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megmachine · 4 years ago

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Mistakes

A/N: this is the first section of my WIP star trek fic. See the tags before reading if your interested, and please let me know what you think!

The last time Jim ever saw his aunt alive, she was crying. He was thirteen and being led onto a bus alongside his cousins and had glanced out the darkened window on a whim. She had been standing in the doorway to their farmhouse, clutching little Sarah’s favorite blanket, arguing with one of the large men dressed in black that had come to take them back. The man had laid his hand on his belt, saying something, and Aunt Josie had broken down crying. Through a cloud of red dust as they drove away, Jimmy saw her fall to her knees and sob. Tear tracks cut through the dirt on her face, leftovers from when they’d been playing in the garden earlier. They turned a corner and trees finally blocked his view, and he turned back to talk to his cousins.

He was only supposed to be on Tarsus IV for six months. Driving the car into the canyon had been the last straw, and even though they’d ‘worked things out’ with the cops, Jimmy knew he’d pushed too hard. Frank was fed up with him and he’d been suspended from school again and his mother was still out there, exploring space without him. Winona said she would be earthside ‘in just six months, Jimmy, it’s only six months,’ and that this was just a stopgap to get him away from his step-father. What a load of bull that was, not that he’d say it to her face. Two months in, when he moved into boarding school full-time and wasn’t counting down the days till his shuttle home, Winona messaged him. She told him her ship, the U.S.S. Faragaut, would be delayed eight additional months and for the first time, he wasn’t heartbroken. Fourteen months in the colony, he could make it fourteen months. His aunt actually liked him, she never even hit him, and his cousins didn’t treat him like a burden the way Sam used to. Classes challenged him, for the most part, and he got to go back home every weekend to see his aunt and the farmhouse. Sure, meals weren’t that big, but Jimmy had never really gone hungry here, either. Tarsus was good. Life was good.

This time, though, as the farmhouse faded from view, he could tell his Aunt knew something was different. Clouds of red dust obscured his view and it felt like he was losing something, somewhere he’d finally started to call home. It was silly to get so melancholy about a semester at boarding school, he’d thought. He’d thought a lot of things that ended up being wrong.

It was two Saturdays later when Jimmy and Will wondered if something was wrong. A full two weeks since they had seen the rest of their family. They were sitting on his cousin’s bed, each with a PADD in hand, working on their homework. Their teacher, Hoshi, had been grilling them on languages, and despite Jimmy’s efforts Will couldn’t grasp Vulcansu conjugations.

“No, see, it’s a past tense irregular verb, and you forgot the hyphen-”

“Jimmy.” Will interrupted him, something he never did. His face, normally an open book, was drawn and stiff. Jimmy held his tongue and swallowed back his knee-jerk snarky response. His cousin took a deep breath, held it for five seconds, and let it out in a huff.

“I’m worried about my mom. She hasn’t been responding to my comms all week, and Mr. Davies told me we aren’t doing home visits next weekend, either. I just… I know you think it’s stupid to get all worked up over family, but this isn’t like her.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute, both brains running through the options. Finally, Jimmy sighed. He knew his cousin well enough to know where his mind had immediately gone, and had an idea of how to deal with it.

“Look, Will, I do understand where you’re coming from. If you’re really that worried about Aunt Josie, how about we go see her? Will that make you feel better?” Jimmy tossed his PADD aside and stood up, stretching his arms over his head and groaning exaggeratedly. Honestly, he’d been wanting to stretch his legs too, but hadn’t had the right opportunity to sneak out until this moment.

His cousin wasn’t convinced yet, though. “What do you mean? How are we supposed to get home if buses aren’t running to the farm?”

Jimmy smirked, tilting his head and glancing back. “Why, we’ll be breaking out, of course!”

That line sealed the deal. After all, Will was a bad boy at heart, too.

It was dark out by the time they could put their plan into motion. The double moons were rising in the west, casting everything outside the range of the street lamps in a faint, pale light. They took a walk in the botany gardens after dinner, a fairly inconspicuous thing to do. Subconsciously, Jimmy noted that a few of the plants seemed wilted, white flecks spotting a few lower leaves, but he wasn’t a botanist and so made no comment. Will kept an eye on the teachers that patrolled the area while Jimmy made his way to a shadowy corner, the one place he knew of that the cameras wouldn’t see him. From there, he accessed the security system from his PADD - he’d been teaching himself programming since he was five, sitting in the back of his kindergarten classroom, it was a breeze to hack these types of systems - and ran a loop of camera feed. From there the two made their way to the chain link fence that surrounded the school.

The principal told them it was to keep wildlife out, since Tarsus had some rather nasty native predators. Of course, there was a hole in the fence that Jimmy had known about for a few weeks, and nothing had managed to get in, so he didn’t know the validity of that statement. The gap was barely big enough for him to squeeze through, scrawny as he was, but he’d kept it in the back of his mind in case he ever wanted to sneak out. There hadn’t been anything suspicious going on, at least as far as he was aware, so he’d had no reason to utilize it before this night. He was enjoying his classes, and had no reason to mess around. At, least, not until then.

Jimmy went through first. After making sure the coast was clear, Will forced his way out, too. The fencing groaned, and they both held their breath for a minute before determining no one else had heard. After that, it was smooth sailing for the rest of their ‘escape.’ The fence opened up into a thick forest, full of a mix of native and terran flora that formed a dense canopy and heavy shadows. They could still use the moonlight and their knowledge of direction to make their way towards the nearby town of New Franklin. The school they attended was fairly secluded, so their hike took nearly an hour. The principal and teachers, when asked, had said that the governor thought it important that students learn astronomy and botany and all types of things you couldn’t study well in the city, so their school was the only thing this far out. They were surrounded by forests on one side, and a massive plain on the other, and as far as one could see there was no other sign of civilization. When he first got there, Jimmy had thought all the greenery was wonderful. Now he was starting to hate it, as he was slapped in the face by yet another palm frond-looking thing.

Eventually, pushing through the thick greenery native to Tarsus, Jimmy thought he could hear the murmur of human life. It was about time - they still had to consider the hour-long drive to and from the farmhouse, and he wanted to get a little bit of sleep that night. Their plan was to either hitch a ride from a kind stranger, an idea Jimmy wasn’t a big fan of, or steal a vehicle, something Will didn’t like - even though Jimmy had argued that they wouldn’t really be stealing, they'd be borrowing with the intent to bring it back unscratched. That argument was part of why they’d gotten started so late, and now Tarsus’ first moon was more than halfway through the sky. Its blue face watched them as they foraged on through the woods, unwavering and unyielding in its faint light.

They popped out on a paved road, the outlines of squat, wide-spread buildings against the tapestry of stars the only sign of civilization. There were next to no lights on, Jimmy noticed. No street lamps, or illuminated windows, or headlights. He’d have thought the town was dead, if not for the hum of generators he could still make out. A curfew, then? Why? Neither of them had any answers, but this did throw a wrench in both their transportation options. More so Will’s favored plan than his own, though his would be difficult to pull off too.

Well, there was no way around it. The two boys exchanged glances - neither had said a word their whole adventure other than to warn the other of a hole or tree branch, too scared of being heard and caught - and advanced towards the dead town. Jimmy knew more than enough about hotwiring to be able to steal most civilian vehicles, and Will had been driving aunt Josie’s truck for the past year, so they were rather confident in their abilities. But that all depended on whether or not they would find something to steal.

The first couple of buildings they approached were barren. Jimmy could make out the muffled sound of human voices and movement behind the walls, but there were no vehicles other than a couple of rusting bikes parked out front. The first hovercar they saw was all black and parked in the middle of town square. The engine was still running, but no one was sitting inside the car. Jimmy made a mental note of it and kept creeping along, hoping for a less suspicious get-away vehicle. The next one they saw was sitting in front of a small house. The car itself had four wheels and more than a little bit of rust, but it obviously hadn’t been used in the past few hours. The house it was parked near, similarly, didn’t show any signs of life. Neither Jimmy nor Will wanted to think very hard about that fact. Still, this was a better option, less likely to be noticed missing if they could get away quietly. Jimmy cracked his knuckles, gave his cousin a grin, and eased the driver’s door open.

Since he’d been old enough to start developing his fine motor skills, Jimmy had been playing with wires. Maybe not a sign of the safest childhood, but it certainly had its perks. For one, he could open a panel inside any car, four-wheeled or hovering, and get it running in under five minutes if it was a model from the past half-century. Thankfully, this one was. Another thing Jimmy was thankful for, he considered once the engine hummed to life, was that 23rd century cars were so much quieter than previous renditions. Not even the house a block over could hear it starting up. Will nudged his cousin over, crawling into the driver side and adjusting the seat to his liking.

“I’m still sticking by my argument that I could drive this puppy just as well as you,” Jimmy grumbled from where he was buckling himself into the passenger seat.

Will ignored him, throwing the car into gear and ever-so-slowly crawling out of the driveway and onto the road. “How the hell am I supposed to navigate all the way home if I can’t turn on the headlights?” he hissed, peering over the steering wheel in a way that didn’t really give Jimmy much confidence in his abilities.

He sighed, hunching over the center console and pulling out more wires from Will didn’t even know where. In between stripping colorful rubber with his teeth, Jimmy explained himself. “Most modern cars actually have the ability to display an active infrared view through the windshield - night vision. It’s better than using the headlights, actually, but we humans are too attached to the way things have always been to use it. Manufacturers even got rid of the easy-access switch, but they never bothered to get rid of the tech itself. Lucky us.” He spared a second to glance up at his cousin, grinning wildly, before twisting two bare wires together and clipping them to a circuit board. Jimmy had no idea how like his mother he looked in that second, and the excited expression faded almost as suddenly as it had appeared.

The windshield display flickered once, twice, before the pitch black landscape became visible in various shades of green and grey. The compass, temperature read out, and clock reappeared in their usual location (lining the top of the windshield, out of immediate eyeline), now a bright white against hunter green shadows.

Jimmy almost whoop-ed, catching himself at the last second and instead silently punched the air. “What’re you waiting for, Willy?” He snickered, flopping back into his seat. Will grumbled something about ‘cocky little nerds’ and eased his way down the pavement, gradually making his way out the town as a pace that had both of them out of their minds with boredom before they’d even made it a mile.

It took a little over ninety minutes to get to aunt Josie’s farmhouse. More often than either of them wanted to acknowledge, they’d pulled off the road and held their breaths, paranoid that they were being followed, only to laugh at themselves when no one showed up. Jimmy didn’t voice the alternative - that they were being stalked, toyed with. Will was on edge enough as it were.

The lights were off when they pulled up. Neither were that worried - Aunt Josie had always been more of a morning person, after all. Her red pickup was still parked under the carport. As they walked up to the front door, Jimmy watched his cousin unwind, tension easing out of his muscles. Will pushed the door open - again, not worrying, they lived far enough in the country to not bother with locks - and stepped into the kitchen. The house was silent. Jimmy followed, hands in his pockets but eyes darting around the heavily shadowed room.

Making their way deeper into the house, Will seemed to relax further and further while Jimmy felt the hairs on his neck stand up. Something felt off, but he couldn’t put his finger on what exactly was wrong. It was a somewhat similar feeling to what he would get when Frank was about to come home, full of cheap liquor and anger he’d take out on Jimmy and Sam. The air felt stale in his lungs. At the end of the hallway, the door to Aunt Josie’s bedroom was closed.

Will was smiling as he nudged the door open. He took a deep breath, ready to call out to his mom, ready to be reassured of her health and safety. The next second he was hunched over, hands clasped over his mouth and stomach rolling. The smell of decay overwhelmed them, and Jimmy finally identified what, exactly, was wrong.

Aunt Josie was laying on the ground near her bed, an archaic bullet hole through her chest. The light grey rug under her body was stained dark brown with old blood. While Will clung to the doorframe, trying desperately to keep his dinner down, Jimmy stumbled forward to her side. He’d always heard that people were peaceful in death, but Aunt Josie looked as distraught as she’d been when he last saw her, through a school bus window, two weeks ago. Her body was breaking down, past rigor mortis and well along in the bloating process. Deep tan skin was now motley green. The stink of rotting meat and excrement and who knew what else was thick in the air, having been trapped in the room with her. Dark liquid covered the wood floor, leaking out from her body, more fluid than one would expect from a corpse. If he looked closely, which he tried not to, he could see the small movement of maggots and cadaverous bugs within her small wound and under the skin.

Saliva pooled in Jimmy’s mouth and he turned away, stumbling out of the room before collapsing to his knees and retching. Will staggered after him, pale and sweating. Neither of them said a word for the longest time. Will was barely breathing, not making a sound as tears pooled in his eyes and ran, silently, down his cheeks.

“How long has she been dead?” he finally whispered, choking on the word.

Jimmy hated how his mind automatically went through the stages of decomposition, hated how for a split second he could objectively analyze how far along the body (his aunt, not the body, it was his aunt lying there) was. He was barely aware of his lips moving and the words coming out of his mouth. “It takes around eight days for discoloration to start. She’s probably been… for over a week.”

“Fuck.”

It took another ten minutes for either of them to move. Jimmy pulled himself to his feet, dragged his cousin behind him, and made his way towards the front door. Will didn’t make a sound as he was led along, eyes unfocused and staring into the distance. It was past midnight at this point, and Jimmy knew they had to get going if they wanted to avoid being caught out. As he passed the kitchen table, a stack of mail caught his attention and he grabbed them, curious, glancing over the words.

‘In response to your request… Cannot supply more rations… Distress signal…’

Jimmy swallowed and stuffed the papers in his coat pocket without a second thought.

Will was still unresponsive when they reached the stolen car, and without a second thought Jimmy shoved him into the passenger seat before climbing behind the wheel. Driving this old thing couldn’t be more difficult than the corvette, and this time he wasn’t trying to run from Frank and the cops and Riverside. Jimmy didn’t spare a second to glance in the rearview mirror as he pulled away from the farmhouse. If he did, he wouldn’t have been able to leave.

It was only when they got close to town that Jimmy noticed they were being tailed. At first he thought it was a figment of his paranoid imagination. It was barely there, in the corner of his eye, and his cousin was of no help in differentiating real from fabricated. Will hadn’t spoken a word since the farmhouse. Jimmy stepped on the gas a hair and fixed his eyes on the road in front of him, ignoring the tingling in the back of his mind.

Jimmy pulled off on the side of the road and stared out the back window. He’d seen it again, bigger and more obvious. He was 85% sure there really was something out there, in the black of Tarsus night. Either way, he wasn’t too keen on getting caught, so they would be legging it through the woods the rest of the way back. He hopped out of the car and led Will behind him into the dense forest. He'd finally started responding when Jimmy asked him questions, and could see his surroundings well enough to avoid low hanging branches.

“Come on, we’ve got to go, they’re behind us Will, we’ve got to hide,” Jimmy panted in his cousin’s ear. They were making far too much noise, stepping on twigs and getting slapped by branches. He just hoped they could get far enough ahead of the people stalking them, out of hearing range and back to school before sunrise.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard boots stomping through the undergrowth after them. “Hey! Where’d you go? You know the punishment for breaking curfew, it’ll hurt less if you just stop running!” The overt threat of pain and punishment sent a chill down Jimmy’s spine and he couldn't let himself get lost in memories of Frank, he had to get his cousin back to safety. He grit his teeth and made a conscious effort to be quieter, shushed Will when he spat a curse at a vine that tangled around his leg but it was too late. Bright flashlight beams cut through the greenery and into Will’s face and shouts filled the air.

Then they are running through the woods, abandoning all hope at subtlety and there are crashing footsteps behind them, the high pitched whine of phaser blasts and deep voices calling out promises of pain, and -

Will trips over a branch, twists his ankle, and Jimmy hauls his cousin up and behind him. He’s limping and leaning heavily on the younger boy but Jimmy clings tight to him. He won’t lose more of his family, he won’t, not after Sam, he can help Will, it’s not too much further to the fence and if they can just lose these guards they’ll be fine.

Gunshots and phaser fire follow them, sinking into tree trunks in their wake, cutting through leaves and then they hit something definitively not wood and Will is screaming, crying, begging Jimmy to stop but he’s bleeding out all over Jimmy and it’s too much, too much, he can’t make it stop please make it stop! There’s a hole in his stomach, gaping in what little moonlight is filtering through the tree branches. Hot blood is burning his hands, his face, and he can’t put enough pressure on the wound while trying to run and he can’t stop running or they’re both dead. They’re both so, so dead.

Will is clawing at Jimmy’s hand and at first he grips it tight, trying to take some of the pain from his cousin, but he’s being slapped and Will is glaring at him with as much strength as he can muster, though it’s fading fast. Jimmy has never seen so much fire in those brown eyes until now. He’s wheezing, but he can force out a mouthful of words. “Leave me, Jimmy. You gotta get out of here.” The men are gaining on them and they don’t have much time left. Will lets himself go limp, still staring at Jimmy, shrugging out of his hold and collapsing onto the ground. He shoves him once, for good measure, when Jimmy stops moving. “Go!” Will shouts, the force of his words making blood spew from his paling lips.

Jimmy runs. He runs, and doesn’t look back.

#star trek #fanfiction #megan writes #tarsus iv #gun violence #child death tw #violence tw #gore #star trek (tos)#star trek (aos)

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canaryatlaw · 3 years ago

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okay so, I have a super long crazy travel story from June 2014 that I'm always telling and the full version of it just came up on my facebook memories and I feel the need to post it (it was a tumblr post at the time too, it got like 150 notes) mostly so I can post the link on twitter, so here you go:

Okay, here is the full, unedited story of the absolute ridiculous adventure we went on yesterday. It is long.

The plan for the day was to pack up from our London location, hop on a train to a town called Keighley, where we would get on a steam engine train to a town called Haworth that is the location of the Bronte sisters home, and spend the day there. We were then going back to Keighley, take the train to Lancaster, then catch the final train up to the Lake District, with an expected arrival time of 8 pm.

Well, for waking up at 6 and running across London, through the tube, and to the train station with all your luggage for a 10 day trip went surprisingly smoothly, but after we get on the first train that ends. Upon arriving in Keighley we had about half an hour to get the next train, so the plan was for a rental company to bring a van to the train station in which we could store our luggage for a few hours, so we could walk (up a ridiculous incline) all over Haworth freely. Get to train station, no van. Oh. Well apparently the rental company sent somebody to take our professor to get the van and bring it to the train station without telling us, and said person was sitting in their car texting, oblivious to the visibly panicked Americans who just showed up. He does find her and manages to get the van back to the station. We load our luggage in and quickly hop on the steam train. Okay, stressful, but not too bad.

We arrive in Haworth and are told the Bronte house/museum was "just at the top of the hill." Well, apparently the British have a different definition of this phrase than Americans. Just up the hill turned out to be several miles up through fields, stores, old houses, everything. But yes, we reached it- and it was at the very top of the hill. Go on tour, look around town, nice little time. We were to meet to walk back and catch the train at 4. It was imperative that we were on time, as upon arriving back in Keighley, our professor had half an hour to return the van and catch the only train back to Lancaster. Amazingly, we did it, despite how far away the rental place was. It looked like that headache was over and we just had a long, luggage attached ride up to the Lake District.

Well, now the real fun begins. We arrive at the Lancaster station right on time, with about 20 minutes until our train north. Our professor double checks with the station manager about what platform and what train. The warden is very friendly, assuring us that we're in the right place and cracking jokes with us. As the train pulls in, our professor yells to the warden to confirm, and he does. So we board the very crowded train with all of our suitcases. It takes us a good 5 minutes just to get seated with our luggage out of the way. As we get settled in, the conductor comes to check tickets. Our professor hands him our group ticket with itinerary....oh no. This is the wrong train going in the wrong direction. Bad. We were told we had to get out at the next stop to take a train back to Lancaster, to then board a correct train.

