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astxrwar · 9 months

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wrapped in red

SUMMARY: You buy Beck a record for his collection on a whim. It's not a Christmas present, really. The fact that you give it to him on Christmas is irrelevant.

Future-fic oneshot in TTB!verse, courtesy of me writing this non-chronologically.

RATING: Teen

WORD COUNT: 4.5K

CONTENT: Christmas fluff. I cut the scene right before the angst because this is a present to Me And My Brainworms and also the three people who care about TTB!verse. Merry Christmas!!!

It’s an impulse decision, really.

The two-hour-drive home from seeing family brings you past Beck’s place before you reach your house. It’s dark and it’s cold and it’s nine-thirty at night and you’ve used most of your critical thinking skills navigating the chaos that is family holidays when you come up on the turn you’d have to take off of the main artery through town to get to his apartment. There’s all of a handful of seconds to attempt to think it through, and what you do end up thinking is mostly fuck it, whatever, and then you hit your blinker and veer off onto the side street.

It’s not until you’ve parked and gotten to the elevator and are at long last standing still, not moving at all, walking or driving, that you start to have doubts. The little red lights on the panel above the door flash to two and then three and then the elevator car stops and the doors open and you have another few seconds to consider just hitting the ground floor button and going home, going to sleep in your own bed for the first time in a week and texting him tomorrow, but—

But that defeats the purpose , an entirely too sentimental part of your brain decries, It’s Christmas today .

And— yeah.

Yeah.

There’s this kind of nervous energy gathering somewhere in your chest as you come up on his door, staticky and frantic and buzzing, pressing up to your throat. You have to steel yourself to even knock, breathe deep and set your jaw and prepare for— well. Anything. Beck isn’t predictable, even now; he hates surprises just in general, and he’d explicitly and profusely expressed disdain and even outright derision for the holiday writ large. There is a nonzero chance he could take this as, like, an insult. Or a manipulation attempt. Or some other entirely negative thing you couldn’t distort your perception enough to even begin to anticipate.

You stand there for at least an entire minute before you work up the courage to knock.

The tension you feel in all of your limbs right down to your fingertips is the strongest it’s been in months, almost as bad as it was the first time you ever came here, or maybe— maybe even worse. There’s an edge to it now that feels nauseous and clammy and disorienting, like you might actually be about to make a massive fucking mistake, a grievous and unfixable error, fuck up in some different and much more terrible way. That part— the miscalculating— that’s not new. What is new is the feeling like it might matter, if you do, in ways unrelated to your pride.

There’s a rustle of movement on the other side of the door and you imagine the jolt that you feel at the sound must have done something awful and entirely unhealthy to your blood pressure, and then the lock turns and there’s your heart rate, too, your pulse thudding somewhere in your throat and your brain suddenly and unhelpfully deciding it’s now convinced this was a bad decision.

Beck opens the door and the feeling doesn’t go away, but something else starts up at the sight of him; you realize dumbly that you haven’t seen him once since the semester ended all the way back in early December, and between his being in the last stages of finalizing his most recent research for publication and a presentation down in San Diego and you just dealing with regular run-of-the-mill finals week shit, you’d really not been alone besides the commute for— what, a month?

And then, even more dumbly, you realize you’d missed him.

He doesn’t say anything to you, just stands there, staring, expression impassive but not displeased, eyebrows raised, just a little; he’s just in jeans and a tee-shirt and that’s kind of another strange shock to your nervous system, because you’d seen him really only in work clothes for the better part of a month, too.

“Hi,” you say eloquently. You’re holding the record up to your chest with your arms sort of wrapped around it, probably too tight, and you have to remind yourself to relax before you fucking break it, or something; that would suck.

“Hi,” he repeats, a little bit mocking, his mouth curving up just slightly at the corners. It’s probably embarrassing how fucking fast even just that tamps down a lot of your anxiety, has you feeling a lot more like smiling and a lot less like you’re exhausted and socially drained beyond recognition and grumpy as hell from being stuck in a car for two hours, but you just don’t care.

“Are you busy?” you say eventually, bouncing a little on the balls of your feet, that nervousness manageable, now, but not gone.

That gets this disbelieving almost-laugh, a sharp exhale through his nose and a more obviously raised eyebrow, “No,” he replies, like it’s a stupid question.

He steps to the side and gestures for you to come in; he doesn’t move, when you do, except to close the door behind you, and you’re painfully aware of how close he is, how your shoulder nearly touches his chest as you balance on one foot and then the other to work off both your boots

“I thought you were with your family,” he says, his tone mild and expression unreadable.

“I was,” you stack your boots in the tray next to his and follow him when he turns and moves deeper into the apartment; it looks the same as ever, impeccably organized and display-catalog clean, darkened except for the light on in the foyer and one tableside lamp in the living room. “I left after dinner, I just got back.”

He pauses at the edge of the kitchen by the bar counter to shoot you this odd look that you can’t parse. “Have you even been home yet?”

“Well–“ you furrow your brow and prod at the inside of your cheek with your tongue and in no way attempt to manage your expression with whatever extremely limited amount of social awareness you still have access to after the elaborate and draining performance that is Family Holiday Gatherings, “No, I was on the way, and I–“ you trail off with a wordless shrug, feeling incredibly awkward again.

He does actually smile at that, one of those effortlessly smug and self-assured ones that used to annoy you and still kind of does, just less in a caustic and frustrated way and more just— fond. “And you what,” he says, resting his weight back on the counter and appraising you with this amused warmth in his eyes; he’s so relaxed, and it’s fucking distracting. He looks good. He always looks good. “Just missed me that much, honey?”

“Actually—“ you sidestep the question because it’s safer than attempting outright denial when it’s almost kind of halfway true, and you instead just bite the bullet and say, “Actually, I have something. For you. That I wanted to— give you.”

That languid openness to his posture becomes something neutral and impenetrable so fast that it would be disconcerting, if it were anyone else. “Told you, I don’t do Christmas.”

His expression is unreadable again, and he folds his arms over his chest, and you have to tap into some of that deep-seated and instinctual stubbornness and reactive spite to keep yourself from just saying nevermind.

“It’s not a Christmas present,” you reply, defensive. “And look,” you’re still holding the record close to your chest, half-hidden in the draping edges of your unzipped and too-big winter coat, and you unfold your arms and hold it out flat in front of you. “It’s not even wrapped. So it’s not any type of present at all, Christmas or otherwise.”

Beck raises an eyebrow and stares at you for a long moment, before his eyes flick down to your outstretched hands.

“I was just at the store doing shopping for my family,” you say, talking before you even really mean to, that flighty and awkward nervousness driving you to fill the stretch of seemingly endless silence, “And I saw it, and you said once that you like Jeff Buckley because he’s a phenomenal guitar player, and so I just figured— I mean, I didn’t think I saw it in your collection. And I thought you might— like it. Like to— have it.”

He looks up at you again and it’s too dark in the kitchen for you to be able to tell if there’s warmth in his expression or if you’re just hoping for it; there’s not anything outwardly negative, at least, though that really doesn’t do anything to ease that anxiety, clammy and slimy and cold like a chunk of half-thawed dirt in your stomach, the kind that’ll sometimes get pulled up by the snowplows and just melts into gross muddy slush on the side of the road.

He takes the record from your hands; it’s still wrapped in that thin sheet of plastic, and it glints a little as it moves, catching the low light from the living room.

“I don’t do gifts, either,” he says finally.

