasn’t entirely Buraiha, but he fought Nakahara Chuuya for Dazai lmao BSD would be so fun with him around.

Now, onto Fyodor…

My biggest problem with 109 is not Dazai, but Fyodor’s true identity. I cannot tell you how much I need that information like I need air right now and Asagiri knows how anxious we all are. There’s a lot I can say about Fyodor, but I won’t, because there’s simply not enough information yet. After reading 109, I was torn between envying and being worried about Sigma.

People have been treating Fyodor like he’s not human, and he’s been behaving like he’s not human (Dazai have remarked how similar they are in terms of their thinking, and we all know Dazai does not think like a normal human being). So, the following suggestions are my pure speculation based on nothing: What if he’s an actual demon? Or a youkai? Or an actual god (because Japan’s Shintoism is polytheist…but this is less possible because rl!Dostoyevsky was Christian, a monotheistic religion)? What if he’s like Sigma, also written in by someone in the Book? Maybe he’s a Transcendent gone rogue (wouldn’t be the first one). Or maybe he’s like Chuuya, possessing the power of a god. I’m literally going crazy and dying thinking about the possibilities. Not knowing is the biggest torture.

What we do know about Fyodor right now is that Asagiri seems to have taken Demons (The Possessed) by rl!Fyodor Dostoeyevsky as his reference for Fyodor’s character. It’s a book that will blow your mind and give you depression and trigger whatever trauma you have. I don’t suggest you read it unless you’re in a good headspace and can manage whatever the book throws at you. This is why I am very much on the fence about Fyodor’s Dual Personality theory, although I want to believe it is true. 

Fyodor, as far as I can see right now, seems to be predominantly based on Stavrogin, the central character of Demons, who is the most popular person in the novel, but the biggest sinner Dostoyevsky-sensei has ever created. At first I thought Fyodor was based on Rodya from Crime and Punishment (which supports the split between him and the Fyodor the fandom is referring to as Punishment), then I realised that there actually might be a real possibility he might genuinely just be this destructive.

But really, beyond that, everything about Fyodor is a mystery. I don't have enough time to re-read the manga to carve out anything more about Fyodor.

I guess I'll wait 😕

But anyway! I’d love to see how Asagiri pulls the ADA out of this one. If he pulls a deux ex machina on this arc after all this build up I’d seriously be so disappointed. *side-eyes Asagiri*

[ankewehner]

I posted 6,268 times in 2022

That's 921 more posts than 2021!

65 posts created (1%)

6,203 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@headspace-hotel

@teddy-feathers

@bunjywunjy

@doriandangerous

@jaegereska

I tagged 1,599 of my posts in 2022

#arthropods - 162 posts

#insects - 121 posts

#art - 62 posts

#language - 54 posts

#birds - 49 posts

#this made me laugh - 47 posts

#queer - 37 posts

#my posts - 35 posts

#moths - 34 posts

#psa - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#there was also a group of european settlers in the usa who got stuck on a trek because they were stupid and there was cannibalism

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

*sees in recommended blogs "fullfrontalfetish"*

WTF?

*looks again*

Oh, it's @fullfrontalfish

OK

24 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

#4

How many rows of teeth should a unicorn have?

27 notes - Posted June 2, 2022

#3

Imagine you decide to move or replace an old shelf in your cellar, and behind it you find a small coal mine. Only it's fake. Only legally it's not.

So happened at the university of Cologne in the early 1980s.

Back when the particular building was constructed, back in 1932, they included a 1:1 model of 40 metres of mine tunnel, with actual coal glued to the walls with pitch, real minecarts and tools sourced from mining companies... all that as demonstration object for the faculty of economics and social sciences to demonstrate the conditions in coal mining at the time (again, early 1930s).

And I don't know when it happened, but at some point it was registered like a real mine under German law.

And at some point, people forgot it. Until for some or other reason the shelf that was put in front of the entrance got moved.

Today the institute for occupational medicine, environmental medicine and prevention research is responsible for it.

Source (German): https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbarastollen_(K%C3%B6ln)

31 notes - Posted June 8, 2022

#2

If I had a nickel for every time a cartoon series had an episode about a lake monster that turned out to be a submarine made to look like a lake monster, I'd have three nickels. That's not much, but it's odd that it happened thrice.

41 notes - Posted April 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Random etymology lookup: Hippo

Hippo is shortened from "hippopotamus", which derives from Ancient Greek hippopótamos, which is put together from híppos (horse) and potamós (river)

Potamós is also in "Mesopotamia", the land between the rivers [Tigris and Euphrates]. The meso- prefix derives from mésos (middle)

Potamós is also also in "potamodromous", which is a jargon adjective applied to fishes that migrate in freshwater only. Drómos means "race" or "racetrack".

Drómos is also in "hippodrome", a horse race track, which brings us back to the beginning.

We could continue to "dromedary", dromàs kámēlos, the “running camel”, but let's stick with the horsies. Hipparions?

53 notes - Posted June 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[libidomechanica]

Untitled # 12132

A curtal sonnet sequence

               1

If silence, and a still amazed to me. If I find her burning no old thinkes I hear it. His brackish waues be, whose bodies force already shouts the mouth is they keeper than in prisoner to enjoy. Morning; such be Rome and the low sibilation, so I write, and like a roe or a travel tired with those Æols youth in a belovèd hands arise, when was gone from thy lute, while those fancies be. That for ” Her hair.

               2

Light is our fingers of my power, and Reigns lord of pomegranate are through fled from me, after it,—so you see the blinded thing of a curse. The people do when his long with flowretts bene fat, and sailed, his father the ringers who had with dew, and forth, this rustic voice, they seemed by his side exultations heart, with me; the force in the honor’s mimic, all our brain, instead of sound; I grant with beauty of religion.

               3

Some did breed a loathing came, an Eagle sore the excess of mine eye or else swoon to explain—If I were all night show ripe ears were heo on me saying it wakes many days, then, Sir, awful thrice-turned a dying how ridiculous. Warm in the saints, I reuerence, or cool me with divine; has felt sprung from the wainscot mouse, and never come her wins, till as he wed a foreign part to shrowde emong the salmon sing to dreaming.

               4

Who now arraigne, Lord along; and out of the lips: but the evenings harder to rest. I burn; and would, were rapid falcons in her name, above. Not for the phone. The father to retract; and with a girl, this breath my extern the mourn; but a far more is He that vow, that only gleaned. No more, that sigh. Navel, stomach, I knowe. Dead release the nuptial feast; and tropics in an easy man, gave you more famed for each redeem the way.

               5

Or like a buttercup upon its service to blere my sorrow must like a fire was thy beloved, O thou iollye she wept, he wiped her face, and art my wings from his love. In such Talisman—He yet hath fashioned not its bene myne, to whom, by the dwellest in other gives and resides, invaded withdrawn himself apart, the lass that I saw his supreme delight in sense my dying light? And simple shepheard prowde, the mind.

               6

But we remain according the sweet the caue, when he felt, Away, quoth he thou arise, and my belov’d repose. And said, airing crowd? Or I shall no more beautiful are thou my oblation move, unless number’d hours, for many a May. There is not weaned till God’s own heart besides, in a grateful loveth: I sought but that with your spright. Wery so wan, cloth’d with the Lost Soul to its turn the expect the rest of my beloved.

               7

No—yet still loveth: I held his silent with the roots together love, called disclose; so well as oak-leaves in the last: a peace or mourn no more that’s in the stage. And stupid eyes, that my self: cast him into bowl: milk are under an army wit. Thus to bear that which is mornes bene not whether both my mind; he saints will keep my dream’d, the ladies’ care, and scape, began to glitterand goodness and converted, does not my hearts.

               8

And Spirit fold, her forsake, hung hart upon that is the lattice. And yet, to die, or cool flowers. Last shepheard, and maidenhood. Resolved he soueraigne, Lord of the war by landed by his late the clearly twilight; There through of the thundering moon, in earth receive. And he spoken for her, and hung in their aid: they han the end is laid us as your poets can sayne that the circuit of Cain, is not his father’s the river.

               9

Like a flowers: his low tract and closed myself, the fatal fleshed the pavement are twins, which them, my own. Who now a spirit pours, when ye could hear twins her bosom with towards tho gan to applied to help the receive: for valour and the lowly leas: and and glorious holy Angels will have had a fane by sweetly, across a lake in one who would, my loveliest when the grave for love is all night, and they know; as liberties.

               10

As blank indifferent hands she no long; Thine head, and abandonment on his grow cold. A rose, and free, i’ll be spoke, and the sky to the tea-cup opens; only show it chance has round; that with bared bow loosed our flowring Wether lips must lie opened ear: surely be the seagull divine, and lie fall be glutted. Accuse me to thee. Now nae langer came wondering voice is kind; and they treat and bishoped by her conquer Time.

               11

From thence: her hairs be you too. Well she faintly, farre mens heart as thou make myself in ease my thoughts it roused the Rhodian state, was from world must die: the orator so I though you wear not returns: like to time to my beloved? By love, and bells, and we have spend, but if flame be ever and fair is thy breasts are asleep to the marks where above, but first did strike the shriek of a pomegranates bud forth by the galleries.

[just-bible-musings]

Fed By Ravens

Something I've been thinking about lately:

In 1 Kings 17:3-6, Elijah, one of the greatest prophets that ever lived, had to go and hide beside a hidden brook. Elijah had prophesied against the evil king of Israel, Ahab, and Ahab was looking to kill Elijah. So God told Elijah where to go and how He would take care of him: by having ravens bring him food.

Elijah was an Israelite. And, as one of God's best prophets, he was probably known as someone who was obedient to the law (as written in the 1st 5 books of the Old Testament). Ravens were marked as unclean birds (Leviticus 11:15), probably because they are scavengers. Elijah obeyed God and let the ravens feed him, but I can't imagine that he liked it. He'd always been taught that it was a sin to touch an unclean animal, and now God was telling him that was how he would be fed? If I was Elijah, I would have been very confused, probably a little disgusted, and maybe even a little angry.

Another story in which God told someone to eat something unclean:

On the morrow, as they went on their journey, and drew nigh unto the city, Peter went up upon the housetop to pray about the sixth hour: And he became very hungry, and would have eaten: but while they made ready, he fell into a trance, And saw heaven opened, and a certain vessel descending upon him, as it had been a great sheet knit at the four corners, and let down to the earth:  Wherein were all manner of fourfooted beasts of the earth, and wild beasts, and creeping things, and fowls of the air.  And there came a voice to him, Rise, Peter; kill, and eat.  But Peter said, Not so, Lord; for I have never eaten any thing that is common or unclean.  And the voice spake unto him again the second time, What God hath cleansed, that call not thou common.  This was done thrice: and the vessel was received up again into heaven. Acts 10:9-16

God gave Peter this vision because He was about to send Peter to witness to a Gentile. According to Jewish law, Jews would be considered unclean if they stayed in a Gentile's house. But Jesus didn't come only to save the Jews, but the entire world. God had to communicate to Peter that the laws of "clean and unclean" no longer applied. Jesus had fulfilled the law with His death on the cross, and now the entire world would be granted access to His salvation.

So, how does all this apply to us today? Especially if we're not Jewish and have no concept of "clean vs. unclean"?

Let me tell you a little bit about myself:

I'm one of those people who believes that the Mark of the Beast will somehow be related to computers and the Internet. There's just too many things in Revelation that don't make sense unless you factor the Internet into it. Like how people will be sending gifts around the world to each other to celebrate the deaths of the 2 witnesses (Revelation 11), or how the entire world mourns when the Whore of Babylon is destroyed (Revelation 18), or even how the Beast's one-world government comes about in the first place. It can only happen because of the Internet.

As a result, I am extremely bothered by... well, by pretty much everything God has told me to do. I know God has led me into both the life I have and the life I'm working towards. And it's all about computers. My job heavily relies on the Internet. I'm a gamer and aspiring game designer. And I get so mad at God. "You're just gonna tear it all down, why did you put me here? Isn't it evil? Isn't is all leading to the Mark of the Beast?"

I've had times when I've completely avoided video games because I wanted to avoid anything related to electronics or the Internet. I've asked God multiple times to just give me the gumption to walk away from my job, from everything, and go live in a cave somewhere, away from all of it. I still have so much trouble making myself study game design. And I get mad at work and no one but me knows the real reason- because it bugs me so much that all my paycheck comes from being on a computer all day.

And what finally made me realize that, for whatever reason, God actually wants me dealing with computers all the time, was when I started volunteering at a local resale house. I spent several days fasting to ask God where He wants me to be. That's actually a big thing for me, because not only do I like to eat, I also start getting nauseous if I go without food for more than a day. I made myself sick by fasting, but I came out of it knowing for certain that God wanted me to volunteer at this place.

And you wanna know what department I ended up in? Electronics. Cleaning up modems and routers and computer equipment to put out for sale.

I finally threw my hands in the air and told God, "Fine, have it your way. But I still don't get it." Literally everything in my life is computer- or Internet-related, and it bothers me.

I'm confused and angry. Angry at God, really. But I know I'm doing what He wants me to do, even if I don't understand it.

Delight thyself also in the Lord: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Psalm 37:4

A lot of people, including me, believe this verse means that God won't just give you what you desire, but that He will give you the desires themselves. So my interest in game design is from Him.

I often feel a lot like Elijah. "Unclean, unclean!" Yet this is the life God has given me. And it's not just being fed twice a day for a few months or years. This is for a lifetime.

So I know from experience that it is entirely possible to hate what God made you to be and to want to run away from it. To think of it as "unclean." Because that hatred comes from Satan. And he's very good at twisting the truth into a lie.

See, I was always into "eschatology"- the study of the end of the world as told in the Bible- even as a child. But I only came to Jesus 7 years ago, and He's having to rewrite my entire script, everything I've ever believed in. Truth is, even I know the Internet itself isn't a bad thing. It just gets used- and will be used- for bad things. But it takes time to readjust the way you see and feel about the world.

At present, I still believe that the Internet is related to the events of Revelation. But some of my thoughts on just what will happen have changed (too many to cover, I'll have to make posts about them all at some other time). At any rate, I keep trying to remind myself:

I'm where God wants me to be

I'm doing what He wants me to do

I'm not sinning if I am doing what He wants me to do

Sometimes God feeds us with ravens

And, maybe, sometimes those ravens are just things we tell ourselves- maybe they're not "bad" in and of themselves, after all

Is there anything in your life where you're confused about whether God actually told you to do it or not? Something where you've always said "this is bad, don't touch," but now God's telling you to do it? Maybe you need to do the same thing that I need to do, and stop thinking you have the right (ha! or the intelligence!) to decide what is "good" and what is "bad." If God says it is good, then it is good.

[in-san-ity]

zemblanity (c.jh)

synopsis : Jongho could be compared to a black cat with the amount of bad luck he brings to your life. Ironic that he becomes your guard dog.

pairing : Choi Jongho x reader.

themes : mafia au, angst, some fluff & smut.

word count : 23.5K

author's note: the dogs have a bigger part in this than San. Idk why I put so much emphasis on them. Also this is my first work so I hope you like it!!

Going on vacation alone was the best thing that ever happened to you.

Although you could do without the pitiful glances the staff would give you whenever they realized you had rented a huge suite alone and ate every meal at a solo table. What did they know anyway? As far as you were concerned, people didn't give it enough credit

You got the bed to yourself. You could be as antisocial and distant as you wanted to. And most importantly, your agenda for each day was completely your decision. No sunbathing at the poolside for your friends that liked to wear bikinis and looked good in them. No sightseeing for those who enjoyed looking at cracked old buildings and stupid nature.

No, for you it was each night at the club, dancing your heart out and drinking your body weight. Then getting some greasy pizza and falling asleep in your hotel room before waking up the next day and repeating it.

You didn’t know how many times the hotel staff had to escort you to your room because you fell asleep in the lobby. Although you could hardly consider that your problem, though you were grateful to them for helping you and made it apparent through your tips.

Such was the case as tonight. You were dancing, raising the drink in your hand to the air while cheering as did the other club-goers. Drinks sloshed together and dripped out the sides of the glass and even on your head as you drunkenly swivelled your way around the club and closer to the bar.

You had been dancing for the better part of the night, which was all night, and your aching feet needed a rest.

“French fries and a Blinker please.” You said and grabbed a bar stool. In your haze, you didn’t quite realize that you had grabbed the stool just as someone was about to sit down and the next thing you heard was someone falling to the floor.

Your eyes widened, scrambling towards the woman, who by the looks of it was just as drunk as you were before grabbing her arm and pulling her to her feet, “I am so sorry, I didn’t see you.”

You were hoping she wasn’t one of those drunks that let her inner Karen out. Or worse, she was a Karen who just got even more Karen-er when intoxicated. The last thing you needed was a lawsuit for something as harmless as a bruised ass. If she were any fun, she would consider a bruised ass as a sign of a good night.

So, you were quite relieved when she laughed it off, waving her hands like she was shooing the problem out of the air. She grabbed another stool and sat beside you, waving down the bartender.

“Chicken tenders and two beers for me and my friend here.”

You raised a brow, chuckling, “Friend? We just met and I knocked you on your ass.”

“More like swept me off my feet! Besides, I’m trying to rack up the bill to piss off my husband.”

“Oh, I hear that, sister.” You muttered, stuffing a few fries in your mind unceremoniously. She grabbed a couple out of your plate and did the same, but you didn’t mind. It didn’t take long for the both of you to become best friends; in a half hour, you were doing love-shots of tequila and feeding each other jalapeno poppers.

That was the best thing about being drunk anyway; the one-night stands that applied to friendship just as much as it did sex. You’d remember her as a girl who you’d kill for in that slim window of time and then never thought of again.

Bongsoon, who had to introduce herself thrice since the first two times you pretended you heard her when you didn’t, was obviously rich and you could tell from her expensive handbag which matched her designer shoes. As if that wasn’t the image of wealth, she also had a bodyguard that lingered by her side. At first, you thought he was a creepy stalker, but she quickly waved your worries away, saying that he was a man who worked for her husband.

She was new to clubbing, you could tell from the way she refused to come and join you on the dance floor even though she was swaying and singing the song underneath her breath. You doubted that she would’ve come here had she not wanted to get back at her husband who apparently brought work on their vacation.

You didn’t blame her; you would've done the same thing.

Ever since you hit the legal age to drink (which was only a couple of months ago), you could be found in one of two places after dark. You visited clubs so often they became a second home to you, second only to your actual home where you would be hidden underneath a pile of your three dogs.

Even though your new friend was much older, you were hardly surprised when she told you it was her first time in a club, usually headed for the classier bars where she could wear heels and an elegant dress without worrying about it. You could only hope you’d have enough money to go to high-end places like her when you were older.

Halfway through, Bongsoon left to go to the washroom, and you chuckled at the way she left her drink in the open, making a mental note to tell her not to do that anymore if she planned on continuing to go clubbing. Or living.

So, you just took her drink and placed it next to yours for safety and waited until she came back.

“Hey, you shouldn’t leave your drink out in the open like that. Don’t know what creep might try and drug you.” You said, pointing at her pint of beer that was right beside yours and waiting for her to innocently nod like she had been doing the entire night. The way her face fell as though you had just betrayed her by protecting her drink caught you off guard.

She reached out to grab the glass and hesitantly raised it to her lips, sparing you a glance and if it was possible, her face scrunched up more painfully when she realized you were staring intently. In your head, you were just trying to figure out what had caused the sudden change in mood but to her, it felt like you were waiting for something. She had seen that look all too well.

Suddenly, something froze over in her eyes, and she slammed the glass back on the counter, glaring harshly at you.

“Drink it.”

“What?” You blurted, confused.

“Drink it.” She repeated, just as coldly as she had done before, and your eyes went wide finally understanding what she was trying to imply here.

“You don’t think I put something in your drink, do you?” You sputtered, put on the spot by the way she was glaring at you, a stark difference from what she had been for the majority of the night.

“If you’re so confident then why don’t you take a sip.” Her personality had taken a whole 180-degree turn and you could only wonder what had suddenly brought the distrust. You hadn’t even done anything to her aside from keeping her great company.

Glaring back, you stood to your feet, grabbing the pint by the handle and chugging the beer. As the level of the beer decreased in the glass, you could see the expression on her face melt from one of confidence to uncertainty as she watched you gulp down all of it before wiping the foam away from your mouth.

Usually, you wouldn’t have been able to drink that much without taking a break, but you guessed the anger at her accusations fuelled you long enough to finish the drink before telling the bartender to charge it to your room and turning on your heel.

The dizziness from drinking all that alcohol hit you just as you entered the lobby and you stumbled to one of the sofas, almost immediately collapsing into the soft velvet of the cushions and passing out.

The hotel staffed sighed before playing their nightly game of rock paper scissors to see who had to carry you up to your room.

***

Luckily, you hadn’t been stupid enough to drink on an empty stomach and due to the time difference, you ended up waking up in the middle of the night. Your incredibly hung-over self at least had the decency and respect for her body to drink a bottle of water and take some aspirin before promptly falling back asleep.

When you woke up the next day, you felt better than expected since you had drunk until you quite literally blacked out. It was only a two more days before you had to leave and you decided to actually leave the hotel room this time to get some food, so you could at least have some memory of this vacation.

The sun was bright and warm against your skin and the breeze by the pool was so inviting that you almost wanted to skip lunch and curl up in one of the lounge chairs. If you were disciplined in any way, you would’ve resisted the temptation by not walking by the pool. But it was your vacation, and you frankly didn’t care about food that much.

Besides, there was always pool side service.

Considering the pool was usually packed with so many people that it looked more like a public bath, a bell should’ve rung in your head when you found it nearly empty. Only a few people were by the pool, but you didn’t pay them any attention, barely glancing at them through the sunglasses and laying down on one of the beach chairs.

It was kind of ridiculous that you were already groggy and tired when all you had done today was get out of bed and take a shower, but it was vacation, you were catching up on the hours that you missed due to your demanding university.

“The pool is closed. Get out.” Came a gruff voice and you lifted your sunglasses to find legs by your chair. You looked up to see a man with red hair glaring down at you with the anger of a demon.

You wondered how you missed the reservation sign on the gate but nevertheless muttered a half-assed apology and got out of the chair. Now that you knew just how inviting the pool was, you made a note to come here a little later.

“(Y/N)?”

Surprised once again, you glanced at the pool side to find Bongsoon laying there in a pretty swimsuit with a book in her hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi!” She scrambled out of the chair, pulling on a cover up and making her way over to you before grabbing both your hands eagerly, “I’m so sorry about last night. It happens to me more often than you’d realize. I was just being cautious, but you were just doing a nice thing for me, I’m sorry I accused you of something like that.”

Her gaze was so earnest, it was kind of uncomfortable and you spared a glance at the man standing beside you. He had a mean look on his face and you were turned off to say the least, what on earth had you done wrong?

Gently pulling her hands out of her grip, you smiled politely, “No hard feelings.”

Of course, that wasn’t true, but you wouldn’t see each other again anyway so what was the harm in lying so you could leave sooner. Just as you wrenched your hands out of her perfectly manicured grip, she grabbed them again, “Let me make it up to you; let me buy you some lunch.”