Well crap. We get off at the next stop, irritated, and again ask for assistance. We easily found the train we were looking for....the one that didn't arrive until past 9. It's just past 7 at this point. Mind you we are in the middle of nowhere. There is literally a station platform and a small strip of stores. No town, no wifi, no buses, nothing. This sucks, but we have to just wait it out. At the end of the small strip of shops is a "micropub." Everyone was pretty fed up at this point, so we decided to head over to unwind a bit. Micropub was a very accurate descriptor. The whole place was about the size of a bedroom, and already filled with people. Did I mention there were 15 of us? Also, they only had drinks and pub snacks. Oh well, everyone is just like what the heck so we get some snacks and a good number of us get a (singular) drink. We sit on the sidewalk outside of the pub consuming this, much to the amusement of the British patrons. They got quite a kick out of the largely given up hope group of Americans. We actually manage to have a bit of fun, and by the time the train comes everyone is happy and laughing, and just a little bit tipsy.

We take the train back, literally one stop, and wait at Lancaster for the right one. Everyone was pretty much in that crazed overtired mode where you act ridiculous and think everything is really funny. The other train patrons obviously thought we were crazy, and the station manager was quite embarrassed by his snafu that landed us back here. But hey, the right train finally comes. It takes a good 5 minutes stopped at the station for us to get all our luggage stacked and make sure everything was correct. We call ahead to the car company that was to meet us with the rental in the Lake District and the Bed and Breakfast where we'd be staying and they were both able to accommodate our time change. How lucky! Almost. We get off the train at the Lake District and unload all our luggage. Just as the train is leaving and and everyone is collecting their individual bags, we notice that nobody is claiming this black suitcase, that suddenly looks quite unfamiliar...oops. We took someone's bag by accident...and the train is gone. Well we all felt bad knowing we just made someone else's day a little worse, but we give it to the station manager and go to meet the people with the two vans we'd be using for the next two days. Except there not there. So we wait...again. Finally, they do show up, with a quite clueless old man trying to instruct us on how to program where we were going into the GPS and failing miserably. Keep in mind we had very shotty cell service (since we were still in the middle of nowhere) and using data overseas is quite difficult. We can't figure out how to turn the audio of the GPS on, so we resign to leaving the station going off the visual instructions. It was only supposed to be about a 20 minute ride, and hey, what else could go wrong at this point right? Surely we had exhausted our Murphy's law quota for the day. I mean, we had gone on 9 trains.

Well. Apparently at this time of year the sun sets very late here. As in it was finally getting dark…at 11. But when it did set, it was very dark. So we are traveling further and further away from the small bit of civilization we had on very narrow European roads, in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere, and the GPS starts malfunctioning, telling us to go down a road then when we do starts re-routing us elsewhere, ad infinitum…Oh yeah, and there's also a whole lot of mountains here (seriously it looks like the shire, it's gorgeous) so the roads were quite hilly, and we had an American driver who's not totally accustomed to this, and it's a manual transmission…what's that burning smell? Is that smoke? Oh no, that's smoke. And it's coming from the car.

Crap.

The transmission was not happy and started smoking, everywhere. The smoke then got through the AC vents into the car, where everybody starts choking and coughing…so we pull over and literally jump out of the car. It was at this point where I was legitimately worried for my life. We were in the middle of the woods, on a hill, with a broken car, no cell phone service, and by now it's midnight…yeah, this was bad. I was also partially convinced the car was going to blow up.

And then in an unforeseen plot twist, I managed to save the day. We were trying to figure out what the heck to do when I tried to look at my maps on my cell on a whim…and it loaded. What? It had us located. Okay….so I type in the name of the bed and breakfast, not knowing the address…and it loads. Oh man, the GPS on my phone is working!! The transmission had cooled down some, so we very carefully climbed back in the car, trying to follow my GPS. It took us another 40 minutes of nowhere-ness…up to the point where the road was only wide enough for one car, barely even enough for our van. And about a hundred "are you sure we're going the right way?" to which I could only respond "…no?" And then there was a rabbit in the middle of the road, so we slowed down…and it stopped. So we move forward and it moves, then reverses, then stops and we were all going crazy and screaming for the poor rabbit to get out of the road and not meet it's death at our hand. It's probably relevant to mention that this is also where Beatrix Potter lived, so that probably fed into that….and the inn appears. Miles away from absolutely everything. We pull in, I shut the navigation off, and then look in the corner of my phone to see that it had just now switched to no service whatsoever.

The really crazy part? When we headed back into town today with a better sense of direction, I had no service for at least 5 miles away from the place. There's no way my GPS should've lasted that long. And so that's the ridiculous story of how Rachel saved the day. 📷

(the fact that is left out of that story is my phone gps only worked because I went ahead and switched my data on, which resulted in a $600 phone bill, but I deemed it was in fact an emergency and my dad had no issues paying the bill, so it all worked out)

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rainythefox · 4 years ago

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Nightfall (Ch.13)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1, slight-AU/Canon Divergence. Claire Redfield comes home to visit her brother Chris for the holidays but gets caught up in a dangerous game of cat and mouse with Albert Wesker, the Captain of STARS, after stumbling upon dark secrets. She can’t call the law; Wesker is the law, and she can’t tell Chris. She is trapped…Claire/Wesker & Slight Chris/Jill. Rated M for eventual smut, language, violence, adult content.

AO3 Link

Chapter 13: I Know You

(Warning: This chapter contains Smut!)

Claire realized she had stared down the barrel of a gun more times in this past week than she did in her entire life. She didn't really appreciate that and gave Lowery an insulted glare as he came a bit closer. Despite her perilous situation, her Redfield temper got the best of her.

"You always point a gun at students? Not exactly welcoming."

"Not typically," Lowery answered warily. "But then again, you aren't a RCU student, are you? And it never was your intention tonight, was it?"

It seemed as though William's brush off of this paranoid, quiet professor of little relevance was poorly advised. What Claire had forgotten was that William was in a position where everyone was inferior and of no threat to him, not only because of his infamy and prowess, but apparently from who he also had as a guard dog.

Either way, Claire now had a serious problem on her hands. And Wesker wasn't on the other side for help.

"I have no idea what the hell you're talking about," Claire replied coolly.

"Really? So, you don't have my missing file from the lab? The one my business partner said you dropped right in front of him?" Lowery inquired skeptically. "It's a good thing he showed up, otherwise I don't think I would've been able to catch up with you."

Claire kept calm, her eyes flicking back and forth from his steely face to the gun trained at her chest. All she had on her was her knife. She couldn't slip up now, otherwise she would be arriving back home in a body bag. "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"Oh, it's you. I was tipped off that someone would try to steal our plans tonight. I had no idea it would be someone like you though. Hand them over or I will shoot you."

"Are you crazy? Shooting someone over some documents?"

He stepped closer, getting impatient. "I have no problem killing for them."

Claire couldn't hand it over. She had to protect Chris. The file was a requirement needed for her freedom. Besides, she was more afraid of Wesker than she was of this incompetent prick.

The file was hidden in her coat under her arm. Claire slightly raised her hands, even away from the knife in her pocket, mind plotting. "Come search me yourself. I don't have it!"

Lowery closed the short distance between them, guarded but also anxious to get this over with. As soon as he got close enough, Claire snatched the arm with the gun and pushed it away from her, kicking him hard in the groin and then slamming him into the bus behind her. He yelped in surprise, but in her attempt to disarm him, he recovered faster than she thought he would. He shoved her, attempting to grab her and they both slipped in the snow and tumbled to the ground. The file flew from the safety of her parka, landing in the snow just beside them.

The middle-aged professor pinned Claire face down, icy snow burning her face as she inhaled some up her nose.

"You stupid bitch, who sent you? Who're you working for?!"

Claire was able to pull out her knife. She blindly stabbed it up and behind her. The blade went deep in somewhere, his thigh, she guessed. He screamed in pain, rolling off and Claire sprang to freedom. Her initial instinct was to stomp his face in, but that gun came up to her face as he bled in the snow. Time seemed to slow as he pulled the trigger. She was done for.

Lowery's hand popped like a balloon, barely within the blink of an eye, bright and red. He cried out in shock and agony again, the gun flinging from his hand, blood spraying across the snow like spilled paint. Claire immediately snatched up the weapon and aimed it right back at him, not really understanding what had happened but not taking any chances. That's when she noticed the sleek, short dagger sticking out from his hand, the tip of the blade having gone completely through his palm.

Before it could completely register, a tall, muscular form stepped out of the shadows from between the buses and stalked over to the injured professor. Claire directed the gun at the stranger, but soon recognized the silver-haired man that Wesker had talked to beneath the streets of Raccoon City. Nikolai Zinoviev.

Despite the situation, the Russian mercenary had a playful grin on his scruffy face. "Looks like you picked fight with wrong girl, comrade! She's a feisty one, eh?"

Lowery hissed and groaned between gnashed teeth, glaring up at the snickering newcomer. "Nikolai? What the hell? You tipped Aaron and me off about her, why are you doing this?"

"Oh, sorry, friend. Our agreement expired because my new employer bought out yours and doubled price for his own. How is it you Americans say? Ah, right…money talks."

His hands may have been up in submission, but there was no mistaking the spite on Lowery's face. "I'll double his price…right now. Just give me my file and give me the girl."

"Just try it," Claire warned, pointing Lowery's own gun at him.

Nikolai chuckled. "She's just not that into you, comrade. Besides, she is under strict protection of my employer. If she gets just a scratch, it's my head. You understand, yes?"

Holding his bleeding hand, the college professor's defiant stare cracked, replaced with fear. "You gonna kill me?"

The younger Redfield did not like the sleazy grin on the silver-haired Russian's face. She refused to give Lowery what he wanted, but she didn't think he deserved to die. However, she got a more concerning feeling in her gut by Nikolai's smug look and shallow shrug. "Welllllll, that's where it gets interesting. I was supposed to kill anyone that got wind of our scheme here. But that little detail on agreement was outbid by his partner, without my employer's knowledge, of course! He wishes to speak with you, Dr. Lowery. You have time to chat, hmm friend?"

"W-Who?"

"You will know when we get there. Stay positive! Perhaps you two can make deal. Then we can put whole thing behind us!"

Nikolai stepped over to Lowery, holding out his hand, offering to help the wounded man to his feet. There was an underlying threat to his tone that Lowery had no choice but to come along. Claire felt his powerlessness as he glanced around, apprehensive. He raised his uninjured hand to take Nikolai's, but in the blink of an eye, the mercenary grabbed the professor and knocked him out cold.

"What the hell?!" Claire spat.

Nikolai pulled the knife from Lowery's hand and bandaged him up. He wiped the knife on his pants and inserted it into a cylindrical tube. It clicked in Claire's mind that the knife had been shot out of that when it struck Lowery. A ballistic knife. The Russian mercenary pocketed his weapon and started dragging the younger man through the snow. Claire watched, aghast, and then stomped after him.

"What do you think you're doing?!"

"The white SUV just over there," Nikolai nodded with his head. "That is our ride."

"You are my ride?"

"Ms. Wong received new orders. So now you and I get to spend some quality time together, printsessa."

She knew well enough that whatever he had called her was some kind of pet name and that rolled off her skin like cold sludge. "Fuck that. I'll walk."

He wasn't fazed by her attitude, in fact, she was sure he was fed by it. That same sleazy grin appeared as he seemed to drag the man with little effort, way stronger than he looked. "In this weather? You catch cold easily. Besides, it is my responsibility to return you to Wesker."

"Sounds like a personal problem."

Nikolai snorted as he loaded the unconscious professor into the backseat of the vehicle . "Does it? You know what else is personal? Your brother, Chris, yeah?"

Claire froze, having only taken three defiant steps away from this situation once Nikolai reached the SUV. She turned around, glaring. She aimed Lowery's gun at him, angry, protective, cornered.

"What do you know about my brother?"

He raised his hands in mock surrender, the same wily grin still in place, careful steps moving towards her and away from the SUV where Lowery was now locked away. "Oh, little of everything, I suppose. Address, schedule, hobbies..."

There was an underlying threat there. Her gut clenched, rolled like a dying animal. And all Claire could come to understand was that this dangerous mercenary knew this information with the sole purpose of killing her big brother.

In a split second the scarred mercenary disarmed her, flipping the gun around on her. Claire froze, breath hitching, and Nikolai playfully chortled.

"Ohhhh, too slow, little Claire!"

He was a complete blur, she could barely register what just happened. This man was dangerous. Very dangerous.

She kept his gaze with the dirtiest look she could muster, hiding her worry, exposing her anger. After all, if Nikolai spoke the truth about Wesker having her under his protection, what was there to fear? Especially of him?

"You're going to kill my brother?" Claire hissed.

"Only if you do not do as you're told. It's simply collateral, printsessa."

"Wesker fucking hired you to do this?"

Nikolai chuckled. "You're surprised? Comrade Wesker doesn't get his hands dirty unless he has to. Why would he when he has pawns or even paid professionals like myself?"

Claire wasn't surprised. But she was still livid. Feeding off of her anger, Nikolai continued to spite her.

"Don't worry, I'm only having little fun." He slipped the gun inside his coat and opened the front passenger door of the SUV for her. "Come along, printsessa. I take you back to where you belong. It is in my best interest that I return you in perfect condition."

Offended, she snapped, "I belong at home with my brother!"

Nikolai half-shrugged. God, she wanted to shoot that smug grin off his face. "That is not what comrade Wesker thinks."

"I don't give a damn what he thinks!"

The younger Redfield didn't have much of a choice. If she didn't go with Nikolai, he would kill her brother under orders from Wesker. But going with him also meant going into the open arms of the enemy.

Biting her tongue, fists clenched, she got inside the vehicle and her pompous companion closed the door and went around and got in the driver's seat. Claire looked back at the unconscious Lowery. Nikolai had tied his arms to the backseat in case he woke up.

"You are in interesting position," Nikolai stated after driving for a bit. "Both blessing and curse to have Wesker's protection. But even more interesting is how obsessed he seems with you."

"I'm just trying to get back to my normal life, whatever it takes."

Nikolai's hollow laugh filled the cab. "He's not going to let you go...not by what I saw."

Claire didn't say anything, both mad and upset that he was probably right. She stared out the window. Raccoon City life went on, even after dark. Busy, bustling, oblivious, day and night.

"He had girl like you awhile back...five, six years ago. Pretty little thing, not much older than you, red hair too. Emigrated here working for Umbrella, eastern Europe, I think."

"What happened to her?" Claire asked, suddenly interested.

Nikolai shrugged apathetically. "No one knows for sure. Most rumors revolve around her fleeing for some reason. Going into hiding. Personally, I think Wesker just got bored of her and ran her off. I guess we'll never really know."

Claire grew quiet, although more questions burned within her about this mysterious woman. Maybe it was best to leave well enough alone; but it did make her more curious about Wesker and the seemingly endless secrets he had. Just a while ago, she would have thought it impossible that Wesker would care about anyone but himself.

Her inner pondering got her the mercenary's sarcastic quip in return. "Oh, don't worry, Claire! She's long gone. Wesker has his eyes on you and you alone. He's all yours! Ahh, you don't know how many females would kill to be in your place right now."

Nikolai's creepy chortle unsettled her. She focused on the passing scenery outside her window. But perhaps it wasn't the mercenary's vile laugh that really unsettled her, but the way her pulse rocketed in tune with an excited warmth in her groin...

Claire began to wonder how they would get the unconscious Lowery out of the car and down into NEST when Nikolai parked the SUV in the alleyway behind an Umbrella pharmacy. Her inner questions were soon answered when a few men in black mercenary suits came outside. Nikolai barked orders at them in Russian as they yanked the professor out without an ounce of sympathy.

She had a real bad feeling when Nikolai motioned her to follow them. The pharmacy was closed, dark, but they went into the back where a security door was. A pharmacist was there waiting, dressed in her appropriate attire and swiped a keycard to allow them entry. She didn't look like she was being coerced or intimidated. In fact, she looked more annoyed than anything, as though letting these thugs through her business put a huge damper on her beauty sleep.

By the time they took a large elevator down into the sewers, Lowery started coming to. But the two hefty men carrying him under the arm pits would have no problem keeping him under control. They followed along the marked passageways that would take them to NEST.

"Oh God, no! Please, no!" Lowery cried, recognizing their surroundings. He fought with the men who carried him, pleaded even. "Just kill me now! Don't hand me over to that devil!"

But his cries went ignored. Claire felt bad for the man, even after he had tried to kill her. She didn't blame him for his futile fighting and begging. Wesker would surely condemn this man to a horrible death and write it off as some sort of accident, never to be questioned.

Even as they trekked through the clean, bright hallways of NEST, Lowery's cries for help and mercy went unanswered. Some Umbrella workers simply turned a blind eye while others paused to enjoy watching the man's misfortune.

They stopped at an intersection of hallways. Although Lowery had exhausted himself struggling with his captors, he still quietly sobbed for his life. He stared puffy-eyed at Claire and it hurt her to the bone. She was responsible for his fate. If only he hadn't followed her. If only he had let her go.

"You don't know who you're working for," he said to her. "He's a monster! The absolute worst!'

"I'm so sorry. I didn't want any of this to happen," Claire replied, feeling guilty. She wasn't sure he would believe her. "Wesker blackmailed me. I'm just trying to protect my brother."

Lowery's face scrunched up, and strangely he laughed. A snorty, "fuck-it-all" laugh that was more creepy than anything. "I wasn't talking about Wesker."

The college student was caught off guard, just assuming the professor was talking about her own captor. But it didn't take her long to realize who he was really talking about.

"Consider yourself lucky." His last words were muttered, bitter.

Nikolai nodded to his men, and they started dragging him off down one long, blindingly white hallway. Lowery had given up fighting, his eyes haunted, searing into hers as he was hauled off, probably never to be seen again.

"Come along, printsessa. Wesker awaits your return."

Claire hesitated, perturbed, telling herself that Lowery was a bad man and deserved what he got, and that she had to do what she did to save Chris. She joined Nikolai as they took a different route, her steps without as much pep as his, thinking.

"Ah, cheer up, Claire! You looked out for most important person. Yourself! This saves precious brother in end!"

She would've been insulted by his words if she hadn't been so damn confused on why Lowery was more afraid of William than he was of Wesker.

"What is William going to do to that man? Why was he more afraid of him than Wesker?"

Nikolai half-glanced at her, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "They're two different monsters, printsessa. There are fates worse than death if you haven't figured that out already."

Annette had said those very same words to her before. And although she had understood the concept, fearing that her blackmailing and enslavement to Wesker would go on forever, there was something about the way that Nikolai had said it that disturbed her on a deeper level.

"Who do you think has more empathy?"

Claire looked at him, confused. "William. Obviously."

Nikolai chuckled. "Then you do not know Birkin very well!" When she stayed quiet, he continued. "Wesker has more empathy, even if it's indirect most of time."

Claire scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

"It's true! Take Dr. Lowery for example. Comrade Wesker would've just saved us all the trouble and put a bullet between his eyes. But Birkin has to have something more...exciting. Lowery would've preferred that bullet. Therefore, in such instance, Wesker has more empathy. And, well, there's you, isn't there? Most people would've died in your situation, but Wesker spared you...even if it was for nefarious motives. And the fact that he has given you his protection is quite telling!"

"What is William going to do?"

Nikolai shrugged. "Not for me to say. Unless, of course, you wish to purchase such secrets from me."

She glared at the greedy son of a bitch. "Not in your life."