“Okay, well, it’s not a gift. I’m not— gifting you anything, I’m just— giving it to you.” You can feel your expression furrowing deeper into a frown, and you reach your arms out again, motioning for it, “If you don’t want it, that’s fine, I have the receipt, I can just return it—“

“You know, you’re not supposed to try to take it back,” he says, and there— it’s obvious enough that you can see it, now, the faint beginnings of a smile, and something in your chest does this kind of traitorous and horrible flip at the sight of it, all that tension melting out of you, frost in sight of the sun. “Your etiquette is abysmal, honey. Frankly, it’s an affront to the spirit of the holiday.”

You can’t manage to hold onto your frustration at all of his stupid and entirely predictable mind games for more than a handful of seconds and you’re smiling a lot wider than you mean to be, “I can’t believe you were able to say any of that with a straight face.”

He scoffs and turns to set the record on the countertop, “Yes you can.”

Beck doesn’t say thank you. You don’t really expect him to, and it doesn’t even matter to you, anyways; your brain had responded with this terrible jolt of what felt like pure unadulterated dopamine just at the fact that he’d wanted to keep it at all, and for all that you know that’s probably a bad thing to be feeling, it still doesn’t register as one.

No, it feels—

It feels good.

He’s still turned, hands on the countertop, and he drums his fingers against the stone surface for a moment with this little pensive frown and then he looks at you, shrewd and searching, then finally says with this deeply aggrieved sigh, “All right, come on,” and turns back towards the foyer.

You stare after him for a long moment, uncomprehending. “What?”

He glances back at you with this indulgent and long-suffering expression, like he’s reluctantly entertaining a child. “I’m taking you somewhere, come on.”

“What— I literally just took my boots off,” you say, plaintive, still walking back over to the entry hallway anyways, nudging one of them in the shoe rack with your toe.

“So?”

“So now I’ve gotta untie them and retie them, and it’s tedious .”

“This would be a non-issue if you’d untie them in the first place to take them off, like you’re supposed to,” he says, patronizing, prodding at you as he shrugs on his coat, and you know you must be doing a terrible job at suppressing your smile as you crouch to lace your boots up, but you just can’t bring yourself to care.

“Where are we going?” you ask, once then and then again as he locks the door behind you, okay but really where are we going, and then again in the elevator, come on just tell me where until he finally levels you with this vaguely frustrated look.

“Nowhere, if you don’t shut the fuck up and stop asking,” he says, snappish and irritable, and you laugh aloud at that without even really meaning to.

“Okay, so—“

“If you ask again I’m turning around.”

It shouldn’t be funny, probably, because you can’t tell if he’s serious or if this is one of those illusory and affected bits, but it is, maybe just because you’re really tired or maybe because you’ve missed him, Beck, the person, and this is just how he is. Not even pleasant, kind of an asshole, and it seems almost impossible to try to remember how it fucking bothered you, before, when now really the only things you feel are this kind of exasperated sense of affection and an entirely nonsensical desire to laugh. it’s bizarre and it’s bizarrely endearing that he can manage to be this abrasive on fucking Christmas, of all days, and that just makes something inside of you feel warm and bright and remarkably fucking fond.

“I was going to ask why, not where,” you say, stifling the sound of another laugh you fail to entirely repress in the sleeve of your coat as if it’s a yawn; he notices, you can tell by the brief glance that he shoots over, his eyes breaking from the road for a second and his expression shifting to something more exasperated than actually cross. “If that’s allowed. Why are we going somewhere?”

He frowns and says nothing for a moment and then flicks on his blinker to take a turn down this residential road you’ve never been on before. “Because you can’t follow fucking directions,” he says, and it’s probably supposed to be acerbic but it doesn’t quite get there.

You open your mouth to say something back probably along the lines of okay what does that even mean, except then you round this bend and the scene outside— which had mostly just been this murky field of gray-black broken up by the darker shapes of trees and houses and occasional glow of lights still on in the windows and on porches— the sky takes on this sort of whitish glow, on the horizon, getting brighter as you get closer to cresting the top of this gently sloping hill, and then—

“Oh,” you say, when you do, “Oh, wow.”

It’s got to be somebody’s yard, just another large, sparsely-wooded property with a house somewhere on it like the dozens of others you’d passed on the street, but it’s like the inhabitants had gone out and purchased a fucking neighborhood’s worth of Christmas lights— there are these long strings of those classic teardrop-shaped bulbs in red and green and white wound around the trunks of trees and then up through the branches, but then there’s other ones in purples and blues and oranges and yellows. there’s so many of those complicated little light-up images, too, scenes of reindeer hitched to sleighs and scattered around the yard that flash in a way that’s supposed to make it look like they’re moving, and there’s this big glittering Santa Claus over the tiny iced-over pond in the center of the yard and that’s gently flickering Merry Christmas overhead, glowing smiling snowmen and mismatched arrangements of presents and gently swaying snowflakes and even this toy train on a track that winds out and around the edges of the property. it’s all so fucking disorganized and overdone and bright and probably ridiculously fucking expensive and it’s just—

“You’re such a child,” he says, with another irritated and entirely overdramatic sigh; you’re not really paying attention, turned to look before he drives too far past it, but what he does instead is pull over to the side of the road and unbuckle his seatbelt and crack the car door and look at you, expectant and still vaguely aggrieved.

“Oh,” you say again. “Are— is this allowed?”

“Yes.” Beck gives you another one of those looks that’s meant to be insulting, like you’re being especially stupid. He pockets his keys and gets out of the car and you follow him, catching up before he crosses the street.

“The town had to put up signs to designate parking,” tells you, gesturing in the distance to a post further up the road, the contents facing oncoming cars and turned away from you, “These people have been doing this for years, drawing crowds and creating all this annoying fucking rush-hour traffic and— “ he shoves you out into the road to cross it when there’s no cars coming in either direction and rolls his eyes when you glare back halfheartedly, “—and giving me migraines.”

There’s hardly anybody here, now— nine-thirty on Christmas Day, the majority of people are probably overfull and half-asleep with blood alcohol contents on the wrong side of the limit to be driving— and you hurry over the salt-stained asphalt to the edge of the lawn, where there’s a strip of muddy grass to stand in, the rest of the yard cordoned off with rope.

“This must be insanely expensive,” you say absently, when he comes to stand next to you.

His expression twists in distaste. “I’m sure it is,” he says.

You’re looking at the lights, watching the train work its way back around the track, and when it rounds the bend you realize it must have a shitty little speaker system inside because it makes these tinny chugging noises that you can hear as it gets closer, and you laugh aloud, delighted. “Oh my god, that’s so cute.”

Beck makes this derisive sound under his breath; you can see him, out of the corner of your eye, and he’s watching you. “Yeah, of course you’d like this stupid shit,” he says, still with that sort of long-suffering undertone, like this entire ordeal is exhausting; but there’s something else, too, beneath that.

You realize with this pang of uncomfortable warmth that this was intentional— he wasn’t going to drive past, he’d meant to do this, and this was it. The point. He’d brought you here on purpose.

The lights are beautiful, in a kind of haphazard and vaguely gauche way, reminds you of how the holidays used to feel when you were a little kid, like they had a little bit of magic to them, even with all of the chaos, and you’re almost positive he doesn’t share that opinion in any way. So the idea that he must have seen this and just thought of you— It makes something in your chest twinge and ache like a stress fracture, or like a strand of muscle pulled just a little bit too far.