Her gaze was even more pleading and the man beside you was burning holes against the side of your head. Your eyes were darting around trying to find the quickest way out of here possible and your palms began sweating before you realized. So much for a relaxing morning.

“I already ate.” That was a blatant faced lie and had the sound of the water been any quieter she probably would’ve heard your stomach rumbling.

“Dinner then, please?” This lady clearly didn’t understand when she was being kindly rejected. Or she did realize it and very pointedly decided to ignore it.

“I thought you wanted to spend time with your husband?”

“Oh, he can wait one night. Come on, please?”

You sighed, finally meeting her eyes, “Alright.”

***

Dinner was actually more enjoyable than you realized it would be. Totally wasn’t worth the amount of dread you felt as you walked to the restaurant. After your first drink, everything was forgotten as you and Bongsoon fell into your previous groove, laughing like old friends.

Unlike last time, her bodyguard was nowhere in sight, and she was a little more comfortable with you, sharing things about her life instead of screaming things over the loud music like you had when you first met her.

Bongsoon had good taste in food and wine, it was one of the most satisfying meals you had ever had in your entire life. So much for quantity over quality, she might just convince you that the tiny steak you had was better than a bucketful of chicken.

“What about your parents, (Y/N)?” She asked after telling you that she was something of a chaebol, grabbing the glass of wine and bringing it to her lips.

“They live abroad, I moved out when college started. We don’t really talk much.”

The dinner was going better than expected, you almost considered giving her your phone number so you could stay in contact.

Although you’d soon take back that thought.

Just as you left the place and were walking back to the parking lot, you thought you heard the cock of a gun and the next thing you knew, Bongsoon was tackling you to the ground after yelling “Get down!”

A shower of bullets followed it, hitting the car you both had ducked behind.

“W-What’s going on?! Are they shooting at us?!” You screamed, blanching as she pulled a glock out of her purse like she had been expecting this to happen. Her hands were shaking though, as she peeked out from behind the car and fired timid shots, each missing.

“Why are they shooting at us?! What the hell is going on?!” You shouted, grabbing her shoulder but she shrugged your grip off, shooting again and you just knew that she missed from the way her hand moved due to the recoil.

“Give me that!” You snarled, snatching the gun from her hands and peered over your cover before shooting at one of the armed men. He fell to the ground and your confidence went up, firing two more shots before the gun ran out and you went back to cowering beside her.

“What now?” You asked, voice small and she stayed silent for a moment until the sound of an engine sounded off and she sighed in relief.

A large car suddenly stopped in front of you, shielding the two of you from your attackers as more men clamoured out of the car and began shooting at them. Bongsoon quickly jumped into the car and left the door open, beckoning you to get in with her.

“Oh no, you must have lost your mind if you think I’m going anywhere with you!” You said, taking a step back and ended up colliding with something that grabbed your arms tightly before pressing a cloth to your face.

“Actually, we’ll be taking you.”

***

Being drugged was no picnic.

When you woke up, you were immediately in alarm, vaguely remembering what had happened and realizing that you were tied up to a chair in a dingy looking room, with a flickering light. It looked like a scene straight out of a horror movie.

But whatever they had drugged you with was strong, and you not having anything put in your body other than local aesthesia and maybe the occasional painkiller, it felt like you had been hit by a truck. You could barely even register the feeling of the ropes burning your skin.

The door opened and in came Bongsoon with 7 other men that glared at you as if you were scum.

You said something but all that came out of you was a groggy groan and one of them chuckled, “This can’t be the first time you’ve gotten special treatment like this. Snap out of it!”

And then came the blow across your face that had your nose bleeding and tears skating across your face.

“What happened?” Came your response when the spots in your vision cleared and you were fighting unconsciousness due to the drug in your system.

“We’ll ask the questions; who sent you?” Your nose was bleeding heavily, and you could taste the blood in the back of your throat. Now the tears falling on your cheeks were more because you were scared and not because your nose hurt.

“What?”

“Was it Stray Kids?”

“Who?”

“Going to play dumb, huh? Well, we’ll have you singing like a canary, or I’ll cut your throat out.” He said, brandishing a knife and your eyes went wide. You summoned whatever strength was in your body to try and wiggle away from him which was in vain.

“Oh, my goodness, oh my god! Look, I think there’s been a mistake, I’m not some agent or something! I wasn’t sent by anyone! I’m just a university student!” You screamed, still trying to use your strength to get away from the blonde stalking towards you. Which when you think about it, was kind of stupid considering you wouldn’t get far even if you managed to free yourself.

“And we’re supposed to believe that just a university student can shoot a gun like that.” Came a remark from a man with orange hair that stood next to Bongsoon. Soft sobs were already making their way out of your mouth but when you tried to take a breath to regain your senses, the man came closer, making you panic.

“My mother! And my father! They’re Olympic shooters! I learnt from them! Please don’t cut my fingers off!”

“If your parents are athletes then your name should have come up on the search.” Bongsoon’s cold voice cut through the air and when you looked at her, you were astonished to see how steely she looked at you. Why was she mad at you when all you had done was protect her?

“My last name isn’t the same as theirs, I have my mother’s maiden name. Please don’t cut my fingers off.”

“And how does a college student with no job pay for a vacation like that?”

“My parents send me a lot of money. The apartment I live in is theirs, they send me money for groceries and bills and things like that. I saved up whatever was left at the month end to pay for the vacation.” You rambled.

You knew that your story was far from convincing, but you really didn’t have the coherency to make them understand at the moment. Blood was dripping onto your pants and your head was spinning. You shook your head with the last amount of strength you had, crying quietly as your head began lulling, your neck unable to support its weight.

They didn’t look convinced, “Any proof?”

You tried to rack your brain for something, anything. The original papers for the house were still with your parents, your house lacked anything related to the both of them.

“My phone.” You groaned out and to no one’s surprise, one of them pulled it out of their pockets, unlocking it even though you were sure it had a password on it.

“My parents send money to my account monthly. I have pictures with them too, you can compare with images from the internet.”

It was true; they noticed messages from the bank saying that money had been deposited into your account. It half proved who you were, and they would have to do some digging but they’d be able to prove the other half of your story without a shadow of a doubt.

“So, you really didn’t lie?”

You shook your head groggily, not sure how long you’d keep consciousness anymore.

“Yeosang, untie her.” You whimpered when the man who was threatening you gently snipped away the ropes confining your skin and pulled you to your feet.

The rest of the men filed into the room, the one with red hair grabbing your other arm just as you took a step. Your leg buckled and you fell into him just as your eyes shut and everything faded to black.

***

You weren’t sure what to do.

As soon as you woke up, you were slightly relieved to find that you were in a comfy bed rather than the chair you had woken up in the first time. The drug had completely made its way out of your system this time.

The rope burns on your wrists, the bleeding nose and bruise on your face had all been treated and you would’ve thought it was all a dream had they not left behind their nasty marks.

Bongsoon had come up to the room not too long after you had woken up with a plate of food. Once again, she apologised for doubting you again and putting you in this situation.

Even though you probably shouldn’t have; you lost your temper and completely blew up on her, telling her to get out and never show her face to you again. As soon as she left the room you began feeling regret; she could have you killed for just showing her the whites of your eyes. But you were still angry.

Since you met her, you had been accused of trying to drug her drink, been shot at, drugged, kidnapped and even beaten. She shouldn’t have expected that a plate of food would have been able to make up for it.

Though losing your temper with the one person who had your life in their hands was reckless.

When she returned with the men you had seen through hazy eyes before, you squeaked and pulled the covers high to protect yourself.

“The blanket is hardly going to be effective. If anything, it might hinder you in your escape.” Said the tallest one and you threw the duvet off you immediately, shivering at the cold air against your will. He chuckled at you, and maybe it was meant to be reassuring but you felt your skin crawl at the sound. It was like he was mocking you.

“First of all,” Said the man with orange hair who you came to find was Bongsoon’s husband, “I wanted to thank you for saving my wife and looking out for her. And I want to apologize for this mess. Even though we have our reasons, I’m sure it must be scary to a civilian like yourself.”

That didn’t sound too bad, at least they knew that that they had done something wrong and they did owe something to you. These men showed you their gratitude by bowing their heads and it gave you some glimmer of hope that maybe you’d be able to get out of this whole thing alive and be able to put this behind you.

And then came the bad news.

Apparently, mafia gangs such as themselves had rules. What honour could exist amongst people that broke the law? You didn’t know but you had broken one of them. The shots you had fired that night to protect yourself and Bongsoon had killed one of the opposing gang’s higher ups. Since you weren’t an official member of their mafia, it meant that a civilian interfered in mafia business. Which Hongjoong, who was Bongsoon’s husband, informed you was bad news.

Interference meant that the other gang would probably be trying to kill you to get even. And Ateez wouldn’t be able to negotiate for your life without breaking rules themselves. Because this meant they were vouching for someone outside their mafia, which implied that they were the ones who hired you.

It was a lot of information to receive, and you quite frankly were floundering at the fact that everything seemed so official.

Since when was the mafia so by the book?

“So, what your saying is because I saved your life, I’m going to be killed?” Bongsoon hid slightly behind her husband to escape your stare. You weren’t stupid enough to glare at her in front of men who carried guns in their pockets like gum but that didn’t stop you from feeling annoyed at her.

“Since we’re now indebted to you, we’ll do whatever possible to keep that from happening. You’ll stay here for the time being.”

“What about my things?”

“They’ll be brought over here.”

“What about my dogs?”

“Dogs? Plural?” You ignored how pleased most of them seemed at the sound of that. For a split second they looked like children on Christmas morning. It was like when someone said baby and immediately people coo even though it’s completely unrelated.

“Three Dobermans.”

“Are you sure you’re not from the mafia?”

The joke was unappreciated.

“And university?”

“We’ll take you back and forth. This is Jongho, he’ll oversee you, ask him if you need anything.”

Jongho was clearly not informed about this prior, considering the cold look on his face was replaced with one that compared to a confused puppy as he watched the others quickly shuffle out of your room after patting his back.

Once his gaze was on you however it steeled once again, and you were left wondering why you were on the receiving end of his anger. What did you other than exist?

“Could you move a little, you’re stepping on the duvet.”

***

Jongho was scary to say the least. If you had to compare him to something, you’d choose a scary guard dog personified by a thousand. Sure, your dogs were trained to guard you and looked like they’d rip the liver out of someone without a second thought, but they still rolled over for you to scratch their bellies.

Jongho, with his red hair and dark clothes and muscles that looked like he could rip your head off like he was cracking open a pistachio, on the other hand looked like the hellhound from the underworld.

Which is why you were currently trailing behind him like a lonely puppy.

He was currently walking around the house, just getting irrelevant things done like his laundry and stuff. You had learnt that where you were temporarily staying was the group quarters, which was in the same estate as the home of Hongjoong and Bongsoon.

Some of the members opted to live in their own apartments outside but Jongho believed there was safety in numbers and thus stayed here with the couple since their wedding. Talk about a cockblocker but with an estate as big as this, you assumed they hardly ran into each other.

As long as certain people didn’t overstep their bounds, everything would be fine.

You weren’t exactly sure what his bounds were and frankly you were too scared to ask, instead keeping your mouth shut.

Shuffling quietly behind him, you held your phone with both hands, keeping your eyes on the floor as he moved from the laundry room to the training hall when he suddenly paused. You stopped immediately after, waiting patiently until he started walking again. But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned around to meet your gaze with a harsh glare and you visibly shrunk.

“Why do you keep following me?”

You held your phone out to him, trying to widen your eyes innocently, he already looked angry and the last thing you wanted to do was replace his punching bag today, “Could you please tell me the Wi-Fi password?”

***

You had gotten used to a routine in the past week. You knew when Jongho left the house and around what time he would return. You didn’t interact with anyone yet, aside from Bongsoon who had leant you some clothes and bought you a pair of underpants. You had been meaning to urge Jongho to go and get your clothes but didn’t want to piss him off, so you kept quiet.

Your days were usually spent crouching beside your bed since you couldn’t stretch the phone charger all the way to the bed, and it was too heavy for you to move yourself.

You were doing the same thing today, binging a new drama on your phone since you didn’t have anything better to do. If you were allowed to talk about it, you would’ve called your best friend but so far you had been holding it together quite well and if you heard your best friend’s voice, no doubt you would end up sobbing over the phone.

You took your time in solitude today in your advantage and took the time to finish washing your clothes so you could have fresh ones before taking a long bath. If there was one thing about this situation you liked, it would be the giant bathroom with marble floors and a bathtub in the centre.

It was a miracle that you hadn’t dropped your phone in the tub with the amount of time you spent soaking.

When you heard the door click open, your stomach twisted into a tight knot and your eyes darted to the clock. It was way too early, Jongho wasn’t going to return for a couple hours, and your phone was in the bedroom.

Your best option was to hide.

Just as you crouched and hid in the pantry, the door swung behind you and slammed shut. You cringed and your heart stopped in your chest. If the intruder didn’t know where to find you, they certainly did now.

So, you cowered behind the sac of rice and covered your head with a bag of flour, clamping your hands over your mouth to prevent any noises from coming out.

Footsteps came closer and your flinched, hiding into yourself, hoping the sac of rice was enough to keep you hidden.

The door clicked open, and you were suddenly concerned that they’d be able to see the bag of flour move with each breath you took and even though you immediately tried to hold your breath, your anxious heart wouldn’t let you.

“What are you doing?”

All the tension in your body fizzled out and you peeked over the jute bag to find Jongho staring at you with a mildly confused expression. For the first time since coming here, the sight of someone from Ateez actually relieved you. The knots in your stomach condensed and you felt tears brim from being so overwhelmed all at once.

“You scared me! I thought you were a murderer!” You exclaimed, hiding your face in between your knees and taking deep breaths.

“So, you made a big fuss of sneaking into the pantry and hiding behind groceries?”

“I panicked! You could have at least said something when you came in!” You countered and he raised his brows.

“Like what?”

“People usually say something like ‘I’m home’.” You said, standing up and brushing the flour off your hair and clothes, pushing past him and into the kitchen. Did air always feel this fresh? Or was it just because you felt like you were going to die just this second?

He scoffed at that, “We’re not playing house here, (Y/N). Why should I act like your damn husband?”

“So that I don’t die of a heart attack.” You replied just as haughtily and he rolled his eyes, moving past you from the kitchen and toward the living room. You didn’t bother until something occurred to you and you jumped, racing to catch up before blocking the entrance to the living room.

He seemed slightly startled at you and the way you were holding your arms up to barricade the entrance. It was useless, you both knew, if he really wanted to get in there, he could.

“You can’t go in there.”

It seemed that for a second, you completely forgot that you had just gotten them to stop suspecting you of being an agent from a rival gang. Sometimes you were a fucking idiot.

“And why not? What the hell are you hiding in there?” And scary Jongho was back.

And then you realized how the situation looked, like you were trying to stop him from seeing something incriminating. Which technically, you were, but this was a different category of incriminating.

“Nothing! Certainly not anything suspicious! But you can’t go in there, I put something private there.” You explained and nearly facepalmed, you were so bad at explaining yourself. But how else were you supposed to get him to leave the place alone without actually telling him what you had left there.

It didn’t even take both hands to get you to move, he just had to yank you hard enough and pushed you out of his way to stride into the living room and it was at that moment, you wanted to combust into a pile of embarrassment.

Because right at the entrance on the heater, you had left your underwear after washing it so it would dry faster before your shower. And it was practically flagging down his attention because of the contrasting colour.

“I needed to wash it, but it didn’t dry fast enough, and I don’t have any other pairs since I don’t have my clothes yet and I had to take a shower.” You explained quickly, wishing the earth would just swallow you up at that moment. Judging by the about of heat radiating from your face, it might have been enough to set your underwear on fire, let alone dry it.

Jongho turned back to face you, ears red and unable to look you in the eye before clearing his throat, “I’ll go to your apartment today and get your clothes and things. I’m sorry, I didn’t think to bring your…. essentials sooner.”

You nodded, staring at your feet, “Okay.”

***

“Are you headed over to my apartment?”

Jongho, you learnt, was a man of very few words. Unlike his friends Wooyoung and Yunho who could take from dawn to dusk, he usually didn’t say much unless prompted, usually giving you answers by shaking his head yes or no.

This time he did the former and you suddenly felt extremely sweaty when you saw him stuff his gun into the back of his jeans.

“Please don’t kill my dogs.”

He rolled his eyes at this; you had been skating across eggshells ever since moving in. Every time he even moved you would flinch and curl into yourself. It was getting annoying for him, but you could hardly care when he looked like a character from your nightmares.

“I’m the mafia (we do it like the mafia lmao) not a butcher. We don’t just kill for no reason.”

“What classifies as a reason to you? Because for us regular people, it’s usually we don’t kill period. And for the record, butchers have more reason to kill than mafia.” You replied and your heart shot to your throat when something not short from a smirk appeared on his face. Thank goodness, he wasn’t one of those emotionless psychopaths, he found you funny, it’s okay.

“Anything in particular you need?”

“Uh, if you could please be a little gentle with my laptop? All my notes and work are saved there, and I haven’t backed that shit up.” You pleaded, making a praying gesture and he nodded, grabbing his jacket before leaving the house.

Ever since the incident where you thought an intruder broke into the house, you had been waiting eagerly for Jongho to get your dogs. So far you had been relying on your friends to stop by and feed them.

You wouldn’t be lying if you said you felt lonely and maybe even a little unsafe in the house when Jongho wasn’t there. Even though he assured you that no one would be stupid enough to come to Ateez’s home base to attack you, it still had goosebumps crawling across your skin whenever you heard a sound.

So, you figured having your dogs at home would reassure you a little and you would be lying if you said you weren’t excited to be reunited with them. In fact, you were so ecstatic, Jongho thought you quite resembled a chihuahua yourself, with its tail wagging happily behind it.

The reunion was, to put it in one word, dramatic. The dogs (named Geon, Killeo and Skai) not having been separated from you for so long bounded across the hall as soon as they saw you and practically tackled you in your spot. It was truly a sight to see; three giant dogs that could easily match your height when on their hind legs, doggy piling you and smothering you with licks and kisses.

Although with the amount of crying you were doing, it was hard to tell who missed who more.

***

“Here.” Jongho said, holding out something to you and you noticed something dangling from this hand. A pretty pendant with a silver chain was in his hands and he was holding it out for you.

You let him drop it into your hands before examining it yourself. The pendant was a stained resin in the shape of a turtle with a tiny gem stuck to it that was meant to imitate its shell. It was adorable, to say the least, the turtle was about the size of a fingernail and reminded you of a plushie you had on your bed.

“What is it?”

“Well, after the whole pantry incident, I figured that you’re next to useless if ever caught off guard.” You huffed at this, but he didn’t even bat an eye, “The turtle has a tracker inside it and the shell is a panic button. If you’re ever hiding in the pantry again, press the button and someone from Ateez will be alerted to your location.”

“And you’d actually come and get me?” You asked and he didn’t seem to pick up your tone, turning back towards the television. You stared at the side of his face, and he seemed so uninterested, like this was second nature to him, like he had completely accepted your presence.

“Maybe not me, I said the closest member. If you’re ever in public then go to a crowded place. Don’t get into any vehicles unless you see one of us and try to blend in.”

He sounded like he actually wanted you to survive. It was one thing you couldn’t understand and had been on your mind ever since he found your cowering form in the pantry. Why were these people trying to keep you alive?

Sure, you had saved Bongsoon, who was the wife of the leader and they owed you that much. But so far, you couldn’t see any advantages to them. In fact, you were a huge liability and hindrance. So, why hadn’t they killed you the first chance they got? And why did they continue to keep you safe even though it was a disadvantage to them?

Was there something you didn’t know about? Or were they just waiting for the perfect moment to abandon you?

Your theory made sense. So far, Ateez had no way to prove to the rival gang that you weren’t a hitman that was hired to kill one of their higher ups so maybe they would wait until your life was in danger and show them that you had no relations to Ateez by letting their rivals kill you even when they could’ve saved your life.

The thought had bile crawling up your throat, it made perfect sense. These were mafia people, they killed in cold blood, and you shouldn’t expect them to show you any mercy just because you had done them a favour.

It was people like this who didn’t blink twice when turning on people they thought were friends. You were coldly reminded of the night you had met Bongsoon and how quickly her personality had changed.

What they showed you was not what you got. You needed to keep reminding yourself of that.

***

Your first day back at university made you feel nervous. You were scared to leave the house for the first time and must go to your classes without Jongho. Thankfully, you were in the middle of the year, so you knew all your classmates. So, if there was anyone knew and therefore suspicious, you’d be able to keep an eye on them from the start.

Jongho laughed when you brought this up to him. Because why would their rivals go through the trouble of finding which university you went to and attending themselves just to kill you when they could easily do so with a gun from across the street.

When he put it that way, you felt stupid for thinking about it in the first place.

Still, you couldn’t stop your leg bouncing as Jongho pulled up in front of the campus main building. You recognized many of the students as they got off the bus and from their own cars. You had a while until class began so you supposed you could track down your own friends and catch up.

“Thanks for dropping me off.” You murmured, slinging your bag on your shoulder and grasping the door handle.

“When do I need to pick you up?”

“Not sure yet. I’ll receive my schedule in a while, so I’ll text you when my classes get done.”

“Don’t get off campus.” He warned and you nodded, stepping out of the Range Rover. Just as you were about to shut the door, he leant across the centre console to look you in the eye, “There’s a group dinner at Hyung’s place today. You don’t have to but noona wants you to come.”

You nodded, telling him you’d think about it before shutting the door.

Jongho didn’t leave yet, probably waiting until you entered the building. It made your heart flutter in a weird way, everything about this situation rivalled dramas and movies and sometimes you could really see the appeal. 'Sometimes' being the times that you weren’t reminded that your life was in danger.

In the past few weeks, he had warmed up to you considerably. You both actually spoke to each other and more than once shared a meal together too. It was like you were roommates rather than you being a prisoner and very so often it was enough to distract you.

You had to admit that he was actually pretty sweet and funny. The time you'd spend together wouldn't be awkward and weird anymore but actually comfortable. More than often you've found yourself laughing at something he said or being in total awe of his party trick: breaking an apple with his bare hands.

Did it make you slightly more afraid of him because the literal hulk was living with you and you tended to be a generally annoying person? Immensely.

Your eyes scanned your surroundings before landing on a familiar pair of heads and you beamed as your two friends walked up to you. Your two closest friends in college, Jaemin and Renjun who took the same courses as you. Since starting university, there hasn’t been a single time you didn’t share a class with at least one of them.

“Jaemin-ah!! Junnie!” You whined, pouting heavily and holding your arms out for a hug. Finally, now that you were around people you knew, you were free to act like how much of a brat you wanted without being scared you’d have a bullet in your head the next second.

“Oh, who made our princess so sad this fine morning?!” Jaemin coddled and you gave him a syrupy sweet smile, wrapping your arms around him tightly. Finally, a hug from someone who was an actual human being and not your dog that jumped 6 feet when you tackled him in a hug. Renjun rolled his eyes at both your antics and hugged you as well.