Again, the Russian mercenary was amused and not at all insulted. "As you wish. But here is free advice, printsessa. Take it or leave it. The thing about Wesker and Birkin is that they do not have the capacity to care for anyone outside of their private circle. Wesker only cares for Birkin and his unbearingly cute daughter - besides himself, of course. And that care doesn't even extend to his own best friend's wife. But...there are some pretty convincing rumors that he cared about the last redhead that came before you. Birkin rarely cares for anyone outside his family and Wesker. Though from what I heard he's fond of you for some reason!"

Claire rolled her eyes, but unfortunately, he wasn't finished.

"Mark my words, printsessa. If one falls, the other will. Especially Birkin. Wesker will probably recover, perhaps be driven more by his hatred without Birkin to keep it at bay. But Birkin...he'll absolutely lose it. I give him two weeks before he's falling apart, showing the monster he really is, and I wouldn't doubt he'll eat his own family alive if that happens."

"You make it sound like that's going to happen soon."

"Nah...just eventually. Everybody makes mistakes, even comrade Wesker. One day they may have to reap what they have sown. And if comrade Sergei gets his wish, we will see these two partners in crime turn on each other like dogs when push comes to shove, common goals be damned. Ultimately, they're only out for themselves. Their symbiosis will come to an end one day, that's inevitable."

A large laboratory-like room came upon their left, long windows allowing Claire and Nikolai to peer inside as they made their way to the automatic door further down. Claire noticed right away that the Birkins were bickering over something near a large computer screen. Wesker was on the opposite side of the room on the phone, fingers on his other ear as if to tune his coworkers out. He was facing the window and so noticed them right away. Claire could tell by how his naked eyes caught them and he smirked.

But a surprise addition she wasn't expecting was Sherry. The little girl held up a piece of paper, trying to get her parents' attention. She went unnoticed…

When the automatic door slid open to let Claire and Nikolai into the room, Sherry was the only Birkin to notice. She looked over her shoulder with startled eyes. She barely looked at them, Claire didn't even have time to wave at her, before she spun and raced across the room. And just like the younger Redfield saw before, the child took refuge behind the monster that had Claire by a tight leash.

The first thing Claire thought was that it was sad that a young girl felt she had to retreat across a large room to take cover behind her godfather when she had been right beside her parents…Worst yet, her parents continued on, unaffected that their child ditched them to hide behind someone else and barely noticed the arrival of company.

Wesker held up a finger to tell them he would be with them momentarily. Sherry peeked her head out from behind him and instantly brightened when she recognized Claire. She came out of her "safe zone" and over to Claire, careful to avoid getting near Nikolai or looking at him.

"Hi, Claire!"

Claire greeted her with a bright, positive smile. "Hello, Sherry!"

The young girl barely allowed her to finish before hugging her tightly around the waist. Taken aback at first, the college student returned the hug and rubbed Sherry's head.

"You look so cute today! I love that outfit."

Sherry grinned. "Thanks. Look what I drew!" And held up the same paper she had presented to her parents.

Claire was expecting a random doodle kids Sherry's age often produced, with their colorful imagination. She gasped at what she was shown. It was really good. Like really good. Probably better than Claire could ever draw. It was a cat dozing on a tree limb, all sketched in pencil and shaded.

"Wow, Sherry! This is really good!"

"You think?" Birkin's little girl wondered with a blush, nervously rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Seriously, I need to take some pointers from you. Did you have a picture to look at or something?"

Sherry shook her head. "No, just saw a cat doing that on my way to school this morning and drew it from memory."

This girl had a photogenic memory apparently. That didn't surprise Claire, the young girl already acted like she was quite intelligent for her age. She looked and acted like her father a lot, and must have gotten both of her parents' gifted smarts.

"That's incredible, Sherry. I love it."

Sherry blushed even deeper, but didn't have time to say anything before Nikolai butted in shamelessly, bending down, hands on his knees to get to her level, his toothy grin making the young girl nervous.

"Ah, aren't you a clever and talented little devushka! Taking right after mama and papa! Such a bright future ahead of you!"

Claire glared at the asshole and was about to give him a piece of her mind, protecting Sherry, when a dark, tall figure stepped directly in between Nikolai and Sherry. Sherry instantly looked relieved, and clinged to her familiar wall. Nikolai slowly stood up straight, unfazed by the glare that would have incinerated most men.

Wesker didn't even have to say anything. Nikolai put up his hands in fake submission, and Claire was sure this man wasn't afraid of anything since he didn't even bat an eye to the scariest person in the room.

"Oh, forgive me, comrade. I have overstepped boundaries. I meant no harm."

"Yes, you did, you fucking asshole," Claire snapped.

Nikolai chuckled, but kept his attention on his employer. "Your lyubovnik is bold. I can see why you like her so much, comrade. Should've seen how she handled 'ol Lowery when he attacked her."

The Birkins had stopped bickering and came over to get in on the conversation at hand. And even with them being nearby, Sherry remained behind her "uncle".

Wesker's lip barely curled at Nikolai's gibe. "And where is Dr. Lowery now? Was he...taken care of?"

Claire was sure he said that in such a way just for the sake of Sherry, and that surprised her.

"Forgive me, but your...request was outbid by best friend."

Wesker glared William's way, but the eccentric researcher just fist pumped like an excited kid. "Yes!"

Nikolai chuckled. "After all, no one knows the value of human life quite like Dr. Birkin."

"Of course they don't! I mean I am a doctor, after all!" William snorted and ruffled Sherry's hair, getting her to giggle. "Relax, Al! I'll take good care of our guest! Thanks, Nikky!"

"I'm sure you will," Wesker stated as William left the laboratory, on a mission. Under William's delighted smile and hums as he left, Claire fleetingly noticed tiny traces of something dark, something ruthless. And she understood Lowery would never be seen again.

Wesker turned to Nikolai and Annette after his partner had gone. "Nikolai, I'll escort you out. We have much to discuss. Anne, dear, please keep Miss Redfield comfortable until I return."

Annette sighed. "What am I now, your babysitter? Come on, Albert...I have enough to do as it is, I'm behind schedule even without having to take care of your…," She gave Claire an unreadable glance, "...guest."

Sherry's mother turned and went back to her project at one corner of the room, where she and William had been bickering earlier, busying herself with whatever was displayed on the computer's monitor. Claire glared at her back. This woman was something else! When first meeting with Claire she seemed curious, albeit a little skeptical, and gave Claire advice on Wesker. Now this. Then again, Annette was always absorbed in her work to barely be concerned with her own child.

"Come along, comrade," Wesker mocked, motioning for the Russian mercenary to follow him.

But before he left, Nikolai had one last piece of advice to give Claire. "Remember printsessa...If you are going to dwell among wolves...you should howl like one."

He winked at her and left with that eerie grin on his face. Once it was just Claire, Sherry, and Annette, the tension in the room nearly dissipated completely. Sherry snatched Claire's hand and tried dragging her away from the exit.

"I don't see that man too often, but he's scary. C'mon, let's go sit in the break room, I have more drawings to show you!"

The college student hesitated at first, still confused over Nikolai's final advice. She shook it from her thoughts and allowed the young girl to guide her past her mother and into the little break room attached to the laboratory.

"Momma, me and Claire are gonna go draw in the break room, you should join us!"

"That's nice, sweetie," Annette mumbled while looking into a microscope.

Claire tightened the grip around Sherry's hand and stopped, glaring at Annette, but Sherry tugged on her. "It's okay, she's busy. Come on!"

It took all of her willpower to bite her tongue, only doing so because of Sherry. They went to the table and sat down. Sherry showed off her drawings in a sketchbook that was falling apart. Nearly all the pages were filled with her artwork, many loose and sticking out all over the place. The girl exuberantly showed off her illustrations. Claire was just as excited to see them all, and found joy that the young Birkin was out of her shell now.

"They're all so good. Sherry, you should become a professional artist when you grow up!"

Sherry beamed. "Really? Daddy says I'm gonna be a doctor like him some day. I want to do both. I want to help people like they do."

Claire smiled, hiding the worry from such a statement. "You are so smart and talented, you can do whatever you want to. I know it."

"Thank you, Claire!" The girl blushed with a sweet smile. Claire couldn't believe such a cute, sweet little girl could come from such horrible parents that let a psychopath raise her half the time. "I wish my parents showed as much interest in me as you. I mean, they do, just...I don't know. Sometimes they're just so absorbed in their work, that's all they know." Sherry frowned. "...or care about."

"Well, they aren't focusing on what's important then. I hope one day that they do."

Sherry nervously played with the crinkled corner of one of her artworks. "What are your parents like, Claire?"

The pain that ripped through her heart wasn't expected. Claire took a deep breath and smiled at the girl. "Well, I lost them when I was around your age. But...I remember my mom being...fearless. She wasn't afraid of anything, it seemed. She loved motorcycles. I got my love of motorcycles from her. My dad...he was patient and so much fun. He played guitar. He was teaching me before…"

Sherry was quiet for a long moment, and she grabbed Claire's hand and squeezed. "What...happened to them?"

"Car accident. It's weird...they were both special forces in the Air Force. Seemed invincible to me as a kid. And they were gone in a split second...just like that."

"Oh no! That's terrible! Were you all alone?"

"No...no. I have an older brother. He's a cop...he works with Wesker. He raised me with the help from some old family friends. We lost everything from our old home though."

"What, why? So you don't have anything from your parents?"

"My uncle...distant uncle, my mom's brother. He lives in Stone Ville. He got the house and all the belongings because my brother wasn't an adult at the time. And he never liked our father or us very much. So he took it away from us. Blamed our father for the accident."

Sherry's hands clamped over her mouth and nose in an instant, shocked by the heartlessness of Claire's uncle. "That's awful!" she mumbled from behind dainty fingers.

Claire half-shrugged, swallowing the resentment she still had for that family member. "Chris and I have come to terms with it. Most of it meant nothing to us anyway. He sold the house and most of the stuff a long time ago, but he keeps a few important things in storage. Some things we hope to get one day."

Sherry bit her lip. "Like what?"

"Pictures, mostly. My dad's guitar. My brother really wants their military medals. Me...there's just one picture I really want. It's my parents on my mom's red motorcycle, dressed in their military attire, before they had us. I remember adoring it as a kid. They looked like superheroes to me. But…"

"But what?"

Claire swallowed, ignoring the burn in her eyes. "I'm afraid I'm gonna forget what they look like one day. That picture gets more and more fuzzy as the years go by."

Sherry gasped and looked horrified, sad for her, staring up at her with big blue eyes. Claire cleared her throat, putting on a big smile. She got so caught up in her reminiscing that she made the girl just as sad she was. "Sorry. Hey, don't worry about it! It will all work out in the end. I know it!"

Sherry leaned in and hugged her close. "I hope so! Or else we can send Nikolai to scare him," the blond girl joked slyly, face crushed against her.

That tickled a snorted laugh out of the young Redfield. "Yeah, he better not tempt me! One more thing though...could you keep this between us?"

The last thing she needed was something else for Wesker to have over her head.

She pulled back with a small smile. "I promise! I sure would like to meet your brother one day. He must be strong and brave if he works with Uncle Albert!"

Claire wished she could understand the closeness she felt to this little girl after knowing her for such a short period. Maybe a little sister she never had, or a daughter perhaps that Claire would want one day.

"He is. He's the best."

Light knocking startled them both, and Claire's heart spun when she saw Wesker in the doorway of the breakroom. There was no door separating the rooms, and so she could only hope he hadn't been there long and overheard their conversation.

"Hi, Uncle Albert! Claire just told me that her brother works with you!"

The STARS Captain moved inside, a small smirk forming. He no longer sported the lab coat from earlier, but was still dressed exquisitely. "Yes, he does. He's one of my best men, actually."

"Oh, neat, are you guys friends?!"

"Best of friends," Wesker chuckled, although his ambiguous tone and smile was directed towards Claire.

"Even more than Daddy?" Sherry gasped.

Wesker's smile towards Sherry was a lot less menacing and he held out his arm. "Of course not, darling."

Sherry took his arm and squeaked in delight as he picked her up effortlessly out of the chair and let her dangle for a moment like a doll before setting her down on her feet.

"I see you were providing Claire with some pleasant company. Thank you, Sherry."

Wesker offered his hand with a sly smile, but Claire refused it. She stood up on her own with a defiant look that only made her captor's smirk grow.

"Of course, Uncle Albert! I just love having Claire come by to visit. Can't you bring her around more often? Please, pretty please?!"

"I'm sure we could work on that."

"Yay!" Sherry exclaimed, hugging Claire real quick before going over to the table to gather up her art supplies and sketchbook.

"Are you ready, dear heart?"

Claire hated that he said that pet name right in front of Sherry. As if she needed any more reasons to fantasize about them hooking up. "Ready for what?"

"We're leaving."

"W-Where?" she inwardly panicked.

"My personal quarters here in the facility. We have much to discuss."

Somewhere behind them, Sherry giggled into her hand and quickly hid her face behind her sketchbook to avoid being reprimanded for butting into their business. Wesker let it slide - for now.

Claire shook her head. "No, we can do that tomorrow. I have to get home to Chris. He'll be worried."

"He'll be fine," Wesker countered. "He's at the bar with friends, most notably Jill, which means he won't be home until late, or until nature takes its course between them. We wouldn't want to disrupt that now, would we?" He leered gleefully at her.

She glared at him, ignoring his comment about the possibility of any...lewd content...between her brother and Jill, even if she was very aware of the attraction between the two. But now was not the time nor place to be concerned over that.

"The sooner we get our "business" out of the way, the sooner you can go home."

It wasn't like she had a choice, no matter how much she fought him. Claire reluctantly agreed, for the sake of doing this quickly and getting it over with. But deep down, some strange, new instinct had awoken. She wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. She was certain going to Wesker's quarters with him alone would prove to be dangerous, bad, very bad. But this new instinct was okay with that, and it made her nerves tingle like she was high on drugs.

Wesker's private quarters within the NEST facility looked like a richy hotel room, only without a grand view of a beach or cityscape. The lights automatically kicked on when they entered. It was either hardly used or strictly kept up by a housekeeper. Immaculate. Expensive. There was a lounge area with leather sofas and a cherry wood table between them. The kitchen had expensive countertops and appliances, and even a bar. And from where she stood, Claire could see the open door that led into a large, dark bedroom.

"You should see William's quarters," Wesker stated after noticing her admiring the room. "It's nicer than his actual house. But he and Anne do practically live down here."

He took her parka from her and hung it up near the door. "Drink?" he offered, heading towards the bar. "I know I need one."

"Yeah," she mumbled, distracted, and then realized what she agreed to and glared at his back. "Only if I watch you pour it!"

"So suspicious," Wesker chuckled as he retrieved a couple of glasses and pulled out a bottle of wine from a fancy wine rack, checking the bottle over before pouring. "Trust me, if I do end up having to eliminate you, it will be a little more...exciting."

"Gee, thanks. That's totally increasing my trust in you."

He huffed a laugh and held out the glass full of a dark red liquid to her, clearly not fazed by her sarcastic comment in the least. Claire slowly took it from him and they sat down across from one another on the sofas. She gave in fast and took a sip. The redhead had been thirsty for quite a while. And a little peckish too, if she was being honest...espionage obviously made her hungry. You learn something new every day, she scoffed at herself silently. The wine was a rich merlot and it warmed her tongue and made her stomach fizzle.

"You do know you're contributing to a minor with this, right?"

"Well, I am an officer of the law. I'm quite aware of that."

"Are you sure you're an officer of the law?"

He shrugged, unimpressed, his steely grey eyes seemingly putting Claire more on edge than when he had his sunglasses on. "I have sundry jobs, if only you knew half of them. Then again, I would have to kill you if you did." Wesker smirked, unashamed.

Claire took a big gulp of her wine, either trying to settle her empty stomach or pacify her flurried nerves. "But mostly you're a corrupt cop by day and mad scientist by night. Got it."

His lips quirked in amusement. "You have me all figured out, apparently. And what about you, my dear?" There he went staking claim to her again. "Not so much a "good girl" yourself, hmm? The wine, for instance. If you're so offended by me serving you any, you could've just declined. I'm sure you're like any other college girl and drink plenty when big brother isn't watching."

Touché. She did go drinking and partying with her friends a lot. Without Chris knowing, of course.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged, and then balked, squeaking, "Please don't tell Chris!"

"Your secret is safe with me, dear heart."

Her heart did a weird flip that made her stomach feel warmer than the wine, and then she discerned it was time to get this meeting over with and get home as soon as possible.

"So, what is it you have to discuss with me, exactly? I'm sure it's too much to hope that you're finally setting me free?"

"It is. But do not fret yourself, my dear, you are making headway in our...agreement. I applaud you for your accomplishment tonight. No one else could have done it quite like you. I'm almost tempted to say...you're a natural."

"Thanks," Claire said dryly. "So, what about that doctor and other professor? What happens to them? Why hack into the hard drives of the university's research center?"

"Such questions are dangerous, Miss Redfield. You wish to get yourself deeper into this conspiracy? Best to leave it alone if you want to return to your normal life…"

She didn't say anything to that. He had a point, although it didn't make her feel any better about what kind of situation she had put these men in, whether they deserved it or not. Her being complicit in their (most probably) unpleasant fate somehow made her uneasy. Claire tried not to imagine what would await them now that their futures were at Wesker and Birkin's mercy...and would most likely be cut short.

"...unless you don't want to return to "normal"?" he smirked, a little too sanguine in his insinuation.

Claire avoided answering that, still upset over the fates of the two professors and the doctor. "Are those men bad like you?"

Wesker eyed her, sloshing around the little remains of wine in his glass. He stood, drinking the rest and then placing the glass on the table. He approached her, making her heart leap like a startled cat, and when he sat down beside her, she knew she was trapped.

"They make me look like a saint," he replied, placing his hand over his heart - or at least where it was supposed to be - in a gesture of mock sincerity. But she didn't believe him. "Trust me. They deserve whatever's coming to them."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed, and wanted to scoot away from him, but some kind of pull kept her frozen in place.

"Perhaps you should look in the mirror, dear heart. It's obvious by tonight's events that your "good girl" demeanor is merely a front to a more adventurous and daring version of yourself...the true Claire. The Claire your brother never sees or even suspects because he lives in his little bubble of self-righteousness. He would never guess that the real Claire hides from the world, afraid of judgement. His judgement. Afraid of being judged for who she really is and what she really wants. The Claire that I see when I look at you…"

He wasn't talking about her defiant and rebellious nature that everyone knew, and often associated as typical Redfield traits, but something darker. She immediately refuted it, glaring at him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Although her defensive denial only made him smirk.

He's playing mind games with you. Ada and William warned you about this. Keep it together!

"I think you do," Wesker insisted. "I saw it the first time I laid eyes on you. You enjoyed being complicit tonight, the adrenaline rush, the danger, yes? The fact that you got away with it and, in a way, set up three cruel men to the fates they deserve. Satisfying, isn't it?"

His words hit too close to home. Claire could barely breathe, but stayed solid. Her heart pounded in her ear, she clenched her fingers on her thighs to where her knuckles turned white. Still, she glared at him, defying, but it was hard to keep his intense gaze.

"I didn't enjoy anything I did tonight. I did what I had to because you blackmailed me!"

Her instincts were all over the place. Some of them told her to get out of there. To move away from him, but the others told her to stay, to continue challenging him. But there was no winning either way. He was manipulating her and despite her best efforts it was working, but, in a way, she also knew he was telling the truth.

"Irrelevant," Wesker dismissed her protest. "You still went through with it. You can deny it all you want, but I see right through it. You take pleasure walking the line of morality. And lying to yourself is both pointless and a waste of time. I know you better than you think. I can read you like a book, Claire...although admittedly a riveting one."