“Wow,” you say, after a while, your voice wavering just a tiny bit, “I thought you were actually incapable of ever just, like— doing something nice. Unprompted.”

He scoffs. “Unprompted. You got me a fucking Christmas present, even when I said that I wasn't going to get you anything, and now I’m — how the fuck was I supposed to level with that.”

You frown. “You don’t have to level with anything, it wasn’t a Christmas present.”

“It was, and now we’re not even, and it’s—“ he sucks in a breath through his teeth, “— annoying. ”

“Even,” you repeat, momentarily stunned, “That’s not— oh my god. It wasn’t like that. And it wasn’t a Christmas present, I didn’t even wrap—“

“It’s not a Christmas present because it’s not wrapped,” he cuts you off, bordering on outright ridicule in a way that doesn’t even feel mean, just makes you want to laugh. “You are so bizarrely fucking pedantic. you bought me a present, and it’s Christmas— you can’t talk your way out of that.”

“What, so, that was a Christmas present and this— isn’t?”

“It’s somebody else’s lights, it’s not anything,” he says, dismissive, “There’s no actual gift involved, honey.”

“Oh my god,” you tell him, rolling your eyes, “I’m not getting into an argument about the fucking scientific definition of what constitutes a gift—“

“Yeah, and that’s because you’d be wrong, obviously it’s—“

“- like there’s a consensus on what qualifies—“

“-- yes, it’s anything that can be physically given to someone, according to—“

“According to who? You?” Your volume has raised a not-insignificant amount and your words are laden with exasperation and he’s just as unaffected as ever.

“Yes,” he says, entirely too smug. “According to me.”

You let out this deeply aggrieved sigh, your breath pouring out in these little clouds of steam that glint multicolored in the glow of the lights. “Now who’s being fucking pedantic,” you tell him, and you try to keep yourself from smiling, but you only half-succeed. “I’ve given you two outs, and you refuse to take either of them.”

Beck says nothing for a moment. There’s this upturn to his mouth and this lightness to his expression; amusement, just a little bit. He looks back out on the lights and shoves his hands in his coat pockets and shrugs, effortlessly casual.

“It irritates you, that I won’t,” he says, after a minute— an observation, a statement, not a question.

A muscle ticks in your jaw. He hums, considering, still just studying you. “You don’t want me to feel like I owe you anything,” he continues, and this— it’s phrased like a statement, but it doesn’t register as one.

“No,” you say, rocking forwards onto your toes and then back again, the grass beneath your feet soggy and muddied by the runoff from the street, the top layer kept melted by the road salt and giving slightly until your heels make contact with the frozen ground underneath. “No, I just— saw something I thought you might like. You’re my friend, that’s allowed. It’s not transactional, but even if it was, you— this is—“ you gesture out at the landscape, the glow of the lights bright enough that your eyes can’t adjust to see past the edges of the display, everything outside the yard just this amorphous and unfocused gray. “You did the same thing.”

“Except I didn’t have to pay for this, honey, and you—“

“Oh my god,” you reply, exasperated, “If you want to run a fucking tab— I don’t pay you back for groceries, or gas, and I didn’t pay for anything when I came with you in November.“

“Well,” he says, like he’s considering it, and then he moves closer to you and his mouth twitches a little, “When you put it like that, now it kind of sounds like you’re the one who owes me.”

He’s got that wolfish and serrated-edged smile like he does when he’s walked you backwards into another stupid trap, and that’s it, really, you’re done, and you don’t even do a convincing job of scowling as you turn pointedly away, back to looking at the lights. “Fuck off, “ you grumble, “I can’t believe I really thought you felt bad.”

That grin takes on a satisfied slant that you can recognize even just looking at him as you are, sidelong, in glances, and you’re struck out of nowhere by how badly you want to kiss him.

There’s no snow, but it’s still really fucking cold, and when the wind picks up you shiver and shove your hands in your pockets.

“Zip your coat,” he tells you. “You always get cold and you still never zip your coat, I don’t know what you expect to happen.”

“You’re so—“ You do zip your coat. “— irritating.”

“And yet here you are,” his mouth twitches again, another almost-smile like maybe he can’t help it, “So either I’m not all that irritating or you have some kind of– dysfunctional masochistic impulse.”

“The second one,” you say, not missing a beat.

Beck grins, and when he moves towards you your pulse does something ridiculous and inexplicable like this is still somehow new, at all, him touching you and drawing you into him and his arms around you, his chin on the top of your head— it’s not fucking new, and it’s been a year, it’s been over a year— and it feels like something inside of you is losing essential structural integrity like your ribs and your muscles and your organs are made of wax, weak and warm and melting.

You lean into him and rest your cheek against his chest and look out over his arm at the lights, your vision slowly slipping out of focus until the garlands wrapped around the pine trees and the little flashing reindeer and the circling toy train as it rounds the track again all blur into this shimmering mass of color, and when you breathe in the air is warmed by his body heat and everything smells like him, spearmint and camphor and just like him, the person, and it’s—

“I missed you,” you say, without meaning to.

Something happens to his posture and his breathing that’s different enough for some subconscious pattern-seeking part of your brain to notice, but so miniscule and so brief that you can’t even describe what it was. “Aw,” he says, that oversweetened condescension in his voice, “That’s cute, honey.”

“Shut up,” you reply, and then, with an almost-subconscious sense of urgency that feels a lot like fucking damage control that the more complex parts of your brain actively refuse to acknowledge, “I missed my friends, and you’re my friend, and— I got to see everybody else before I left, except you. I haven’t really seen you since—“

“Since the end of the semester,” he muses quietly; there’s a gust of wind as another car hurtles past, and you shiver from the chill; he adjusts his arms around you, drawing you closer, and you burrow deeper into his coat gratefully. He’s always so fucking warm.

“Not even,” you say, after a minute. “More like Thanksgiving break.”

He huffs out a breath that might have been a laugh. On top of the tallest pine tree, a golden star twinkles on-off, on-off; you wonder idly how the hell these people even got that thing all the way up there. “I saw you almost every day for three weeks after that.”

And he’s right, technically, because you’d seen each other in passing and in the lab and he’d still sometimes give you rides if your schedules aligned so that you didn’t have to walk all the way from the student commuter lot in the cold. But you’d both been so busy, then, and half the time there were other people around and even when you were alone it was only for these brief and limited moments— it wasn’t the same or even really comparable to how it had been for those few days in November, or even just back when either of you had the time for you to be spending nights. And then the semester was over and he was swept up in finishing everything for the debut of his latest research and then he was out in San Diego and then by the time he got back you’d already left for your family’s place for a week. It’s not like you’d ever really stopped talking, but you’d still missed it. Him. Hadn’t even realized, really, until you’d seen him, hadn’t understood the scope of it until now.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, after a while, “But— I dunno, we were both so busy.”

He just hums in response, the sound lost to the noises from traffic in the distance and the whistle of the wind as it shakes the bare, skeletal limbs of trees and sways the strings of lights across the branches, but you can feel it still, vibrating in your head with the way his chin is resting on it.

You turn your head from the lights until all you can see is the flat, monotone black of the fabric of his coat; you’re buffeted by a rush of air as another car barrels past, the wind strong enough to have you shivering, again.

“All right,” he says, “All right, let’s go, before one of those idiots sideswipes my car.”

He says that, but he doesn’t move.

“Yeah,” you say, “Okay," but you don’t move, either.