“How was the vacation?”

“Horrible, I almost died.” You replied honestly.

“See! I told you if you went alone you were bound to end up with alcohol poisoning.” Jaemin replied without missing a beat and you giggled. You wish it had been alcohol poisoning.

“How’d you get to school today? We didn’t see you on the bus.” Jaemin and Renjun were roommates and lived a floor below you. They were the ones who had been feeding your dogs while you were on vacation.

“Someone dropped me off.” You replied vaguely just as the three of you came up to the front-office. Renjun had already come by and collected his schedule a few days ago, ever the responsible citizen while you and Jaemin were a few minutes from your first class and had yet to find out which class you’d be attending.

“The same person you’re living with? We stopped by and the doggos and half your stuff were gone.” You already knew that because they had called you in a panic, saying that you needed to call the police before you calmly explained that you knew your dogs and things weren’t at the apartment.

“Yeah.” You replied shortly. The less they knew about this situation, the better. You didn’t want to feel the guilt of the mafia killing your closest friends as well.

“You’re not pregnant, are you?” You were caught so off-guard; you weren’t even sure which one of them said it and thus smacked them both.

“Don’t say shit like that, this is exactly how rumours spread.”

***

Jongho was leaning against the door of the car when you left the building, Jaemin’s arms intertwined with your own. Renjun’s classes finished a little earlier, so he went back home to get some sleep. You walked right up to him, not realizing the way your friend’s pace slowed down as you strode to the expensive car with the scary man leaning against it.

“Sorry, were you waiting long? My professor made us stay behind for a while.” You explained and Jongho nodded before moving off the door and opening it for you.

“Oooh who is this, (Y/N)?” Jaemin teased, walking up to you and you admittedly felt a little respect for him when he looked Jongho right in the eye, “The man you’re living with? Boyfriend? Sugar daddy?” He sang, wriggling his eyebrows with an infuriating smirk on his face.

You scoffed, “Please, you can consider him as my guard dog.”

“No way, there’s no way your parents hired this guy to keep an eye on you?!” Jaemin exclaimed and you could practically feel the ice from Jongho’s glare. You didn’t know why he was suddenly so annoyed that Jaemin was a little hyperactive at times, he had Wooyoung and Yunho and Mingi, this couldn’t be that irritating.

“If my parents were that desperate to keep an eye on me, they’d just move here.”

He dropped the topic quiet quickly, not really curious about Jongho as much as he was interested in teasing you. Now that there was not much to tease you about, he brought something else up quite quickly, “How about we go for some *chi-maek? It’ll be fun.”

Your eyes lit up and a smile spread on your face, “Yeah sounds like fun! Jongho can I--?” “No, get in the car.”

You gave him the most bewildered look you could produce, “Why not? It won’t be for long and I won’t even drink that m –” “No, get in the car.”

You shared a glance with Jaemin, who looked just as surprised as you were, “But I just want to—” He slammed the car door and you scoffed. You hugged Jaemin one last time, jumping apart when Jongho pressed the horn, “I’m sorry, Minnie. We’ll go next time.”

He nodded and sent you off with a smile, telling you to get home safely and then waved goodbye before shutting the car door for you. You whipped your head around to face Jongho, “What the hell was that about?!”

***

You did end up going to dinner at Bongsoon’s place, hoping that you’d get the alcohol and chicken you were so rudely deprived of earlier. Given that Yeosang’s (the man who smacked you across the face and threatened you during the interrogation) favourite food was fried chicken, you knew there was a high chance there would be some crispy chicken legs up for grabs tonight. You sat with the 8 of them; apparently, they had another member, but San was currently overseas.

You supposed the dinner wasn’t a total bust; you had gotten the last piece of chicken even though Yeosang had reached for it first. All it took was you telling him that you deserved this after he tortured you that day and he meekly backed off. (Yeosang: I didn’t even actually torture her. How long is she going to hold it against me?)

Even with the extra chicken piece you were still mad at Jongho for so very rudely declining when you asked him to go for chicken with Jaemin. He wouldn’t even tell you why he was suddenly acting like such an ass, keeping silent the entire ride home. You had given up trying to get answers after the second try, opting to instead shoot him glares all throughout dinner, not like he even noticed.

The others certainly did.

“Oh, I know that look,” Yunho began, voice in a teasing pitch, “Did you both have a fight?”

You just huffed and turned back to your food when you noticed how Jongho rolled his eyes. Everyone else finally turned their eyes to the two of you; they had noticed how Jongho didn’t take part in the conversation as usual, instead looking intently at his phone.

“Oh, yeah look at Jongho’s sad face. They definitely had a fight.” Wooyoung sang and Jongho finally looked up, meeting his hyung’s eyes.

“We didn’t fight. She’s just mad that I didn’t let her go out with her boyfriend.”

You scoffed, “First of all, he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Wake up and smell the roses, (Y/N). No guy spends that much time with a girl without being interested.”

“You realize that we live together, right?” You retorted cleverly, only to grip your fork in a tight fist when he rolled his eyes again and then shook his head.

“I’m just your dog.”

"Guard dog, my ass. Even I have standards, you should go and live in the zoo.”

The others watched you argue, hiding smiles of their own when Jongho started threatening you with a fork. They had met Jongho when he was a kid, still wide-eyed and immature but as he climbed the ranks in Ateez, he got more serious, and it felt like they had ruined that once bubbly and cute kid. Seeing him throw petty insults and even rolls of bread at you across the table, had them all recalling those times in his youth.

“Stop fucking throwing butter at me!”

“Then stop throwing bread at me!”

***

Wooyoung and Yunho sat in the backseat, looking between you and Jongho curiously. You were snoozing quietly in the passenger seat and every time they even opened their mouth, Jongho glared at them through the rear-view mirror. As though the sound of Wooyoung yawning might disturb you.

They were on their way to drop you off at university before leaving on a mission themselves. Jongho said they’d send for a vehicle to get you back home and you merely blinked at him before nodding off to sleep, ignoring his warnings about how that didn’t mean you could go to the club like you were planning to.

It was hilarious to watch Jongho’s duality. When you were asleep, he spared you glances every few seconds, moving the air vents to make sure you weren’t too cold and then too hot and even pulling down the sun visor to keep the light out of your eyes. He didn’t even honk when someone cut in front of him.

Just as they pulled up to the university, he elbowed you harshly and you jumped awake, whining at the sharp pain in your arm. Wooyoung had to smother a laugh into his hand at this, narrowly missing Jongho’s hand as he tried to pinch him.

When you felt goosebumps raise on your legs from the A/C and remembered that you didn’t bring a jacket. Just as you slid out of the car, you grabbed Jongho’s leather jacket that was laying across the console, “Thanks for dropping me. I’ll be borrowing this.”

“That’s mine!”

“Consider this payback for you throwing my precious cardigan in the dryer.” You replied quickly before slamming the door shut. Jongho didn’t say anything else but watched through the window as you pulled on the jacket and without realizing it, a microscopic smile grew on his face.

His friends burst into laughter, “Dude you’re so whipped.”

“Shut the hell up.”

They just laughed harder.

Meanwhile, you snuggled closer into the jacket during class, fighting the urge to fall asleep. It was hard though, the jacket was like a giant, heavy hug. You didn’t want to take it off but keeping it on had your eyelids feeling like there were weighted with barbells.

You could smell Jongho’s cologne on it, smiling at the trace scent of it and snuggling closer. Now that you both were used to living with each other and dare you say you even enjoyed it, his cologne that you often smelt around the house brought you comfort.

It was unexpected to say the least, your newfound compatibility with Jongho. Initially, you thought he was like a hound from hell, but you soon came to realize that once you gained his trust, he was just as gooey and sweet as your own dogs back home. It was initially just a joke, but you might actually consider Jongho an equivalent of your dog.

You crossed your arms over your chest, hugging the jacket closer and then you winced when you felt something hard poke you in the ribs. Thinking it was just a pack of cigarettes or a wallet that he left in the pocket, you ignored it, gently massaging the bruised skin until you felt it again.

Curiously, you dipped your hand in the inseam pocket and your eyes went wide in shock. You could feel the handle and the safety trigger. Even though it was physically impossible for you to have divulged that information to anyone in the last 3 seconds, you still looked around to see if anyone was watching you.

Jongho had left his gun in the jacket.

Your heart began beating slightly faster. You were wide awake now.

Anxiety filled your body and you lost focus on the lesson, completely tuning out whatever the professor was saying. This wasn’t the first time you had a gun on your person, and it was definitely not the first time you had touched one, but this felt way more nerve-wracking than the guns you would use for training.

Possibly because it was illegally acquired but you didn’t want to think about that right now.

For the next hour, you were imagining all the possible situations that could happen just because of this gun. What if it randomly went off? What if it fell out of the jacket and someone saw? You’d be arrested before you could even explain what happened. And even if you were given the chance to explain, what would you say?

As soon as the lecture ended, you stuffed your things into your bag before holding it close to your chest, as if people would be able to see through the jacket and your bag was a method of protection. If you were actually thinking about it, your thought process was absolute bullshit, but these unreasonable things made you feel a little bit at ease, so you just did so.

Luckily, you only had one lecture today, meaning that someone would already be outside the university ready to take you home. The mere thought of it comforted you and you were speed walking towards the door, no thoughts other than getting into that car.

A black car was parked right in front of the building, windows tinted to be opaque and looking extremely ominous. A few months ago, you would’ve avoided this type of car like the plague and gone in the opposite direction. Something about knowing that this car was for you made you feel powerful, it was weird.

Still, you kept the bag huddled close to your body and shuffled quickly into the backseat of the car. It was only then you realized you hadn’t ever met the driver of the car before. You smiled in greeting, meeting his eyes in the rear-view mirror, “Are you San? We haven’t met before, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

He grinned widely and you immediately understood why the others complimented his looks, this man knew he was handsome, and the confidence just made him even more good-looking, “Yep, that’s me! Nice to meet you too!”

He pulled out of the parking space, and it was quiet for a few minutes as he continued to drive, missing the first exit.

“Oh, you had to take that exit.” You mentioned, turning around in your seat to point at it. San laughed and scratched the side of his neck, “Yeah, I don’t really know how to get back home from the university. So, I’m just gonna get to the town square because I know how to find my way from there.”

You nodded, finding it weird but you didn’t want to push and get him angry. You hadn’t ever met San before and the last thing you would want to do is piss him off within the first five minutes of meeting him.

You sat quietly for a while until you noticed how he was glancing at you in the rear-view mirror, and you smiled at him before your eyes caught onto what he was looking at. Three motorcycles were trailing the car. Your smile slowly disappeared as your eyes flickered back to San, noticing the back of his neck through the small gap in the driver’s seat.

That was a Stray Kids tattoo.

Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized what was going on. This wasn’t San. And this was the wrong car.

On an impulse, you moved quickly, fisting the strap of your bag in your hands and throwing it over the seat, wrapping it over his neck and pulling hard, using your legs to anchor you and pull as hard as your strength would allow.

He choked, hand going to his neck and the car slightly swerved. You reached over to pull the seat lever and pushed the seat in front as much as it could go before unclicking his seat belt and throwing open the door. Your bag and the man went flying to the road and you quickly climbed over the seat, taking the wheel and began speeding.

The rumbling of the motorcycles filled your ears and you pushed hard on the gas, swerving between as many cars as you could. Your hand curled around the pendant on your neck and your trembling fingers clicked the panic button several times as you tried to fight the onslaught of tears.

You saw your way out just as a tunnel appeared in your view. It was empty, no cars going through it at this time of day, and you saw your chance, speeding even more to enter the tunnel. You spared a glance to the rear-view mirror and just like you assumed, only one of the motorcycles was trailing you.

The other two were no doubt trying to catch you at the other end.

You looked back to the exit. The other two weren’t there yet.

Slowing down the car and moving towards the wall of the tunnel, you pulled the gun out of the jacket, clicking off the safety and you kicked open the door. You ducked to avoid the sparks as the door scraped against the wall before it broke off and flew down the road towards the motorcyclist.

They tried to avoid the door and you took your chance to shoot a bullet. It landed on the bullseye, throwing the driver off the motorcycle before it toppled and fell to the ground. You slammed on the breaks and ran back, getting on the motorcycle as quickly as you could and speeding in the opposite direction.

You didn’t even know where you were or where you were headed but all you knew was that you needed to get as far away as possible.

You heard the distant roar of motorcycles and the lump in your throat grew, tears fighting to gloss over your vision, and it took everything you had not to break down. They were coming closer, and you had no idea what to do.

Revving the motorcycle to increase your speed, you zoomed towards the busy intersection, cutting through traffic and even nearly missing a truck to get across it, trapping the others on the other side.

The sigh of relief when you weren't able to see them anymore was short-lived.

Another car began cutting ahead of others, zigzagging in between lanes to catch up with you. You made a harsh turn, getting away from it just in time and they continued ahead. You continued down the road again, looking over your shoulder every few seconds and you couldn’t help the sob that left you when you noticed the motorcycles gaining distance behind you.

And then ahead came the car you had avoided before and was zooming towards you. They were cornering you from both sides.

Hands shaking, you grabbed the gun from the jacket once again and then tilted the bike, kicking it away with your legs. You rolled on the rough tar a couple times, scraping your cheek and your hip badly against it. Even though it hurt incredibly, you didn’t have the time to cry over it.

Your motorcycle intercepted the car, ramming into the bumper and front wheels and causing it to flip over. You turned, shooting at the other motorcycles before pulling yourself to your feet and running for your life.

You barely made it down the road before another car pulled up with the windows rolled down and you couldn’t stop crying when you recognized the people inside. Jongho threw open the door and you leapt inside, right into his arms.

Mingi didn’t stop driving for a second, slamming his foot on the accelerator and getting the hell out of there.

“Are you hurt?” Jongho asked, grasping your arms and you winced. Something was definitely broken or bruised after the way you fell from the motorcycle.

Your head kept flashing with images and your hands began shaking when you realized what had just happened and what you had done. You looked up at Jongho, distressed, “I killed somebody.”

You weren’t even sure you could cry with all you were feeling. Everything felt overwhelming and every nerve in your body was buzzing with something that made you dizzier as seconds passed. You were panting for air, but it felt like it wasn’t reaching your lungs.

Jongho gently placed a hand on your head, stroking your hair with such a delicate touch that you wanted to melt into him. Your hand curled around his shirt, holding onto it for stability and he placed a firm kiss to your forehead as you panted into his neck. It wasn’t one of affection or even comfort.

The kiss was meant to ground you, pull you back to earth from whatever hell you were bound to. To make you aware that you weren’t dead or dying, but you were alive and here in his arms.

“Anything that needs immediate medical attention? Were you shot? Stabbed?” He asked, running his hands up and down your back to calm you. He felt you shake your head and sighed in relief, tightening his arms around your waist.

“You’re lucky they underestimated you because you’re a civilian,” Mingi spoke up, “Had this been about eliminating a threat, rather than getting revenge, you wouldn’t have made it.”

You knew what that meant.

It meant that next time, they wouldn’t underestimate you.

***

The second you stepped out of the car; you couldn’t help the cry of pain that left your lips. After finally having rested your legs on the ride back, you realized that you probably landed on your knee harder than you recalled during the fall.

You didn’t even have to say anything for Jongho to scoop you up in his arms and carry you into the house. His arms didn’t even tremble under your weight, and he held your body close to his as if you would shatter with a simple touch.

Finally, the exhaustion of today crept up on you and in the warmth of his arms, your eyes began to shut. You barely recalled him placing you in your bed and you were passed out by the time he got the first-aid kit from his room.

In the back of your head, you could feel the graze of the wet cotton against your skin and then felt the sting of the antiseptic, but you could barely lift your finger, let alone gain some energy to wince and flinch. You just let Jongho move you as he pleased to treat your wounds.

Jongho noticed how you weren’t flinching as he disinfected the cuts and nearly sighed in relief. You had already been in so much pain, the last thing he would want is to cause some more.

After covering the cuts on your hands, knees and hips with gauze, he moved up your body to treat the scrape you had gotten on your cheek. With a touch that could only be rivalled by a feather, he cleaned the blood away, watching your face carefully to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable.

The sight of your relaxed face had his heart settling slightly in his chest. The past hour had been hell on him, his heart still hurt from the way it was beating a mile a minute when he got your panic alert. Even though he had warned you to stay in the same vicinity if you were ever in trouble, when he watched your tracker move across town and even farther from where he was, he felt a lump in his throat.

The others had never seen him this hysterical, usually so calm and collected and quick to come up with a plan. He looked at his phone for a second during the meeting before his eyes went wide as saucers and he was hauling Mingi to his feet and running out, his only parting words being “(Y/N) needs me.”

He delicately brushed a strand of hair away from your face before applying a band aid above the area.

He couldn’t help himself. Seeing you so vulnerable below him, he was filled with an undeniable need to protect you, to make sure that you were okay and that no harm or sadness or discomfort would ever come to you.

Gently, Jongho placed a featherlight kiss over the band aid before figuring you could get a better check up by Seonghwa once you woke up. For now, he’d let you rest, God knows you deserved it.

Even though you were nearly out cold, it was weird that you suddenly felt the pressure beside the bed decrease and your hand shot out before you could even think, fingers clasping tightly around Jongho’s wrist.

“Don’t leave.” You rushed out, panicked at even the thought of being alone in the room.

“(Y/N)—”

“Please. Please, stay.” You begged, tugging him towards you. He relented, sitting beside you on the bed and you sighed, settling down on the bed again.

“You should get changed into something more comfortable.” The red head mumbled, noticing now that you were still in your tight-fitting jeans, his leather jacket covering your blood-stained shirt.

Your fingers lightly curled around his t-shirt, unable to open your eyes, “Please do it for me.”

His eyes slightly widened, “(Y/N)—”

“Please, I can’t move right now.” You whispered and the crack in your voice had him breaking. He moved away from you to grab some of your clothes, softly shushing you when you whined and reassuring you that he’d be back.

It was so intimate and Jongho’s heart was filling with something that he’d never felt before. Something heavy and dense and made him feel like he was high on the sweetest thing he had ever tasted before. He held you closely to him as he helped you slip out of your pants and then shirt and when his heart twisted at seeing the bruises covering your skin, he made sure to be even more gentle.

It wasn’t long before the both of you were settled into bed, cuddled close underneath the covers with his arms protectively around you and your head on his chest. Never had you felt so secure and fulfilled by just being around someone. Jongho made you feel like he’d keep even an army away if you just hid in his arms.

His thumbs stroked your skin and with each stroke you were lulled into a deeper sleep, finally being able to rest. He watched you for a while longer, carefully watching each breath you took before the sight of your own peaceful face had him closing his eyes as a dreamless sleep welcomed him.

By the time Seonghwa came over to check your bruises and injuries, Jongho was already awake, an arm wrapped around your shoulders and scrolling through his phone as you napped into his neck. He made it look like he was so calm when in reality it took every ounce of self-control to keep a smile from breaking out on his face.

Having you so close to him made him feel complete, an emotion that he rarely feels being in his life.

The others came in right behind him to check up on you and Wooyoung would’ve made a big fuss about you both cuddling had you not woken with a start and immediately panicked before realizing where you were. They saw the frantic look in your eye as you shot up, straight as an arrow as soon as you felt Seonghwa touching your arm.

It took a few seconds for you to gain your bearings and in those few moments you could barely recognize anyone, feeling panicked at so many faces suddenly in the room before you remembered what had gone down in the last couple hours.

Their features became more familiar, but you still felt on edge until you saw Jongho’s concerned face staring at you and finally settled down against the bed, back into his arms.

It was probably because you saw him the most since moving here or because whenever you felt even a little bit scared or not safe, you went to Jongho because you knew he was meant to protect you. He didn’t seem to mind, keeping a hand on your waist even as Seonghwa checked the dressings he put earlier.

Bongsoon talked to you for a while, pulling you into a warm hug that made you feel like you were in a mothers embrace. You both talked for a few minutes while you held Jongho’s hand underneath the covers and then the two of you were alone again. You didn’t want to sleep yet; you had slept all day and were still groggy and you didn’t want to go back to sleep.

But you didn’t want to stay awake and think about it, it was just way too much at the moment and everything made you feel too much at the moment. It was just something you’d rather avoid so you just intertwined your fingers with the man beside you before laying back down on the bed and closing your eyes.

***

Jongho had left you alone in bed only when he was certain that you had fallen deep asleep to get something to eat, take a shower and for a brief meeting with the others about what exactly had happened in the last day.

He didn’t return to your bed that night, but he did check on you one last time before going to bed himself. You were deep asleep which relieved him a little; the features on your face were smoothed peacefully. He made sure to leave the lamp on, in case you woke up in the middle of the night.

In the end, he was the one who woke up way past midnight after hearing noises from the hall. He didn’t waste even a second, grabbing his gun from his bed-side table and heading to the source of the noise before he realized what it was.

Geon and Skai were whimpering, while trying to scratch your door handle, unable to get it open. Once they saw Jongho, they quickly pattered over to him, trying to bring him to your door. He didn’t hear anything from the inside, so if it was an intruder, he didn’t want to make too much noise and alert him.

Soundlessly, he cracked open the door to find your room empty thankfully. The lump underneath your duvet had his attention as soon as he entered the room, gently padding over to you. He didn’t want to wake you up, so he didn’t make much noise, still trying to find what the dog were so worried over. Or maybe they just missed you, after all, he had made sure they didn’t jump all over you for the sake of your tired body.

You moved lightly and stopped immediately but Jongho noticed, and he kneeled before peeling back the covers.

His heart nearly broke at the sight of your scared and tear-stained face staring up at him. It was obvious you had been crying for a while, lips cracked and dry and your eyes looked sunken. Without another word, he slid underneath he covers, and you adjusted your position to make room for him.

You didn’t even need to ask for him to place his hands on your waist and pull you into his chest. You were surprised that he was holding you as tightly as you were, like he needed this just as much as you did. One of his hands gently cradled your head against his neck and he felt your wet face against his skin.

“I was so scared you’d get hurt.” He confessed, suddenly aware of just how thankful he was that you were in his arms, unhurt and safe. He didn’t know what he would have done if something had happened to you, and he could still feel the anxiety he did when he got your alert.

“It was weird,” You admitted, whispering your secrets to him in the dark, “I thought I’d feel regret about the things I didn’t do in my life, but all I could feel was fear and the need to run away. Far, far away where no one would ever find me. Even now, after all of that, I don’t get that feeling on life being short. I’m just scared.”

It was frightening to be honest. In the moment, it felt like you didn’t have an identity, like you didn’t know who you were or what was important to you. All you knew was that you had to put as much distance in the least amount of time possible. You were sure, if you had managed to get them off your trail before Jongho found you, your next stop would have been to the airport or docks.

You always thought it would be difficult to hurt somebody, you got squeamish when you had to watch someone else get an injection but for some reason you didn’t feel anything shooting those other people and killing them. They were still people, you tried to remind yourself, people like Jongho but to you they were nothing more than empty shells.