She hated how pragmatic he was, but mostly abhorred how right he was.

Okay, so what if she did have a little fun tonight? So what if slinking around, danger at every corner, was a little thrilling to her? Was that so bad? It certainly contributed to her rebellious nature, but that didn't make her bad. That didn't make them alike, no matter what he seemed to think he knew of her.

Don't do it. Don't give him what he wants.

"Even if you were right...which you aren't," Claire retorted, and then inwardly facepalmed, because that wasn't blatantly obvious that she fell for his trap. "What exactly are you trying to get out of me?"

"Nothing much...except that I want you to stop fooling yourself. You might as well be on the same side as me. You, Claire, are a thrill seeker. You love the adrenaline of doing forbidden things, feeding off those thrills and any power or advantage you gain from them. Not all that different from me. Your excuses for not going after what you really want in life are threadbare at best…You have the potential to take whatever you want if you would just let go of your fruitless morals."

Her conscience came through in Wesker's spell of smoke and mirrors, and she shot to her feet. So fast, her head spun for a moment, the light burn of the wine she had drank sizzling in her gut.

"You know nothing about what I want. This conversation is over," Claire ordered. "We're done here."

Wesker sighed, pushing himself out of his seat, seemingly unaffected that she desperately tried to flee his influence. "If you insist. But you won't be able to run from the truth forever. Sooner or later, you'll see that I'm right."

Claire chewed on her lip, this strange mix of dread and excitement making her woozy. She wanted it to go away, but she had a feeling it was about to get a lot worse.

The STARS leader returned to her with her parka in hand, holding it as she slipped into it. He leaned in close as she got dressed, murmuring into her ear, "But I think you're wrong...I think I do have a pretty good idea of what you want, Claire...you're merely postponing the inevitable."

His hands held her shoulders as Claire stood there with her back to him, petrified at being called out. No, he's lying. He's setting you up, don't listen to him!

Okay, maybe he did have a pretty good reading on her, she finally had to admit to herself. But she wasn't about to admit it to him. No! Never!

The narcissistic asshole rubbed his hand down her spine, smoothing out the wrinkles of her parka. The electric spark that ignited every fiber of her body made Claire spin around and face him directly.

The younger Redfield was aware of what would happen if she wasn't careful. He had done exactly what she had been warned about, using her defiance and denial against her to seduce her. She felt so exposed to how easily he had read her, when she couldn't even admit it herself.

Wesker opened the door for her, but there was an underlying challenge there in his show of chivalry. "After you, dear heart."

Claire told herself there were two choices here. If she walked out that door, nothing would happen. She would be returned home to her brother. But maybe she would only be "postponing the inevitable", like he said…

But her own bravado wouldn't let her walk out that door. Wesker led her right into a standoff of power he knew she wouldn't back down to.

It was one thing to dwell among this vicious pack of wolves and howl with them like Nikolai had advised. It was another to mess around with the Alpha.

Her heart may have been beating on her ribs, but she wasn't about to give into him lying down. She had one last act of defiance up her sleeve that she hoped would wipe that smirk off his face, since her obvious hesitation told him he had her right where he wanted her.

How much worse can it get anyway? Fuck it!

The redhead pushed herself onto her tip toes and kissed him. She was so determined to spite him and gain some kind of control, she didn't care what kind of fire she had just started. And what did they say? If you play with fire, you're going to get burned.

When her brother's corrupt boss slammed that door shut after returning her reckless kiss, Claire knew she would get burned tonight. But if the smoldering in her chest and thighs were any indication, she wasn't at all concerned. Even her initial irritation at him for not being taken off guard by her initiation - had he been expecting this after all?! - was soon forgotten.

What Claire quickly learned was that he was a great kisser. The taste of the merlot was on their lips, fuel for their fervent kissing. Her hands squeezed his shirt, tugging him closer.

Just as she was cursing his height, one strong arm wrapped around her lower back and picked her up. Effortlessly. Like she was a pillow. She squeaked in surprise, having never been picked up like that before. Her legs, through no control of her own, instantly wrapped around his waist.

He walked somewhere, but Claire couldn't determine where while they smacked lips. She felt drunk, but she hadn't ingested that much wine. Eager to taste more of it on him, she pushed for entry into his mouth with her tongue.

Wesker did allow her entry for a few precious seconds before he dropped her on something soft. A quick glance as her fingers found their way under his shirt determined it was the back of one of the leather sofas, which allowed her to be closer to his height sitting down while he remained standing.

"For someone so determined to stay in denial, you sure are eager," Wesker teased.

"Shut up!"

His smirk infuriated her as he dipped lower to suck on her neck. Claire tried pushing him away but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "No marks where Chris can see!"

He seized her ponytail and tugged hard, and Claire figured he was about to reprimand her. She hissed, but soon her hair fell down all around her face. He kissed her throat, and although his hands explored, he kept her steady on the furniture.

He kissed her ear, and Claire was certain he would tell her that it wasn't his problem if he left marks on her.

"Don't worry, dear heart. It's our little secret." Wow. She was surprised he was being considerate of her wishes. Or maybe he just liked being clandestine. "No promises for next time though." Never mind.

"There won't be a next time," she claimed.

The STARS Captain didn't reply to that, although his lips quirked upward, blatantly cocky. Instead, he claimed her lips again, giving her a tongue lashing of a different kind.

Claire kept her legs clamped around his waist, helping her keep balance as they kissed and sucked and explored. She soon became quite aware of the growing bulge pinching into her thigh.

He pushed on her, as if instinct told him to pin her down onto the nonexistent floor. If she leaned any further back, she'd fall onto the cushions.

Wesker quickly grew tired of bothersome clothes. He ripped her shirt off and tossed it aside. Claire had already long discarded her stuffy parka.

When she tugged on his nice, black shirt to be tossed, he obliged without hesitation. Claire stared, her hands eagerly roaming over his muscular torso and arms. He was ripped! He made the few college guys she messed around with look like weaklings, and they were jocks.

"Like what you see?"

The part time spy could only nod, throat suddenly dry. She expected him to come back with a highly conceited reply, but he spared her once more.

"Good. So do I."

About that time, an experienced flick of his hand popped her bra strap. Her bra fell to the floor. Claire removed her hands from exploring Wesker's chiseled chest in the midst of a deep kiss to cover herself. Her wrists were snatched before she could do so.

"No more hiding...no more games," he ordered.

His hands stroked up and down her sides, over the peaks of her breasts and fondling them. His rough kisses skimmed from her lips, down her throat to her nipples, driving her mad. The younger Redfield's chest felt like her ribs would shatter any second from her heart. Heat pooled between her legs, her nerves sparked at every ending.

Wesker claimed one perky breast in his mouth, one muscular arm curled around her back, arched from the swirls and patterns from his tongue. Claire grazed a hand through his gelled hair, pushing her crotch into the hardened mass cradled in her thigh. It was so big she didn't understand how he could stand it still being confined.

A few grinds against his at attention member with her groin and he half growled, half groaned and released her breast from his teeth.

"You're awfully bold. Just remember it isn't a good idea to start what you cannot finish."

Another challenge. He knew just how to push her buttons. And that was exactly how she got into this situation, giving him exactly what he wanted.

"It's not my first time. Now, you gonna get this show on the road or what?" Claire hoped he didn't see through her false bravado and thinly veiled attempt at glossing over her nerves.

Besides, it may not have been her first time having sex, she'd done it a few times with college guys she knew, but Wesker was a whole different level than them. She was intimidated, but did all in her power to hide it.

"As you wish," he snickered. Yep, he saw right through her defense.

He leaned in, kissing her a few times on the lips, and just as Claire was relaxing, he bent and bit the side of one breast. She gasped, eyes shooting open and next thing she knew he pulled her off the couch to stand.

"Undress. Now." The authority in his voice both irked and aroused her.

She obeyed...stubbornly. Claire took her time sliding out of her pants and panties after kicking off her boots. It was hard to do with his eyes on her, head slightly cocking as he enjoyed every second of it. Why did he have to have such daunting and beautiful eyes?

Quietly, he admired her curves and athletic body. He must have sensed her incoming sarcastic comment on his silence because just as she opened her mouth, he kissed it right off her lips. One hand closed dangerously around her throat just before he shoved one knee in between her legs. He hoisted her right back up on top of the sofa, like she weighed nothing again.

It did little to interrupt their make out session. Wesker's hands were a strange mix of rough and smooth, and petting over her silky skin, it roused every little inch in goosebumps. She could feel the power in those hands, strong enough to kill her without much effort if he wanted to.

The fact that Wesker was so dangerous only fed Claire's libido. Besides it all being wrong and forbidden on so many levels, he was a very attractive man, megalomania aside. The college guys, or boys she might as well admit, she could've beaten to a pulp if she wanted to. Her brother's boss was the ultimate dominant male with a killer twist.

His hands retracted from her body, disappointing her until she heard the clinking of his belt buckle. Her pulse quickened at that and then skyrocketed when she heard his pants unzip.

Wesker slid her hindquarters out from the couch, balancing her on the back of the couch to the curve of her back. Her legs had retained their hold on his waist, but she held onto the cushions for dear life when he began kissing her breasts and stomach, slowly heading south. His hands caressed around her hips and squeezed her buttocks.

"Not to worry, Claire, I won't be dropping my prize anytime soon."

She wasn't worried about being dropped though. Strangely enough, she was used to his mocking tone by now that she knew it was his very own, if somewhat odd, way of reassuring her, even if he was bragging in the process.

He pulled out of her legs just far enough so he could kiss her pelvis and thighs. One hand spread her legs open a bit more, the touch as electrifying as a lightning storm. She was plenty wet now, could feel it lubricating her inner canal and vulva, preparing for an invasion.

Wesker tested with one finger, rubbing her clit in a soft circle before entering it inside her. He smiled into her abdomen as he sucked below her belly button. The second finger insertion caused her to groan louder than she cared to admit.

"How many partners have you had?" he asked. He sounded generally curious, and not at all mocking as he usually was.

Why did he care?

"T-Two." It was hard to concentrate with his sharp kisses in between her legs. "Why does it matter?"

He chuckled. "It won't after tonight."

What the hell does he mean by that?

The younger Redfield had no time to come up with a remark before his mouth took her pussy. She gasped, death gripping the couch cushions, letting the stimulating euphoria from her core spread through her body like a wildfire.

Her captor kissed and sucked on her clit, tongue rolling and sliding in marvelous patterns. Her previous partners never did this, only concerned with getting off themselves. Pressure continuously built as he lathered her with his tongue. Breathing became labored, her heartbeat was incredibly loud in her ears. Her legs wringed under him and she whined his name just as it became too much, on the verge of losing it.

But he stopped then, denying her right at the brink and she cursed under her breath, the high crashing from her brain and flustering her.

"Oh, did I stop too soon, Claire?" he teased. To provoke her further he rubbed his thumb over her wet opening and up over her clit and she involuntarily bucked from both anticipation and frustration.

"Sadistic asshole," she growled.

He didn't deny her insult, and probably would have agreed with her if he hadn't pushed himself over her and forcefully took her lips again. Her aggravation was soon forgotten as their kissing quickly became feverish and fierce. She let go of the sofa and let her hands explore his toned build. Her juices swapped between their lips and, really, that wasn't as bad as she thought it was going to be.

Claire slipped her hands down his exposed briefs to get her hands full. And she really did get a handful. He was way bigger than the last two. His rock hard member was at full attention in her hands, and Wesker softly groaned while kissing her jugular.

He must have sensed her trepidation though because he rose slightly, whispering into her ear. "Don't tell me you're losing your nerve just when it's getting interesting."

"N-No!" she snapped, his words perfectly rejumpstarting her resolution.

He kissed her jaw. "Then how about you finally admit to me what you really want? What I know you want…?"

A breath hitched in her throat. Claire couldn't admit it. She refused to! His mind games continued to torture her, but deep down she realized there was no hiding it. The secret was out...

"You…"

Wesker smirked. "Good girl."

Claire freed his cock from the confines of his pants. It was thick and long with a bulbous tip. The blood-filled flesh solid and ready. Quite ready.

Wesker grabbed her wrists and moved them away, sliding her legs out from the couch just a bit further. Claire gripped the couch again, her legs snaking around his waist, pulse palpitating in anticipation of what was about to happen.

Her lower back dug into the top of the couch when he bent over her again, but she didn't care. She wondered how it would feel with his whole weight on top of her. His kiss was potent, dizzying, like a shot of strong liquor.

The redhead's proverbial fiery attitude and impatient nature got the better of her, and she huffed, "I'm waiting," as she shivered, feeling his tip at her entrance.

"Good things come to those who wait," came his smug reply, his amusement apparent in his teasing undertone.

He penetrated her in one strong push, stretching and filling her all at once. Claire hissed at the pain at first, but it soon ebbed. Wesker gave her a moment to get used to him before he started rocking her. Slowly and steadily at first.

Claire's arms snaked around his back, stabilizing herself as her body see-sawed over the couch in each of his thrusts. He had a near death-grip on her hips; he wouldn't drop her.

She groaned into his claiming lips, each kiss seemingly getting more and more possessive and zealous, in league with each buck of his hips that grew stronger and faster. His dick glided in and out, covered in her juices and his pre-cum. Each time their pelvises connected, the tip of his cock rammed her cervix.

Claire moaned, the sweet, itchy pressure returning from within her canal, building at each of Wesker's powerful strokes. She squeezed her thighs around him tighter, fingers clenching into his muscular back. He returned her mewling and restlessness underneath him with a low groan, lifting her hips slightly for deeper access.

"I want to hear my name when you cum," he growled.

Several hard, deep thrusts later and the pressure blew, igniting her nerves, a drug-like high overcoming her senses as her body wracked and wringed in pure bliss. He kept pounding into her, even as she howled his name in drunk rapture. Her nails cut deep into his back as her whole body pulsated. She didn't have time to inhale precious air from her loud moans before Wesker silenced her completely with another dominating kiss.

His next few thrusts were erratic but even more penetrating, stretching her, preparing her body for his hazmat. Hot jets of Wesker's cum disgorged into her, coating her walls, filling her to the brim, almost sending her over the edge with another climax.

His slowing thrusts finally came to a stop, and all that could be heard was Claire's panting and Wesker's satisfied huff that warmed her throat. They stayed where they were for a moment, coming down off their ecstasy. Wesker still held Claire up, which was good because her limbs were useless now.

Wesker slowly, and dare she think reluctantly, pulled out of her. He picked her up off the couch and sat her on her own two feet, holding her steady. It gave her an odd, warm, fuzzy feeling to realize that he was waiting for her legs to be working properly again before he let go of her, preventing her from embarrassing herself by faceplanting right before his eyes after he turned her legs into overcooked spaghetti by the grace of his magic tongue and dick.

Huh. It's almost like he cares. Oh, who am I kidding...

He left her side long enough to get them some towels from the nearby kitchen. Claire took one gratefully and wiped up the mess between her legs. Wesker cleaned himself off and rebuckled his pants and slipped his shirt back on, watching Claire slowly and wobbly get dressed. There was no telling where her hair tie went. Her red-brown tresses would have to remain down for now.

Coming down off the high from the erotic encounter, Claire almost felt in shock of what exactly happened. She had just had sex with her brother's boss, the corrupt Captain of STARS, one of Raccoon City's most prominent men.

The younger Redfield was firstly ashamed of giving into him, letting him manipulate her right where he wanted her. She felt guilty doing that to Chris, especially in the middle of trying to protect him.

But at the same time...she was strangely intoxicated and satisfied with it. Sex with Wesker was a completely different experience than her previous, inexperienced partners. Addicting and alluring, and by far more gratifying. The thrill and danger from such an immoral coupling only confirmed that Wesker had been right about what she hid away.

That still didn't make her a bad person...right? Not like Wesker, anyway. Not like the rest of the wolves.

Her inner turmoil was only interrupted when Wesker picked up her parka and dusted it off, not that it got dirty laying on the super clean floor. He didn't offer it to her just yet, the two of them staring at each other in silence. Claire felt that Wesker was waiting for something, but she had no clue on what.

"And here I thought you would have something obstinate to say," he finally said with a smirk that was a bit less satirical than usual. "Trying to defend your recent questionable lapse in judgement, I'm sure. Strange, I only get silence."

She glared at him. "This," she motioned between them, "makes me nothing like you. And don't even think for a second it will make me help you hurt or kill innocent people. You might be a little right about the thrill-seeking, but that's it."

"It's liberating when you're honest with yourself, isn't it? More so, it's sensible," he countered. "In contrast to what you might believe, I don't purposely seek out people to hurt or kill, and they're rarely ever innocent. I only do so when they're in my way, it's convenient, or if I need to make a point." He stepped behind her and put her coat on for her. "The three men you helped me gain control over this evening, however, do, very much so. Do not worry yourself over their fates. They're well deserved, I assure you. Believe it or not, I am the lesser of two evils...this time. Now, any other self-justifying proclamations you wish to share?"

This guy was a real piece of work. She bit her tongue. "No."

He sighed, checking his watch. "Well, dear heart, I should get you home. It is getting late. Big brother will be back soon. Pity. Follow me."

He wrapped his arm around her lower back, urging her along towards the door. Her stomach flipped, the nerves in her back shivering delightfully. And she gulped on the inside, realizing her body would now naturally respond to him. She had unwittingly put herself in a much more dangerous situation because of her own stubbornness.

She only prayed Chris would never find out.

#resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #Albert Wesker #Claire Redfield #clairexwesker #claire x wesker #Chris Redfield #William Birkin #Annette Birkin #sherry birkin #nicholai ginovaef #resident evil 2 #Jill Valentine #Ada Wong #fanfiction #fanfic #My writing #AO3 fanfic

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razorcat26 · 4 years ago

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Chat Noir Weight Gain Story: Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Professor Animate

Ladybug and Chat Noir have to fight a new villain. How will Chat Noir manage to fight evil and fight off his desire to eat more.

Fandom: Miraculous Ladybug

Relationship: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug

Characters:Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug Plagg (Miraculous Ladybug)

Tags: Weight Gain Force-Feeding Belly Rubs Stuffing

All characters at 18+.

All characters are owned by their respective owners.

AO3

Their trip back to the city centre of Paris was fairly uneventful. Ladybug was just surprised at how agile Chat Noir was. He still managed to keep up with her, although every time he would land on top of a building, he would cause it to shake.

As the sun was beginning to rise, many Parisians were heading to work. Chat Noir would get the occasional glance from people on the street as they tried to figure out what that large black blob was, that was bouncing across the skyline.

Moving past the Eiffel Tower they both landed of one of the cobblestone streets, which was surrounded by small corner stores and terrace homes. They started to hear screams coming from one of the boulevards. They both turn towards where the noise was coming from. In the distance they spot a large wall of people running towards them. They both jump out of the way of the crowd and land back on their feet. The heroes then saw in the distance what looked like normally inanimate objects roaming around, causing chaos. Cars without people, lamp posts, post boxes and buses without drivers were walking, hoping, and driving by themselves. They were bashing and crashing into everything they saw. They were all glowing green like they were under some kind of spell, thought Ladybug. While all Chat Noir was thinking of was how hungry he was starting to feel after his labour-intensive journey.

Suddenly the objects start hurtling towards them but luckily both Ladybug and Chat Noir move out of the way from the out of control objects. The heroes then hop onto various signs and posts which were not affected by the mysterious green glow. The sign which Chat Noir landed started to bow from his weight. Ladybug then see a civilian trapped underneath a collapsed bus shelter. Using her quick thinking, she grabs out her yo-yo and lifts off the bus shelter to rescue a middle-aged woman who was trapped. The women then thanks the much skinnier hero and runs to safety.