#quentin beck x reader #ties that bind #mysterio x reader

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schmergo · 2 years

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There's one news story that's haunted me for years, covering many of my niche topics of interest (such as zoo exhibit design and tigers). It happened way back in 2007, but I still think about it a lot. It's a wild ride and I'd like to share it with you. It does get violent and scary, so don't read on if you're not in the mood for that today. There has only been ONE instance of a person being killed by an escaped animal in an AZA-accredited zoo in the organization's nearly 100-year history. The AZA (Association of Zoos and Aquariums) has fairly comprehensive standards about things like exhibit design and guest safety-- any other story you've heard about something like this has been at an un-accredited roadside zoo. Usually, they're pretty careful to make sure large dangerous animals can never get anywhere near where guests were. This story from 2007 was a perfect storm of situations where such a horrible thing could happen. The star of our story was a Siberian tiger named Tatiana living at the San Francisco Zoo. (This is the largest sub-species of tiger, which may or may not be important here.) She had had one previous bout of aggression against humans about a year before this incident: she grabbed a zookeper's arm, pulled it through the bars of her behind-the-scenes area during feeding team, and bit it. But on this occasion, it was right around closing time at the zoo on Christmas Day. Tatiana was hanging out in her enclosure while three young guys began taunting her. (One was a 17-year-old named Carlos, the others were two brothers called Paul and Kulbir, aged 19 and 23.) Witnessed by nobody but the victims themselves, Tatiana leapt out of her enclosure and mauled two of the three guys. The two brothers (one of them injured) ran for a nearby zoo cafe, which was already closed for the day, and the cafe staff wouldn't let them in. One zoo employee called 911, but indicated that they thought the brothers were mentally ill or on drugs because they were claiming to have been attacked by a tiger and there was no escaped tiger. Only six minutes later did another zoo staff member report the tiger on the loose. Police and firefighters got to the scene, but they weren't allowed in to tend to the victims because the zoo was on lockdown due to the escaped tiger. Five minutes passed before they could get in. They did eventually find Tatiana the tiger attacking the other brother and fatally shot her. But tragically the third friend, 17-year-old Carlos, was found dead from severe injuries from the tiger near the tiger enclosure. The other two suffered injuries from tiger teeth and claws but were released from the hospital a few days later. Obviously the emergency response was very shoddy, but here's where things get really shocking. The zoo director went on the record saying that it would be impossible for Tatiana to escape the exhibit unless she had help. He suspected foul play. The exhibit barrier was 18 feet high, impossible for a tiger to jump over and well over the AZA-recommended height of over 16 feet. Experts said it would blinker belief for a tiger to jump that high, and the zoo director suggested that the victims may have climbed over a barrier fence and danged their legs into the exhibit, giving her something to grab onto and pull herself up with. As part of the investigation, they obviously closely examined the exhibit, and what they found horrified everyone. The fence was only 12 and a half feet tall. That's several feet under the recommended height. The exhibit had been build in the 1940s and had been inspected by AZA officials many times, including the previous year. Nobody had ever noticed a discrepancy between the stated height of the wall and its actual height. The paperwork said it was an 18 foot wall, and everyone believed it was an 18 foot wall. Nobody had thought to check to see exactly how tall it was in 60+ years. When asked why a tiger had never escaped from the inadequate exhibit before, the coordinator of the AZA's species survival plan for tigers said, "It probably didn't want to." Even with this obvious discrepancy, it's quite sobering to realize how high tigers can jump if provoked. Not only did Tatiana jump over 12 feet high, she also traveled across a 33 foot moat. It's easy to think that zoo animals will be less dangerous than their wild counterparts-- even experts believed until evidence showed otherwise that Tatiana, as a captive tiger, would not be capable of the peak physical effort it would take to get over the barriers-- but wild animals are wild animals. A closer examination of Tatiana's paws and claws indicated that she made it over the wall on her first try. What's the lesson here? Well, don't underestimate the power and ability of wild animals. Don't taunt tigers. Believe someone who says they were attacked by an escaped tiger! And remember to double check instead of just believing what someone says. ("They said there's plenty of eggs in the fridge and we don't need more? Well, the San Francisco Zoo said the tiger wall was 18 feet high and we all know how that went. I'm going to check the eggs.") In general, accredited zoos are very safe for guests. There's a reason this was the first deadly incident involving an escaped animal since the organization was founded in the 1920's. But this is very much the exception that proved the rule-- and there were so many mistakes and poor choices that had to happen to lead up to this horrible ending. What's your old news story that you still obsess over?

#zoos #tigers #zoo #true crime #death cw #animal attack cw

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codename-mom · 8 months

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First steps

Summary: Rossi found a young agent working on Yates' case who could be a good new recruit for the BAU. He's eager to see the reaction of his co-worker and friend, Jason Gideon.

Characters: David Rossi, Aaron Hotchner and Jason Gideon

Contents: TW mentions of Yates' case, but they mostly talk about other things.

This text was originally thought for the Meet Cute CM challenge, but it also suits the New Beginings CM challenge organized by @imagining-in-the-margins. So, it's a mix-up of both of them. XD

PS : English is not my mother language so they are necessarily mistakes. Sorry about that.

___

San Francisco, 1997

David Rossi was tidying up the last of the documents relating to the Womb Raider case that he had scattered over the previous few days. Beside him, the federal agent who had accompanied him all along was watching him with a disappointed look.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, sheepishly.

“It’s not your fault. It's not the first time he's disappeared after being reported on by journalists. All we can do now is wait for him to kill again, unfortunately.”

It was the truth. Five years earlier, when the profiler had first come face to face with this singular serial killer, he had stopped moving as soon as the local reporters had set their sights on him. Back then, he didn't have that silly nickname – and ill-advised, according to Dave’s opinion – because he was content to savagely stab his victims. He had appeared in Seattle and, for some obscure reason, reappeared further down the West Coast after several years of silence. Then, as soon as the cameras turned on him, he vanished again into thin air. This erratic behavior was the result of the suspect's thoughts, and his alone. His pursuers were not responsible for his escape. However, this new disappearance didn't help Rossi, and he had no choice but to pack up and wait for his target to be found guilty of a fifth murder.

“Do you really think he stops killing all this time?”

He looked up at the young man, who was standing straight as an I a few steps away, scrutinizing him without batting an eyelid.

“You doubt it?”

His cadet swallowed, briefly dodged his gaze, then launched out:

“I… I've read a few books and articles about sociopaths like him, and they all agree that these people behave like drug addicts. The only way they can feel good, even for a moment, is to kill again and again, he unpacked at full speed, his dark irises focused on him. In fact, it seems strange to me that he could hold back for five or ten years before taking his dose again.”

“And yet the facts are there,” Dave pointed out, closing his satchel.

“Yes and no.”

The forty-year-old frowned. In the few days they'd been together, he'd noticed that his temporary partner's behavior was surprising, to say the least. If he excluded the fact that obviously no one had told him that staring at someone could be poorly perceived, he had noticed above all that his vision of things was far from fitting into the usual boxes of his peers. In spite of his youth – which could have led him to follow in the footsteps of his elders without question – he valiantly walked outside the lines and didn't hesitate to correct older – and more experienced – people about their working methods. On several occasions, Rossi had caught glimpses of the latter's furious looks, to which his partner had paid absolutely no attention. He had been afraid of being dragged along by a fussy, overly protocol-driven paper-pusher, but had found a curious ally who was very attentive to his thoughts and lacked the usual blinkers of his fellows. In fact, he was very interested in tasting the mixture that his brain had concocted in silence.