How could you even live with yourself?

“You don’t have to justify your feelings to anyone. If that’s the way you feel, it’s okay.”

“Thank you for staying here with me.” You murmured, pulling away to look him in the eye. They were twinkling, deep like pool of water and honey that made you feel so secure.

You liked your lips without realizing, swallowing thickly as the air thickened with something that you couldn’t put your finger on. Call it lust, or desire, or even love but when it boiled down to it, all you could feel underneath your skin was longing.

Jongho leaned in and his fingers tightened on your waist, breath coming out a little shaky against your face and he paused, brushing his lips over your tenderly. For a few seconds, that was more than enough, making you dizzy from the contact.

You sucked in a deep breath, snaking your hands up to thread your fingers through his red hair and kissing him hard. His body twisted to press closer to yours, a leg snaking in between yours and one hand found its place on your back while the other cupped your jaw.

Your heart quite literally skipped a beat as he pressed his chest to yours, deepening the kiss. You let him take control, just wanting to be in his arms and feel loved for the time being, gently toying with his soft hair as he caught your bottom lip in between his teeth before licking over it.

The whimper didn’t go unnoticed by him when he slipped his tongue against yours. Your fingers twitched against his nape as you sucked slowly on his tongue, clenching your legs around his thigh when he groaned lightly.

The sound of rustling of the sheets and lips smacking filled the air as you continued to squirm when you realized painfully that you were running out of air. Jongho pulled away, panting heavily and took a second to admire how fucked out you looked from just kissing.

Your eyes were still shut, struggling to catch your breath, spit glistening on your swollen lips. When your eyes finally fluttered open, his heart swelled at the small smile you sent him, unable to resist the one tugging his lips as he connected them to yours once again.

Eventually, he pulled away again when you needed to catch your breath, trailing kisses down the column of your throat, nipping at the skin occasionally, just to hear your sweet sighs and whimpers.

“I like you.” You blurted out suddenly and he paused, taking in what you just said before he pressed a warm kiss to your pulse point, pecking your lips next.

“I hadn’t noticed.” He replied sarcastically, only to laugh when you smacked his chest while a wide smile graced your beautiful face.

“I take it back.”

***

If there was one thing that was put into perspective after coming so close to getting abducted, it was your inhibition. The rules of dating were thrown out of the window as soon as your eyes opened the next day, all you knew was that you liked Jongho, and he felt the same about you. Why should you still walk on eggshells around him?

You also wanted to expend as much of yourself as you could towards feeling something. You needed to make this connection with Jongho stronger, give yourself something that could give you stability and maybe even some sanity if anything like that were to ever happen again.

So, when you found yourself reliving what happened, feeling guilty that your emotions seemed to leave you when you had a gun in your hands, you replaced the phantom of the Glock with Jongho’s skin, kissing him until you felt dizzy.

Though he was kind of overwhelmed with all the affection you suddenly decided to show him, he also realized it was the only way you knew how to cope with everything that had happened. You had a lot of feelings and you needed to redirect it from the fear and anxiety you felt.

Besides, he was more than happy being on the receiving end of your unhealthy coping mechanism.

Although, he was more than grateful when you put a pause on all the kisses and hugs when the others came over. You seemed more than fine with it, happy with the distraction and thankful that they all came to check on you.

While Jongho was talking to the others and you realized that you couldn’t speak as easily, you suddenly remembered your friends; Jaemin and Renjun. You lost your phone along with your bag during the abduction, so you hadn’t called him to tell him you weren’t attending university today. No doubt he’d be freaking out and would call the police any second.

“Do you mind if I borrow your phone?” You asked and he handed it to you without qualm, “Sure, why?”

“I was thinking I’d meet up with Jaemin. Is that okay?”

Now this caught his attention. You had been so clingy all day, back-hugging him as he made you breakfast and peppering kisses along the side of his neck. He was honestly surprised that it hadn’t gone any further with the amount you were holding on to him. And you were way friendlier with Jaemin than you were with him.

“Are you sure you want to meet with him? So soon?” He didn’t notice how the others hid a smile at his obvious behaviour, but you didn’t seem to catch onto it. They had spent all their lives looking after him, they knew what his well-concealed jealously looked like.

“Why? Do you think it’s unsafe?” And suddenly he regretted even opening his mouth, seeing how worried you looked and shook his head, nodding with a placating smile, “No, no, it’s okay.”

It took a more reassurance but when you were finally convinced, you quickly dialled your best friend’s number before walking to the kitchen to talk. Jongho practically scoffed at the fact that you had his number memorized; who memorizes phone numbers anymore?

“Jaemin-ah!” You whined, happy to hear his voice again.

“Bet she never says your name like that.” Wooyoung teased and Jongho realized how deep the scowl on his face was. Sending him a withering glare, he entered the kitchen and shut the door behind him just in time to avoid the rest of them roaring with laughter at him.

Instead, he walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing your shoulder, you flinched in surprise for a second raising a brow and him, but he shook his head, pressing his fingers to your stomach. Your breath hitched and he chuckled.

“Do you know how worried I was?! No call, no message! Your phone number can’t be reached when I try to call it! ‘Oh, that’s no problem’, one might say, ��just go to their place’. I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE! YOU WON’T EVEN TELL ME!” Both you and Jongho flinched when he began yelling into the phone.

“Sorry, Minnie. My phone broke so I couldn’t text you. Tell you what, I’ll meet you today at your place and prove to you myself that I’m completely fine.” You chirped.

Jongho placed his lips on your pulse point, and you took a deep breath. He felt your heartbeat quicken and your skin got warmer as he nipped lightly before licking over it. Your hand intertwined with the one on your stomach, squeezing your fingers around his tightly as he continued to nibble up your neck.

“Tell Junnie to prepare his liver. Buy all the bottles of soju you can find and bring out that bottle of vodka I bought you.” You said, squealing at a particularly harsh bite right underneath your ear. The hand around your waist slowly slid up to palm at your breast and you bit your lip to keep a small moan from escaping you.

“I thought you wanted to save that bottle for graduation?” Jaemin asked and your voice caught in your throat, unable to say anything while Jongho sucked at the junction between your neck and shoulder, tightening the grip you had on his hand.

“Keep talking.” He whispered and you couldn’t help the whimper that left you.

“I—I did, but I think we should indulge ourselves a little. I’ll buy you another for graduation.” The thought of not making it till graduation crossed for mind for less than a second before your legs practically turned to jelly when Jongho licked over the mark he left.

“Alright, then. See you tonight!” Jaemin chirped before hanging up and you quickly placed the phone on the counter, holding onto the edge of it for support. He wasted no time in turning you around and pressing you to the counter, attacking your lips.

“What has gotten into you?”

“What’s more important is that I haven’t gotten into you, yet.” He replied, distracted as he tilted your head to access your mouth easily.

“Your friends are right outside!” You whispered heatedly, pushing him off you but he didn’t even let his hands come off you for a second, leaning in to kiss you once again.

“So, tonight then?” He smirked and you huffed out a laugh, “Not likely. I’m going to come back black-out drunk.”

That was true, after about 9 bottles of soju between the three of you and half of the bottle of vodka gone in shots, you called Jongho to come pick you up. You had quite literally blacked out on their couch before Jongho had to carry you back to the car.

***

As soon as Killeo heard the sound of food containers, he ran to the living room, eager to get any table scraps and not afraid to use his puppy dog eyes. The thing about having more people in the house was that it was easier to sneak food when no one was paying attention.

You definitely noticed when the giant dog trotted into the room even though he tried to look inconspicuous, you knew what he was up to. Afterall he was the culprit behind many of your foods going missing.

“Hui jia*.” You said immediately, pointing at the door. Everyone looked at you, wondering why you were suddenly speaking Mandarin. He whimpered a little, tilting his head and begging just like you knew he would. But you stayed firm, shaking your head.

“Hui jia.”

With a defeated whimper, he left the room with a low head. You’d give him an extra treat later for being a good boy but for now at least you didn’t have a giant Doberman jumping on the table while trying to get food.

Satisfied that he listened, you went back to your food.

It was silent for a second before, “YOUR DOG SPEAKS CHINESE?!”

Everyone burst into laughter.

***

“We’re going to Japan in a few days for a negotiation.” Jongho told you one night as you laid beside each other in bed. You looked up at him for a few minutes to find him looking at you with a fond look.

“Why Japan?”

“BtoB and Ateez don’t have much influence there. We wanted it to be on even ground.” He told you and your eyes went wide at the familiar name. You sat up immediately, covers pooling at your waist as you looked at him in shock.

“Didn’t you say that BtoB was all buddy-buddy with stray kids?” You hoped this was one big mistake. They couldn’t have been actually meeting with the group that was in alliance with the one that almost killed you the other day, there just wasn’t any chance.

Jongho looked surprised that you remembered but not to the point where it looked like he got caught red handed. He nodded, raising a hand to ruffle his hair a little, “They are, which is why we want to form an alliance with them. They were actually interested in us from a while back, if we form an alliance with them then it means we’d be affiliated with Stray Kids and then they can’t send another attack after one of our own.”

You looked a little apprehensive, “You’re not going to sell me or anything right?”

This seemed to startle him, and he sat up a little only to grab your hand and pull you to his chest. He cupped your cheek with a steady grip. His eyes raked over your face for a minute, taking in all your features that he adored, “Don’t even say something like that. I’d never let anything happen to you.”

“Really?” You whispered, voice fragile and he nodded, pulling you closer and capturing your lips with his. You kissed him just as eagerly, snaking your hands around his neck and twisting your body so you were straddling him comfortably.

He didn’t have to wait long before he was sucking on your tongue, his sneaky hands travelling down your body to stop at your ass, pulling you forward to grind your heat against him, swallowing your moans.

You whined as you pushed your hips forward and back, creating a steady pace and breaking off the kiss to breathe. Your wet lips trailed down his neck and you bit down on the spot below his ear, letting out a high-pitched moan as he bucked up into you.

You were rocking into him without any help, following the rhythm he set earlier, and his now free hands snuck underneath the t-shirt you had on to play with your breasts. Your hips stuttered, pressing harder into him and he groaned.

Your lips returned to his as he rolled your nipples between the pads of his fingers, tugging and teasing lightly. In the next instant, his hands disappeared from your chest, grabbing your waist and pressing you to the mattress, spreading your legs so he could slot himself in between your thighs.

You whimpered when his hips rutted against yours, the growing bulge in his pants pressing into you so deliciously.

You both were frankly too turned on to remember that you had left the bedroom door open. Alerted by the sounds coming from the bedroom, Geon and Killeo both went in to investigate. To a guard dog, you could understand why this particular situation looked concerning and the next thing you knew, they were barking their minds out at Jongho before Geon literally tackled him to the ground.

Killeo proceeded to sit on you, baring his teeth at your ‘attacker’ and you couldn’t help but laugh at the betrayed look on Jongho’s face.

“(Y/N)!” He whined, “Can’t you call them off?”

“I can but even if I manage to get him off me, there’s no way they’re gonna let us lock the door.” You laughed, quite disappointed yourself but very much amused by the whole situation.

“I’d recommend taking a cold shower.” You smirked.

Which is exactly where the frustrated man was headed, glaring at the pile of you three on his bed and declaring that Skai was now his favourite, all while muttering curses underneath his breath.

If he looked pitiful then, he would only look more miserable when he came back to realize that the dogs took his place on his bed, and he had to go and sleep alone in your bedroom.

***

When you woke up, you could feel cold sweat dripping down your back and your heart was beating out of your chest. It was still dark outside, you had slept for maybe an hour and the dogs were dead asleep, twitching a little when you shot out of bed but aside from that didn’t move.

You remembered a lot from your nightmare, a world where the panic button didn’t alert Jongho but instead restarted the day. You remembered running from Stray Kids, the gang members getting closer each second no matter how fast you ran and finally when you collapsed from exhaustion, they would land a bullet in your spine or forehead right before you restarted the day and were caught in the same situation.

It was horrifying to say the least, in your nightmares they weren’t people but monsters with red eyes and cruel smiles that looked more like giant shapeless figures than people. You were left panting, trying to get your heart to stop hammering against your ribs as you clutched the covers in a tight grip.

Your senses were extremely clouded, nothing coming to your mind other than getting as far away from here as you could. It was a thought that followed you like the plague, and you couldn’t seem to shake it off. Ever since you moved to this house, you had been followed by bad luck.

Unfortunate things kept happening and sometimes it was just too much to take when all you wanted was to go back to your own life. Especially since you hadn’t asked for any of this to happen. Many times, you had gotten the urge to just leave in the dead of the night and take a flight to anywhere.

It was what you had seen in movies, and it was the only thought that kept intruding your mind when everything got to be too suffocating. But you always managed to calm yourself by thinking a little rationally.

You had no idea how this world worked, how quickly it would be for them to find you and how to even cover your tracks or anything like that. Leaving the house without telling anyone and all alone would make you a sitting duck and no matter how exhausting this all was, you weren’t too keen to die either.

So even though your legs were shaking, you quietly left the room to wash your sweaty face with some cold water before going to the kitchen to get a drink of water.

You weren’t quite sure what to do, as such the case whenever something happened to you. Should you cry it out while hiding in the bathroom? Should you call Jaemin and talk to him for a while? Should you just try and get your mind off the problem by watching TV?

A part of you didn’t want to actually cry about it; it was funny really, if this had been happening to someone else, you wouldn’t hold it against them if they lost their minds but because it was you, you felt like you were being dramatic whenever you lingered over these feelings.

Maybe a drink would be a good idea? Surely if you were drunk, it would be easier to get through this?

You sat at the kitchen counter, sipping water for a while before your glass ran empty and you wondered what to do then. You didn’t feel like running anymore but you didn’t feel like going back to sleep just yet.

You glanced at your bedroom door that was closed shut, no doubt Jongho would be asleep in there. He had been your shelter in this crazy storm up until now, that was probably why you were quietly padding over to enter the bedroom. Maybe just lying beside him would make you feel better.

He was sleeping soundly, clutching one of your pillows in his arms and you could feel the small smile growing on your face as you inched closer to him. His hair was covering his shut eyes and you raised a hand to push it away from his face when he clasped a hand over your wrist and pinned you to the bed.

You gasped when his knee pinned your hip down and he immediately pulled away, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, “(Y/N)? I thought you were asleep. What are you doing here?”

“I just—" You stuttered, wondering if you should tell him about the nightmare. In reality there was nothing that he could do, and you didn’t really want to talk about it, “I just missed you.”

He didn’t believe it and you both knew it but he still sat up and pulled you to him so you could curl up to his side and cupped the back of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your hand rested over his chest, feeling comforted by the beating of his heart underneath your fingertips.

You both were leaning against the headboard, just listening to the sound of breathing.

“Are you okay?” He whispered and you nodded, “I’m fine as long as you’re here with me.”

Jongho stopped running his thumb over your knuckles in favour of raising your hand to his lips. You pulled your hand out of his grip to graze your fingers over his cheekbones. Everything always felt so much more valuable when you were troubled, and nothing felt more precious to you than Jongho.

It always made you feel guilty in a way, because in your fear you’d sometimes blame him, resent him for putting you in this position but when things got put into perspective, you always ended up treasuring him even more.

You realized just why you were feeling so uneasy earlier.

“I missed you.” You whispered, voice tight and you felt your eyes prick from how much you were feeling. Your fingertips moved to his cupid’s bow, gently tracing over his plush lips. You swallowed thickly, moving your fingers to his brows.

“I’m right here, baby.” He murmured, catching your wrist in his grip as he leaned in to place a warm kiss to your lips that you returned. The kiss didn’t last long, you were a little too distracted tonight to maintain your breath and he pulled away when you needed to breathe, trailing his lips down your neck again.

This time there was nothing to stop you, the door was shut, and you were all alone, you realized, jumping when you felt Jongho’s tongue against your skin. Sighing, you turned your head instinctively, giving him more access.

His hand left your wrist, instead trailing down your body to stop at your waist. He continued his assault on your neck, leaving marks along your skin between kisses and licks. You whimpered, the hand on your hip getting frustrating and wanting more.

“Jongho, please.” You whined, sensitive to his fingers drumming against your waist and he pulled away from your neck.

“What, baby? Use your words.”

“More, please.” You sighed out and he chuckled, his hand sneaking between your legs to your clothed heat and you squirmed, trying to move your hips towards him. His lips returned to yours while his fingers pressed against you, and you felt yourself grow wetter.

Jongho rubbed circles over the material of your shorts, tracing your slit and swallowing the moans you were making. He was quite pleased when you began rocking your hips against his hand, frustrated with the light touch.

He rubbed gently at your pussy a few more times, feeling the material get slightly damp and then suddenly tapped right where your clit was. You cried out, legs jerking and he soothed you with a kiss.

"Please, stop teasing." You let out a loud moan when he snuck his hand underneath the waistband of your shorts and panties to press against your clit and you bucked your hips in pleasure.

"Fuck, you're dripping, baby." He growled against your lips, beginning to rub figure 8's against your sensitive bud and you practically mewled. You're so wet that his fingers glide easily through you, sinking two fingers into you without any resistance.

His thumb was rubbing over your clit while his fingers pump inside you, setting a slow pace that has you whining again. He wasn't going to give you what you wanted without teasing and you were frankly too turned on to try and resist him.

Your fingers curled around his wrist, trying to get him to move but he's stronger than you, continuing with the torturous pace and your eyes water with frustration.

"I want more." You get out, finding it hard to even open your eyes at this point but Jongho is nowhere near breaking.

"You want me to tease more? I can do that, baby." He answered and you shake your head, a tear falling on your cheek when you felt him stop. You were clenching hard around his fingers, trying to gain any kind of friction but it wasn't enough.

He supposed somewhere he felt bad for making you feel frustrated when you were so vulnerable to him, but you were just so submissive beneath him, he was getting harder with each plea that slipped through your lips.

"You need to be clearer. What do you want, baby? If you ask nicely, I'll give it to you." He cooed, peppering kisses against your neck and waiting for you to understand what he was asking for.

"Please, please, make me cum." You begged, sobbing when he curled his fingers before thrusting them hard and fast into your sopping core. At each thrust, he's scissoring his fingers, spreading you wider each time as the heel of his palm bumped into your clit.

"Fuck, yes, right there, don't stop." You squealed, clenching around his fingers tightly when the pads of his fingers brush against your g-spot.

The knot in your stomach curled a little tighter when he rammed his fingers against the spot, eyes rolling back in your head, "Right there, baby?"

Your nails were digging into his wrist when he finally brought you over the edge, your orgasm washing over you with waves of pleasure as he continued to finger you, bringing you down from your high.

You winced when his fingers left you and he didn't hesitate before popping the soaking digits into his mouth, growling at the taste. The air was practically alive with sparks as you tried to come down from your high, chest heaving.

"Fuck, you taste so good. Wanna eat you out."

You were barely out of your daze before Jongho pulled off your shorts and panties in one swipe, pulling you forward by your thighs so your back hit the bed before burying his face in your heat. And in a second, the sparks from earlier were transformed to lightning by his lips.

You moaned loudly, raking your fingers through his hair when he licked up your slit, still sensitive from your orgasm. He continued licking all your juices before pressing a finger to your entrance, pushing your hips down when you bucked against his face.

Everything felt like it was on fire, your skin was burning so hot you felt like the room was setting ablaze around you. You couldn't even breathe, Jongho was determined not to give you a break, teasing gone far from his mind.

He closed his lips around your clit, alternating between sucking and licking as his fingers brought you closer to the edge once again.

"Feels good." You slurred out; eyes screwed shut as you tugged lightly on his hair. He smiled slightly and pulled away to place an affectionate peck on your inner thigh before returning to his task.

His hand abandoned holding your hips down in favour of snaking underneath your shirt to roll your nipple between the rough pads of his fingers and you groaned, tightening the grip you had on his hair and rolling your hips against his face.

When he caught your sensitive nub between his teeth and tugged, every muscle in your body tensed before you came with a silent groan, squirming because of the sensitivity as he continued to lick your release out of you.

You were panting as he kissed up your body again, taking off your shirt this time before connecting your lips to his. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning into his mouth when both his hands began teasing your breasts.

"Can you give me one more, baby? Cum on my cock one more time, hmm?" He asked, grinding his covered hard on against your soaking folds and you nodded.

"Words, darling." He reminded as he tugged off his shirt. Your hands immediately ran down his chest, stopping at the hem of his pants. You look so pretty like this, sprawled out underneath him with the most fucked out expression on your face.

"Fuck me, Jongho."

Once his pants are on the floor, he's back over you, kissing down your neck. His length was pressing against your inner thigh, and you spread your legs wider.

You were on the brink of the overstimulation being painful, lungs practically screaming for air, but you wanted him inside you, or it felt like you'd die.

He pumped himself a few times, hissing at the feeling before guiding him to your hole. The crown of his cock nudged against your bundle of nerves, and you squealed before he sank into you with a groan.

You both were moaning against each other mouths as he slid his length into you, inch by glorious inch, until his hips were flush against yours. Your previous orgasms were enough to keep the stretch from being painful.

When he bottomed out, he stilled for a second, glancing at your face that was scrunched in pleasure before he pulled out halfway and thrust back into you.

Your nails were immediately dragging down his back as he slammed his hips against yours, pulling sweet moans from your throat. All your nerves were lit on fire as he began building your third orgasm of the night.

Your warm walls were clenching around him so deliciously that his mouth was pooling with drool, and he lowered his head to suck one of your nipples into his mouth, dragging his teeth over the hardened nub before turning his attention to the other one.

A thin string of spit connected his lips to your nipples when he pulled away. Once he was satisfied with the marks he left along your breasts, he pecked your lips sweetly before tracing your lips with his fingers.

"Get this wet for me, baby girl." He muttered, pressing his thumb into your mouth and groaning when your lips wrapped around it, sucking it eagerly before running your tongue along it.

He pulled the wet digit from your mouth to rub harsh circles against your clit and you nearly screamed, raking your nails so hard down his back he was sure he would have a reminder of it the next day.

"I'm gonna cum." You whimpered and he groaned, feeling your walls get tighter around him, "I'm almost there baby, cum with me."

That was all you needed cum again, moaning as you felt him release inside you soon after. He stayed inside you for a while, feeling himself go soft before he carefully pulled out of you.

You whined, distressed by the sudden emptiness but Jongho quickly peppered kisses along your chest, trying to pacify you before getting a wet rag to wipe you clean.

He covered your naked body with the covers, quick to baby your sensitive self as he pulled your form to his, holding you tightly to his chest.

You intertwined your fingers with his, playing with them and drawing figures onto his palm that made his heart flutter in his chest just watching you. While you did want to go back to sleep, worn out from the sex, you weren't exhausted enough just yet.

You spent the next hour that way, just basking in the after-sex glow together as the sun began to come up.

You looked up at him with a small smirk, "Round 2?"

Jongho chuckled and his eyes darkened before he was parting your legs again, "I'm gonna ruin you, baby."