Just then a tall, thin man appears from around the side of a building. He was wearing sharp pointed green glasses and was in a black and white striped suit. He had a long face with a clearly defined jaw line. He had a curly moustache and a sly grin on his face. “Well well well if it isn’t Ladybug and Chat Noir. I’m glad you’ve decided to show up to my lecture,” said the mysterious man. He did a double take when he glanced at the much larger Chat Noir, pointed, and said, “Wow… well it looks like this kitty has been having way too much milk,” laughs the man.

The heroes land back on the street pavement, ready to attack as Chat Noir growls, “I may have gained a little weight, but I can still move just as fast.”

Ladybug yells, “Who are you?”

“My name is Professor Animate and I’m here to teach you a lesson in physics,” he says as he pulls out a black fine tip pen from his dress shirt pocket. He then uses it as a wand, as a green beam of energy emerges from his pen and zaps one of the stationary cars. It begins glowing with a green aura as its engine begins to start up. It then races towards the two heroes. Ladybug uses her yo-yo to lift her up to safety. While Chat Noir dives out of the way. His gut freely jiggling as he places his hand on his belly to try and steady it.

Ladybug then uses her yo-yo to strike the akumatised villain, but he manages to dodge her attack. Ladybug then helps Chat Noir to his feet as he places his hand on his gut and says, “Still trying to get used to this.”

Ladybug, blushes bright red as she says to herself, “C’mon, stay focused.”

The Professor observes the increased tension between the two and then turns towards a now quiet bakery. He then uses his pen and zaps the pastries and cakes which were on the display shelves. They begin glowing with a green aura and miraculously start to roll out of the bakery. Ladybug charges towards the Professor and goes in for another attack.

While this was happening, the pastries roll towards Chat Noir. He uses his staff to push them away. However, he accidently trips and lands on his large rear. He drops his staff, and it rolls away from him. The pastries begin to overwhelm the large hero as they force themselves into his mouth. All Chat Noir could do was munch down on the sweets as they continued to enter his mouth. He begins to feel full of the pastries as he was still stuffed from his trip to the factory. While chowing down on a cinnamon roll he thinks to himself that he should come here on his next bakery raid.

“Enjoying your meal, fat Chat?”, laughs the Professor.

Ladybug, who was caught up with battling the akmatised villain, turns around to find her partner being force fed. “Don’t worry M’lady I got this. I’ve trained for thi…. mmmmffffh”, Chat Noir muffles a danish enters his mouth. Chat Noir lets out a burp after devouring the sweet. He then grabs the next danish and stuffs it in his mouth. Sweet after sweet and pastry after pastry he devours them all. He begins to feel uncomfortably stuffed from the mountain of food he demolished. His belly pushing further out, which causes his suit to rip even more. Chat Noir then rolls onto his side to reach his staff. He then uses it as a support to stand up.

“Hufff… Well that’s what you call fast food,” Chat Noir says patting his large belly.

“Hmmm, well you finished your meal earlier than expected you greedy cat. How about round two?”, Professor Animate replies.

“Not so fast mister. Lucky Charm!”, Ladybug yells as she swings her yo-yo into the air. A red and black spotted old school rotary phone appears above her head.

She then catches it and says, “Hmm… I think my grandmother has one of these, but how is this going to help me?”

She then looks around to see what she can use to defeat the villain. She turns around and sees a streetlight down the road, Chat Noir, and manhole cover light up. Ladybug then says, “I’ve got it,” as she summersaults over towards the stuffed and groggy Chat Noir and whispers her plan to him.

Whilst still holding the rotary phone, Ladybug dashes over to pick up the manhole cover. She then equips it as if it were a shield. The Professor uses his pen to zap more sweets from the bakery. She then uses the manhole cover to deflect the Professors green beams. “Yes, I’m right… his attacks only work for objects he is mentally aiming for,” Ladybug says whilst the Professor growls.

She then charges towards Professor Animate and yells, “Get into position Chat!”

Chat Noir then runs or more accurately wobbles, panting heavily with each step he takes. Ladybug then continued to push back the Professor, who appears to have a look of concern on his face. Ladybug’s eyes slightly peer above the manhole cover as she then swings the rotary phone like a boomerang. The handset cord catches the Professor’s arm while the handset swings around the nearby streetlight. His arm is then pulled back as the phone tightly wraps around the streetlight. Trying to free himself, Chat Noir who was still running, changes direction towards the villain. He then jumps and lands on the Professor, belly first. This then knocks him down as he is smothered by Chat Noir’s hefty bulk.

“Looks like this kitty has caught you. Also, I want to thank you for my breakfast. Too be honest I’m still pretty hungry, but unfortunately for you, you won’t be getting your just desserts,” Chat Noir says as he smiles and burps in the Professor’s face.

Chat Noir then yells, “Cataclysm!” as his hand begins emitting black energy bubbles. The Professor tightens his grip on his pen as Chat Noir grabs it from him and it begins to disintegrate. The akuma flies out from the pen. Chat Noir then rolls off the Professor and he transforms back into the science professor from the nearby university.

“No more evil doing for you little akuma, time to de-evilise” says Ladybug as she captures the butterfly. “Bye bye little butterfly. Miraculous Ladybug!” yells Ladybug as she releases the butterfly and throws her yoyo into the air. With a woosh of magic, everything returns to normal.

She then helps up Chat Noir whose belly was still on full display for her to ogle at. “Well I must say your extra weight definitely helped take down that villain. Maybe Master Fu could train you in sumo wrestling,” Ladybug giggles.

“Yeah I’ve come to really enjoy being big,” Chat Noir replies, giving his belly a shake. “Maybe next time I won’t eat too much that I burst out of my suit,” he blushes.

“Not if I can help it,” Ladybug mumbles.

“What was that M’lady?”, Chat Noir asks.

“Ummm… not... It’s not a bad look,” Ladybug says as she blushes bright red.

Chat Noir smiles cheekily and says, “Well since you turned everything back to normal. I might make a trip to a bakery on my way home. Who knows maybe I’ll eat everything they have in store.”

Ladybug bites her lip and thinks to herself; she couldn’t believe she was attracted to Chat Noir.

#weight gain #weight gain fiction #miraculous fanfic #miraculoustalesofladybugandcatnoir #belly #fat belly #belly rubs #chubby belly #stuffed belly #chat noir #chubby!chat noir #chubby!cat noir #adrien agreste #chubby!adrien agreste #chubby!AdrienAgreste #cat noir #fat

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sex-storytime · 5 years ago

Text

His Perspective

I take off my tie and kick off my shoes as soon as I step in the front door. I look at the clock... and see that it is 5:30 PM. You are supposed to be here at seven. I look around the room, it is a mess. I decided to hurry and clean as much as I can before you get here. I don't want you to see a pigsty, I want you to be welcomed by the clean place you deserve. I’m desperate to impress you... I want you in my life.

After a half hour of cleaning, the place is looking much better. Now it is time to clean myself, though I like the idea of showering with you, and cleaning of each other, I decide that it is best to save that particular activity for another time, I would rather your first impression of me not be the dirty sweaty me. First impressions are important and I want to be fresh and clean for you, so I take a quick shower.

I grab a pair of jeans that my ex got for me. She always told me I had a nice ass, and chose these jeans because they apparently show it off. I also grab a tight fitting, thin T-shirt. Along with being clean, I want to show off for you. I hope that when I pick you up you will want me as much as you did online. I check my phone. It is 6:15 PM. I notice that I don't have any messages, but I'm not surprised, you said your phone was low on battery and that you were putting it away till you arrived. I decided to make a small pot of mac-n- cheese, I haven't eaten since I got home, and I want to have enough energy to go wherever you want and do whatever you want when you get here.

After I have fed, I check the clock again: 6:30 PM. I sigh and grab my keys and wallet. The bus station is only five minutes away, but I can't wait so I head to the bus station. When I get there, I find it mostly empty. I am a bit surprised, but I figure that today must not have many buses going out. In about ten minutes another bus arrives and drops off its passengers, and loads what few people are left. When the crowd clears, I am the only one waiting. Now I have to wait fifteen minutes is an empty bus stop, the anxiety is killing me.

Fortunately the bus arrives a few minutes early and I can see you in the window. I rise out of my seat; I can feel the adrenaline pumping. I wait anxiously near the bus door and you see me as you wait in line to get off. As soon as you step off the bus you smile, hug me, and tell me that you are glad to get off the bus! We laugh and pick up your things to load them in my car. I open the door for you and hurry around to the driver seat. I ask if you are hungry. You tell me that the bus stopped for food just an hour ago. I ask if you wanted to see a movie or something and you tell me that you are tired and just want to go to my place to unwind. I privately hope that you aren't too tired, I am excited that you are here and it would suck if after all this wait you just plop down on the bed and went to sleep. I turn the car on and off we go.

As we get to my house I get your door and you bags. You kiss me on the cheek and call me a "real gentleman" with a laugh. We head up to my floor and make our ways to the door. I set down the bags as I pull out my keys and you sneak in and pick them up, laughing that they are YOUR bags and YOU will carry them inside.

I open the door and let you in first. You walk in to my house and make a comment about it being bigger than you thought. I remember my thought about first impressions... good!

I can't take it anymore and I walk up behind you, wrap my arms around you and kiss your neck. You squeal in surprise and drop the bags. As you make a comment about me barely letting you in the place, I run my hands over you and kiss your neck again, this time giving a small bite. You moan softly and your hands gravitate to my legs as you press against me.

My right hand slides down your stomach and over your jeans. My left hand moves up across your chest. I start to massage your mound through your jeans, and your breasts through your shirt and bra. I bite your neck again a little higher and a little harder, I suckle on the spot and bite it again, I am sure that this will leave a hicky. I know that this is more direct than I usually am, but after a whole day of waiting for you and finally having you here to myself, I just can't contain myself.

Your moans suggest that you approve. You grab my hair and hold me closer to your neck as you move your head to give me better access. Your free hand moves across my jeans to find my obvious bulge. I am very hard for you, and my pants do not hide it. You start to massage my cock through my jeans, as you press against my hands.

I move up your neck slowly biting, sucking, and biting again. I leave a trail of hickies from your shoulder to your hear. My hands move to your waist and slide under you clothing. My right hand moves back to your crotch and runs a finger across your already soaked panties, pulling a moan from your lips. I stroke your pussy through the panties, teasing you for now. My left returns to your breasts and tease your already erect nipples through the thin bra you are wearing. I grin at the feeling of lace in both hands, you were as prepared for this as I was, and obviously wanted it just as much.

You moan louder and slide your hand into my jeans and touch my cock. I jump at your touch and you smile as you comment on my size. You try to grip it, but the jeans are too restricting so you settle for rubbing it for now. You assist it by putting your hand between my cock and my stomach and push it against the jeans as you rub, and then pushing your ass against my jeans to rub me from both directions. I moan into your ear and I feel you get wetter at the sound.

I slide the crotch of your panties aside and slide a finger into your folds; I explore every inch of your sensitive lips, before reaching your clit. I run my finger across it once then proceed to slide the finger inside you. Once inside, I move it in slow circles, as I grind my palm into your clit in the same pattern. My left hand slides in and over your bra and scoops up as much of your breast as I can. I greedily pull at your tit, wanting to squeeze as much into my hand, while my thumb and forefinger pinch at your nipple. I continue this for a while before moving to the other breast and repeating the actions. I kiss your ear, and nibble across the rim, starting with your lobe and moving up. I flick the back of your ear with my tongue before biting the neck behind it.

You moan again at my touch and pull away from me. You turn around and give me a coy smile as you pull off your shirt and undo your bra. You toss both to the floor with your bags and step towards me as I remove my own shirt. You take my face in your hands and kiss me passionately, pressing your lips to mind in need. You quickly open your mouth and nibble on my lip. Your hands move down across my chest, taking a few moments to run through the hair and make their way back to my jeans. You smile at me and look at me.

You kiss your way down my jaw to my neck and briefly down my chest. You slide your hands around me to grab my ass as to stabilise me, and give me a good squeeze. You undo the button of my jeans and unzip them using only your teeth, while you watch my face. I smile back at you, the sight turning me on even more. As you pull my jeans and boxers down to my ankles, my cock jumps out at you, pressing against your face. You smile, and joke about me being eager as you rub against it pausing as you get to the tip to give it a kiss. You take it in your hand and pull the skin back, revealing the sensitive head. As you grip the base you slowly run your tongue up the shaft, enjoying smell and taste. Your free hand lightly massages my balls. You watch me as I watch you and after a small while of teasing me, you take all seven inches into your mouth.

At this point I moan again and you focus on my cock instead of my face. You suck for a moment on all of me, your mouth feeling warm, and moist. It feels like you are trying to suck me dry and I can feel your tongue running across my length. You slowly pull off my cock and pull it out of your mouth as you start to stroke me slowly you look back up at me and grin at the disappointed look on my face. You lick your lips and lick my cock again from base to tip. When you get to the tip you take the head in your mouth and suck on it as you swirl your tongue around it. Your hand continues to jerk me off, and picks up in pace. I moan again and work hard not to thrust against your face. You feel my tension and put your hands against my hips as you start to bob your head all the way down and up. The entire way you continue to swill your tongue around and suck, not a feat many can do and I rock my head back and squeeze your shoulders.

I can feel the tell-tale signs of reaching the "point of no return" so I pull you up and kiss you ferociously. I take your mouth with my tongue exploring every inch before running it across your own tongue. My hands take your breasts and squeeze the nipples hard before squeezing the entire breasts. I feel your hands move towards my cock... I break the kiss and grab your hands and push you backwards to my bed. I push you down on to my bed and kneel at the bed side. I undo your pants and pause only a moment to admire the black lace panties before pulling both jeans and panties off in one go. I kiss my way up both your thighs as I make my way to your pussy. I can feel your heat and smell your musk and it just turns me on even more. As I approach your mound I stop to nibble on your upper inner thighs. I hear you groan in protest and I chuckle. I hook my arms under your legs, raising them slight as I grab your ass and raise your hips. I lower my face between your legs and you separate them further for me, opening your pussy.

I comment that you have a beautiful pussy and again you groan in protest you push your hips higher. I breathe softly against you enticing a small moan before running my tongue up your slit. I lick you in long, broad lick as I cover your entire pussy. Soon I pull your legs further apart, pulling your lips open as I do. With this new access I locate and focus on your vagina. I run my tongue in a few small circles around your opening before plunging my tongue in. Once in I curl it back running the tip across your wall. I pull it all the back this way until its out, and repeat the process a few times. I then switch it up. This time once my tongue is inside you, I swirl it in circles pushing against all your walls as you push back against me.

I keep this up for a moment before pulling out and moving up to your clit. Your clit is starting to swell and peek out from its hood. I flick it with my tongue before sucking it into my mouth. You moan again. I nibble on it with my teeth as I suck it and tease it with my tongue. I pull a hand from your hips and slide it up your thigh. I tease your pussy a little before sliding in first one finger, then a second one. I slowly begin to piston my fingers in and out of your pussy as I suck on your clit. You start to squeeze your tits and pinch your nipples. I feel your hips buck against my face in time to my fingers. I squeeze a third finger in to your tight pussy, stretching you as I keep thrusting them in and out. I thrust harder and faster as you moan louder.

I feel you tense up and squeeze down on my fingers as you moan even louder. I quickly switch my fingers with my tongue. I push my tongue into you and lap up your juices as my fingers rub your clit in circles, coaxing you to your first orgasm. I press my lips to you as I do my best catch and swallow all of your juices, but they squirt out with such force that I feel them drenching my beard and chest. As you come down I slow down my fingers and stand up and look at you. You are covered in sweat and are looking up at me with a look of affection mixed with desire.

I turn you lengthwise across the bed and climb in next to you. I have to climb over you to fit comfortably and I kiss you passionately. As our tongues dances, the pre cum still on your tongue mixes with the juices covering mine, an overture to the mixing juices that will soon follow. Your hands greedily run down my body to stroke me, making sure that I am as hard as can be. I rub your clit, keeping your juices flowing. You wrap your legs around my waist and pull my hips closer to yours as you manoeuvre my cock to position. I moan into your mouth as I feel your pussy against my cock. I push my cock into you as hard as I can. I feel it slide all the way in you and feel you clamp down on in it tightly; all the while I keep rubbing your clit. Even as wet as it is, I find it difficult, at first, to move within you; you clamp down on my member tighter than I've felt before. As I pick up momentum, I find it progressively easier and begin to push harder and faster. You break the kiss as you moan loudly asking for more. I nibble on your collar bone before I pull a nipple into my mouth. I suck on the hard nipple and tease it with my tongue before biting down on it hard. You gasp and moan deeper.

Your legs tighten around me as you begin to buck your hips back up against me matching my rhythm. I know I can't last much longer, and I know you can't either. You beat me to the punch line and call out loudly as you cum for a second time. Your pussy clamps down so hard I have to stop and wait it out, though I keep my motion on your clit at a steady pace. The time, while exciting, brings me down just enough to by me a couple more minutes and I grin as I bite down on your other nipple. You gasp as you start to come down and tell me that you just felt two orgasms back to back, apparently my bite was timed perfectly.

I smile and kiss you passionately as I begin thrusting even harder and faster than before, your pussy now much more lubed out than it was before. It isn't long before you cry out as a fourth orgasm hits you. This time my own is right behind. I push into you as hard as I can and kiss you hard as I release jet after jet of my own cum into the flood of your juices. A few moments later we both pant as we come down. I lay against you too tired to move. You kiss me softly and I tell you it was wonderful. We laugh at how soaked the sheets are and at how we are both too tired to get up and do anything about it. I am surprise by how tightly you hold on to me as I grow flaccid and know that it the thought of it is keeping me a little hard. You chuckle and ask me with a coy grin if I had ever fallen asleep while still inside a pussy as you wrap your arms around me. I grin and tell you that I haven't... and we drift into an exhausted sleep.

#his perspective #first impressions #his pov #his point of view #cuming inside her #first date

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taekemeaway · 4 years ago

Photo

info: namgi, teen, roommate/college au genre: fluff, slice of life | word ct: 6k warnings: devils lettuce, stoned antics summary: to everyone else, namjoon was a brilliant philosophy student that would make socrates swoon with pride. to yoongi, namjoon was the annoying roommate that laid awake at night mumbling things like,

"do jellyfish get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?"

and yoongi hated him.

but he liked him more than he hated him.

cross posted on ao3

There was a lot to be said about Kim Namjoon, and usually it was good. He was a hardworking student with a kind heart, helpful and wise, he fought for peace and practiced it too. In his spare time he could either be found tutoring or volunteering at various school functions around campus with an awarding winning smile on his face. Didn’t ask for praise or recognition (even though he received it often). He was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. The only people who held any amount of disdain towards him were usually jealous of his success or insecure of the lack of their own.

Yoongi, on the other hand, was his roommate.

And he had plenty of things to say about him.

One fact that no one would argue, Namjoon was brilliant. Whether you loved him or you hated him (or you were Yoongi and found yourself somewhere in the inbetween) you had to admit that you had never met anyone more intelligent than him. He chose to study philosophy and posed the sort of questions that would make Socrates roll over in his grave to hide the massive boner he just received.

“You have to ask yourself,” Namjoon would begin as underclassman swarmed him, each hanging on his every word like well-trained minions, “if a man kills an intruder for fear of his own life, was he just for doing so? Most people would say yes. Murder is inherently illegal but this man will not go to jail for breaking a law to protect himself.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure if he paused to catch his breath or to build tension. Either way, his goons seemed to only become more entranced by his silence.