“… Tell me more.”

“You're only aware of what's reported to you, but there are plenty of unsolved crimes that aren't passed on to the FBI, he began without hesitation. Either because the victim is a prostitute, drug addict or has no family. Either because the bodies were never found. And if the suspect killed the first victim in one state and the next in another, the information doesn't get out because local authorities don't communicate with each other. It's hard enough in the same state sometimes, so imagine between two states who aren't side by side.”

Dave took in the stream of words and carefully digested the information. The kid was right. And since "his" killer always started by going after one party girl before moving on to the next, how many of them had crossed his path in the intervening five years that no one had seen fit to pass on the news to Quantico? And if he had buried the second – the only victim likely to attract the attention of the police – then he could have acted with impunity all this time. A momentary dizziness seized the profiler, which he concealed behind a puzzled mask.

“Tell me your name again?”

“Aaron Hotchner,” he replied immediately, without seeming in the least perturbed by the fact that after weeks of teamwork, he hadn't remembered his identity.

“You’re… a federal prosecutor, that’s it?”

“Yes, he confirmed, eyebrows furrowed. Why?”

With a friend and colleague, Jason Gideon, Rossi had set up a pseudo-agency within the FBI with the aim of tracking down all the sociopaths in the country more efficiently using the profiling method. The higher-ups openly laughed in their faces but gave them some time to prove themselves. With the results coming in, they had been offered the chance to expand their unit, which was an unhoped-for opportunity for the overworked duo. And this guy seemed to have a good predisposition for the job.

“You're smart,” he said, observing his interlocutor’s reactions carefully.

“… Thank you, he answered, unease. I guess.”

“Do you like your job?”

“… Yes.”

“Hmm.”

He had hesitated. A good sign from Dave's point of view, who saw it as a breach through which he could slip in.

“Are you offering me a job as a profiler?” questioned the young man, perplexed.

“You have the capacity for.”

“Really?”

His question was surprisingly sincere. Clearly, he was unaware of his abilities in this area, although he had no trouble following his elder's reasoning throughout the investigation. To establish a suspect's profile, it was necessary to draw on both a more or less in-depth knowledge of human psychology and a consequent theoretical knowledge of statistics. Added to this were logic, a little common sense, and a certain open-mindedness that many people lacked. Qualities that this Aaron undeniably possessed.

“You're meticulous, organized, intelligent and attentive to detail, affirmed Rossi, before continuing. You're not afraid to keep learning and you seem to be able to see beyond the box.”

He deliberately ignored the few shortcomings he had noted over the past few days, believing they would not affect his efficiency. But, contrary to what he had expected, the prosecutor didn't seem the least bit flattered by this portrait. Very subtly, he folded in on himself and, for the first time, looked away for a moment. He raised his eyes only to stutter out:

“… Uh… Well, it’s just that… I have to talk to my fiancée first.”

The federal agent who had just spoken was not a teenager or even a young adult; he was already over thirty years old. And yet, this line revealed an obvious immaturity that was in stark contrast to the speeches he had been able to deliver up to that point. Dave added this information to the list of things he and Jason should keep an eye on. In the meantime, he smiled and, shaking his head, declared:

“… Indeed, it’s wiser.”

Three weeks later, Rossi returned from the Quantico underworld to pick up Hotchner at the reception desk. The former prosecutor had passed all the admission tests with flying colors and would be discovering his new working environment today. His recruiter shook his hand with a smile and invited him to head for the elevators.

“Has your fiancée finally agreed to let you change jobs?” remarked the Italian American, trying to soften the ironic tone of his question.

“Yes,” soberly reacted his now colleague.

Since their last face-to-face meeting, the two men had spoken at length by e-mail and telephone in order to finalize all the details of this unexpected arrival and had therefore had time to get to know each other better. At the same time, Dave was able to glean further information about the Manassas native. Rather shy and very protective when it came to his private life, he hadn't let on anything more than the fact that his father had died many years earlier and that he'd known his girlfriend since he was eighteen. Next to that, Aaron was a tomb that would have to be worked over to discover its secrets.

“Did you explain to her that you wouldn't be home every night?” pursued Rossi, pressing the -2 button.

“Yes.”

“And it doesn’t bother her?”

His neighbor lowered his eyes again and stammered:

“She… she told me to take care of myself.”

A roundabout way of telling him that her tolerance of his absences had its limits. The question was whether the groom-to-be had grasped the implication, for, notwithstanding his clear-sightedness on some subjects, Agent Hotchner struggled on others. So it would be up to him and Jason to take care of it for him, so that this marriage in the making didn't fall apart before it even happened.

“What's her name?” he asked as the elevator doors opened onto a gloomy corridor.

“Haley.”

“Say ‘hi’ to her from me. Follow me and don’t pay attention to the mess.”

Dave entered the corridor cluttered with cardboard boxes and wobbly shelves. To express their disdain for profiling, management had given the pair permission to set up their offices in a single location: in the basement of Quantico. Where everyone piled up everything that was good for the dumpster or waiting to be repaired, sometimes for years in the case of certain items. And the newcomer didn't seem to really understand what they were doing here.

“I’m sure you imagined it differently.”

“Uh… To be honest, yes,” he confessed, stepping over a three-legged coffee table.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Then they came to a yellowish door on which a homemade sign had been stuck, admittedly a little crooked. Rossi had left his partner in charge while he left on a new business deal, and when he returned, he could only see that the damage had already been done. In some ways, Gideon reminded him a lot of the man who followed him: insanely uncompromising when it came to his work, but totally uncoordinated when it came to involving a personal part of himself in a task. He was even willing to bet that, like his long-time comrade, he'd have to use a crowbar to get him off his files when it was time to eat or go to bed. He couldn't wait for these two UFOs to contact each other.

Shortly afterwards, Hotchner entered a blind room with two cluttered desks, a blackboard covered with annotations on one of the walls – a few documents had escaped the frame, taped, or pinned to the dull paint of the high walls – and everywhere, boxes overflowing with papers. A dozen or so of them were gradually spread across the floor as the air flowed or the tenants moved about.

“Aaron, let me introduce you, Jason Gideon.”

“The child prodigy, at last!” exclaimed the latter with a smile, getting rid of his file and coming over to the rookie.

“Uh... nice to meet you,” he pronounced, snapping out of his observation.

“Welcome. Sit where you can.”

The brown irises groped around, looking for a support able to bear the weight of their owner, who stood at over six feet tall.

“Coffee?” David suggested before he had time to make a decision.

“Uh… yes. Thank you,” he said, clearly confused by the sudden appearance of the coffee pot.

His host handed him a cup and poured a generous glassful of the dark, full-bodied liquid. Italian by birth, Rossi liked his coffee strong. He requested family members living in Italy to send him regular shipments, as the product sold in the United States was not to his taste buds' liking.

“Impressed?” his colleague inquired their guest, who continued to scan the surroundings.

“… Surprised, overall. There’s just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“For all the country?”

“Yes,” replied Dave, placing the coffee pot back on its base.

The ex-prosecutor raised an eyebrow.

“How… how is it possible?”

“The problem is that this isn’t really possible.”

“We have to make choices. And work on several files at the same time,” explained Gideon, his own mug in hand.

“Do you succeed?”

“Depends on the day,” Rossi conceded.