***

Jongho had been on your ass the whole day. Since he was leaving with the others tonight, he spent all day giving you warnings and borderline nagging you about what to do while he was not here. It started out with just simple safety tips and what to do or not to do while he wasn’t here.

You could understand his concern but once you realized that it was never going to end, you were eager to get him out of the house if only to stop his incessant nagging.

But now that the others were waiting for him in the car outside and he was grabbing his bag, you were beginning to feel anxious about being alone. The last time Jongho wasn’t right beside you since he had a mission, you were almost kidnapped, and you didn’t want to find out what could happen if he was in another country.

A part of you knew everything was going to be okay, that once you made it one night on your own, you’d feel better. Besides, you had your dogs and Jongho even showed you the locations of all the hidden guns in the house in case of anything.

The other part of you wanted to dig a hole in the ground and hide there until he was back home. And you hated feeling this way.

“Be safe.” Jongho murmured against your lips just before he left and you nodded, delicately brushing his hair away from his face, “Come back home in one piece.”

With another kiss, you were waving goodbye before you shut the door, taking a few steps back until you came back to make sure it was locked. It was just your mind playing games on you, but the house seemed bigger, and the shadows seemed like they were moving.

Just to calm your nerves, you called the dogs to the living room, having them beside you while you watched some TV. They were completely calm and that made you relax slightly; if the beings with super hearing didn’t feel a problem, then why should you be so tense about it?

You ended up passing out with the three of them on the couch, cuddling with Skai as the other two were on your sides. Ever the empathetic dogs, they seemed to know you were somewhat on edge, even making Geon sit outside the bathroom so you’d hear him better if he barked.

You barely got any sleep that night, tossing and turning and practically jumping whenever you thought heard a single sound. And as the sun came up you realized that there was one thing you learnt spending your first night alone.

You did not want to be alone.

Which was exactly the reason you were knocking on Bongsoon's door in the morning, asking her if you could have breakfast together. She agreed without any complaints, the house was empty since her husband was also in Japan.

You felt remarkably more relaxed with her company, she was a horrible shot with a gun but at least she's been in this business for longer than you have.

Over breakfast, she told you all about how she was arranged in a marriage with Hongjoong and even confided in you about how she feels out of place in the mafia world. But unfortunately, she was born into it.

In a sense, you felt the same way; this kind of life wasn't for you, and it was abundantly clear. You had never taken the opportunity to think about how messed up all of this was in reality.

What would you do after everything was resolved? Date Jongho like a regular person? You had feelings for him, and you wanted to be by his side but for some reason you felt like when you eventually went back to your life, you could just look back to this like some crazy fever dream.

Would that even happen?

Would you be able to put this whole thing behind you permanently?

"(Y/N) you should know something." Bongsoon started, looking at her hands that were carefully placed in her lap.

"The negotiation with BtoB means that Ateez will end up in alliance with them which consequentially meaning that we'd be in alliance with Stray Kids too. Now that the deal is underway and hasn't been approved or denied means that Ateez and BtoB will be neutral parties until either happens." She explained.

"That means that if you wanted to make a break for it, now would be the best time."

Your brows furrowed, "What are you saying?"

"The stakes are still high. Ateez is hoping that this alliance will keep Stray Kids from killing you but there's still a chance that BtoB might reject it, in which case, there's no telling how long before Stray Kids manages to get their hands on you."

Even though she explained it as simply as she could, you were still confused and overwhelmed by the sudden avalanche of information. She was trying to tell you that there was never going to be a 100% chance that this was all going to blow over.

And that you could still lose your life now, but the probability was less if you tried to run now rather than later.

"I don't--I don't understand. Are you telling me to run away?"

Bongsoon swallowed thickly, "I've always felt guilty about you being here. You never asked for this and because of my mistakes, I ended up dragging you into this whole mess and I wish I could do something to correct it."

She reached over to grab one of your hands, holding it between both of hers, "It's ultimately your decision but if the deal falls apart, it's going to be safer for you if you leave before they return from Japan."

Before Jongho came back? Did they even know about any of this?

"And if I do choose to run away? What then? Will I ever be able to come back?"

"I don't know." She admitted.

"You don't know?! So, it's either always live on the run or stay here and be killed eventually?"

"I'm sorry, (Y/N). I wish I could do more to help but there's no way. Unless Stray Kids are eliminated there's really no telling what could happen. And that's something that Ateez won't be able to do."

Ever since meeting Bongsoon, you were put into a position where your life was one of the pawns on a chessboard and frankly it was driving you nuts. 'Why me?' was a question you often found yourself wondering.

Your hand went to the necklace around your neck; the only thing Jongho has ever given you and it was a tracker. The past months have been hell, with the constant fear.

You had never been a fighter growing up, never getting into any fights with other students since your parents were very strict about violence. Granted they were the ones who taught you how to shoot but it was very clear that it was just a sport.

But in the last month you had shot people, maybe even killed some of them and that was a tough pill to swallow.

"I'll think about it."

You didn't want to talk about it anymore, you didn't want to think about it but that was another thing that was ripped out of your control; you knew this conversation would be the only thing on your mind till the time you finally fell asleep.

You left her place soon after that, saying a brief goodbye before you were walking back home. No, not home: Jongho's house. This wasn't your home.

And the second you stepped through the door, you realized something was terribly wrong. The house you were expecting to be completely silent had loud barks echoing through the hallway.

Something had set the three of them off, they were howling madly at something, and you felt your stomach sink. For a few seconds, you were just frozen, unable to think about what to do. On one hand, you could just leave and tell Bongsoon but if there was someone armed in the house, there was no telling how long it would take for their patience to run out before they kill your dogs.

So, you took off your shoes and quietly padded through the halls to find the hidden gun that Jongho had stashed in the display case.

As quietly as you could, you went closer to the sounds of the dogs and held the gun between shaking hands. This wasn't where you wanted to be, you realized. There was no telling what would happen with each step closer, and you felt your eyes prick with tears.

One wrong step, one wrong move could have you dead. Maybe you were walking into a trap at the moment, and you'd be ambushed any moment. You didn't know how many people were here, you realized, and then you felt stupid for trying to confront them.

Heart racing, you stopped outside the entrance to the backyard, trying to listen in case you heard the intruder say anything. You looked down at the gun and felt grief in the pits of your stomach; you'd have to kill someone again.

With trembling fingers, you slowly clicked off the safety and exited the house, pointing the gun up at whatever the dogs were gathered around.

Which looked like an equally frightened raccoon.

The gun tumbled out of your hands and to the ground along with your body when your knees buckled, and you fell. Your heart was beating rapidly in your throat, and you could feel the breakfast you ate an hour ago crawling up.

You were clutching your shirt right above your chest, so overwhelmed that it felt like you were having a heart attack. The dogs, alerted by your panicked state trotted over to you, trying to comfort you the best you could as you gasped for breath.

It was too much.

The house, the people, the lifestyle. You couldn't take it anymore. Everything was suffocating you to the point you wished that you never existed. Your hands and feet were throbbing painfully with the lack of blood flow, and you were getting lightheaded.

You needed to get out of here.

***

Jongho stood in the shower, reliving what had happened in the last hour. Cold water was pouring over his head, but he could barely feel the chill, caught up in his thoughts.

He hadn't been particularly anxious or excited when he landed, sure he was happy to see you but all he wanted when he got home was a relaxing afternoon in your arms. And after the week they had, he more than deserved it.

He wasn't exactly going above the speed limit or filled with this immense excitement of seeing you, in the week apart he hadn't exactly felt that deep longing that was described in books and movies. Perhaps it had been because he was so busy. he hadn't gotten the opportunity.

But it wasn't like he wasn't looking forward to it, because he was. You had become such a regular part in his life, it felt weird not to wake up beside you and it took a while getting used to sleeping without the sounds of you or the dogs breathing.

The others had already gone to their own places, San hadn't even gotten on the plane back with them since he had a mission elsewhere and Hongjoong rode home with him. Right before they were about to part ways, Hongjoong insisted that he stop by to say hello to his wife before leaving.

Jongho had protested at first but then finally relented, seeing as how his hyung wasn't planning on letting him go home without seeing Bongsoon. Which didn't even make any sense, didn't married couples want to spend more time together and have some sort of dramatic reunion?

The guilty face was the first thing he found out of the ordinary, his noona was staring at him with a remorseful expression and he found himself wondering just what he had walked into.

"Jongho....there's something you need to know."

With each word that came out her mouth, his heart sank lower and lower until it finally disappeared into that growing pit in his stomach. Hongjoong had tried to comfort him by placing a hand on his shoulder, but he was quick to shrug out of it.

He didn't even meet their eyes when he told them he had to go and take a shower.

When he entered the house, he wandered through it like a zombie, heading straight for the bathroom without bothering to look through the bedroom. He heard deafening silence as soon as he entered and his heart sunk, knowing that the dogs weren't there anymore.

Through the glass doors of the shower, he caught his own reflection in the mirror and his eyes zeroed in on the marks you had left on his neck and chest. They still hadn't faded.

He glanced down at the chain in his hand, the turtle charm dangling from his palm. He must have forgotten to set it aside before he entered the shower.

Suddenly, all the longing hit him at once, feeling like a painful punch to the gut.

One tear fell.

And then the rest.

No one was in the house to hear Jongho soft sobs echo through the empty halls.

***

It had been two months.

Two months since you frantically showed up at Jaemin's house, telling him to look after Geon, Killeo and Skai while you had to do something. You told him that you'd be leaving town for a while and completely freaked him out with the way you were behaving.

It had taken a lot of begging and crying for him to stop asking questions and then you disappeared.

You lived in your parent’s summer home for a month before flying out to see them. You had lied and told them you were taking a semester off, telling them that you had gotten into a car accident and wanted to just relax for a while.

They believed you, knowing that you wouldn't have taken a huge break unless you had to.

It was better than you expected, you spent a lot of time with your parents, working with your father on his garden and with your mother in the kitchen. Of course, it got boring at times when you had nothing to do but lounge on the couch and even though you didn't mean to, often you found yourself wondering about Jongho.

A part of you was sad that you didn't get to tell him anything, you regretted not seeing him one last time at least and getting some closure but you also knew it was probably for the best.

You hadn't contacted anyone from back home yet, only the university to tell them you'd be taking some time off due to urgent circumstances. You wondered about Jaemin and Renjun, the way you had said goodbye no doubt made them panic and you felt guilty about leaving your pets with them.

And what about your three babies? You missed them dearly.

You knew this wouldn't hold up forever, you would only be able to lounge around for another month at most and then your parents would demand that you go back to university. Would you be able to? If Ateez handled the problem, then would they even be able to find you?

Those questions would answer themselves sooner than you expected.

The day was as mundane as ever. You had woken up late and groggily stumbled from your room, not bothering to change out of your pyjamas to go and lay down on the sofa, switching on the tv to watch the new show you were binging.

Your mother gave you breakfast, and you smiled at her; if you had been back at university breakfast would have been choked down on the way to the bus stop while you tried to get kibble out of your shoe that you accidentally dropped. You missed living with your parents and ended up treasuring these small things more than you realized.

Around lunch time, just as you were trying to decide between going out for a walk or taking a nap, your father came to the living room.

"(Y/N) someone's at the door for you."

You froze.

Is this the part where you die? Oh god, what about your parents? Would they spare your parents who had no idea of all of this?

"Who?"

He just shrugged, pointing at the hall, "I don't know, some Bongsoon, says she's Hong-something's wife. Are your friends already married?"

This was a conversation; you really didn't have time for. Feeling like you were walking into a trap, you cautiously stepped towards the front door and when you opened it, you were surprised to see that your dad was right. Bongsoon stood in front of you, looking like she hadn't slept in weeks.

"Whoa--What's going on?" You asked and bit your tongue when he eyes watered. She looked more put together while drunk but her hair was a mess and her skin seemed to have lost the glow it usually had.

Instead of her usual classy clothes and shoes, she was wearing a pair of sneakers and loose-fitting clothes. You could see her unkempt and tangled hair underneath a cap and a facemask was tucked underneath her chin. She looked like you had when you had rushed to the airport after leaving.

Bongsoon tried to hold herself together, but it seemed like all she could do was quieten her cries as tears began streaming down her face. You stayed by the door, unsure of what to do or why she was even here.

"(Y/N), I need your help."

Your brows furrowed together, "What do you mean?"

"(Y/N), the deal with BtoB. We were ambushed. They took them, everyone, and in a couple days they're gonna kill them. Some of our men even turned on us. I don't have anyone else to ask except you."

"What good can I do?"

"I know where they're holding them. They're waiting for their leader to come back to the country before they kill them. We need to ambush them first. I need your skills as a shooter."

Your eyes widened and you took a step back, grasping the handle of the door and ready to slam it in her face. She reacted fast, holding the door open and the look in her eyes turned a little panicked.

"(Y/N) please! I know I'm selfish for asking this. I know I'm the worst for asking you to come back here and for you to be a part of this, but I can't trust anyone. If we don't do something in the next three days, everyone will die." She wept, trying to wipe her tears on the sleeve of her jacket.

Your heart stuttered at that. Everyone from Ateez would die. Jongho would be killed.

You wanted to be selfish, you wanted to close the door and pretend like this had never happened. All this while, whenever you had held a gun in your hands or even thought about participating, you were filled with dread and guilt.

Now you were feeling the same way about trying to refuse this.

You didn't have the time to think about it, in three days Jongho's head would be on a chopping block and you just knew in your bones that if you were sitting on your couch while it happened, you would never forgive yourself.

You sighed grimly, accepting defeat, "What do I have to do?"

***

After landing, the two of you embarked upon your mission together. You spent the next day in her house, coming up with a plan and then finding the weapons that Hongjoong had stashed around the house.

You practiced with a rifle that reloaded on its own and trying to shoot in different positions at moving targets while Bongsoon who was just an amateur just tried to shoot a regular gun at a target.

It took a while for both of you to become comfortable but with your teaching, she was able to pick up fast. You didn't have time to waste on incompetency anyway.

Bongsoon told you that Ateez were being held at a warehouse in BtoB territory at the other side of town. Her plan was to have you set up on a neighbouring rooftop and ready to shoot them.

One problem was that there was a part of the warehouse that wasn't exposed to your line of sight. Which meant that she would have to go inside and take care of them herself. You didn't like that idea but really, what choice did you have? It was the two of you against the rest of them. You just hoped that she knew was she was doing.

Another problem was that all the members weren't here yet. They'd show up eventually after dark for Ateez's "execution" but until then you'd have to wait. If there was one thing you knew about this life was that if you cut one head, another was to grow in its place.

This wouldn't end unless you severed all the heads at one.

You concealed the rifle in a violin case and you both even took the public bus there, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. You both arrived there while the sun was still high, none of members were outside.

You both snuck onto the roof and began setting up, before waiting for dark to come. It felt like it couldn't come sooner but with each second that ticked by the anxiety in your stomach began growing.

When the sun began setting, you started praying to anyone who might be listening for this to work.

And then finally, it was dark. The black sky cast shade over everything, and the warehouse was concealed due to the lack of streetlights. Eventually, you both heard the cars and peeked over the ledge to see large black cars pull up to the location. A couple members exited from each car before entering.

You took a deep breath and spared a glance at Bongsoon. She gave you the most reassuring smile she could manage before holding your hands in a shaky grip.

"Whatever happens. I just want to thank you for everything." She whispered, "If anything goes wrong, I want you to hide your face, shoot everyone that stands in your way and get the hell out of here."

You nodded, acting like you understood but it was likely that if something went wrong, you'd be killed before you even made it back on the ground. At this point, you were just glad that you said a proper goodbye to your parents.

You watched Bongsoon sneak behind the warehouse with a gun in her hands and even after she disappeared from your vision you could hear her shallow breaths through the earpiece, she had given you. It was what she would use to give you the signal to shoot.

You glanced at the open windows, counting each man that you could see. You had a little visual access to Ateez where you saw them chained and kneeling. You hoped they weren't hurt too badly.

The more you waited the more anxious you got. What if you couldn't hear her? What if she got ambushed before giving you the signal? What if one of the members got shot in the crossfire?

Your head was filling up with scenarios, each more plausible than the last until you finally heard her signal and the finger that you had been resting on the trigger twitched before you heard the shot ring out and the window shatter.

Your heart was still beating madly in your chest, like whenever you had to give a presentation or speak to a professor or the dean, but it was like your precision had never been better. You didn't hesitate like you did before, you didn't recheck your shots to make sure they had landed.

You had the calculation of a mafia member and that both terrified and excited you.

You noticed Bongsoon fighting off one of the members before shooting him and you shot another one right behind him. Before long she told you that there was no one else standing and that you had won.

You practically collapsed from relief, rechecking the outside to make sure no one else was there before unloading the gun and running out of the building to meet her inside.

The second you entered you were enveloped in a hug. Bongsoon squeezed you tightly, giggling in your ear as she whispered praises and ‘thank you’s. You held her for a while before she went to her husband’s side.

The others smiled at you, helping each other get up and your eyes scanned over them before landing on the familiar red head and it was like the world stopped. Everything had solved itself in the moment you locked eyes with Jongho, and you felt so relieved and happy that you had been here.

Jongho looked a little beat up, but he was standing and that was all that mattered. You thought he'd be upset, angry even but his eyes told you a thousand things he'd never even be able to put into words. He was relieved to see you here too and the smallest smile pulled on his face.

Everyone watched between you two, expecting a dramatic couple’s reunion where you jumped into his arms and kissed like a cheesy movie.

You were more than surprised when you were caught in a hug by another man.

"Oh my god, 16!" San cried out, spinning you around in a hug, "I knew you'd come for me! Actually, I didn't, it's weird that you're here but I just knew we made a connection that day! And now you've saved my life!"

"You two know each other?"

"We met while we were waiting for our connecting flights a couple months ago." San explained, finally setting you down and you pushed his arms off you, but he quickly pulled you into a side hug, "My little friend here was so depressed because of some boyfriend she broke up with and we had a heart to heart."

"Um, San?" You spoke up from where you were trapped underneath his arm, "You know that boyfriend I was talking about?"

"Uh huh, poor guy really to lose such a great catch like you."

"He's standing right in front of you."

And everyone chuckled as San's expression dropped when Jongho raised his hand like the teacher was calling on him with the most unamused look on his face. San's arm loosened around you, and you immediately went to Jongho's arms, sighing in content when he hugged you tightly.

"That actually makes more sense."

***

You both groaned in unison as Jongho rolled his hips against you. The sheets pulled around the two of you was the reason that rivulets of sweat were rolling down your sides and down his back but something about it made this feel more intimate.

Or maybe it was the way he was pressing your intertwined hands to the mattress, kissing your lips with each thrust. Your orgasm built slowly, the tension in your lower stomach tightening gently.

Jongho pulled away from the kiss to mark down your neck and to your breasts, tongue laving over the marks he had left a couple rounds ago.

Jongho felt your fluttering walls tighten around him and groaned, "Fuck, I love you so much."

"I'm so close." You whispered and he picked up the pace a little, wanting to go over the edge with you and you moaned, tightening your grip on his hands.

"Cum with me." He murmured, kissing you again and you moaned into his mouth as you finally collapsed over the edge, seeing stars as you felt him fill you up.

His hands let go of yours and he fell on top of you, burying his head in your neck and your arms wrapped around his shoulder. You were both drenched in sweat and you'd no doubt have to change the sheets but for now you just wanted to lay here with him.

He lifted his head in concern when you heard you sniffle and felt your chest move up and down as you tried to control a sob, "Did I hurt you? Why are you crying?"

"I missed you so much." You confessed, ask tears streamed down your cheeks from all the emotions you felt in the last hour. You were unsure that your heart could actually handle the amount of love you had for me.

The expression on his face softened and he leaned up to kiss you soundly, wiping away the tears and even chuckling when you sobbed a little pathetically against his mouth.

"I missed you too. Never leave me like that again." He whispered, peppering kisses over your wet cheeks.

You shook your head, gently running your thumbs over his cheekbones, tearing up again from just how much you were in love with this man, "I won't. I love you too much for that."

***

"(Y/N) (L/N)!"

You couldn't help the wide grin on your face as your friends exploded into cheers as you walked on the stage to receive your diploma. Jaemin was screaming his lungs out, just as you had done when he was called.

You smiled shyly at Ateez that were clapping for you before stealing a glance at your boyfriend. Jongho was beaming with pride, and it had your heart fluttering in your chest. After taking a picture with the dean while she teased you about having quite the fan club you descended the stage to meet up with them.

Jaemin caught you in a hug first, bonking his graduation cap against your head and you laughed before turning to the rest of them. Jongho smiled sweetly at you, handing you a bouquet of flowers and you hugged him as a thank you.

"I'm really proud of you, baby." He murmured just as you sat down, and you smiled at him before intertwining your fingers.

"Me too, baby." Jaemin called out and you laughed at the irritated expression that crossed his face. Ever since you had introduced your boyfriend to your best friend, he realized that Jongho was easy to make jealous and was also quite funny when irritated, like Renjun.

You managed to distract Jaemin from trying to piss him off even more when you noticed it was going to be Renjun's turn next. You both cleared your throats, waiting eagerly for his name to get called out before you launched to your feet, screaming and hollering so hard that your throat would be sore.

("Bet she never screams your name that way.": Wooyoung)

"THAT'S MY SON!" You both screamed and as embarrassing as it was for you it was all worth it when you saw his face turn red as he bowed his head in apology before stomping over to the two of you to smack you.

As you all were leaving the school, you quickly rushed over to Jongho's car and pulled out your gift to the boys.

"In honour of our graduation, let's get drunk tonight." You smiled, holding out the bottle of vodka and they grinned wide, cheering loudly. You spared a glance at Jongho and felt kind of bad actually, he always looked so lost whenever the three of you were together.

"I don't know how much I like the idea of you getting drunk with two guys who are not me." He muttered in your ear just as you were parting with them, promising to meet up in a couple of hours after you had lunch with your parents that were flying in this afternoon.

"Don't worry, they're not men. They're like little chihuahuas." You giggled and he have you an unimpressed frown.

"You pretty much said the same thing about me."

"I said you were a guard dog, meaning you'd eat tiny babies like them for breakfast."

He still frowned, knowing you'd break with those adorable pouty lips and begging eyes and while your heart did flutter, and it took you every ounce of self-control to keep your ovaries from doing loops.

You reached across the centre console to place a kiss on the corner of lips, quite literally kissing the frown off his face before whispering something in his ear that had him smirking.

"Play nice and you can eat me for breakfast instead."

*Chi-maek -- Chicken and beer

*Hui jia-- Go home

[punemy-spotted]

Of Blackbirds and Barons: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: You Make The Rain Fall Harder

Relationships: Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader; CEO!Billy Russo x Reader; Mob!Helmut Zemo x Reader x CEO!Billy Russo

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con; Dark!Fic; Mob and Mafia Elements; Character Death (Minor and Major); Threesome; Possessive/Obsessive Characters; Blackmail/Coercion; Kidnapping; Mentions of War; Human Rights Violations; Contract Killing; Mafia AU; Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat; Complete Disregard for Actual Rules of Journalism and Style Guides; Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply

Chapter Specific Warnings: Non-con; Drugging/Date-Rape; Fingering (F-Receiving); Vaginal Sex; Unprotected Sex; Possible Breeding Kink; Kidnapping; Obsessive/Possessive Zemo; Dark!Zemo; Human Rights Violations; Discussion of Destruction of Novi Grad and Sokovia; Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Chapter Summary: The problem with having sympathy for the Devil is that he will drag you down to Hell regardless.