“Then is that man so different from the woman who buys prescription drugs from someone on the street if she needs them to stay alive because her healthcare refuses to cover it? She isn’t causing anyone any harm but more likely than not this woman will see jail time and the man who ended someone else’s life will walk free. They both broke the law, shouldn’t the punishment be the same if their intent was just?”

Yoongi would roll his eyes in disgust. Not because of what Namjoon proposed, it was a well thought out argument, but because late at night that same progeny of Aristotle would lie awake and utter things like,

“Do you think jellyfish ever get lonely because there are no peanut butter fish?”

It was a marvel that this was the same man that students and faculty alike fawned over. Yoongi sometimes found himself staring just because he had no idea how someone so smart could’ve said something so utterly moronic. Kim Namjoon was a bundle of chaotic contradictions wrapped up neatly in a well worn cashmere sweater. Hate was a strong word, and Yoongi didn’t hate him. Sometimes he thought it would be easier if he did. He was just fed up with their whole semester long situation.

Yoongi couldn’t pinpoint one singular reason why Namjoon got under his skin. There wasn’t something that he just couldn’t forgive, something that he had done that warranted such malevolence, Yoongi couldn’t explain it. He hated attention, he hated the limelight, whether it was on him or not. Namjoon, alternatively, was constantly bathed in it. Every step he took seemed to be toeing a red carpet that had yet to exist. Each word out of his mouth almost preluding an acceptance speech that was sure to come.

Maybe irritated was a better word.

He was constantly irritated by Namjoon and everything that he did.

He didn’t like to show it though, that was in poor taste. Namjoon never did anything to slight him personally but sometimes Yoongi just didn’t like people. In fact he usually didn’t like people. Some part of him felt that if he wasn’t forced to live with the most intelligent student (and person) on campus he would’ve at least been able to tolerate him. Even if that were true, the semester was almost over and they were never going to see each other again.

The idea didn’t make him happy per se, but it didn’t make him unhappy either.

“I don’t get why you hate him so much.” Taehyung mused while he flipped through a magazine. “Sometimes I swear you’re spiteful for the sake of being spiteful.”

“You’re right, I am.” Yoongi returned absentmindedly. “And I don’t hate him, I just can’t stand him for lengthy intervals of time.”

Taehyung scoffed. “You say that about everyone.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.” He mumbled in response. “If you’re going to lecture me, at least make yourself useful. Can you hand me that—thing.”

Rolling his eyes, Taehyung rolled off of Yoongi’s bed to grab that thing. “Yoongi, it’s your laptop. When are you going to stop referring to it as that thing.”

“When it decides to cough up that 15 page research paper it ate.” He explained.

Taehyung scoffed. “That was—that was two semesters ago!”

Yoongi didn’t look phased. “And?”

“Turn on autosave!”

“No.”

“And why the hell not?”

“I refuse to abide by its rules. That means it wins.”

Groaning in exasperation, Taehyung threw himself back onto Yoongi’s bed. “See? This is what I’m talking about. When faced with two options, one being a solution and the other being a problem, you willingly decide to let it be a problem! In what world does any sane person do that?”

“Dunno.” Yoongi clipped, opening up his hand expectantly. “Can you hand me that—other thing?”

Taehyung pressed his palms into his eyes. “Why do I—fine. What is the other thing?”

Glancing over his shoulder, Yoongi vehemently pointed to a rather expensive set of headphones that had been obviously tossed across the room in one of his fits.

Sighing, Taehyung grabbed it for him. “Alright, what did the headphones do?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Taehyung eyed the headset already sitting next to him. “Did you accidentally use Namjoon’s headset and realize that it’s so much better than your own?”

While Yoongi didn’t offer a response, his red ears said it all.

“Jesus, hyung.” Taehyung muttered, shaking his head. “Can’t you at least pretend to get along with him? It’s the end of the semester, it’s the holidays for Christ’s sake! He’s not the devil and your continued vendetta against him just makes you look like a royal prick!”

Taehyung statement hung in the air for some time, waiting for Yoongi to fill the void with something that resembled an explanation. He would be disappointed, as he often was.

“Did you say something?” Yoongi threw casually over his shoulder, pretending he hadn’t heard him.

“Nothing worth hearing, apparently.” Taehyung lamented. “Alright, my shuttle should be here any minute and I need to finish packing. I’ll see you next semester.”

“Later Taehyung.” He returned with half a wave. “Say hi to the folks for me.”

Taehyung almost smirked. “Don’t worry, I will. Try not to work yourself to death.”

“No promises.”

“I know, later Yoongi.”

With a click, Taehyung was gone and Yoongi was finally alone. Savoring the welcomed silence, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms overhead. The time in between semesters was his favorite time of year. He could stay at the dorms while everyone else dispersed to the countryside to see family they haven’t laid eyes on in months. It granted him both a reprieve from his disapproving parents and the other students that never ceased to get on his nerves.

And, most importantly, He mused happily, no more Kim Namjoon.

Of course he was still around. His side of the room was still dredged in chaos, his suitcase and other luggage remained mostly untouched from what Yoongi could tell. Not that he expected anything less, it was Namjoon’s routine. He would get so caught up in goodbyes and last minute philosophical debates that packing would be left until he was scrambling to get it all done. And Yoongi would have to endure it all and hope that he didn’t grind his molars to dust from pure annoyance.

In his defense, he didn’t start grinding his teeth until he met Namjoon. So he’ll gladly blame him for the dental bills that will certainly accumulate in the future.

One more day. He reminded himself. One more day and I’ll finally be free of him.

There was only one problem with his plan, by the time that Namjoon rolled in it was almost midnight. Well after all of the buses and shuttles had finished their routes for the night—for the whole semester, in fact. No one was coming or going from the school until service up to the campus resumed towards the end of January.

And Namjoon was there.

In their room.

Smiling.

Yoongi felt like he was going to be sick.

“You don’t look so good, hyung.” Namjoon pointed out, shouldering off his bookbag. “Don’t tell me you’re getting sick right before Christmas.”

Almost as if he was in a trance, Yoongi didn’t confirm or deny Namjoon’s assumption and instead found his jaw planted firmly on the ground. He was still in shock, frozen in time staring at his roommate and hoping that the horrible hallucination would vanish before his eyes. Minutes ticked by without incident, or any that was visible. Because Yoongi could swear that World War 3 was waging in his chest while his mind tried to wrap itself around the situation he was faced with.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you that I decided not to go home for the holidays.”

This—this is hell.

“So it looks like it’s just going to be you and me for the next month or so.”

This is the lowest circle of hell.

“Nothing but us guys and some fun philosophical conundrums to pass the time.”

Taehyung was wrong. Namjoon is most certainly the devil and he’s planning on subjecting me to his hellish torture!

Yoongi didn’t say anything as Namjoon got comfortable after a long day of—whatever he does. His mind was still careening off the tracks. The amount of time that they usually spent together in their dorm room was almost negligible, at least the time they spent awake anyways. He honestly didn’t know how they were going to survive for a whole month if Namjoon expected him to hold a conversation. Typically his responses varied somewhere between grunting and feigned oblivion. And that was perfectly fine for the twenty or so minutes before they drifted off to sleep.

He had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be enough anymore.

“So, what are your plans for break?”

To take a break from you. “Nothing really.”

“Same.” Namjoon sighed, pulling out War and Peace in the original Russian like that was completely normal. “I’ll probably just catch up on some light reading, you won’t even know I’m here.”

Light reading? Yoongi exasperated. I can’t tell if he’s showing off or if he genuinely feels that War and Peace is such a breeze to read.

He decided that it was a little bit of both.

“Whatever.” Yoongi finally mumbled before turning his attention back to his computer and the track he’d been mixing.

But as much as he wanted to get back to work, he couldn’t. There was something about Namjoon, whether it was his energy or his spirit or whatever—Yoongi couldn’t concentrate. Namjoon was just so loud. Which didn’t make any sense, glancing over his shoulder Yoongi could see that he wasn’t doing anything. He was just reading, just sitting, just existing and it was too much for Yoongi to handle.

This is going to be a long break.

A long.

Hellish.

Break.

As usual, Yoongi’s concerns and grievances were grossly exaggerated. One would even say dramatic if they wanted to piss Yoongi off. He hated that word. He hated it most when Taehyung had turned to Hoseok in the middle of a crowded coffee shop and asked, “can I get a definition for dramatic?” to which Hoseok dutifully replied with, “intending or intended to create an effect; theatrical.”

Which wasn’t inherently awful but they were using it to make a point when Yoongi wanted to perform a sit-in when the girl behind the counter said that they were out of almond croissants.

“You’re being dramatic, hyung.”

“You don’t even know what that word means, dongsaeng.”

“Oh don’t I? Hoseok, come over here.”

So, yeah. He hated that word.

In context, Namjoon wasn’t in their dorm room nearly as much as Yoongi had been dreading. He was barely there at all. What Yoongi neglected to take into consideration, Namjoon had a life and friends. Why would be coop himself up in a broom closet? Yoongi, on the other hand, had an affinity for silence and being bitter and neither were too condusive to having any semblance of a social life. He could count his friends on one hand and one of them was the underclassman, Jeongguk, that was forced to deal with him when they were both in the studio late at night.

Taehyung said that he didn’t count.

He was being paid to be there.

(Yoongi counted him anyway. Screw you Taehyung.)

And the few times that Namjoon’s schedule permitted him to come back to the dorm, he mostly let Yoongi be. It really wasn’t too different to their dynamic when school was in session. Turns out, there was nothing for him to be afraid of. At least—nothing he wasn’t already afraid of. Like human contact, escalators, the second floor bathroom, and cilantro. All of which were equally terrifying in his eyes.

At first, Yoongi felt like he was in paradise. He was alone, there was quiet, he wasn’t needed and he didn’t need. On paper everything was perfect. Two weeks into break and he was already almost finished with everything he wanted to work on. Day in and day out he was just this over exhausted bundle of productivity. Eventually though, he realized that he had been plagued by an ungodly affliction. One that would surely be fatal if left unchecked. And it wasn’t his innate desire to make playlists.

He was bored.

That was the contradiction of Min Yoongi. He only craved quiet when there was none, loved solitude when he couldn’t get away. Something he didn’t take into consideration, never thought of, how did he know that he didn’t like people if there was no one there to constantly pester him? The answer was simple, he didn’t. As much as he hated people, he needed them. He needed them so he could hate them. Which didn’t make any of sense when he tried to explain it to Taehyung. That didn’t matter, to Yoongi it made plenty of sense.

Unfortunately there was only one person on campus and in his direct circle of friends to have enough time to humor his social neglect. One person in the entirety of the universe that could cure his deadly affliction. The same person he had been so keen to escape over winter break. He grimaced just thinking about it. Making nice with Kim Namjoon.

The Kim Namjoon.

But, in all honesty, he didn’t know how. He could barely make nice with Hoseok and Taehyung, he tolerated Seokjin, and Jeongguk didn’t say much (which was why Yoongi liked him best). How do people talk to other people? For two days he sat at his desk with his hands fisting his hair in frustration, trying to figure out how to strike up a conversation with someone he had never had a desire to converse with before.

What do I say, you smell nice?

Oh God no that’s awful.

Do I say nothing?

Can I just bark at him?

Because honestly that’s the least awkward thing I can think to do.

It was madness.

Ugh, I need to smoke a bowl before I lose it.

So that’s what he did, he cracked open a window, packed his Kumamon bowl, and let some herbal refreshments drown his worries and social anxiety. He inhaled deeply and leaned back in his chair, suddenly more concerned with the fact that male seahorses give birth and wondering if in some apocalyptic future he’d have to do the same.

“Is that what I think it is?”

Eyes wide in fear, Yoongi swivelled around to the sight of Namjoon standing in the doorway with a similar expression on his dimpled face. Busted. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to burst into flames or implode on the spot. Either would’ve been better than having his Holier than Thou roommate running off to campus security and getting his scholarship revoked and his ass thrown out into the snow. Swallowing nervously, he decided to take one more hit in case any of those scenarios came to fruition.

“Maybe?” He admitted while he held it, exhaling it only when he couldn’t take it anymore.

Namjoon suddenly smiled. “I had no idea you smoked! If I had known I wouldn’t have tried so hard to hide my stash so thoroughly.”

Wait—what?

Intrigued, Yoongi watched Namjoon kneel down beside his bed and pull out a ratty old cardboard box from beneath it. Inside was a myriad of books, some old some new, each as inconspicuous as the next. As he opened up a fairly worn copy of The Scarlet Letter Yoongi managed to peep a small baggy of “oregano” tucked away neatly in a cut out portion of the pages. He wasn’t sure what caught him off guard more, the fact that Kim Namjoon took part in illegal activities or that he disfigured such an iconic book. For a good cause, of course, it was still shocking to say the least.

“Wow.” Was all that Yoongi could manage as his slower mental processes took in what was happening. He reflexively offered his bowl to Namjoon as silence descended upon them, sharing is caring as he always said.

“Thanks.” Namjoon smiled, pulling out his lighter and taking a puff. “It was getting harder and harder to hide this stuff from you, you never leave the room after all.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t like going outside. Or talking to people. Or moving. Or—I don’t like a lot of things actually.”

“I’ve noticed that.” He laughed as he let a stream of smoke pass between his lips. “I think you’ve said less than ten words to me since we moved in in August.”

“Probably.” Yoongi snorted, taking the bowl back and contemplating packing another one. “You gonna stick around? I don’t want to grind another bowl just for myself.”

Pursing his lips and eyeing his watch, Namjoon looked unsure. “Well—I was going to go get some lunch with my friends…”

“Whatever, it’s fine.” Yoongi waved him off. “You can come smoke whenever you want, I don’t really care.”

Namjoon arched a brow at him. “Was that an invitation to hang out?”

Yoongi felt his ears getting red. “Not really. You live here.”

“So do you.”

“And?”

“We’re technically always hanging out.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Then I guess it was.”

Watching his lips tug into a smile, Yoongi felt his heart skip a beat.

“Sounds good to me. I’ll see you later hyung.”

Click.

Sitting in silence, Yoongi found himself wondering;

Has Namjoon always been that handsome?

The answer was yes, obviously, but it was still something he had never noticed before. Yoongi found himself rolling his eyes at his own expense.

What, do you have a crush on him already?

What if I do?

Then that’s pretty sad and you’re a thirsty hoe.

He paused.

I need to stop having discussions with myself and start talking to actual people.

But he wouldn’t.

Instead, he created a playlist.

That was one of Yoongi’s pastimes, creating playlists. He created them for a variety of reasons, for relaxation, inspiration, to remind him of someone, and for whatever reason his somewhat successful encounter with Namjoon warranted a playlist. There wasn’t much yet, he put I’m a Freak by Radiohead on there and took it off when he remembered he wasn’t making a playlist about himself. After some pretty thorough deliberation, he had a whole whopping two songs on there. Wishing Well by the Gunpoets and The Enemy by Andrew Belle. He would continue to add songs as they hung out more so he didn’t stress over it. Good things come with time.

Besides, Namjoon liked Pierce the Veil. He really liked them. And they were one of Yoongi’s favorite bands. They actually spent a whole Thursday afternoon quoting their favorite lyrics to each other and he knew right then and there—they were going to be good friends.

And they really were. It happened gradually, but everyday Namjoon and Yoongi would hang out for maybe just a couple of hours. They were a good couple of hours too. They would each take turns playing their music, oddly enough they had similar tastes, and packing the bowl. It was a good arrangement. Not only that, it definitely cured Yoongi’s boredom and made their break start to fly by. Which could’ve been a good thing or a bad thing, depended on which one you asked.

Then, the storm came.

The storm itself wasn’t anything special, nothing more than snow and wind, but it knocked out the power. No big deal, except there was no power and that meant that there was absolutely nothing to do. Late at night, no lights, no computer, no music, nothing. Namjoon and Yoongi sat there dumbfounded while their marijuana riddled minds tried to grasp what just happened.

“Well shit.” Namjoon muttered first, supressing a cough. “This sucks.”

Yoongi fell back and groaned loudly. “This really sucks.”

“I know right?” Namjoon continued, using his phone as a light to peer into their mostly used up bowl. “We’re almost out too, I’m not nearly high enough for this.”

“Me neither.” Yoongi agreed when he was, in fact, stoned out of his mind. “What’re we supposed to do now?”

Namjoon narrowed his eyes at his phone. “I don’t know, my phone’s almost dead. What about yours?”

Lifting up his head, Yoongi grimaced. “We don’t speak of that thing.”

Namjoon scoffed. “I take it you didn’t like the new update.”

“Hell no.” Yoongi concurred, groaning louder still. “Do you have anything left to pack the bowl?”

He shook his head. “No. Besides, smoking it a lot less fun when there’s no music.”

“True.” Yoongi sighed. “Well—what’re we supposed to do?”

“We could discuss Aristotle’s position on goats—”

“No.” Yoongi cut him off. “We’re not debating some philosophical point right now. Philosophy hurts my sober brain and my stoned brain wants nothing to do with it—wait, did you say goats?”

Namjoon nodded. “He believed he could tell the gender of a goat by which way the wind was blowing.”

Yoongi couldn’t help it, he laughed. “This is what you’re learning in your philosophy classes?” Nod. “That’s crazy, those Greek dudes might not be so bad after all.”

“Really?” Namjoon beamed. “Because we could—”

“No.”

“But—”

“I said no.”

“Please—”

“NO.”

“Okay fine.” Namjoon finally admitted, pouting as he crossed his arms. “Then what do you suppose we do?”

Yoongi shrugged. “No clue. No laptop means no speakers, no speakers means no tunes, no tunes means no more grass for us. I would play for us but I pawned my guitar last semester for a term paper that I didn’t feel like writing. So no music.”

“You play guitar?” Namjoon asked. “I didn’t know that.”

“I play a little bit of everything.” Yoongi elaborated unenthusiastically. “Piano’s my forte but I couldn’t exactly fit a good keyboard in the dorms so I brought my guitar with me.”

“And then you sold it.”

“Pawned.”

“For a term paper.”

“Yup.” Yoongi reaffirmed with pride. “I skated through my prereqs thanks to bought term papers. I’m not ashamed of it.”

Namjoon’s eyes started swimming with curiosity, Yoongi could see those wheels turning. And he knew he wouldn’t like what was about to happen.

“What an interesting point.” He mused quietly, chin held between his fingers. “These courses aren’t necessary for your future, but you’re required to take them—”

I’ve unleashed the monster.

“—you’ve found a way around the situation by having other people write your papers. Which is, of course, against school policy and therefore you should be punished. But by not wasting your time on classes that hold no importance for you or your career you were able to accomplish more for yourself. How do we determine what is more important? Rules and regulations, or the promise of a better tomorrow?”

Namjoon’s question was met with an impermeable silence, which was what usually happened when he got all philosophical when Yoongi was in the room.

“Is that it?” Yoongi asked incredulously. “C’mon, get it out of your system. You know you want to.”

“Then we’d be here all night.” Namjoon chuckled. “And you wouldn’t like that.”

Yoongi shrugged nonchalantly. “Not necessarily.”

“Is that you admitting you like hanging out with me?” Namjoon teased.

“No.”

“I think it is.”

“It’s not.”

“Alright, whatever you say hyung.” Namjoon relented with a laugh. “So, what’re we going to do about this no music thing?”

Yoongi looked uninterested for the most part. “Beats me, probably nothing. You can sing to me if you want.”

“Now that’s funny.” He returned, checking his phone for the time. “I actually have a better idea.”

Curious, Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows and eyed Namjoon suspiciously. “Oh? Do tell.”

“What’re the odds that the security cameras are down across campus?” He asked. “Think they have a backup generator?”

“I mean maybe?” Yoongi offered halfheartedly. “Why? What exactly do you have in mind?”