The territory to be covered was so vast that it was difficult for them to respond to all the requests. Every day, they took an hour or two to dive into the pile of calls for help from the country's various authorities and sorted them out. Some cases could be solved by sending an e-mail or two, while others required a visit to the site and a bit of hands-on work. The latter represented the majority, but it was undeniable that they couldn't be everywhere at once and that, here again, they had to apply a drastic selection process. An activity they disliked all the more for its disregard for human life. But with a third man at their side, their chances of saving more innocents increased.

And the candidate stood before them, searching the space with his eyes, indifferent to the wisps of caffeine rising beneath his nose. Dave, sitting next to his colleague on the edge of his desk, watched him with a wry smile. And Jason seemed to find the situation just as amusing.

“Dave told me you had some suggestions for improving our techniques.”

“What? Hotchner gasped, jumping up. Uh… no, I… I simply pointed out that not all the information was being passed on to us. Which, in Yates' case, prevents us from spotting him during his periods of silence.”

The smiles on the faces of the two companions widened as they heard the newcomer adopt the “us” form. Barely had he discovered the place when he had already become part of the team.

“Aaron thinks he's not stopping, just flying under the radar.”

“Which isn't entirely absurd, admitted his neighbor, before turning to their cadet. And what do you think can be done about that?”

The young agent swallowed, bringing the cup closer to his chest in a feeble attempt to protect himself from this impromptu offensive.

“Kid, we can see the cogs turning in your brain from here, so spit it,” shoved Dave, as curious as his fellow galley dweller.

“Okay. Uh… - he placed what he had in his hands on the only portion of the nearest desk free of paperwork. We need someone who can track down all unsolved cases, all murders with even partial similarities to the suspect's modus operandi, and all disappearances matching the killer's targets, throughout the country and over several years.”

A silence answered him, which aggravated his unease. Instinctively, he began to play with his fingers, scraping his nails with the horn of his other hand. But what he took for disapproval was in fact reflection, as the two profilers analyzed what these words could represent, in concrete terms.

“It's a colossal job,” stressed Jason, also getting rid of his container.

“Yes. But procedures are becoming increasingly computerized. With the right tools, it should be possible to extract data more quickly than by opening boxes.”

“And at what point do you request authorization from the relevant authorities?” bounced Rossi, perplexed.

“Theoretically, as part of a federal investigation, we don't need to, retorted his opposite, who was gradually gaining in confidence. The only time we won't have a choice is when we need to access paper archives.”

“… Theoretically?” Gideon frowned.

“I've checked and, for the moment, there's a legal vacuum on the issue; the laws were written before computers existed.”

Which wouldn't last much longer, Dave mused silently. With the advent of information technology, and above all the Internet, many companies and other administrative bodies began to demand that the law take a closer look at their data access rights, particularly in terms of finance and human resources. And it would be the same for police, marshal, and army archives afterwards. Even if they were to create a common base for the whole country, it would ultimately be accessible only to the police and military. Federal agents would have to be friendly and perhaps even make a few concessions in order to win their case. An unquestionable waste of time, for everyone in the end.

“Who could fill such a position?”

“Someone with remarkable computer skills who knows how to bypass firewalls and passwords.”

“A hacker, in short,” Jason deduced with a certain stiffness.

“I know it may seem like a bit of a stretch, but once we're assured of their loyalty, it would be our most valuable asset. At present, we lack information, and the administrative machinery is time-consuming.”

Gideon and Rossi looked at each other for a moment, the second one trying to assess what the former thought of this presentation and of the person who had given it.

“What?” worried the latter.

“You were right. He’s a smart boy.”

“Told you.”

When he'd returned from San Francisco, he'd spent hours going on and on about his temporary sidekick in an attempt to convince the agency's co-founder to lend him a sympathetic ear. Jason didn't seem convinced by his arguments at first, but gradually gave way until he granted him this interview. But Dave remained convinced that, up until that moment, he hadn't believed a word of his rave review. Nevertheless, his reflection indicated that his state of mind had evolved.

“What else are you hiding in your hood?” he asked, fixing his gaze on the newcomer in turn.

“… Uh…”

“Go on, kiddo. We are all ears.”

Aaron, who was now ploughing the pad of his thumb with his fingernails, turned his gaze to the side for two seconds before returning to focus it on Gideon. The fact that the latter stared at him without batting an eyelid didn't seem to bother him too much; his nervousness stemmed more from the prospect of having to reveal his ramblings to two more experienced agents when he'd only just arrived.

“Okay. I… I found out that you each work in your own corner.”

“Let's just say we share the work,” ironized Rossi.

“To cover more ground, I understand, said the new recruit in all seriousness. But I think a team would be more efficient. Several pairs of eyes are always useful for spotting more details. Not to mention the fact that everyone's experience can give them a different view of things.”

And he added, after a brief inspiration:

“And then, women should be included.”

The pair cast a discreet glance at each other, eyebrows furrowed in unison.

“… Why women specifically?” inquired Jason, intrigued.

Dave knew the reason for this questioning. At that time, the female federal agents who went into the field were minors within the FBI. The vast majority of the women who worked for the Bureau were in administrative positions where the only danger they had to face was a fall down the stairs or a hot cup of coffee. The few who ventured outside the walls of Quantico or the Washington DC-based headquarters usually had a double hat that made their presence outside useful: doctor, teacher, linguist, etc. But it was obvious that Hotchner wanted to see profilers of the fairer sex on the payroll and at the same hierarchical level as the others. Why, was an excellent question.

“Because they have a different view of the world, a different knowledge base and a different way of thinking than we do.”

“It's a dangerous job where you have to keep your emotions in check.”

“Which they're very good at, contrary to what you might think, he countered. As for danger, the fact that women have less physical strength often leads them to be more cautious than men.”

“Your arguments are interesting, objected Gideon, doubtful, but...”

“I knew you'd be reluctant, he cut him off, before dipping into the bag slung over his shoulder. So take a look at this and tell me what it is.”

He then held up a photograph and handed it to them. The object, a hollow white cylinder, lay on a bloodstained carpet tile. The duo leaned over to get a better look at the picture and, with a quick glance to the side, Dave realized that his teammate didn't know any more than he did about the identity of what they were looking at.

“You don't know, do you?” Aaron remarked with a discreet smirk.

“I give up, indeed.”

“Well, I didn't know either, he confessed, taking back his property. It was my fiancée who told me what it was when she saw the picture. And I couldn't have known because it's definitely not something we men use.”

“Did it help you solve the case?”

“Yes. And, in the same way, I managed to catch a suspect as soon as my mother pointed out that a man couldn't have written a letter like that! I've been chasing a man for days, when the attacker was the next-door female neighbor, who seemed quite shocked to learn that her neighbor had died in the night.”

“Okay, I think we've got it, Romeo, interjected Jason, before he followed up with another example. What else?”

The thirty-year-old paused for a moment, then continued:

“We… we certainly need someone from the police force.”

As he might have expected, the two men facing him instinctively winced. Undaunted, he moved his pawns forward.

“I mean, intelligent people who know how to think outside the box are to be found elsewhere than at the FBI. And having a former police officer in our ranks will undoubtedly help us to better understand the reactions of local authorities, and even to cooperate with them.”

“Cooperate?” repeated Dave, giving him a dismayed look.

“Yes. If it's so difficult to get information these days, it's also because the police, sheriffs and rangers don't appreciate our arrogant cowboy attitude. By working with them, we will be able to benefit from their knowledge of the area, its inhabitants and the files that are underway or that have been closed. This memory is indispensable, but we can only get it by being pleasant.”