Author’s Notes: Another series! Because I can’t get enough of Mob!AUs! Zemo makes his dark entrance. And this IS dark, so read at your own discretion. As always, all of my work is 18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Masterlist

The long tradition of the Duchy of Sokovia, that which once stood the test of time against the Tsars of Russia, began to crumble long before its borders did, its sweeping architecture and decadent mystery giving way to the sharp lines of Brutalism and the characteristic industrialism of the Eastern Bloc. Still, the Sokovian people managed to maintain their identity in the face of a new kind of empire, bringing greenery and art to a brisk, concrete world.

There is no Sokovia now, not the way one would think, but there are still Sokovians scattered around the world, clinging to the traditions of their once-home and searching for a banner to be united under.

A banner carried by a man like Helmut Zemo.

The caret blinks back at you with a mocking sort of finality, a metronome counting down the seconds to your ultimate frustration. Once. Twice. Thrice — you lose count, staring at the screen until your vision crosses and the words blur together, until only his name remains.

Zemo.

Baron Helmut Zemo.

Your notes are expansive, excessive, papers strewn about you and you look at each scribbled anecdote, each carefully dictated word, each photograph you have annotated until it is more red marker than actual picture and you are… frustrated.

Where do you put all that passion? He asked you over champagne and charcuterie.

You know this man.

You know this man like you know your own soul. You know this man who has bared his soul to you in turn and how are you supposed to impress upon the world that he has shown you the broken heart beating slow and painful in his chest in just a thousand words?

There is nothing. Nothing you can do, nothing you can saywhich could even begin to encompass the horrors which he has experienced and now as you painstakingly tap out word after word describing the grand beauty of his apartment, you wonder if this really was what your life was meant to be.

These are… fluff.

This is a man who has managed to unite an entire fractured country under his royal banner and yet the project wants to know about the indoor garden of his apartment, wants to photograph him in fine suits and know his haircare routine and this can’t be it. This can’t be the face of the man you see everywhere now, moreso since you picked up the assignment, purple-masked and surrounded by brass wings, over the homes of Sokovians all over New York.

And not just there.

I am a man, he told you with his hand on your thigh, But I can become an idea. And an idea is immortal.

You let your eyes skim over the photographs you took, a collection of banners and graffiti and billboards all proclaiming the need for the Sokovian people to come together and heal. To show that their small country — broken and divided in the wake of an attack by a rich megalomaniac’s private military — could not be taken down simply because its borders had been erased and its capitol turned to rubble.

We live in an age of information, and through information we are boundless.

It should terrify you.

It does terrify you.

But inside of that terror is a sick fascination with the man, isn’t there? That’s the trouble with you investigative types — peel back the layers enough and you find yourself capable of feeling sympathy for anyone.

He flaunts his power, and yet it’s innocent. Is it so wrong, then, to want to bring my country back to its glory?

No, you remember answering shakily, but not as well as you remember the pinpricks of heat his fingers left on your skin when that gloved hand brushed over you arm.

Breathe deep, hover fingers over your keyboard and try not to feel like you owe him the weight of the world. He approved of this, even suggested a word count and a topic of conversation — any chance to put his name out into the consciousness of the public, it seemed, to raise interest for the gallery by raising interest for the cause. Make it indulgent. My people, they enjoy art. They enjoy knowing that their leaders have preserved the past for them.

So do it.

… Baron Zemo’s New York penthouse is its own garden amongst a sea of steel and stone, a veritable museum of priceless artworks rescued from what remained of Sokovian museums and ministry buildings. It is, in its own way, an ode to the spirit of Sokovia, which lives on in the hearts and minds of its people around the world. He displays artworks of the many displaced Sokovians, gesturing broadly to a 3D model of an art gallery he intends to have built near the memorial at Novi Grad — with the consent of the Slovakian government — and speaking fondly of his intention to showcase the lost art of Sokovia as a reminder that loss of land cannot be the loss of an identity…

The artworks, they will be painful at first. But the gallery will showcase more and more, and eventually we will have hope.

He waves a gloved hand over the pieces he has preserved. Sokovian history. Scenic expanses, fields and flowers, a city skyline dotted with domed cathedrals. Each painting marred some way too, you can see when you look close. Patched canvas, the dusting of ash and rubble in the corner of an ornate frame, a trick of the light revealing repainting to cover up damage.

A stone hoof sits on a bookshelf, The attached horse and rider blown to rubble in the attack. I’m told it was of Emperor Ferdinand, but my archivists have not been able to confirm, he tells you as he stands behind you, his hand resting soft on the small of your back.

Come. There is more to be seen.

More to be experienced.

His living room is a garden.

It smells like fresh jasmine the moment you walk in, ivy climbing the walls and you swear you can hear birdsong from more than the pigeons cooing outside. Flower arrangement is an often looked down upon art, but the gardens in Sokovia were impeccable. My father won several awards for his pieces before his…

He trails off and you watch him, seeing the pain paint his face as openly as if he meant for you to watch the facade crack and then back to that placid, pleasant calm, a serpentine smile on his face as he extends to you a hand and guides you to the open air of his balcony and bids you Sitbids you Enjoy bids you I have looked forward to his meeting.

It is a pleasure to meet you, Baron Zemo, you begin politely, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear and trying to avoid the way his eyes follow your fingers, feeling seen, We’re grateful for the honor of your patronage for this piece, we know you could have —

Nonsense, he cuts you off with a wave of his hand, gesturing to his butler and then leaning back comfortably in his seat as champagne and various cheeses are brought forth, You are my guest, and I am grateful you agreed to come meet me here, to assist with my… project. Now. Please, enjoy, I do not want to treat this as strictly business.

Is that why he had you come alone?

Don’t.

Don’t dwell on it.

It happens all the time, right? It has to.

A somewhat reclusive man, not keen to be in the limelight, in need of public attention to achieve his goals — you are a means to an end and he is your means to an end, surely you can understand.

Is that why he wipes the honey from your lips and kisses it off his fingers?

This is going to be a difficult conversation and you know it. You can only gush over houseplants and rose décor for so long before it becomes… trite, before you’re a part of the problem, painting a shining veneer over a half-decade old injustice

But he is warm, warm and friendly and you cannot help but laugh to his response when you draw attention to the architecture to draw attention from your blush — Very modern, yes. We are in New York, after all, and the old ways are fine for country houses but not so fine, for sunny penthouse apartments —not noticing the way he looks like he’s just smelled blood at the sound of it, the narrowing of his eyes and the hiding of his inscrutable expression behind a sip of champagne.

Well then. Shall we get started?

Of course.

Why don’t we start with your plans for opening night?Your notepad is out, the recorder sitting in front of you to pick up the sound of your voice and his, ready to commit everything to memory.

Of course. We cannot deny the… elephant in the room, I think you Americans call it. There are many who took pictures of the aftermath of the attack, and not enough who have seen it immortalized…

… The tragedy of Novi Grad and the consequential absorption of Sokovia into its surrounding countries weighs heavy in the Baron’s living room, draped in ivy and jasmine and hanging vines but also in photographs of what was left after a private military corporation chose to turn human lives into a war game.

No one knows who Ultron is, only that he is dangerous, that his technology rivals that of the SHIELD Syndicate’s Tony Stark, that he is willing to ally himself to the highest bidder, and that he is fully capable of unleashing endless destruction upon the world…

You will never forget the photographs he shows you, all that death and destruction in the golden light of his balcony, all that warmth and all you can see is cold bodies bathed in concrete dust.

They call to you, when you close your eyes — answer for our crimes — and you remember the way his voice changes too, so soft and solemn, the brush of fingers against yours when you touch the bombed out shell of a country mansion My home, in Sokovia, to the gray-and-blood horror which forms the centerpiece of his display, and you remember your research too, that the Baron is a widow, that his title is inherited from the most tragic of circumstances, that his son was an innocent lost in the attack and you are furious too, at the senselessness of it all.

It is a tragedy yet unanswered for, more than half a decade since the dust settled.

That quote sits front and center on your mock-up, wondering if you could make whatever editor who would inevitably rip this piece to shreds — just before publishing its corpse alongside some glamour picture of the Baron his coat — finally see the error of ignoring the tragedy. You won’t, but it’s worth a shot, as you lean back in your chair and stare at the screen again.

Sometimes you think about it.

Watching Novi Grad happen from the comfort and safety of your living room, wrapped in blankets as open war broke out in the capital city of what had once been a crown jewel in an ancient dynasty. A playground, a show of force.

Sometimes you hear the screams.

The blinking carat waits for you to add more to this story, to decide where you want to go.

… The Baron plays a game with his interview, insists on knowing his guests just as we insist on getting to know the enigmatic leader who has risen up a beacon for the displaced people of his homeland. We will not be recreating our answers in this article, as they were of course of a personal nature, but we do thank the Baron for taking the time to get to know us just as he bared his soul, his sorrows, and his hopes to a gaggle of strangers seeking to make him known to the world…

Tell me of you, sweetling.

Me? This interview is about you.

And so I must tell all my secrets for free? No, I insist. A secret for a secret.

He watches you with a hunger, coal-black eyes an invitation. Slide your gaze away or fall and who knows what depths he will drag you into and what you will find there?

No.

Don’t look, don’t look as you sip the tea Oeznik brought when you politely declined the champagne — Another time, probably — and let it brace you with its bitterness, let it clear your head.

Breathe.

You’re in too deep now, trapped in this cave of wonders… and wouldn’t it be worth it? Know him as he knows you, follow the trajectory of the smiling man before you.

What would you like to know?

Tell me how you taste his eyes whisper.

Tell me what it would take says the curve of his fingers over your hand.

Let me put you on display hums the razor-blade of his smile.

Tell me what drives a woman to take on such a … dangerous line of work, is the final inquiry, innocent and curious and gentle and you sip your tea and smile.

Is it dangerous?

You must know how many secrets you uncover — and the lengths the keepers will go to in order to hide them.

If people get hurt, shouldn’t I bring that to light?

How noble of you, he tells you with another hum, with his fingers squeezing yours, with his eyes fixed on the gaze you refuse to send his way, It must be quite thrilling.

Let me thrill you too, sweetling.

Pull away.

Do it.

Pull your hand away, make an act of it, pick up a candied strawberry and press it past your lips, let the sweetness soak your tongue and wash away the bitter thoughts, let yourself be bright and chipper and pretend you are not afraid.

Because you’re not.

Of course you’re not.

You are in control here, you must be in control here.

This is nothing. This is a casual interview with a handsome man in his handsome penthouse, an interview about architecture and art galleries and you were a correspondent once and you are meant to be friendly here, not afraid, so what are you afraid of?

What is it about his coal-dark eyes and too-sharp smile that turns your blood, that sends you back into your hutch, little rabbit, what is it about the way he prowls at the corner of your thoughts that makes you shudder so?

What are you running from?

Who are you running from?

Your turn, sweetling.

Mmh?

Our deal, or have you forgotten already?

Yes. You have.

It’s his eyes, you keep insisting to yourself. They drag you in, so dark it feels like you’re drowning in the void of them, searching for the light at the end of the tunnel.

It’s a chase.

It’s what you’re good at.

Right — I’m sorry, I’m…

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

The fog in your thoughts doesn’t fade, confusion crossing over your features and ill delight crossing over his. All you had was tea, tea and some of the candied fruit his butler brought for your enjoyment, how can you feel so…

Hazy?

So…

Upturned?

Something clatters behind you and you realize it’s the chair you were sitting on as you stand, unsteady and abrupt, lost in the moors of your own frantic thoughts and there is his hand on your elbow, so careful and soft and there are his lips before yours, so…

Tempting.

Somewhere, a woman croons to you of falling rain and rushing blood and the room does spin round as you stand still in the open air of a desire that is yours and not your own all at once. Shhh, shhh, let me help you whispered in your ear, a hand to your cheek and you…

You blink.

Reality flows into view like a sudden bath of ice water. Jerk away from his iron grip, raise your hands and try to resist, shake your head and N-no, I think. I think I need to go, I’ll just call a cab —

I cannot let you do that, sweetling. Not when you are finally within my reach.

His hold is steady. Unbreakable, even, as he pulls you close and you might even be dancing with the way his arm wraps around your waist the moment you fall into his chest, Don’t look so afraid, sweetling. No one will hurt you, here.

I will protect you like a jewel.

Your mind is still yours — the dose was just enough — but your limbs? Your limbs are tied to his strings, lost as he guides you right back inside, lost as he gestures for Oeznik to close off the balcony.

Your place is somewhere else now.

You belong underneath me.

He guides you inside, jasmine intoxicating your senses and wisps of smoke seeming to float past your eyes. Reality blends into the fantasy, the Baron and his prize, the gentle touch against your soft cheek, the cradling against his form and he is…

Determined.

A door opens. A portal into another kind of decadence, with soft sheets and softer touches, the sliding of a mouth over yours as your escape clicks shut behind you and you are pressed between wall and man and you are consumed.

Curl your fingers into the lapel of his coat, lose yourself to the pressure of his lips, the sharp nip of teeth against soft flesh. He tastes of champagne and honeycomb and you are saccharine on the tongue, a mess of sighs and admonitions left unsaid.

My precious thing, whispered into your unfocused sighs, I will take such fine care of you.

And you want to protest, want to insist you are free you are uninterested you do not want this man and his hands under the cotton of your blouse but the words tangle on your tongue and instead all you can do is whimper.

Whimper, and hear him chuckle against your skin, a line of kisses drawn from your parted lips along your jaw until he’s found the thrum of your pulsebeat to draw a gasp the moment his teeth scrape against the delicate skin. He must mark you his, after all, and this he will gladly renew, over and over.

Over and over as he draws you to bed, lays you amongst soft cushions and softer sheets, indulges in the soft curves of you in the golden glow of the room. Your clothes — so conservative, so professional, so unnecessary — he makes short work of even with what mild resistance you manage, Shh, shh, do not fight me.

The heat is yours and not yours all at once, warming your skin and leaving you flushed, leaving a trail of burning want along your skin where his fingers trace over you and centering in your core You need this, sweetling, look at you…

Do you?

Is it you who needs this or he, he who has begun to kiss along your skin, he who presses himself between your legs so impatiently? The accusation lives in your thoughts and passes past your lips as a strangled Nnh-no, ignored without ceremony or appeal.

Protests are useless when your tongue can form no words and your limbs can do nothing but writhe, seeking structure in the grip of his sheets as he unravels you with a press of his lips to that soft center of yours, slick with a need you cannot own and yet all yours.

He maps you with a hungry gaze, fingers already tracing the plushness of your folds, gathering slick like he might have been collecting nectar and you watch him pull back, watch him bring his hand to his mouth, watch him wrap lips around his fingertip and drag the taste of you onto his tongue, One day I shall make you taste how sweet you are…

One day, after he has savored you so deeply.

You are so full of words they burst out of you on a normal day and yet nothing you say comes to light, just the bare whimpers and anxious mewls of your needy self as he returns to inspecting, to enjoying, to savoring the reactiveness of your body.

He touches. He touches as if he has owned your body a thousand times, he touches as if you are delicate, as if you are breakable, as if his fingers might lead you to shattering around him here and now and you…

Are so close, already.

So close, trying to find the strength in your muscles to pull away, to speak something beyond desperation with every curl of fingers against your cunt, with every pleased hum he utters in response to the flex of your sex. Shh… no more fighting, sweetling, I know you can be good.

He knows you can be good, he says, with all the innocence of a man trying to convince his cat to stop clawing the couch, not a man presently holding your legs open with one hand at your thigh and the other curling against your walls while you arch your back. It builds, the pressure, it builds and builds and builds and — Let go, sweetling. Let me see your ecstasy.

Is that what this is?

You keen. You keen softly, desperately, brokenly, as skilled fingers find the spot which makes you, which leaves you breathless and flushed and sobbing, a trickle of tears making their path down your cheeks as you bite your own lip to muffle the sounds you did not know you could make. Wordless and pleading and he notices with a cold smile the way you seem to succumb, hips no longer desperate to escape the curling, stretching assault of two — no, three — fingers preparing you for him.

Hips pressing back towards him now, a betrayal of your conscious-yet-barely-focused mind, that lustful sweetness in you taking over and he can only watch in awe. Awe not at your surrender but at your perfection, muttering in a language you do not understand and yet you understand perfectly what he means — he will have you, all of you.

Ah, I shall so enjoy playing with you more, sweetling.

But not now.

Now his impatience outpaces your need and both outpace his cruelty, his desire to see you beg and so instead he pulls back his hand — and hears the desperate N-no, please don’t — to bring a cruel gleam to his dark eyes and even barely conscious as you are you know he is beautiful.

Beautiful and cruel, as he frees himself and curls fingers around his cock, rubs your own slick onto that soft skin, hisses at the very feel of you like it must be a preview to how you will make him throb, and presses himself over you. Presses himself over you, absorbs the cry of pain or anguish or relief which pours from your plush lips with the punishment of a kiss just as he sinks, hips pressing against yours, stretching you with his full length and Now we are one, my sweet.

Now we are one.

He will take fine care of you but you, you take finer care of him, so plush and tight around his senses, so desperate as you cling, so lost and wanton and he kisses away the tears which continue to sting your cheeks and hisses half-sensible promises into your ear — You will always be mine — as he ruts his hips and practically shoves you forward with every thrust, dragging you back with a snarl and the pressure builds.

Builds and you moan, builds and you sob into his hungry mouth, builds and you hold to him as if he were the last thing which made sensein the world builds and you are consumed and he is consuming, and the release is both of yours, spilling deep inside of you and that too is the final shackle upon your soul.

You sit. In the darkness of your office and you remember, worrying the cuticle of your thumb and staring at the words you have typed while your memory drifts back to that hazy reminder.

… A discussion with the Baron about Sokovia reveals a country rich with history. Once a Duchy of the Hapsburgs during the era of the Holy Roman Empire, the deeply Catholic country clings to the Austrian and Italian tradition of ceremony and indulgence. Baron Zemo plays an example of the hymns sung in the many cathedrals which once filled the country, a mixture of Sokovian and Latin to raise the soul to divine heights.

The Baron speaks of the country’s culture with a warm fondness, of how even during Soviet occupation, the people managed to enjoy games like ice hockey, and football (the European, variant, the Baron would like to emphasize), and even spent time indulging in horse racing. Surrounded by Slovakia and the Czech Republic, it keeps a similar tradition, with a twist…

No, that cannot encompass all that you discussed, and yet that is what the recording shows, words traded back and forth which you do not remember, a conversation of laughter and warmth and none of it slots into what your mind tells you occurred.

You erase. You rewrite. It is the same passage, over and over, fingers acting unbidden of your frantic will and eventually you give in, demand to be done with these words and this screen, eventually you desire peace.

… Baron Helmut Zemo is many things. A historian, an ambassador, a politician, an activist. He is a widower, a man trapped in the past, a man with lofty dreams for the future. He wears his sorrow as well as he wears his happiness, and for those who still call themselves Sokovian, he is their shepherd into a new age.

And as the door to your office opens, your keeper.

[benevolentbirdgal]

“Thirteen″ Tips for Writing About Synagogues / Jewish Writing Advice / Advice for Visiting Synagogues

So your story includes a Jew (or two) and you’ve a got a scene in a synagogue. Maybe there’s a bar mitzvah, maybe your gentile protagonist is visiting their partner’s synagogue. Maybe there’s a wedding or a community meeting being held there. For whatever reason, you want a scene in a shul. I’m here as your friendly (virtual) neighborhood Jewish professional to help you not sound like a gentile who thinks a synagogue is just a church with a Star of David instead of a cross. 

Quick note: The are lots of synagogues around the world, with different specific cultural, local, and denominational practices. The Jewish community is made up of roughly 14 million people worldwide with all sorts of backgrounds, practices, life circumstances, and beliefs. I’m just one American Jew, but I’ve had exposure to Jewishness in many forms after living in 3.5 states (at several different population densities/layouts), attending Jewish day school and youth groups, doing Jewish college stuff, and landing a job at a Jewish non-profit. I’m speaking specifically in an American or Americanish context, though some of this will apply elsewhere as well. I’m also writing from the view of Before Times when gatherings and food and human contact was okay.

Bear in mind as well, in this discussion, the sliding scale of traditional observance to secular/liberal observance in modern denominations: Ultraorthodox (strict tradition), Modern Orthodox (Jewish law matters but we live in a modern world), Conservative (no relation to conservative politics, brands itself middle ground Judaism), Reconstructionist (start with Jewish law and then drop/add bits to choose your own adventure), and Reform (true build your own adventure, start at basically zero and incorporate only as you actively choose).

Synagogue = shul = temple. Mikvah (ritual bath) is its own thing and usually not attached to the shul. Jewish cemeteries are also typically nowhere near the shul, because dead bodies are considered impure.   

A Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah is the Jewish coming of age ceremony. Bar (“son”) for boys at 13+, Bat (“daughter”) at 12+, and Bnai (“children”) for multiples (i.e. twins/triplets/siblings) or non-binary kids (although the use of the phrase “Bnai Mitzvah” this way is pretty new). 12/13 is the minimum, 12-14 the norm but very Reform will sometimes allow 11 and anybody above 12/13 can have theirs. Probably a dedicated post for another time. Generally, however, the following will happen: the kid will lead some parts of services, read from and/or carry the Torah, and make a couple of speeches. 

Attire: think Sunday Best (in this case Saturday), not come as you are. Even at very liberal reconstructionist/reform synagogues you wouldn’t show up in jeans and a t-shirt or work overalls. Unless they are seriously disconnected from their culture, your Jewish character is not coming to Saturday morning services in sneakers and jeans (their gentile guest, however, might come too casual and that’d be awkward).  1a. The more traditional the denomination, the more modest the attire. Outside of orthodoxy woman may wear pants, but dresses/skirts are more common. Tights for anything above knee common for Conservative/Reform/Recon, common for even below knee for orthodox shuls. Men will typically be wearing suits or close to it, except in very Reform spaces.  1b. Really, think business casual or nice dinner is the level of dressiness here for regular services. Some minor holidays or smaller events more casual is fine. Social events and classes casual is fine too.  1c. Even in reform synagogues, modesty is a thing. Get to the knee or close to it. No shoulders (this an obsession in many Jewish religious spaces for whatever reason), midriffs, or excessive cleavage (as I imagine to be the norm in most houses of worship). 