Namjoon’s only response was a devilish grin. “You’ll see.”

Before Yoongi could question him further, Namjoon stood up abruptly and started pulling on layers. When he motioned for Yoongi to do the same, he did so without hesitation. Which, in hindsight, shouldn’t have been his immediate reaction but he was starting to learn that Namjoon had some sort of mystical power over him. In that Yoongi could tolerate him for extended periods of time without feeling the need to claw out his own ears. And that he actually felt happy until he realized that and instantly made himself unhappy.

I should stop doing that.

Once they were sufficiently bundled up they headed out into the cold. Yoongi followed Namjoon diligently across campus, dodging security cameras they weren’t entirely sure were even functional to wherever Namjoon was leading them. They passed the quarter, the girls dorms, and several other points of interest to—the music building of all places. Standing outside the locked door, Namjoon nodded his head towards it.

“You can pick locks right?” He asked, motioning towards the handle. “Work your magic maestro.”

Well, yes but how did you know that. Yoongi found himself wondering until he remembered that one time he broke into Mr Bang’s office to trash it in spite. While no one could prove it was him, everyone had their suspicions so he had a reputation no matter how small. Apparently Namjoon caught wind of it.

“Can I ask why we’re breaking into the music building?” Yoongi mused as he pulled out his tools, (he was always prepared).

“Well we’re going to get you a guitar.” Namjoon finally explained. “I figured this was the best place to find one.”

Yoongi let his hands fall to his side. “We’re seriously breaking into a locked facility on campus so we don’t lose our buzz? Either you’re more high than you look or you’re dumber than everyone thinks.”

“It could honestly be both.” Namjoon shrugged. “Now hurry up, the power could come back on any minute.”

Yoongi eyed him suspiciously but didn’t question him. He had no moral issues with what they were doing, he just had to wonder how much people actually know about Namjoon because he never would’ve pegged him for a burglar. First impressions were wicked things.

“Alright, that should be—” Yoongi started, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Clunk. “—it. After you, your majesty.”

Namjoon bowed gratefully as he grabbed the handle. “Why thank you.”

Chuckling, the two ducked into the building and headed towards the practice rooms. Usually instruments were left over break in case anyone left wanted to practice. There were a few music students still on campus, but they were all the classical musician types so the supply of violins and cellos were in high demand. Ratty old acoustic guitars were far less desirable and therefore there were a couple for Yoongi to pick from.

“Wait—holy shit!” Yoongi gasped, picking up a cherry red guitar and holding it in his hands. “No way, this is my guitar! What the hell is it doing here?”

“Maybe the guy you sold it to left it here?” Namjoon offered. “Was he a music student?”

Yoongi shook his head. “No, Liberal Arts, stoner. He just wanted to show off to his friends. There’s no way it would’ve been left here recently.”

“So it’s been here for a while then. Do you not practice often?” Namjoon asked. “Wouldn’t you have seen it?”

Yoongi pursed his lips as he admired his reclaimed treasure. “Not really. I’m in music production, I’m usually in the studio mixing together tracks that I produced.”

“Oh wow, you’ve produced music already?” He continued. “How old are you again?”

“This is my last year.” Yoongi mused without paying much attention to the question. “But yeah, I’ve produced a couple of albums. You can find them on Spotify along with the 80,000 playlists I’ve created.”

“Well shit.” Namjoon whistled. “That’s—that’s really impressive, hyung. I had no idea.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Not a lot of people do, I mostly keep to myself.”

“I know.” He sighed quietly. “I’m hoping that I can change that.”

Thump.

Wait, what did he say?

Before Yoongi could offer an unintelligent response, the power came back on. Simultaneously saving his from himself and making his blood pressure skyrocket.

“Oh shit.” Namjoon muttered. “Run!”

Without missing a beat the two bolted from the building, hoping that there was no one sitting in front of the monitors when the power came back on. They were halfway back to the dorms with guitar in hand, their cheeks flush from the cold wind, when they finally began to slow down. Huffing and puffing, they exchanged a couple of surreal glances before they burst out laughing in the middle of a snowstorm. Neither particularly caring that frost nipped at their exposed fingers (because fingerless gloves are cool).

Yoongi had to admit, Namjoon was pretty cool. And nothing like he expected. He was a whirlwind of contradictions, a happy medium between snob and stoner, something Yoongi had no idea even existed before he gave his roommate a chance. He was happy he did, because he liked hanging out with Namjoon. Liked making him smile, liked looking into his calming brown eyes. There was a lot that Yoongi liked about him, and the things he used to hate were mostly forgotten.

He liked Namjoon.

He liked him a lot.

Even if he didn’t realize it quite yet.

He actually realized it at about the same time Namjoon did.

It was Christmas, actually. They had already spent most of Christmas Eve trying to make joints into trees and both failed hilariously. Which neither really cared about, weed was weed and they liked it however they could get it. When Namjoon fell asleep Yoongi got back to creating another playlist, since it was his turn to play tunes the next day. Both agreed that Christmas songs were off limits because someone had rigged the intercom on campus to play I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus on loop for the past three days. They were getting sick of the holiday cheer.

So, there they were, lying down on Namjoon’s bed looking at the ceiling, Yoongi’s new playlist “brilliance is in the mind of the beholder” (all lower case because Yoongi didn’t believe in capitalism) filling their empty dorm with soft notes of melancholy and nostalgia. They passed a joint back and forth periodically, not really caring whether or not they got high and instead found themselves simply enjoying the music. It was nice.

“You’ve got good tastes, hyung.” Namjoon exhaled, passing the joint back.

Yoongi chuckled underneath his breath. “In music or in weed?”

“Both.” He concurred. “It’s a great combo.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi returned, taking a drag and letting the joint fall to his side. “Sorry you’re stuck with me on Christmas.”

Namjoon scoffed. “I’m not stuck anywhere, trust me. I like hanging out with you.”

“Same.” He agreed with a smile. “Glad you caught me smoking.”

“Thank you for smoking.” Namjoon nodded. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”

“Anytime.”

For a while after, neither of them said anything. Yoongi would periodically steal glances at Namjoon while he drummed his fingers against his chest to the music. When Namjoon really enjoyed music, he closed his eyes. He almost tuned out the whole world just so he could ride the soundwaves like an old road. Occasionally his lips would twitch into a grin or he would mouth along to the lyrics, maybe he would hum. But he would never sing, he insisted his singing voice was awful.

Yoongi wanted to hear it regardless.

Then, Namjoon tilted his head towards Yoongi and opened his eyes. The simple action was so surreal, so ethereal, Yoongi was speechless. He didn’t want to admit how often he stared into Namjoon’s eyes, but he couldn’t help it. They were so warm, so welcoming, he got lost in them time and time again. He was in a trance, one that was hard to snap himself from.

“Interesting song choice, hyung.” He suddenly muttered. “You trying to tell me something?”

Furrowing his brow, Yoongi had no idea what he meant. Taking another hit he tried to focus on the music, it was—it was—

Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me, out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling

So kiss me

Oh no.

His eyes opened wide with shock, the song that was playing was Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer, a cheesy song from the 90’s that had been in almost every romcom to date. Scrambling to his feet he pulled open the web player on his laptop and eyed the playlist. He—he didn’t mean to put that song on there.

He remembered his internal debate quite vividly, he was looking at the songs Kill Me on his computer and wondering which one he would add. There was Kill Me by The Pretty Reckless, a heavy metal song, pretty standard, not fantastic, and then there was Kill Me by Make the Girl Dance (a song he feels defines his personality perfectly) but neither really fit the aesthetic of the playlist. He remembered deciding on Kill Me by Christian Leave, another standard indie song that flowed with the rest. That’s what he wanted to put on the playlist.

So how did Kiss Me get on there?

Why do you have it in the first place?

Because I’m a basic bitch that likes sappy songs. Sue me.

I will.

“Sorry about that.” Yoongi tried to apologize, hoping that Namjoon didn’t get the wrong message. “I totally didn’t mean to put that on there, that’s my bad.”

“I think you did.” Namjoon disagreed. “All of the songs you played today were very—sappy.”

Yoongi arched an incredulous brow at him. “Wait—did I? I—I didn’t notice.”

“Love Lost by Temper Trap?” He started, sitting up and offering Yoongi a coy smirk. “Transatlanticism by Death Cab for Cutie? I need you so much closer? That lyric in itself is pretty telling.”

Oh no.

“Not to mention It Looks Like Love by Josh Rouse.” Namjoon continued. “If you were trying to send a message I’m reading it loud and clear.”

“I—I really wasn’t.” Yoongi insisted unconvincingly. “Those were just—they were just the songs I felt—I felt would be best for—oh fuck…”

I’m doomed.

I just confessed to Namjoon without even realized that there was anything to confess.

Or that I was confessing for that matter!

F U C K.

While Yoongi had a mild meltdown, Namjoon clucked his tongue and came up behind him. “It’s okay, no need to panic. C’mon, remember to breath.”

I’m trying really hard to forget though.

“Maybe this will help.”

He barely registered what was happened as Namjoon slowly turned around and leaned in closer. He felt something warm brush across his lips and he had to attempt to calm down in order to process what just happened. His brain was either screaming at him to focus or trying to rip itself apart, he wasn’t sure which it was so he was left wondering—

Wait, what did he just do.

Blinking past his panic, he looked up at Namjoon who in turn was looking down at him expectantly. Yoongi, who was having issues forming coherent thought, raised his finger to his lips. They were—wet. Warm. Which only meant one thing.

“Did you just—” He started, hesitating when he felt his voice begin to crack. “Did you just kiss me?”

Namjoon stifled a laugh. “Yeah, I did. Did you miss that?”

“Maybe…” Yoongi mumbled, his cheeks blossoming into a deep crimson. “Could you—could you do it again?”

“Do what again?” Namjoon teased. “I’m lost, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Kiss me beneath the milky twilight

Lead me, out on the moonlit floor

Lift your open hand

Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon’s sparkling

So kiss me

“Kiss me…” Yoongi said so quietly he barely heard it himself.

“What was that?” Namjoon continued to torment him. “I didn’t catch that.”

So kiss me

“I said kiss me!” Yoongi blurted out, his blush creeping all the way down his neck. “Don’t make me say it again or I’m going to explode.”

Namjoon laughed easily, smiling down at Yoongi with affection. “Alright, alright. I can do that.”

So kiss me

This time when Namjoon closed the distance between them, Yoongi was hyper aware. He thought he was warm before but Namjoon proved to be even warmer. His lips were soft and sweet, he tasted like the box of chocolates they had stolen from the security office earlier that day, and that somehow made it that much more intoxicating. The sensation was exhilarating, one that made Yoongi’s knees weak when all of the blood rushed to his head.

Namjoon smiled against Yoongi’s lips and pulled away slightly. “Better?”

“Mmm…” Yoongi hummed happily, nodding lazily. “Yeah… can you do it again?”

So kiss me

#yoonkooknetwork #btsguid #namgi #namgi scenarios #namgi fanfic #lex writes #taekemeaway

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taeguboi · 5 years ago

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🔀Shuffle Game🔀 Request 01

Hey! Could u do 🔀 6 with Namjoon please? Thank u in advance :)

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Request: 6 + Namjoon Song: EIGHT by IU & Suga Theme: Angst // Lockdown

Fiction Masterlist

On Hold, Hold On

On hold. Every little thing is on hold. Plans, life… even love to an extent. On hold from work, on hold on the phone, on hold with your plans to move in with your boyfriend. So there you sit, same shit, different day, feeling increasingly distanced from the world as you knew it.

You used to get so frustrated at how there was never enough time to stop and contemplate life, but now… it’s scary how unaccomplished you feel, how you’ve barely achieved any of those goals you had as a teenager… That was nice, that age where you could make memories and carefully plan new ones…

Reminiscing and ignoring the world outside had become your mindset over the past couple of months, particularly over the past week in which you had been ignoring phone calls and not responding much to texts. A certain sense of fear had overcome you in a roundabout way to communicate with your boyfriend. It hurts more and more with every day that you can’t see him, so your brain seems to have gone into some sort of shut down mode whenever he reaches out to you.

Everything was planned out so perfectly. You had finally bagged a job you were happy in and a partner with whom you could share your best and worst moments. This has become the ultimate test, trying to break you with every second that passes. You’ve resorted to reruns of old tv shows that you used to watch with childhood and school friends, reading back on old diary entries of your college years and watching back on your old social media uploads of getting drunk or going on holiday or just being nuts for the sake of it.

This distance from your boyfriend feels like it is lasting forever with no end in sight. Some days you wake up and can’t even remember what he feels like to hug, the scent you would breathe in when in his arms… His voice is only just about a solid memory in your head. You’ve never been more disheartened in your life. Nothing is happening. You feel… so empty.

Without wanting to admit it to yourself, this is the time you need him the most… But you find that everything you do lately is just a sad attempt to push him away… Why?

Namjoon: Morning my lovely :)

Your heart continues to sink at the morning greeting presented in text, not in person. With every text he sends you, the more you’re longing to be by his side and so the more you try to distract yourself every time just so that it might hurt less.

You: Morning :)

Closed answers are often your responses to him as of late; you’re afraid of the conversations about your life and plans and all the rest. It’s getting too depressing now. You wince at the conversations about available houses or flats because there’s no signal that your time apart will end and it feels like your efforts on saving money up are wasted. You feel your heart beat faster every time on a phone call, he wants to look back on a particular time you had together because you’re devastated that that still can’t be you right now, living in the moment, making memories.

Namjoon: How are you?

You: Okay I guess. You?

You wonder how long it will take for him to notice your decrease in enthusiasm for the relationship that you’ve become to fearful to think about. You want to snap out of it, knowing how ridiculous it must seem to feel so fragile and delicate about life. But you can’t. All you want to do when you’re texting him is go do something else. Not because you don’t love him but because it hurts to love someone you can’t see.

Namjoon: I’m alright too, thanks. Wanna call?

You let out an exasperated sigh whilst lounging around on the couch, knowing that you can’t avoid this forever; you had rejected his suggestions to have a phone call for the past few days armed with one excuse or another.

You: Sure

The minute you answer his call, you vividly memorise everything you know about him. You think about his favourite spot in his house and how he’s probably sitting there right now just to talk to you with the book he was probably reading discarded at his side to have his attention on your voice.

“Hey” you utter.

“Hey sweetheart… it’s been a few days” he nervously chuckles from the other end of the line.

“Yeah, I suppose it has… Sorry about that” you reply.

Yesterday you told him how much of a nightmare it was to get the weekly shop in as you scrambled your cupboard which barely held anything in there. The day before that you told him you were going for a long walk to embrace the nature when after you had sent that message, you just sat at home all day. The day before that… well it all goes similarly really. Different excuse, same reason.

“How are you doing? I mean, really. You seem a bit off lately” he says, making you feel low. Like you had already expected, you knew at some point he was going to pick up on your behaviour change.

You struggle to find a proper response, just babbling nervously about how busy you’ve managed to make your life.

“Oh, well you know how it is. You look for something to do, can’t find anything, then several things come at once” you lie. “Like buses” you jest to make light of the conversation, still feeling the need to keep up appearances.

Namjoon chuckles at your flustered reply.

“It’s okay to be feeling a little down, y/n. Talk to me” he tells you. Wow, he really does know you well, you think to yourself. As far as you’re concerned, you hadn’t let out one clear signal that something is up, yet he just knows.

You let out a sigh to prepare yourself as you feel a pent up storm coming on.

“I’m just fed up I guess”

“I miss you too hun”

Those words bring a stinging sensation to your eyes. You miss him too, but you’ve been having a hard time admitting that out loud. All you’ve felt like you can do it hide from it all until this all blows over. Time is very powerful though.

“I hate this so badly” you admit, bringing your forehead into your hand before brushing back your hair in frustration. “I just wanted so badly to start a life with you and have our own place and… It’s been so long; it’s starting to feel like a wasted effort, what, with both our jobs on hold and only reduced pay as an income and that might not even hold out as long as this…”

“I know things aren’t quite working out as we had hoped but… we’ll get there soon, yeah?” he tries to assure you, but you’re feeling so pessimistic that you can’t seem to accept this.

“But we aren’t there now, as we should have been!” you exclaim almost with a sob. “Right now, we would have already found our perfect first place together and have all the time for us we could ever wish for… I feel so lost. It’s kind of rocking my world.”

“It’s not ideal, I know but… let’s not dwell on the present yeah? Let’s try to remain positive and take every day as it comes…”

“It’s not quite feeling that easy right now” you huff. “I just want to go back to when things felt simpler, you know. Okay, I mean, they weren’t simple but… How do I explain? It’s like having a more complicated life with important things to focus on actually made life easier. It certainly made it easier to live with my mind. I’m going nuts here Joon”

“We’re all on the same boat my lovely” he continues, still trying to sway you another way with your mental state. “We have to make the best out of a tough situation; the past will never come back to us, so we have to play the hand we’ve been dealt, you know?”

A part of you knows your boyfriend is speaking perfect sense. Another part of you still can’t shirk this feeling off though of hopelessness and feeling like you’re living a life without purpose or ambition. He’s got such a brilliant mind and his way with words is so amazing that he doubles up as a therapist as well as the best boyfriend you’ve ever had… Even his words of logic are making you pine for him even more.

“I guess I wish I had a winning card up my sleeve to cheat this thing” you sigh, using Namjoon’s little card analogy.

“We all have to lose before we win” he bluntly responds, being correct again.

“Don’t you just wish you could be like younger right now though? I bet none of the kids around here are exactly complaining that they don’t have to get dressed in clothes they despise every day to listen to teacher that talk about things they aren’t interested in…”

“Maybe you should also consider though that those kids do enjoy certain aspects of it all though, such as seeing their friends and going to their after school clubs… Everyone has something to miss right now.”

Maybe you are dwelling too much, playing the martyr or something. Everybody is experiencing the same dilemmas right now. Everybody else has been stopped from seeing people they love. Everybody has had to put their plans and their worlds on hold too… You never stopped to consider that there are also many people who have it a lot worse than you do.

“Am I being selfish Joon?” you question following your little epiphany.

“Of course not, dear! Sure, there are people a lot more directly affected right now, but… you haven’t experienced those things so this is allowed to be a big deal to you because this is the worst you know or can imagine”

Strangely, you found yourself feeling… better? Some aspects are starting to be put into perspective for you. Not everything, but it’s something.

“I just don’t want to look back on my time being this age as someone who was only fatigued and fed up… I think that’s why I do the dwelling on the past thing” you admit, opening up some more.

“And that’s exactly why we need to make the most of it… How about we start by thinking of ways we could do the things we used to do together without actually being together in person?”

“You mean just video call each other whilst we eat? Isn’t that a bit weird?” you laugh.

“Okay, maybe not that…” he hums. “But you know, maybe we could occasionally share what we’re up to… Maybe you could take me around the park the next time you go?”

It’s actually not a bad idea. Every time you’ve been out for your daily walk, if you do even go on one, you have always missed that element of conversation or just someone else’s presence around. A couple of days back actually, you had seen some wonderful things because of the time of year and wouldn’t it actually be so much better if you had someone to share that with?

“Hey, don’t put yourself down because you didn’t get to do something you wanted to… Whether that’s our plans to live together or that you didn’t do the laundry today.”

“Wait, how did you know I haven’t done that yet?” you giggle.

“Just an example, love… wild coincidence” he chuckles back.

“Try not to let it get you down when sometimes you build something up only for it to be broken down my love… Live in the here and now so that you can look back on these times almost as fondly as you look back on before”

Your smile extends from cheek to cheek. It might take some healing, but you can do this; you have Namjoon.