Gideon sighed without any discretion. He and Rossi had always had relative confidence in the police and other law enforcement agencies. And for good reason: they often had their own protocols, sprinkled with more or less harmless – but always illegal – tricks, to which was added a powerful code of silence that slowed down their investigations. Not all of them were dirty cops, of course, but having to juggle some people's sense of superiority with everything else was exhausting and unpleasant, to say the least. In fact, they had taken to dodging them as much as possible so that they could work at their leisure. So, the idea of rubbing shoulders with them again – although not meaningless when presented in this way – didn't enchant them at all.

“And how do you plan to do that?” retorted Jason, in a tone that didn't hide his reticence.

“Well, in addition to a former policeman, we need a liaison officer. Someone who is in contact with all the country's authorities, who has their trust. Someone they can turn to without hesitation.”

“A liaison officer?”

“Yes. He or she will also be in contact with the press. Most sociopaths pay close attention to what is said about them on TV, radio or in the newspapers. Some people get angry about what's been said and commit murders that could have been avoided. And others, like Yates, vanish into thin air because they get scared. We must control what journalists say.”

The duo looked at each other again with the same circumspection. This kid had ambition and concepts to spare which – Dave had to admit – were not uninteresting. In fact, there was something enticing and, needless to say, innovative about them. The Italian American was amused to imagine the faces of the big shots if he were to say the same thing to them. However, it was obvious that the youngest had left something out of the equation.

“Anything else?” tossed Gideon, his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“Uh… no. For now.”

“So, resumed Rossi, listen, son. I think Jason and I are actually thinking the same thing about all this.”

“It’s absurd?”

“Not at all, reassured the other BAU co-founder. But you may have noticed that our resources are quite limited.”

Aaron observed the scenery once more, as if it might have changed during their conversation.

“… Yes.”

“We're the team with the fewest funds in the United States.”

“Why?” replied the confused rookie innocently.

“Because up there, continued Jason, pointing to the upper floors, they think profiling is all smoke and mirrors. A simple sleight-of-hand.”

“But... no, hiccupped the groom-to-be; it's a science based on facts, on behavioral and medical studies, on... on probabilities too, but...”

“Aaron, we know, Dave cut him off, sensing that he was going to go on and on for many more minutes. We'll discuss it with the steering committee, but don't expect a miracle.”

To tell the truth, the answer was so obvious that he wondered whether it was worth mentioning the agency's new formula at all. The newcomer must have read his mind, for he added:

“But what does it take for them to accept?”

“Prove our efficiency,” declared Jason, as if it were self-evident.

“With the means we have here,” Hotchner figured out, his eyebrows more furrowed than ever.

“Yes.”

The look of despondency on the young man's face was equal to the mountain the three of them were about to climb. Rossi approached him and grabbed his shoulder.

“Welcome aboard, sailor.”

___

And this is the first chapter of Code Name: Mom! /o/

(Yes, I'm working in no order but I've got hope to put all those chapters altogether one day. :D)

It's the first time I wrote with Dave's point of view. He's way less anxious than Hotch, it's refreshing. XD

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #hotch #agent hotchner #code name mom #criminal minds fanfic #david rossi #agent rossi #rossi #jason gideon #agent gideon #gideon #bau team

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willowser · 10 months

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Hello Willow! Long time lurker, first time asker. HUGE fan of your work and everything you do. Every post you make brightens my day. But I'm coming out of the shadows today to interrupt the flow of the conversation and butt into the Texas driver talk.

Is it me or is every city a different type of crazy? Like my san antonio peeps don't know how to drive in the rain or understand how a traffic circle works but houston doesn't think blinkers exist and would rather die than let you merge.

It's like every city has their own rules and that's why I never go anywhere

omg hello friend 🥺🥺🥺 tysm for coming to chat with me about crazy texas drivers LMAOOOO but omg you're so right ??? houston drivers would literally RATHER YOU DRIVE OFF THE ROAD than merge 😭😭😭 i try to avoid driving there as often as i can 🥺 i actually haven't driven much in san antonio tbh !! but.....i don't like roundabout circles either LOL and....maybe i'm biased but.......i don't have a thing wrong to say about austin drivers 😌✨️ LMAOOOO

no but you're SO right texas drivers (tm) are all crazy but they have their own brands 😌😌😌

#you're so sweet tysm for coming to say hello !!!#and for enjoying my things 🥺🥺🥺#hello my texas fren 😌👢✨️#yeehaw 😌👢✨️#i drive do a lot of driving in the houston area unforch 😭 it's probably why i'm such an aggressive driver myself LOL #* i do a lot of

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flimsy-roost · 9 months

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you know you're back in san diego when you get passed on the right by two cars going 110+ but they both use their blinkers

#san diego #hey heads up hope its okay if its jot i'm doing it anyway

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mybandnames · 2 years

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It's Not Normal, Mal

Another day, another triptych of near misses, this time we have three quick sketches of three blokes called Mal.

1. Malcolm Oaffer and the Strands - Rose almost invisibly from the early East Lancastrian Rhythm and Blues scene (itself invisible from any part of the UK and especially London, where the record labels were) with their self-funded single 'Cow Ark You Broke My Heart'. This passionate plea to the singer's former girlfriend, and native of Cow Ark, Brenda Goodley, (who'd left him heartbroken outside the YHA in Slaidburn) to requite their love, scraped into the top 100 at 99 for a week. This minor miracle didn't go unnoticed by the music editor of the Clitheroe Chronicle, Baz Rudder, who fearlessly tracked down Brenda and ran a story on what happened and why. Sadly for Mal his broken heart was caused by his own dirty work which was carried out in the back of his van with Brenda's best friend, who she declined to name. With his dreams of stardom crushed under the hobnail boots of local disapproval, Mal's van was last seen heading towards obscurity along the A66 east of Cockermouth.

2. Mal Content and the Happiness - Impossible to truely categorise due mainly to a singularly focussed/blinkered desire to be across as many musical styles as possible in the hope of finding success in one. Mal and the band actually started out on the fraying fringe of the early 60s London hippy drug scene. Legend has it that Mal joined the band simply by walking onto the stage at one of their early gigs while four days into a LSD-fulled binge that never really came to an end. Having made it to a microphone, Mal, according to their bass player, and only surviving member, Arnie Villin, babbled incoherently though tunefully through their normally instrumental set. The audience, many of whom were in exactly the same state of mind as Mal, were totally bowled over by his performance, which was better than the indifference most audiences showed the band sans Mal. Backed into a corner, they were forced to take him on as their frontman. Then, as is so often the story, tragedy struck just at the moment it looked like stardom was heading their way. Heading back to London to talk to EMI after a gig (and many, many beers) in a small pub between Dover and Folkstone, they got lost in the fog. Deep into the middle of nowhere, their now-freezing bladders were at bursting point and stopping for a collective pee now became the priority. Arnie, in what is now one of the few actually factual statements attributed to the band, later told police "The rest of the band got out for a waz, but I was already comatose in the back. I'd also already wet meself, so they others left me and turned to face what we now know was the edge of the cliff and the sea. One man standing where they were might have survived the crumbling chalk cliff, but four? Nah, not a chance. And off they went." All four were found by early morning beach goers at around 06:30 the next day, with the police finding Arnie still asleep in the van a few hours later. Sensing he'd had a close call, Arnie gave up drugs, drink and basses and became a council road sweeper in Peckham, south London.