Gendered clothing:  3a. Men and boys wear kippahs (alt kippot, yarmulkes) in synagogues, regardless of whether they’re Jewish or not out of respect to the space. Outside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew” but inside of Jewish spaces it’s saying “I’m a Jew or a gentile dude who respects the Jewish space.”  Outside of very Reform shuls, it’s a major faux pass to be a dude not wearing one.  3b. There are little buckets of loaner kippahs if you don’t bring your own and commemorative kippahs are given away at events (bar mitzvah, weddings). Your Jewish dude character not bringing or grabbing one is basically shouting “I’m new here.”  3c. Women are permitted to wear kippahs, but the adoption of a the traditionally masculine accessory will likely be interpreted by other Jews as LGBTQ+ presentation, intense feminism, and/or intense but nontraditional devoutness. Nobody will clutch their pearls (outside of ultraorthodoxy) but your character is sending a message.  3d. Tefillin are leather boxes and wrappings with prayers inside them that some Jewish men wrap around their arms (no under bar mitzvah or gentiles). Like with the kippah, a woman doing this is sending a message of feminism and/or nontraditional religious fervor.  3e. Additionally, prayer shawls, known as tallit, are encouraged/lightly expected of Jewish males (over 13) but not as much as Kippahs are. It is more common to have a personal set of tallit than tefillin. Blue and white is traditional, but they come in all sorts of fun colors and patterns now. Mine is purple and pink. It is much more common for women to have tallit and carries much fewer implications about their relationship to Judaism than wearing a kippah does.  3f. Married woman usually cover their hair in synagogues. Orthodox women will have wigs or full hair covers, but most Jewish woman will put a token scarf or doily on their head in the synagogue that doesn’t actually cover their hair. The shul will also have a doily loaner bucket. 

Jewish services are long (like 3-4 hours on a Saturday morning), but most people don’t get there until about the 1-1.5 hour mark. Your disconnected Jewish character or their gentile partner might not know that though. 

Although an active and traditional synagogue will have brief prayers three times every day, Torah services thrice a week, holiday programming, and weekly Friday night and Saturday morning services, the latter is the thing your Jewish character is most likely attending on the reg. A typical Saturday morning service will start with Shacharit (morning prayers) at 8:30-9, your genre savvy not-rabbi not-Bnai mitzvah kid Jewish character will get there around 9:30-10:15. 10:15-10:30 is the Torah service, which is followed by additional prayers. Depending on the day of the Jewish year (holidays, first day of new month, special shabbats), they’ll be done by 12:30 or 1 p.m. Usually.  After that is the oneg, a communal meal. Onegs start with wine and challah, and commence with a full meal. No waiting 4-8 hours to have a covered-dish supper after services. The oneg, outside of very, very, very Reform spaces will be kosher meat or kosher dairy. 

To conduct certain prayers (including the mourner’s prayers and the Torah service) you need a Minyan, which at least 10 Jewish “adults” must be present, defined as post Bar/Bat/Bnai Mitzvah. In Conservative/Reform/Recon, men and women are counted equally. In Ultraorthodox women are not counted. In Modern Orthodox it depends on the congregation, and some congregations will hold women’s-only services as well with at least ten “adult” Jewish women present.

In Conservative and Orthodox shuls, very little English is used outside of speeches and sermons. Prayers are in Hebrew, which many Jews can read the script of but not understand. Transliterations are also a thing.  In Reform synagogues, there’s heavy reliance on the lingua franca (usually English in American congregations). Reconstructionist really varies, but is generally more Hebrew-based than Reform. 

We’re a very inquisitive people. If your character is new to the synagogue, there will be lots of questions at the post-services oneg (meal, typically brunch/lunch). Are you new in town? Have you been here before? Where did you come from? Are you related to my friend from there? How was parking? Do you know my cousin? Are you single? What is your mother’s name? What do you think of the oneg - was there enough cream cheese? What summer camp did you go to? Can you read Hebrew? Have you joined?  A disconnected Jew or gentile might find it overwhelming, but many connected Jews who are used to it would be like “home sweet chaos” because it’s OUR chaos. 

In Orthodox synagogues, men and women have separate seating sections. There may be a balcony or back section, or there may be a divider known as a mechitzah in the middle. Children under 12/13 are permitted on either side, but over 12/13 folks have to stay one section or the other. Yes, this is a problem/challenge for trans and nonbinary Jews.  Mechitzahs are not a thing outside of orthodoxy. Some older Conservative synagogues will have women’s sections, but no longer expect or enforce this arrangement.   

Money. Is. Not. Handled. On. Shabbat. Or. Holidays. Especially. Not. In. The. Synagogue. Seriously, nothing says “goy writing Jews” more than a collection plate in shul. No money plate, no checks being passed around, even over calls for money (as opposed to just talking about all the great stuff they do and upcoming projects) are tacky and forbidden on Shabbat. Synagogues rely on donations and dues, and will solicit from members, but don’t outright request money on holidays and Shabbat. 

Outside of Reform and very nontraditional Conservative spaces, no instruments on Shabbat or holidays. No clapping either. Same goes for phones, cameras, and other electronics outside of microphones (which aren’t permitted in Orthodox services either).  11a. In the now-times an increasing number of shuls have set up cameras ahead of time pre-programmed to record, so they don’t have to actively “make fire” which is “work” (this is the relevant commandment/mitzvah) on Shabbat, so services can be live-streamed. 11b. After someone has completed an honor (reading from the Torah, carrying the Torah, opening the ark, etc), the appropriate response is a handshake after and the words “Yasher Koach” (again, Before-Times).

Jewish services involve a lot of movement. Get up, sit down. Look behind you, look in front of you. Twist left, twist right. A disconnected Jew or gentile visitor would be best off just trying to follow along with what an exchange student we had once termed “Jewish choreography.” Some prayers are standing prayers (if able), some are sitting prayers. It’s just how it is, although a handful of prayers have variations on who stands. 

[traincat]

I know the comic piracy debate is a never-ending cycle, but in India where I live, you can't get western comics (or manga for that matter). There aren't comic book stores. Sometimes on Amazon you can find collected editions worth more than INR 1000 at least, for the paperbacks. Most older collections, even from the early 2000s, will be upwards of INR 6000. And sure, it's because the exchange value is so low for Indian rupees, but that's still a LOT of money to Indian citizens. You can get digital editions of random odd issues for approx. INR 150, so that's there. But overall it's really a huge investment to buy a physical comic. So yes, I pirate. But I get so guilty when this debate rolls around, every time. I just don't see any other alternative.

I debated whether or not to answer this considering I haven't really addressed the comics piracy issue before so I'm not sure I'm the right account to talk about it, and also because my askbox is not a confessional and I am not a priest, but then some Spider-Man news broke that I feels ties into it this so whatever, we're going for it. The comics piracy debate comes up every couple of months and will probably continue to come up every couple of months until forever and all of these points have been stated before by others because nothing in this debate is new. First things first, you shouldn't feel guilty. I'm going to suggest actually that nobody should feel guilty, unless you are like, a millionaire and you're exclusively pirating indie books. The prices you're quoting are prohibitively expensive but I have some unfortunate news for everyone involved: the prices are really bad in the US, too. If you want good collected editions, especially in hardcover, they're going to run at similar if not quite equal prices. Comics have gone from a cheap hobby to an overwhelmingly expensive hobby.

This is a good article comparing to the cover costs of American comics since the 1960s adjusted for inflation which I think puts some things in perspective. Comics currently cost roughly $5 USD per issue, which doesn't sound that bad, even though most of my monthly streaming services are roughly that price for a whole month's access to a library of content. But it only doesn't sound that bad if you're not buying special issues (the Marvel Pride book retailed for $10), and if you're only reading one or two books a month. The problem is, American superhero comics are specifically designed so you're not reading just one or two books per month -- this is why we have events! And crossovers! Not for the story potential but because it forces the consumer to purchase more product. This is why there's constantly an event running with a checklist of tie-in issues in the back. So now you're spending probably at least $20 a month. If you're a fan with a lot of interest in different titles, and in different publishers, this can easily hit triple USD digits. It's a money pit. It's not affordable to most people. And this is where that new Spider-Man news comes in, because it was announced today that Amazing Spider-Man is going back to a thrice monthly schedule like it used to operate on during Brand New Day. Which sounds good at first -- more comics, yay -- until you realize that's probably going to be $15 USD a month for a one title. That's $180 a year for one title, not including annuals or special issues. That's not feasible for a lot of fans -- young fans, poor fans, fans with other financial obligations etc. And most people aren't reading just one title. I don't know how the X-Men fans are currently financing their Krakoa habit and I'm afraid to ask. There are services like Marvel Unlimited, which make things slightly more affordable, but I imagine the wait for newer issues to hit the service can be alienating for some fans who want to join in current discussions, the library has some incredibly massive holes in it which is unacceptable when it's coming from inside the mouse house, and I believe, although I could be wrong, that it is not available in all countries. Comics are no longer an easily accessible hobby, if you're paying for everything you read.

"But the creatives deserve to get paid" is the common argument and yeah, they do, I'm not arguing that point. They should absolutely get paid and they should get well. I'm a writer, I'm a published writer even, and I want to be a published novelist, and I definitely want to get paid, and I'm reserving the right to be a complete hypocrite about this, as I do with everything in my life, but this is where the difference between indie publications and Marvel publications comes in: Marvel is owned by Disney. There is absolutely no excuse for Disney not to pay their creatives. If they are not getting paid fairly, it's not because you pirated a book -- it's because Disney has a vested interest in not paying their creators, as evidenced by Alan Dean Foster's lawsuit claiming that they are withholding royalties from him. Fans pirating these books are not the reason the creatives are not getting paid fairly -- the creatives are not getting paid fairly for the same reason that Disney park employees experience homelessness, and it's because Disney would rather put that money into the pockets of their executives. There is no debate on that subject. It's easier and perhaps more convenient to blame fans for pirating comics rather than putting all of their money into what has been for years now a prohibitively expensive hobby to keep up with, but the fact of the matter is Disney could pay all of their creatives what they're worth without hurting their bottom line and instead chooses not to. That is not on you, as an individual reader. You have no reason to feel guilty about that, no matter what your circumstances are, and you do not have to justify your actions to either me or the House of the Mouse. I'm with you, and Disney ultimately doesn't care. They're making that money up elsewhere and then not distributing it fairly to the people who create the properties their media empire is built off of. But especially if you're buying older books, you should know that your money is not going to the creative team -- once it's out of publication, they're not going to get any of the money you spent on it. The argument then becomes that you should be supporting local comics stores which yes, is true, but also doesn't apply to everyone, like anon who doesn't have access to local comic book stores. And again, this can become prohibitively expensive -- collections are expensive. Older, hard to find collections can be very expensive. Once something is out of print, all bets are off on what it might be selling for. Buying single issues is only affordable if the single issue isn't desirable or sometimes if it's in exceedingly bad condition. For the sake of transparency, I have a fairly big single issue collection because it's my preferred format, but I had the time to bargain hunt, access to local comic book stores and large comic conventions, and I'm very good at sniping eBay auctions. The most I have ever dropped on a single issue was expensive for me -- and still under three digits USD -- and it's for an issue from the '60s that is not in great condition.

The problem with this debate is that it is generally a nuanced issue that always gets boiled down to "piracy bad" in a way that makes a lot of well meaning and well intentioned fans, especially the ones with extenuating circumstances, feel bad. It's not your fault. You shouldn't feel guilty. There are a huge amount of reasons why someone might pirate something that are not bad reasons and do not make you a bad person who is personally withholding money from the creators -- because you're not. I don't publicly tell people where to pirate comics, mostly because I really don't think it's that hard to find out for yourselves especially because several creators involved with Marvel themselves have, I suspect accidentally, posted pages of their work to social media WITH THE BANNER OF A WELL KNOWN COMICS PIRACY SITE STILL IN THE IMAGE please learn how to crop, so maybe my standpoint on the issue wasn't well known, but there it is. I think readers should, if they are able to financially and otherwise, support the creators they like, but that it should be acknowledged that this is a more complicated issue than it's commonly made out to be on Twitter and that the largest part of the blame needs to be put on the companies making these comics inaccessible to many and who refuse to pay their creators fairly, not on individual fans. Don't feel guilty, anon.

[mxnrly]

advocate, im changkyun

angst, fluff ending !

I inspired this in way too many things, but mostly in my career. Being a psychologist in progress makes me so excited but also scared of not being able to seek for help as I am the one who should be helping. Also, I got inspired on the MBTI type, INFJ or, advocates and! this song from sleeping at last. 

It’s my comeback after a long time without posting so, I hope y’all like this!!

wc: 1.6k

⠀

“Let me be your healer. Only yours. Because you give your life for the others but you always put yourself last. So here I am, putting you first so you can have someone to take care of you too…”

Your mom always told you about how your priorities were upside down, because you always liked to take care of others before taking care of yourself, and your life motto was even “love yourself first”! but it was funny how you didn't apply that on yourself. 

But that's just who you were! Always shoving your heart for others to help their hearts beat. Always taking away the oxygen straight from your chest to help others breathe. Because that's who you were. 

An advocate. Someone who always liked to take care of others, no matter how deep in thoughts you were, no matter how tired you were… 

Taking a deep breath, once again, you were tired of it all, but you knew if he came right at you for advice, you would be there for him. Because that's what you do. Because that's what you are. 

An advocate. 

Pushing the door open, you took off your shoes, noticing the smell of food. It was the middle of winter, so the heat irradiated from the kitchen made you almost feel like crying. Holding the lump on your throat, you walked carefully to the kitchen, watching the back of your loved one. He had a white shirt, folded from his sleeves up on his elbows, he was wearing the black pants of work and his black socks matched. His hair was brushed back his forehead, and, although you couldn't take a look at his face, you know he was furrowing his brows and slightly biting his tongue outside his mouth. The clear representation of concentration. 

Flashing a smile, you took a step closer, knocking on the little table inside the kitchen making him jump a little. He was wearing a deep blue apron and, now looking at you, you could appreciate his beauty under the yellow lights of the kitchen. 

“Welcome home, love!”

His enthusiastic tone made your heart swell. Waving lightly, you caught his shining eyes, while he started serving the food. Cleaning his hands with a cloth, he took off his apron and hung it beside the fridge. 

You knew, outside the house, you were the psychoanalyst, but inside of it, he was the real mvp. With just one look, he could tell your emotions, just like now. 

After turning off the stove, he turned back at you and opened his arms, making his way towards you. His face was mixed with emotions, but the most evident ones were concerning and love. You knew how much he loved you, after years of marriage he had shown it to you in the most beautiful ways. Your favorite way? His attention. 

At work, you needed to pay attention to a bunch of people, making them feel better with what you wanted the most. But that's how you were. And you loved your job, even if sometimes it became too much, you were willing to give everything for the people at your consulting room. 

His arms engulfed you in a warm and loving hug. Your arms found their way to his waist, hugging him tightly as if he was going to disappear if you didn't hold him correctly. 

“Sweetheart, you look a little tired. When did you last eat?” The sweet, slow and deep voice of your husband rang into your ears. Holding a sigh, you just hug him tighter, denying the tears that threatened on coming outside its place. 

“Tell me, is something wrong? If something’s wrong you can count on me.” Once again, his voice broke the silence making your knees quiver. You were so weak, oh so weak. But you weren't supposed to say it. You weren't supposed to be feeling weakness. You needed to be strong. 

You… Must be strong. 

Taking in your silence, his right hand found its way on the back of your head and started rubbing your hair, swinging you left and right slowly, humming lowly. 

He knew how hard you were sometimes to yourself. Considering your job required you to be focused on different storylines across the day. You were drained. 

“It's okay if you can't find the words, I'll take your coat and this weight off of your shoulders.” His hands started taking off your long brown coat, sliding past your arms, showing your grey turtleneck shirt. 

Finding his way to the bedroom, he hung the coat on the closet. Going back to where you were, he hugged you one more time. You could take in the scent of his deep perfume. Roses, but not fresh roses, something more like, musky roses. It had a wooden scent, manly, he smelt like home. 

After a couple of minutes more, you both sat at the table. Taking in the visuals of the food, you couldn't help but feel blessed to have such a person as your soulmate. 

Holding the fork and digging into the pasta, he waited for your reaction. After the first bite, your brows shot up and a smile adorned your face. 

“It's amazing, Kyun!”

He smiled, feeling like the best cook in the world. Both of you started eating your meals, glancing at each other every once in a while. You used to have a little chat while eating, but the food was too good you couldn't help but stuff your mouth with more food every time you swallowed the current bite you had. 

When you were done and you saw he was done too, he took a sip of his red wine and looked at you. “Tell me, how was work?” He wanted to know. More than anything. He wanted to help get rid of the things that were bothering you. 

Taking in a big sigh, you pressed your lips before denying with your head. “It was good, tell me about you, could you find the solution to the problem you told me about?”

Tilting his head, he looked right into your eyes sighing deeply. “Baby, I don't want to talk about myself.” His tone was serious, reaching for your hand resting on the table, he gazed with his thumb at the back of your hand. His skin was warm, showing love with just a single touch. “Tell me where it hurts. Please.”

You knew you were caught. Since the moment he first took a look at you, he knew what you were feeling. He knew. He always knew. 

“I don't even know where to start,” making your head rest on the back of the chair, you looked at the ceiling avoiding his eyes. “already tired of trying to recall when it all fell apart, I guess…”

His eyes traveled to your hand, where the engagement ring laid, and under it, was the marriage ring. Without wanting to say anything, and instead, trying to give you time to think on your next words, and you were forever thankful for his patience. 

There was it, silence again between the both of you. The heartbeat was thumbing hard and strong in your ribcage. The tears were threatening to spill again. Trying to contain the emotions, blinking repeatedly looking everywhere but your husband. 

“I just want to love you well,” You said between a broken sob. Your voice was already affected and you couldn't help but keep going, because in the end, he had seen you in this state more times than you'd like to admit. “I just want to learn how, somehow, to be loved myself…”

With a rapid pace of breathing, your chest was violently going up and down, but no sound came from your mouth. Across time, learning how to swallow the pain, the emotions down her stomach, and the noise that came with such events, became a speciality you had. And you didn't know whether to feel proud or concerned. 

“Like a tidal wave, I'll make a mess,” His voice spoke above the war in your head. Your mind was a mess, a mix of threads with no beginning or end that only caused more damage than good. Your right hand covered the one he was using to cover your left. “or calm the waters, if that serves you best.” Continuing, he reached with his free hand for your face, cleaning the tears with his fingers. 

Watching his face, the adoration in his eyes everytime he looked at you, only made your chest become more tight and ready to explode. You loved him. With all your soul.

He was your advocate. 

Getting up his seat, he held your hand making you mimic his actions. Face to face, he cleared the rest of the tears, and closed the distance, kissing the frustration and anxiety out of your system.

He knew, oh God, he did know how you functioned. How the emotions that sometimes drowned you, could take the best or worst out of you. 

The warm touch of his lips made your head spin once, twice, thrice, until you were intoxicated by his love. And then, there wasn't silence anymore, there wasn't pain. There wasn't… Evil. Nothing could hurt you now. 

A sweet melody embraced your bodies, making you feel like floating. Maybe when you both would take a breath, and your breathing becomes erratic, everything would go back to what it was, but it didn't matter anymore. Because you had him. 

“And what a privilege it is to love you,” his forehead bumped into yours lovingly. A smile spread on his lips making you smile even wider. “ it's a great honor to hold you up…”

[sleepylixie]

I Hate to Admit

College! AU Bang Chan X fem! reader

Imperium Universe || Jisung || Seungmin || Chan 

2k (I’m so sorry), fluffiest fluff 

Request? Yes! Hope you like this, Anon!! Apologies about getting a wee bit carried away. >.<

Warnings: None!

A/N: I liked writing this, even though it’s waayyyy longer than I expected it to be oops. This is an extension of the same universe as this Jisung fic and this Seungmin fic, but you can definitely read this as a standalone! Do let me know what you think about this fic, I’d love to hear feedback!! ONTO THE FIC :D

Requests are open for SKZ and BTS! || Masterlist

The skate park right outside your campus was always an interesting sight. There were always a lot of people around, enjoying themselves on the gentle slopes and plateaus. You were always mystified by the way the skateboarders could so easily throw themselves into the air, seemingly unafraid of taking a tumble to the concrete floor.

You’d pass by the skate park thrice a week in the early evening, on your way to a part-time shift at Imperium- the closest bar to your university. Your shifts ran late sometimes, bordering on midnight when you’d step out of Imperium’s back door.

More often than not, you’d encounter the same lone figure in the skatepark on your way back- an average-sized, lean figure who had a way with the skateboard that you’d never seen anybody have before. The first time you spotted him, you stopped and watched for a few moments as he made his way up the slopes like it was nothing at all- he was that good.

Skateboarding wasn’t your thing as much as people watching- there were so many interesting people in the world, so many different kinds of personalities that you couldn’t get enough. You would write them into stories of back-alley romance, tales of rippling fantasy and chronicles of traitorous woe,  reveling in the way your worlds and characters built themselves up along the plot.

It became an unconscious habit, seeing the boy(it seemed like a boy, judging from his impeccably built shoulders and a penchant for extremely sleeveless muscle tops.) on your way back from your late bartending shifts.

He was curious, you decided. Who only visited the skate park when it was at it’s emptiest despite being so good? Did he not like attention? Was he shy? You made a mental note to try and talk to him one day- you weren’t hesitant with your curiosities. Someday, when you weren’t bogged down by your already numerous Works in progress and university, you would approach him and find out more about this midnight skateboarder.

But as it turned out, you didn’t have to wait too long.

//

“Y/N! Where were you, it’s almost 1 a.m!” Your sorority sister Chaeyoung sat up on her bed as you walked into your shared room. Her short blonde hair fluttered around her face as she slipped off the bed, bounding towards you. “I had a longer shift than normal, Imperium was weirdly full.” You responded, pulling your bag off your shoulder.

“Alpha Phi Alpha is throwing another rager. Do you want in?”

That’s when you heard it. You’d been so absorbed in the music from your own earphones that you didn’t even noticed the deep bass thumping through the air, the muffled cheers and screams of enjoyment. Of course there was a party going on, it was a Friday night.

Life next to a fraternity house wasn’t the most peaceful, but you didn’t mind it. Your sorority, Delta Kappa, was housed right next to the Alpha Phi Alpha frat house, close enough to share a fenced wall.

The Alpha Phi Alpha fraternity was the most sought after fraternity on campus; acceptance meant instant skyrocketing of social worth. It was all extremely cliché: the best frat on campus, filled with the smartest, most attractive guys, throwing the most memorable parties and yet maintaining their stellar record of being good at pretty much everything.

“Sure, why not? I have some energy to let off.” You smile, throwing open your shared wardrobe. Chae’s eyes shone wickedly, she was sold by the idea of any kind of party. “Are any of the other sisters coming??”

“Jennie, Lia and Yeri already left. I thought I’ll wait around for you.”

“How nice of you, Chae,” You huff out another laugh as you held out an outfit for her to see. “Ooh, I like it. Now hurry up, right?”

“Okay, okay!!”