A/N: Sorry if I didn’t quite capture the essence of the song... in my defence, it’s only been out for like 2 days haha. Hope everyone is keeping well x

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montyrakusen · 4 years ago

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Voices in the Wind, the Northern Isles of Shetland Part 3

I awoke one morning in someone else’s flat and I couldn’t remember how I got there. My friend, fellow art student, Ceri Herington Pritchard https://ceripritchard.com/ decided we should go on an adventure.

"Let's go north" I said, and we did. We decided on Shetland, as it was as far north as we could think of going in the UK. It was October and cold, wintery, and Ceri let all the camping gas escape in Aberdeen before we had even got on the ferry. We didn’t have outdoor clothes like we have today. Ceri had a greatcoat and I had a tank driver's jacket, probably from the Korean war, that I’d stolen from the Combined Cadet Force at school.

When we arrived in Lerwick we headed north striding out as fast as we could. They were building the Sullom Voe oil terminal and the flat barren wind-swept landscape was dotted with ex red London double decker buses ferrying workers to the construction site, the destination windows read, Moorgate, Archway, Liverpool Street Station and so forth. We walked in a huge cavernous world of clouds coming from Greenland rising in the west and falling in the east with the sun shining through, highlighting the ceiling of our world and at sunset looked like God had appeared. I fell in a bog then it rained and there was freezing fog then I fell in a bog again.

On the 5th of November we were probably two of Europe’s most northerly campers, at the most northerly point of Shetland, a place where giants fought over the love of a mermaid, near the remote island of Muckle Flugga. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muckle_Flugga

Miserable, with teeth chattering and wet feet, I wore all the clothes I possessed and had to get up at 3am to crack the ice off my tent. On another night because of a storm we slept in a cement store hut and upon waking covered in dust looked like ghosts. One night, camped on a windy beach we were kept awake by boulders rolling in the surf. It was always spine chillingly cold and was only relieved by whisky in friendly pubs that felt like someones front room and there was usually a fidler. These experiences only gave me a love for this beautiful and remote place in the middle of the North Sea.

Nowhere is more than a mile from the sea on Northern Shetland and it is almost tree-less. Small crofts are dotted here and there with flapping, coloured, washing drying on lines, fishing boats far out at sea and the smell of burning peat on the wind. In those days the place was littered with abandoned rusting vehicles and the sides of the roads were covered in empty beer cans with the smiling face of Venetia Stevenson looking up at us https://www.cannyscot.com/SweetheartStout.htm, people built walls from un-returnable beer barrels and crofts lay derelict. Later, I believe, a vicar ordered a ship to take all the scrap away. No matter what the weather there was always some hardy soul out in the landscape, a small moving dot in the distance digging the peat, driving the sheep, rowing a boat. If you listened carefully there were voices on the wind.

I loved this wonderful strange place and began to plan a photo documentary. I first returned and shot it in 35mm colour transparency with the hope of printing it up in Ciba Chrome of which I was a big fan. Unfortunately the processing lab put a scratch through every roll of film and in those days it was impossible to retouch.

Each year I would return, shooting medium format black and white first with Hasselblad and then later Rollie 6006/8 and I gradually built up a collection of images searching for the essence of the place. I became friends with people there, the local doctor from Mid Yell and some people who looked after otters. They recognised me in the pubs.

Some years I walked the islands, some years I took my blue Landrover with its home made stereo and two cassettes that I bought in Aberdeen, The Smiths, Meat is Murder and Elvis Costello, Almost Blue. I drove around in the simmer dim the grey evening light, eventually knowing both albums by heart. The RAF invited me to their mid-summer beach party, it never got dark and in the morning I was dive bombed by bonxsies, mad sea birds, as I staggered around the landscape looking for fresh water. I fell in a bog again.

I was befriended by people who fed me boiled ham and potatoes, plied me with drink and had me shoot shotguns at empty cans thrown in the air. “Just mind the sheep, lad”. Coming out of the most northerly pub at half past eleven at night with the sun still shining in my eyes I stepped onto a Norwegian Trawler and got caught up in a fight. We sat in the mess as they fought round and round on the tables and each time they came past we clutched our drinks to our chests.

The photography project ran out of steam, my life had changed, I was busy at work, until Lizzie encouraged me to finish it and we travelled back there together to see Up Helly Aa, the ceremonial burning of the Viking longship https://www.uphellyaa.org/ and to show my work in progress to Shetland Arts with a view to exhibiting it. We stayed in Mid Yell in the snow with 125mph winds full of ice. Huge squalls blew in from the ocean flying low, dropping ice into the waves. When we were in Lerwick we were guests of the head of the Jarl squad, the viking leader of Up Helly Aa, a tremendous honour.

In the early morning, whilst he slept, we secretly tried on his Viking gear. I always felt welcome there and people were kind. An exhibition was arranged in Lerwick, British Airways helped me fly it up and then it travelled all over Scotland. I was interviewed by a lovely lady with small round John Lennon Spectacles from Radio Shetland, only problem was I could hardly understand a word she said. The exhibition opening was very well attended from islands far and wide, made more impressive by the fact no one could get back home to their islands until the ferries restarted in the morning. I felt proud when they said I had shown their home to them in a different way.

Text edit: John Coombes Encouragement: Liz Rakusen

#shetland #yell #unst #fetlar #voices

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lilyvandersteen · 5 years ago

Text

Out of the Blue: Chapter 8

Cover Art: @redheadgleek

Beta extraordinaire: @hkvoyage

Links: AO3, FF.net

Author’s Note:

Another big confrontation... And this time around, Kurt is in the wrong.

Chapter 8: Wedding Snags

“When those dances were over, she returned to Charlotte Lucas, and was in conversation with her, when she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. He walked away again immediately, and she was left to fret over her own want of presence of mind; Charlotte tried to console her:

"I dare say you will find him very agreeable."

"Heaven forbid! THAT would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom on is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil."”

(An excerpt from Pride and Prejudice, by Jane Austen)

The preparations for Sam and Mercedes’ wedding brought Kurt back to Ohio several times. While dress-shopping with Mercedes, Kurt bumped into Chandler, who now worked at a bridal store, apparently.

“That’s great, that’s great,” Kurt babbled, not really knowing what to say to a sort of ex-boyfriend, even if they’d never had that official status.

Chandler’s expression darkened into a scowl. “Not really great. But it will do. For now.”

“Of course, of course. It’s good to see you again!”

That brought a smile to Chandler’s face again, and he kept up a steady stream of prattle while he flitted around fetching all sorts of wedding dresses for Mercedes to try on.

He didn’t seem to have a good eye, though. The dresses he chose were all wrong for Mercedes’ body type, and too small as well.

Kurt decided not to put Mercedes through the ordeal of putting on outfits that wouldn’t fit her anyway, and invented an emergency at his father’s shop to be able to leave the store at once.

“Is your father okay?” Mercedes asked.

“He’s fine,” Kurt assured her. “I just wanted to get out of that store. The clerk didn’t have a clue what would look good on you.”

“It seemed like… Was it someone you knew?”

Kurt sighed. “Yes. We dated when I was still in high school.”

“Ooooh! How come you never told me about this boyfriend of yours?”

“We were never boyfriends. We just went on two dates, and it never went anywhere. We got along, but there was no spark, you know?”

Mercedes nodded. “Funny that you’ve run into him again now. Maybe this time around, it will work?”

Kurt shrugged. “I doubt it. His fashion sense leaves much to be desired, and his compliments are rather stale.”

Chandler kept turning up like a bad penny, though. They didn’t go to the dress store again, Kurt having decided to design and make Mercedes’ dress himself, but Chandler was at the bakery they went to for taste-testing, because apparently his parents were celebrating their 25th anniversary and were turning it into a big party. He was at the flower shop they ordered the arrangement for the church in, choosing flowers for his parents’ anniversary bash. He was at the restaurant Mercedes had chosen to cater the wedding reception and dinner, vacillating between the fish or meat option, because his mother preferred the one and his father the other.

Each time, he turned to Kurt to help him choose, smiling at him and praising his taste. Kurt’s answering smiles were a little stiff, and he always excused himself as fast as he could.

The night of the rehearsal dinner, Kurt ran into Chandler again at the restaurant. He wasn’t alone this time. Blaine Anderson was with him, of all people, and seemed to have a hissy fit.

Kurt knew what it felt to be on the receiving end of that, and came to Chandler’s rescue, though he didn’t enjoy the liberties Chandler took as a result – taking his arm and calling him pet names.

He saw that Blaine had wine stains on his clothes, and took that to be the reason for his foul mood, so he explained how to get the stains out and advised Blaine to get on with it before they dried in.

Blaine took that to heart and disappeared at a run.

“Phew,” said Chandler.

“What was he angry about?” Kurt asked.

“Me bumping into him,” Chandler said. “We used to date, you see, and then he got tired of me, and he didn’t just dump me, he got his brother to fire me as well. Blackened my character and everything.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open in shock. “Really?”

Chandler nodded, his face grim. “Really. Can’t get a decent job anywhere because of him. So promise me you’ll never date him, no matter how much money he throws at you. Because when he gets bored, he’ll get rid of you, and you’ll be the one picking up the pieces.”

“I think I can safely promise you that,” Kurt said, his lips a thin line. “The way he treated you was horrible!”

Chandler shrugged. “Karma will bite him in the ass one day. Well, I’ll let you get back to the rehearsal dinner. See you around, sweetie!”

Kurt was halfway back to his table when it occurred to him that Chandler had no way of knowing he was here for Sam and Mercedes’ rehearsal dinner. Unless he had been eavesdropping. That was a bit unsettling. He’d wanted to share his piece of juicy gossip about Blaine Anderson with Mercedes straight away, but now decided to wait until they were alone together.

Mercedes had been planning to spend her last night as an unmarried woman with her parents, but during dinner, Kurt and Rachel had been able to convince her to come to the Hudmel house instead, for a sleepover.

While Kurt braided Rachel’s hair, he told them Chandler’s story.

Mercedes pursed her lips. “Are you sure he told you the truth? I mean, Sam has worked with Blaine several times now, and he says he’s such a nice guy. Works harder than anyone else, fixes any problem in a jiffy, treats everyone the same from the lowest intern to the big boss. Sam hasn’t heard a bad word about him from anyone who works with him.”

“Maybe they don’t dare criticize him,” Kurt suggested. “He’s the big boss’s brother, remember?”

Mercedes shrugged.

Rachel let out a giggle. “You’ve had it out for him ever since his rant at the Brittana wedding. And he APOLOGISED for that.”

“Still a dick move,” Kurt grumbled, but he let it drop.

The morning of the wedding dawned cool but bright, and Kurt hummed as he made some last-minute adjustments to the dress. A plate of no-drip, no-stain snacks stood next to him, and at regular intervals, he fed Mercedes a snack and took one for himself, too.

When he had pronounced the dress perfect, Mercedes’ cousin Alma took over, to do the bride’s and the bridesmaids’ hair and make-up, and Kurt slipped into the garden for fresh flowers. Mercedes’ mother was paying a florist to decorate the church, but Kurt had offered to do the bouquets and the boutonnières.

When he arrived back in the living room with the flowers, Mercedes sat on the sofa, looking at her phone and worrying her lower lip.

“Not having seconds thoughts, are you?” Kurt teased her, but if anything, her frown deepened.

“I’d silenced my phone so as not to be disturbed. And now I’ve just looked at it and my mom called me. Five times. And left voice-mails telling me to call back asap. Which I did, but I can’t reach her. What on earth is the matter?”

Kurt patted her arm. “You let ME worry about it, okay? Turn that frown upside down and think of nothing but marrying Sam. Your mom’s at the church, I take it? Checking the flower arrangements and such? I’ll go there at once and handle whatever snag your mom has hit. I promise.”

Mercedes nodded and smiled hesitantly.

“I’ll do the bouquets and boutonnières,” Carole offered.

“And if necessary, I can take them all to church,” Burt promised. “We still have lots of time to get there anyway. You go and deal with the problem, Kurt.”

That was all the encouragement Kurt needed to hurry to the church, where he found Sam in an old T-shirt and jeans with holes in it, scrubbing a swastika from one of the pews, and a teary Mrs. Jones being comforted by Cooper, of all people. When she told Kurt what had upset her, he blanched. Somehow, in less than 24 hours, all their careful planning had been torn to shreds. There had been a fire at the restaurant where the reception and dinner was to take place, so now they had no food nor venue. The church had been broken into and vandalized. Mercedes’ family and friends were cleaning everything up as best they could, but the flower arrangements were destroyed beyond repair. Mike, the best man, had disappeared, and with him the rings. And in front of the church, instead of well-wishers, there were two dozen bigoted idiots who were protesting against the wedding about to take place, because it was a white man marrying a black woman, and it didn’t do to mix races and sully one’s blood.

Kurt rolled his eyes at that. “That’s bogus. We’re all humans. The same race. Colour has nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, that’s all very well to say, but how do we get them to leave?” Mrs. Jones wailed.

Just then, two buses arrived. Out of them stepped about a dozen men clad in riot gear and armed to the teeth. They started herding the protesters onto the buses, and left with them after just a few minutes.

“That’s one problem sorted,” Cooper said cheerfully. “We’ll fix the rest too, don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Jones!”

“Flowers,” Kurt said. “I can do the flowers, no problem. It won’t be as grand as what the florist had planned, but it’ll look great nonetheless, I promise. Sam, Cooper, you’ll help once I get back?”

He didn’t wait for an answer but hurried to his car and headed home, where he assured Mercedes everything was under control, except that there had been a mishap with the flowers, and now they needed more. He stripped the garden of its flowers, put them into a few pails of water and ransacked his sewing supplies for ribbons. He also collected all the vases they had.

When he’d found everything he needed, he raced back to the church, and instructed Sam and Cooper to start tying roses to the pews, which thankfully were too sturdy to have been destroyed. They had been graffitied, but Mercedes’ family and friends had gotten most of it off, and had camouflaged the rest with a shimmery gauzy fabric. Silver. Perfect. Carole’s biggest vase was silver too, and Kurt would be using it to decorate the altar.

He carefully compiled a big bouquet for the altar and a few smaller ones to put in front of the lecterns. Then he inspected the arch at the church entrance. The wooden structure was chipped but still sound. The flowers, however, had been viciously shredded.

“Mrs. Jones, is there any more of that silver fabric? I’d put it over the arch and then pin the rest of my flowers onto it.”

Half an hour later, the church looked splendid again.

“What are we going to do about the best man and the rings, though?” he asked Sam.

“We have a back-up guy,” Sam smiled, “and he found us rings, too.”

Kurt hummed thoughtfully. “That leaves the food and a venue for the reception and the dinner. Where are we going to find that at such short notice?”

Sam clapped Kurt on the back. “No worries, man, the minister offered us the use of his garden, which is huge, apparently, and the whole church community is helping out, bringing chairs and tables and string lights and decorations and food and everything else we need. It’s all going to be all right!”

Kurt let out a deep breath and thanked his lucky stars for close-knit communities saving the day.

When Mercedes entered the church a few hours later, looking beyond gorgeous and glowing with happiness, Kurt wiped away a tear and blew her a kiss as she passed him. As he turned around to face the altar, though, he got a nasty shock. He hadn’t been paying much attention to Sam and his groomsmen, but now he saw that the back-up best man was none other than Blaine Anderson.

What on earth was HE doing here? Yes, Kurt had sent the Anderson brothers an invite, but what on earth did Blaine think he was doing, integrating himself into the wedding party?

Right at that moment, Blaine seemed to feel Kurt’s eyes on him. He looked straight at Kurt, nodded and smiled.

Kurt, still outraged at how Blaine had treated Chandler, shot him a glare and looked away to the minister, boiling inside.

He determinedly did not look Blaine’s way again throughout the ceremony, and hurried out of the church to the minister’s garden as soon as it was over.

As promised, the church community had turned the garden into a festive wonderland, and they’d set up an entire buffet of snacks and salads next to two barbecue grills. The wedding cake had arrived, too, and looked pristine and perfect.

“Dibs on this grill!” said a loud voice behind him, and Kurt shook his head with a grin as he saw Burt accept an apron from one of the women who’d be serving the buffet and inspect the contents of the cooler box.

“No red meat for you, Dad!” Kurt reminded him. “Remember what the doctor said!”

“Spoilsport,” Burt grumbled. “Just a teensy piece? Since this is a festive occasion and all?”

Kurt laughed. “All right, then, a teensy piece. I’ll tell Carole to check if it really is teensy!”

Soon, the party was well on its way. Everyone had enjoyed the impromptu barbecue, and now a band had arrived out of nowhere, and all the invitees were singing along and dancing and having a great time.

At Mercedes’ insistence, Kurt was telling her about all the problems they’d had to solve earlier that day, and she gasped and teared up a little.

Kurt was quick to dab the moisture away, “Your mascara, girl!”, and to comfort her. “Everything has turned out fine, hasn’t it? Thank heavens for your church community. They’ve worked wonders here! And everything else was dealt with satisfactorily. Well, except for Blaine Anderson being Sam’s replacement best man. Really? That rude, obnoxious ass? Don’t know why he’s always in a huff about something and throwing tantrums like a toddler or biting people’s noses off, but I’m far from impressed with his attitude. He needs to GROW UP. And seriously, after all that guy did, couldn’t Sam have chosen someone better?”

Someone cleared their throat behind them. They both turned their heads, and Kurt felt his cheeks heat up when he saw that it was Blaine. Had he heard Kurt bad-mouthing him?

“May I have this dance?” Blaine asked with a little bow, holding out his hand to Kurt expectantly.

Taken off guard, Kurt stammered, “Yeah. Sure.”

It was out before Kurt knew it, and there was no way of taking it back, seeing as Blaine took him firmly by the waist and whirled him away at once, beaming as he did so.

“That was a lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?” Blaine said a little later.

“It was,” Kurt agreed. “I’m not religious, but the minister said a lot of things that resonated with me. Yeah. I liked it.”

Blaine smiled at him again, his expression so disarming and charming that Kurt felt short of breath for a moment and had to remind himself of all the reprehensible things Blaine had done so as not to smile back besottedly.

The song changed, but Blaine showed no intention of letting Kurt go, leading him expertly and catching him any time Kurt stumbled over his own feet.

“Mercedes looks gorgeous in that dress,” Blaine said next. “It suits her so well.”

“Thank you. I made it.”

“Well, you’re an absolute wizard with a needle, then.”

Kurt giggled, and then covered his mouth with his hand in horror. Blaine didn’t seem to have noticed, though. He was looking pensive now.

“Why did you glare at me during the ceremony?”

Kurt’s chin went up. “You don’t deserve to be Sam’s best man.”

Blaine quirked an eyebrow. “Did you want that position?”

“What? No! I just mean, after what you did to Britts and San at their wedding, and after the despicable way you’ve treated Chandler, you don’t deserve to be anywhere near Sam, who is sweetness itself and deserves better than a cold-hearted, mean-spirited guy as his best man.”

Blaine had stopped moving now, and let go of Kurt. “Cold-hearted? Mean-spirited? After how I treated Chandler? Don’t you have that the wrong way round? Don’t you know what he did?”

Kurt scoffed. “What did he do to deserve you destroying his chances of ever finding a job again? Bite your dick while he was sucking it?”

Silence fell. Kurt noticed that people were looking at the both of them, and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably.

Blaine’s face was a cold mask now. “I’ve no idea what lies he told you, but you’re wide off the mark. We had good reasons to fire him.”

“Like what?”

“Like that he tried to kill you!”

Blaine turned around and stalked off, leaving behind a gaping Kurt.

What?!!

#bbb2020 #blaine big bang 2020 #klaine fanfiction #my fic #out of the blue

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