3. Mal Lingerer's Hideout - The last and by far the baddest of all the Mals, Mal Lingerer's look was a carbon copy of Marlon Brando's image and attitude in The Wild One. Albeit without the motorbike, which he wasn't licensed to ride. Of course the bad boy image was just designed to frighten old ladies and stir up column inches in newspapers desperate for anything remotely newsworthy. This was especially true in rural Suffolk, where, in the early 70s anyway, excitement had gone to die. Having garnered several inches of bad publicity, Mal turned up at the offices of the Ipswich Enquirer demanding a right to reply. After a few minutes of bluff and bluster with the Feature's editor (where was the bloody news editor?) Mal's ability to keep up his bad boy image petered out. Seizing the opportunity for a good photo story, the Features editor arranged to meet Mal at a country pub in Burstall, said to be the HQ of a local bike gang. A few days later the editor turned up with a photographer to get some pics of Mal with the bikers (one of whom was the editor's brother). All was going well, when someone suggested Mal be photographed actually riding a bike, but only in first gear, so barely rolling along. What could possibly go wrong? Everything it turned out. Mal, though without a bike license, had ridden a few of course, and thought he'd surprise everyone by showing off his skills. Revving the bike up as far as it's rattling crankshaft would allow, he dropped the clutch and almost literally took off. Still in first gear and almost unstoppable, he'd travelled about 100 yards when an almost antique combine harvester (a 1946 Cockshutt) hove into view. Well, we all know what the front of a combine harvester looks like, so you can work out what happened next for yourself. Miraculously, the bike (a 1965 Matchless) survived and was used to tow Mal's casket to the church in his home town of Copdock.

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bandcampsnoop · 10 months

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12/3/23.

Hot on the heels of December 1st's joy of the new Maxwell Farrington & Le SuperHomard comes a new release from longtime English band The High Llamas. After Sean O'Hagan left Microdisney he began this band. Their sound has stayed relatively the same over the past three decades. Chamber pop a la Van Dyke Parks or later era Beach Boys has always been their calling card.

More recent bands like The Heavy Blinkers, Sweet Apple Pie or even MGMT have shown that they're influenced by The High Llamas. And of course we need to mention Louis Phillippe and San Francisco band Healing Potpourri, with whom O'Hagan has worked.

This will be released by Drag City Records.

#The High Llamas #Sean O'Hagan #Microdisney #England #Van Dyke Parks #The Beach Boys #The Heavy Blinkers #Sweet Apple Pie #MGMT #Louis Phillippe #Healing Potpourri #Drag City Records #Bandcamp

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opedguy · 2 years

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Griner Spends Birthday in Jail

LOS ANGELES (OnlineColumnist.com), Oct. 19, 2022.--WNBA star Brittney Griner celebrated her 32nd birthsay today in a Moscow detention facility awaiting her appeal Oct. 25 on her Aug. 4 conviction for cannabis possession while entering Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport Feb. 17, only days before the Feb. 24 Ukraine War began. Griner’s been kept in Russian jail for 243 since her arrest for possessing cannabis in vape-cartridges. Griner told the judge, hoping for leniency, that she accidentally packed the cannabis-laced vape-cartridges before boarding a flight to Moscow to play in UMMC Ekaterinburg women’s basketball team. President Joe Biden, 79, and 59-year-old Secretary of State Antony Blinker said Griner was “wrongfully detained,” infuriating Kremlin officials because Griner violated Russia’s strict drug laws, prompting the court to throw the book at her. Griner has a slim-to-none chance of winning her appeal Oct. 25.

Speaking on her birthday, Griner, who’s mood has bordered on somber-to-despair, thanked her supporters for thinking about her. “Thank you everyone for fighting to so hard to get me home. All the support and love are definitely helping me,” Griner told her Moscow-based attorney Alexadr D. Bovkov. Griner’s wife, Cherelle, who met with Biden Sept. 18, said Brittney feared being “left and forgotten in Russia,” Cherelle told CBS News. Griner told her attorney recently it was “absolutely the weakest moment in life” last week, though she “smiled” on her birthday. Cherelle was told by Biden that he’s doing everything possible to get her out of Russian jail with a prisoner swap. What Biden didn’t tell Cherelle, or anyone else, is that the U.S. is in a life-or-death proxy war with the Russian Federation to get Putin out of office. Biden told the world March 26 that he wanted Putin out of office.

Golden State Warriors NBC start and finals MVP Stephan Curry interrupted the ring ceremony to remember Griner. “We want to continue to let her name be known, and we pray—its been 243 days since she’s been wrongfully incarcerated in Russia—we hope that she comes home soon and that everybody’s doing their part to bring her home,” Curry said in front of 18,000 screaming fans in San Francisco. Biden and Blinken haven’t leveled with Griner’s family, giving the impression that the ordinary prisoner swap process goes on unabated to get Brittney out of jail. But Biden currently funds a proxy war against the Russian Federation, letting the Ukrainians do the fighting with U.S. weapons to remove Putin from power. Kremlin officials said recently that the Griner prisoner swap is not a high priority at this point. As long as Biden remains at war, why should Putin cut a deal?

Curry and all of Griner’s backers in the U.S. and around the world want Brittney to come home at the earliest possible time. But as long as Biden fights a brutal proxy war with the Russian Federation, it’s doubtful that Putin or any other Kremlin official wants to cut a deal to get Brittney or former Marine Paul Whelan out of jail. Next week’s Oct. 25 appeals hearing holds very little hope for Brittney’s release When the hearing’s over, Brittney will go to one of many former gulags known today as penal colonies where prisoners spend their days in hard labor. Griner has nine years left on her term, attesting to why she sees her situation as hopeless. “We hope the term of the sentence will be reduced,” said Maria Blagovolina, a partner in the law firm defending Griner. Whether Brittney gets any relief in her sentence is doubtful, knowing she’ll soon serve out her sentence in a work camp.

If the White House were really interested in getting Griner out, Biden would start negotiating for a ceasefire deal with Putin. Only by ending the Ukraine War can Biden expect to make any headway with Griner’s release. Blinken said his original prisoner swap proposal involved Russia’s arms trafficker Viktor Bout, currently serving 15 years in U.S. prison, for Griner and Whelan has been largely dismissed. Even with a two-for-two prisoner swap, Russia would be reluctant to cut a deal for Griner’s release. Whether admitted to or not, Putin has little incentive to cut any deal with the White House. If Biden really wants to get Griner out, he needs to stop talking trash about the Russian Federation and find a deal that works. Waiting for the appeals judge to show Griner clemency is unrealistic at this point. Only by a sincere effort to end the Ukraine War will Griner have chance of getting out.

Listening to Blinken tell Putin that the U.S. put a substantive prisoner swap deal on the table only hurts Brittney’s chances of getting out. When Kremlin officials keep hearing Biden and Blinken call Griner’s detention “unlawful,” it adds days, weeks and months to her release. Kremlin spokeswoman Maria Zakharovaa said to the White House that Brittney was not “wrongfully detained,” she violated Russia’s strict drug laws and pays the price. Griner won’t get out early because Biden and Blinken continue to insult Kremlin, but, more importantly, Russia’s drug laws. Brittney’s family and friends need to let the White House know that the time to end the Ukraine War is long overdue. If the White House wants to make any progress on Griner’s release, Biden needs to end the Ukraine War, telling Ukraine’s 44-year-old President Volodymyr Zelensky it’s time for peace.

About the Author

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

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in-san-ity · 3 years

Text

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

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