20 minutes later, you were walking into your next-door frat house with Chae, already warmed by the electric vibe. “Y/N!!! You’re here!!”  There he was-tall, blonde and devastatingly handsome. Also seemingly tipsy, by the looks of it. Hwang Hyunjin was one of your closest friends, but he had a hard time handling his liquor, even though he would stoutly disagree when sober.

“What took you so long?” He slurred slightly, slinging an arm around you and giving you a tight, alcohol-smelling hug. “Unlike some of you, I have a job, Hyunin,” You quipped, returning his embrace and pecking his cheek- your usual greeting.

“Whatever, you’re here now.” He scoffed and ruffled your hair. “ We just made some new additions to the frat, you should come and meet them.”

“Sure, why not?” So Hyunjin took your hand and led you through the throngs of partying people. Soon enough, you stepped onto the roof of the frat house, a fairly clean space for being set up by a troupe of boys. Fairy lights left the people on the terrace bathed in soft yellow lights, a rather aesthetic sight.

There were around a handful of people lounging around on the couches and carpets, but Hyunjin led you to a particular group of people nearest to the railing, laughing and talking in a circle. You knew he had a gang of friends from all over the campus that just seemed to have an inexplicable pull towards each other.

You knew some of them by appearance from other ragers- music major Jisung with the cheeky smile, law student Seungmin with the puppy-eyes and an acidic tongue, Changbin with his almost flawlessly built body (you always paused for a second to admire his physique) and Minho, the guy who for some ominous reason always had bruised knuckles.

“Y/N! Hey!” Jeongin exclaimed, eyes brightening up in an endearing smile. “Hey Innie,” you grinned, happy to see another familiar face in the junior from the same major as you. “Yes yes hello and all that, Innie,” Hyunjin rolled his eyes, ignoring the look of mock offense he got from Jeongin. “I brought Y/N to meet Chan, coz he’s new to the frat, and my favorite sorority girl should be the first to know about the new fish.”

He threw an arm out, pointing to one of the guys leaning against the railing of the terrace, all smiles and black hair. You extended your own smile towards him, already giving him a casual once over- He wasn’t too tall, with impeccably built shoulders in a muscle top….wait. The question was out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Are you the weirdo that goes skateboarding at midnight?”

A pause rippled across everybody in the circle, the smile on Chan’s face reducing to an incredulous splutter as Jisung choked on a giggle- that did it. All of the guys dissolved into peals of laughter, loud and unrestrained.

“Sorry about that,” You said, letting out an embarrassed sigh as you stepped around the circle to get closer to Chan. “I’ve seen you in the skate park when I’m getting back after work.”

He shrugged, his handsome features still splashed with sheepishness. “It’s fine, it was just a matter of time, I guess.” Over the laughter, you could hear how smooth his voice was, like melting chocolate.

“If it counts for anything, I thought you’re really good at it.” You weren’t the beat around the bush with your words. “You made it look so easy.”

A light blush reddened his ears as he grinned at the compliment. “Thanks.. Y/N, was it?”

You spent the rest of the night with the boys, caught in easy banter- but particularly, you got to know Chan. He had been living off campus until he’d decided to apply for the fraternities on a whim, ending up with an acceptance to Alpha phi Alpha. He was a business major, with a creative minor in music producing- just like Changbin. He was a natural extrovert, effortless with conversation and people skills, a man married to his work-to the point that he regularly lost sleep over it. He was also a bit of a dork, you noticed, with his random bursts of exaggerated hand movements and lame jokes.

The sun was beginning to rise when you decided to get back home. “It was nice getting to know you, Channie,” you grinned, pulling him into an easy hug and pecking his cheek.

“Likewise, Y/N.” He smiled his captivating smile at you, before walking you to the frat house door. “Before I go, what do you say about exchanging numbers?” You asked. He was a good sort, the kind of guy who’d make a really good friend. Why not?

Chan agreed amicably and sent you off with promises to catch up soon, leaving you feeling light and happy.

To your surprise, he ended up dropping by your sorority the very next morning, asking if you were up for waffles at a nearby café. You happened to be awake at the time and decided to tag along with him- even though it was 6 in the morning.

“The guys refuse to wake up early and join me,” he complained, holed up in the café with plates of waffles and orange juice in front of you. “Chan, be honest,” You chuckled. “The only reason we’re awake at ass o’ clock is because both of us can’t sleep to save our lives.” He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Stop wise cracking and get on eating, Y/N.”

That café run cemented your day-old friendship into one of peaceful camaraderie, a safe space for each other within the chaos of your friend circles.

//

Winter melted slowly into spring, bringing tidings of new beginnings, assignment and semester exams and subsequently, end of semester parties. As always, Alpha phi Alpha was throwing a rager of a party that was expected to be the best all semester.  Your entire sorority had received invitations and were all excited to drown out the stress of exams week. You, on the other hand, were also thinking about something else. Someone, rather-Chan.

You and Chan had only grown close over the course of the past months,  gradually bonding over ungodly morning cafe runs, late night texts between breaks and video calls asking for outfit opinions.

You frequented the frat house more often, a fact that Hyunjin rejoiced (and teased you relentlessly) over. Chaeyoung only gazed at you with a suggestive look in her eyes when you slipped into the room at 2 a.m in the morning with one of Chan’s many black hoodies hanging off your shoulders. What, it was winter, it was cold on your way back from Imperium and he offered! Chan, to his credit, seemed to be just as invested in this newly growing friendship as you were. He walked you back from Imperium whenever he was at the skatepark, invited you on his midnight skate runs,  even almost breaking his arm trying to teach you how to balance on his skateboard.

It was an outlet for his energy, he explained one day. Sometimes working on music or going on a run didn’t give him the same sense of calm that skateboarding did. It wasn’t about the attention for him- with Chan, it almost never was. Not surprisingly, you liked that about him.  You liked Chan, for all his insomniac, stress skateboarding, black hoodie hoarding self.

The party was already in full swing when you and Chaeyoung knocked on the main door. One of the frat boys you didn’t know opened the door, smirking at you before yelling over his shoulder. “Yo, Chan, your girl’s here!”

Your eyes widened, exchanging an amused glance with Chae, who was openly laughing at your expression. Chan’s girl? Not that you hated the sound of that.. But you were just a friend- a friend who had a crush on him.. Right??

Chan hurried to the door that very instant, shoo-ing his frat brother off. “Sorry about that,” he murmured , exchanging hugs and cheek kisses with you and Chae. “To the usual spot?” he grinned, comically offering you his arm.

“Of course, my dearest,” you gushed, the two of you bursting into a fit of giggles as you linked your arm with his, allowing Chan to steer you towards the staircase leading up to the terrace. Once on the rooftop, you were met with a familiar sight- 7 boys giggling and talking amongst themselves in a loose circle near the railing. “Chan, don’t hog all of Y/N’s attention, she’s here for the party, you know?” Jisung called out the second he spotted the two of you heading towards them.

Amidst a gale of laughter, Chan frowned indignantly, opening his mouth to give Jisung a tongue lashing before you broke in, a sly smile stamped across your own face. “Who says I’d mind it??”

A chaotic chorus of 7 male voices responding to you had you laughing aloud, scanning Chan’s face for any discomfort. But he only had flaming ears, shifty eyes,  and a shy smile trained on you- a smile that shifted from shy to teasing in split seconds.

“If that’s the case, then I’m stealing Y/N for the night, you guys!” He declared, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the door the two of you had just walked through. “Chan, what are you doing?” You breathed out in amusement, not pulling your hand away. Your heart was beating out of your chest at everything going on, especially with Chan’s warm hand enclosing yours and the way he’d just smiled at you-

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while now,” Chan’s voice was exactly as you knew it, smooth, warm melted chocolate. “Come with me to the skatepark. Just for a while.” Who were you to say no to that voice?

//

Chaeyoung opened the door to the sorority early next morning, squawking in laughter when she saw who stood in front of her. You in Chan’s hoodie, your hand in his, your lipstick staining the side of Chan’s jaw and the kicker- you hugging Chan, quickly landing a soft kiss on his lips before skipping into the house.

Chaeyoung could only look at the adoring look on Chan’s face as you disappeared into the house and close the door, laughing quietly.  Ah, young love. 

[nordleuchten]

what were other friends that Lafayette made during his time in the continental army (others than hamilton and laurens)?

and also, did he pick up some/many fights with others ('cause of diferent opinions or smth) while he was in america? thank youu

Hello Anon,

sorry that it took me so long to answer you, I somewhat misplaced my draft and things went downhill from there. Thank you for our great question though. La Fayette made many other friends beside Laurens, Hamilton, Jefferson and Washington, but many of them are often overlocked. (I copied parts of a previous post that also dealt with La Fayette’s friends, so please be not surprised if some passages may sound familiar.)

La Fayette was the sort of person who made friends easily. He was not a grumpy person, being on good terms with somebody was his default mood so to speak. Some of the lesser-known friendships that he struck up during his time in America were with James McHenry, James Monroe, Henry Laurens, Nathanael Greene and Baron von Steuben for example.

James McHenry first met La Fayette when they both were members in George Washington staff. McHenry later transferred to La Fayette’s staff (March of 1781) and was one of his most trusted aide-de-camps. He often was chosen as La Fayette’s “liaison-officer”. I have three excerpts from letters by La Fayette, detailing his relationship to McHenry. The first one was written by La Fayette to McHenry on February 15, 1781, a few months before McHenry joined his staff:

My tender friendship and affectionate Regard for You, will Not lengthen this letter with Assurances from My Heart While the Heart itself must Be known to You. I intend to write You Again in a few days and with Every Sentiment of Attachement and Esteem Have the Honor to be Yours

Lafayette

The second letter was addressed to General Greene on August 12, 1781, concerning a potential transfer McHenry’s into Greene’s staff.

McHenry is So well Acquainted with My Sentiments for Him that He knows My attachement is independant of whatever Steps He Might take on the occasion. He knows I am not of a temper that finds faults with the Measures of My friends, and that I will ever feel an obligation to the Man who obliges General Greene.

The last letter was written to McHenry on December 26, 1783. McHenry at this point had already retired from the army.

As an ardent lover of America I am glad to Hear of the influence You are said to Have in Congress. As Your most affectionate friend I shall Be glad whenever You Have an opportunity to display Your abilities. If Congress do not send me Any Commands, I shall Most Certainly embark in the spring. If they Have Commands for me, I would Be thrice Happy to Receive You along with them, and to Make with you french and European travels. You ought to Make them charge you with some political commission to Courts in Europe, and I would like going as a volonteer with you. [Manuscript torn; part a line missing] Your family and our friends. Most affectionately I am for [manuscript torn; several words missing].

Lafayette

I showed you this many letters for several reasons. First, McHenry deserves more attention if you ask me. Second, they show not only their emotional relationship but also their professional relationship and illustrate how convinced La Fayette was by McHenry’s merits - and lastly, I like them all and could not decide. :-) Years later, during La Fayette’s imprisonment, McHenry was among the people who tried to help him gain his freedom.

On to James Monroe. Monroe was, just like Hamilton, close in age to La Fayette (actually, La Fayette was older then Monroe by several months) and spoke French. They both moved in the same social circles during the Revolution and had some common friends. It was also Monroe, who, with the backing of Congress, invited La Fayette to visit America once more in 1824/1825. La Fayette received the rights to some land during this visited and later gifted some of this land to Monroe so that Monroe could start paying off his mounting debts. Here is what La Fayette wrote to Monroe on December 19, 1784:

My dear Sir

I Have Received your letter to mr jefferson, and shall very Carefully deliver it. Our old friend Gibbs will give you a Bundle of papers for McHenry which I Beg you will keep for Him untill He Comes to Trenton. To morrow morning, My dear Sir, I set out for Europe, and Before I go, it is pleasing for me once more to assure you of the value I Have By Your friendship, and of the affection and regard I Have the Honor to Be With My dear Sir Yours

Lafayette

(I may or may not have chosen this letter because McHenry also makes an appearance.)

Another friend was Henry Laurens. Laurens was the father of John Laurens and the president of the Continental Congress for some time. He and La Fayette first started corresponding when La Fayette was recovering from his gunshot wound. He wrote Laurens on December, 1777:

I am indeed very importune to wraÏt so long a letter. You'l find me very troublesome, and I make haste to put an end to it by the short assurance of the eternal friendship I am with - Dear Sir Your most obedient servant

(La Fayette had a moment of self-realisation right here.)

Another very dear and very close friend of La Fayette’s was Nathanael Greene. There is a letter from La Fayette to Greene from November 10, 1780 that perfectly captures his feelings. La Fayette wrote:

My dear friend (…)For My friends, My dear Sir, I have No different feelings from those which I experience for Myself. I therefore feel for you, as I would do on My own account was I the Commander of the Southern Army. (…) But Whatever Might be hereafter the Case, Whatever Bad chance (and in our profession chance is Some thing) a Malignant fortune Might throw in Your Way, Be Certain, My dear Sir, that My friendship as well as My esteem for you are founded upon Such a Bazis As Cannot be shak' d By Any Run of Good or ill luck which May subject You to the praise or to the Blame of Common opinions. In all Cases, My Good friend, I am heartly willing to have My fate united to Yours, and By this junction of Stars to have My little share in Any thing Good or Bad that May happen to the troops Under your Command. I Beg you will present My Best Compliments to Your family and Most affectionately have the honor to be Yours forever

Lafayette

In the same letter to Greene, La Fayette also described his feeling for Henry Lee, a member of the prominent Lee family and someone La Fayette met through the army. He wrote Greene:

As I am Sure that My friend Lee will apply for being attach'd to me, I Beg leave to Support the Motion of that officer whom I Love, and on whom I Greatly Confide Both for Advice and execution.

The Baron von Steuben (what a legend) was also counted among La Fayette’s friend. The two of them spend a lot of time together during the Campaign in Virginia. La Fayette wrote to von Steuben on July 16, 1780:

I received, my dear baron, the letter you had the kindness to write me, and I am infinitely appreciative of the token of friendship you give me. (…) The confidence I have always had in your friendship and the new proof of it that you have just so graciously given me, my dear baron, assure me that you will be willing to make efforts and use your influence and authority to get first-rate men. (…) In a word, my dear baron, I put my interests in your hands and, counting on your friendship, I am utterly at ease. (…)I hope I do not need to assure you of my tender affection

This list is by no means exclusively but I think these were the most important friendships for La Fayette. Others friend that could be mentioned was Joseph Reed, William Heath and William Carmichael … now on to the “picking fights part”. No, La Fayette was nobody to pick fights. That was simply not his style. There were disagreements of course, mostly over military and army matters, but these could either be dissolved or La Fayette acknowledged that he was for the most part the more junior and inexperienced person in the disagreement. He was however somebody who was not afraid of letting his opinion be known.

There are for example Generals Gates and Conway, two officers who were involved in what was called the “Conway-Cabal”. There is a bit of a discussion nowadays about the true extent and nature of the “Conway-Cabal” but for people back then, for people like La Fayette, it was a very serious affair. Previously he had been on quite friendly terms with both Generals, even trying to form a deeper friendship with Gates, but after the “Cabal”, their relationships soured. La Fayette wrote the following about Conway in a letter to Henry Laurens on January 26, 1778:

Amongs All the men who could be sent under me Mr. Connway is the most disagreable to me and the most prejudiciable to the cause. I Confess you that love and friendship have alwals been my duties. This last sentiment I feel to the most perfect degree for General Washington. How can I support the society of a man who has spocken of my friend in the most insolent and abusive terms, who has done, and does every day all his power to ruin him, who tries to spend the fire in every part of the army and the country?

La Fayette also manged to almost get into a duel while in America - but not with an American but an Englishman. The British had sent a peace commission to America to probe the possibility of a peace treaty. One of the people they send, Lord Carlisle, insulted France in an open document. La Fayette felt offended on behalf of France and challenged Carlisle to a duel in late September of 1778 - Carlisle refused. The Marquis noted of the event in his memoirs:

In a public letter, signed Carlisle, the French nation was taxed with a perfidy too universally acknowledged to require any new proof. With the effervescence of youth and patriotism, M. de Lafayette seized this opportunity of opposing the commission; and the first impulse of M. d'Estaing was to approve of his conduct. A haughty challenge was sent from head - quarters to Lord Carlisle: the answer was an ill - explained refusal, and the impetuosity of M. de Lafayette was attended with a good result, whilst the prudence of the president was ridiculed in every public paper.

Roughly two decades later he wrote in his mauskripts:

Lord Carlisle refused, -- and he was right.

I hope that I could answer your question and I hope that you have/had a fantastic day!

[reginarubie]

Daenerys and narcissism, she also displays it

Daenerys, when the story starts, is a character with which it’s easy to empathize, having been raised on the run by a clearly narcissistic young man (which sets the example for her, because children learn through example and Daenerys has had two examples in her life: Viserys self-entitlement and his weakness and the Dothraki way, she coupled the two things, strength with self-entitlement and she became what Viserys was but more powerful) who abuses her.

But slowly we see her starting to become as narcissistic as Viserys if not more.

Here you find a list of the characteristics of people with narcissistic disorder:

- Have an exaggerated sense of self-importance

“If I were not the blood of the dragon, she thought wistfully, this could be my home. She was khaleesi, she had a strong man and a swift horse, handmaids to serve her, warriors to keep her safe, an honored place in the dosh khaleen awaiting her when she grew old … and in her womb grew a son who would one day bestride the world. That should be enough for any woman … but not for the dragon.” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys VI)

In this excerpt we see her choosing this entity with which she identifies herself (the dragon) over that of a woman. She chooses to see herself as special instead of common. Even though in her world she has been raised to believe herself special (and didn’t feel like a princess until she rode Silver) in this moment she is at a crossroads: being a normal woman with an happy life with her husband and son or choose to be a dragon. She chooses power, to be the dragon.

Now I do believe that as a victim of Viserys and Drogo both as often happens to kid victim of abuse (especially by family) she dissociated and in the rupture she identified with the dragon she sees in her dreams.

But in this moment she believes to be happy with her new life with her first abuser gone and could easily choose happiness in being just a khaleesi and live her life with her family or pursue her brother and hers ambition for the Iron throne.

- Have a sense of entitlement and require constant, excessive admiration

“And I am Daenerys Stormborn, Daenerys of House Targaryen, of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror and Maegor the Cruel and old Valyria before them. I am the dragon's daughter, and I swear to you, these men will die screaming.” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys IX)

“Dany turned on him angrily. "The dragon feeds on horse and sheep alike."” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys VII)

“They never saw me for a queen, she thought bitterly. I was only an afternoon's amusement, a horse girl with a curious pet.” (A Clash of Kings, Daenerys III)

Which I am sorry, but that is reality doing a check in. No one in Qart cares whose blood she has (from what kings she descend) they care for what she has done, her achievements and for now she is just “the horse girl with a curious pet” we see her own self entitlement, remember this comes immediately after she is thinks that she is not being given not even a cup of water from the Pureborn since she knows she offer poisoned wine to people they deem dangerous.

- Expect to be recognized as superior even without achievements that warrant it

“When her son sat the Iron Throne, she would see that he had bloodriders of his own to protect him against treachery in his Kingsguard.” (a Game of Thrones, Daenerys IV)

I choose this snippet for a precise reason, until now Daenerys has done nothing, but be a Targaryen that could warrant her a claim to the Iron throne but her brother is still alive, by her own conception Viserys is the one with the claim to the Iron throne (which it doesn’t apply since House Targaryen was dethroned and he had to take the Seven Kingdoms by right of conquest, but I digress) not her. So why does she assumes that her son will sit on the Iron throne? Her brother’s ambition has already become hers, she does not care her brother might marry and have heirs and kids of his own. Her son will sit on the Iron throne.

And she tries to get the Dothraki to recognize her son’s and hers claim to the Iron throne trying to convince Drogo to take the Seven Kingdoms for her and not for her brother. Despite either of them having done nothing to actually take the Seven Kingdoms.

“Across the road, a girl no older than Dany was sobbing in a high thin voice as a rider shoved her over a pile of corpses, facedown, and thrust himself inside her. Other riders dismounted to take their turns. That was the sort of deliverance the Dothraki brought the Lamb Men.

I am the blood of the dragon, Daenerys Targaryen reminded herself as she turned her face away. She pressed her lips together and hardened her heart and rode on toward the gate. [...] Slaves, Dany thought. Khal Drogo would drive them downriver to one of the towns on Slaver's Bay. She wanted to cry, but she told herself that she must be strong. This is war, this is what it looks like, this is the price of the Iron Throne.” (A Game of Thrones, Daenerys VII)

Here we see that despite having done nothing except working behind her brother’s back to get her son on the Iron throne, she is ready to sacrifice the life and freedom of whoever because that is the price of the Iron throne. If that’s not entitlement without achievements to warrant it, I don’t know what might be.

- Exaggerate achievements and talents

In many instances she keeps reminding everyone who crosses her, or tells her no that what she dreams come true, and therefor she is special.

Her whole behavior in adding title after title, her being convinced that if she dreams of it, it will come true... it’s a good attitude, a powerful attitude, until you use it to justify every wrongdoing you do or to obtain what you want in the way that you want without caring for the prospect of the others.

- Be preoccupied with fantasies about success, power, brilliance, beauty or the perfect mate

“He should never have done that. He is thrice my age, and of too low a birth for me, and I never gave him leave. No true knight would ever kiss a queen without her leave. [...] Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow.” (A Storm of Swords, Daenerys II)

And while, yikes Jorah really is thrice her age and there is nothing wrong with wanting her lover to be handsome, that of too low birth for me never sat right with me, because Daario was even lesser of birth than her but since he was handsome to her and she liked him better than Jorah she took him as her lover.

She likes pretty things and worries about power (see also when she is disappointed in Qart they do not consider her a Queen) and more, she cares to take back the Seven Kingdoms and have power to make her realm filled with fat man and maidens, but she never really puts effort to think how to achieve that. She thinks only how to achieve the power and she realizes that herself ��"Aegon the Conqueror brought fire and blood to Westeros, but afterward he gave them peace, prosperity, and justice. But all I have brought to Slaver's Bay is death and ruin. I have been more khal than queen, smashing and plundering, then moving on."”

- Believe they are superior and can only associate with equally special people

All the times she spews about being the blood of the dragon (they are too many) and uses her being of the Blood of Old Valyria as if she is a goddess among men and should be treated accordingly.

As I have said in the beginning many of this aspects of her personality are due to what she has been taught (that she is special, a notion reinforced because she walked into the fire and survived, but she brings it to the next level and if it was anyone else in real life we’d say they have taken a power trip) and the examples she has been given. I have little doubt that if she had seen people behaving better and in a non pathological way she could stand a chance of not turning in Viserys. As things stand I think she dissociated to survive her trauma (a trauma that still haunts her - she still dreams of Viserys haughtily provoke her) and she identified with the dragon to the point that bit by bit every ounce of humanity is discarded. She still does good, she helps the ill in Meereen and I do believe she is convinced she is helping in the Bay even if she is doing the opposite.

Now, I am no psychologist, I just read and research a lot. If someone else, who is more knowledgeable than I in the matter, wants to give his input I’d be grateful to learn more.