#resident evil au really has a fucking choke hold on me

[xamaxenta]

Gnawing thru several layers of dirt hrhhhehh

[mackjlee9]

Omega!Leon Kennedy x Alpha!Male!Reader [Smut]

Warning; slight somnophilia(?, thigh fucking, breeding kink, daddy kink, slight feminization. Omegaverse AU, Mpreg (male pregnancy). preferably re2 leon

Masterlist.

Resident Evil

(M/n) starts stirring up awake when he keeps feeling something pushing back on him, something soft yet firm, and whatever it is, it's only pressing against his lower abdomen area. Slowly, he starts realizing the stuff happening around him.

He hears Leon whining and whimpering next to him, releasing pleas that get lost in the air, having no one listening to him until now. He mumbles something that (M/n) can't quite understand, before his hips move back with a rather rough movement, making him groan, his hands instinctively holding onto Leon's hips. And it clicks to him, amidst his still sleepy mind that Leon has been the one releasing those noises and causing these in him.

(M/n) holds Leon's hips still with a tight grip, making the blond cry out, begging for him.

"Please please please~" (M/n) is not too sure about what Leon wants, but he's sure he won't be able to fall back asleep with the way his cock is leaking so much. He takes a deep breath, making his mind blank for a moment as he takes in the scent of Leon's pheromones, but he's quick to regain himself back.

He feels Leon's hips wriggling under his grip, letting out desperate whimpers, so needy for (M/n)'s cock.

Leon cries out a 'yes~' when (M/n) starts lowering his shorts and underwear down his thighs, remaining around his knees, but an unsatisfied groan leaves him when (M/n) slides his wet cock in between his thighs, "No~ I... I need more, please..." He whines with tears in his eyes, and (M/n) almost couldn't believe that his boyfriend, his mate, was crying because he decided not to fuck him stupid.

Trying to resist the urge to give in to Leon's needs, (M/n) moved his hands up to hold onto the blond's waist, slowly moving his hips back and forth, groaning at the feeling of Leon's smooth skin, nuzzling his nose on the back the omega's neck, taking deep breaths of his enticing scent. Fuck, it was so hard to resist him when he smelled this good.

"Need you i-inside me now, p-please... I want your cock, w-wanna get filled with your cum..." Leon said between needy whines, thrusting his hips back, feeling the throbbing veins of (M/n)'s dick gracing so close to his wet and twitching hole, causing him to whimper and grip the pillow under his head as he felt his body trembling, tears flowing freely down his flushed cheeks, "Daddy, please..."

The way his voice broke was all (M/n) needed to give in to his lover's pleads, holding his cock and aligning it to the blond's entrance, pushing slowly inside him, feeling Leon's body tense up, his thighs shaking as he released a choked moan.

"'S so fucking good~" Leon cried, his hand gripping and pulling on the bedsheets, "Fuck me, daddy, make... Make me yours..." Gritting his teeth, (M/n) turned Leon around, facing him and his eyes trailed down his body. His shirt was pulled up to above his chest, exposing his red and swollen nipples, ropes of white, sticky cum glistening on his abdomen, and his inner thighs all wet and sticky.

Leon looked up at him with bright eyes, tears wetting his eyelashes and down his cheeks, he licked his lips and smirked, holding his legs spread further apart.

"Can you move, daddy~?" He really knew how to push his buttons...

"Fucking hell..." (M/n) muttered to himself, fingers gripping Leon's thighs as he slowly dragged his cock out, watching Leon's body squirm as he closed his eyes, before thrusting forward again, making the blond feel every inch going inside him.

Leon's back arched off the bed, his hands moving to grip the bedsheets again, needing some stability at the feeling of being filled with his alpha's cock.

He couldn't get enough of it, no matter how many times he got fucked dumb and was left unable to walk for the next few days. But this time, the heat in the pit of his stomach just kept getting hotter and hotter with every thrust inside his weak body, and it was driving him crazy.

"More more more fuck- more, daddy..." He kept whining breathlessly, but it just wasn't enough.

"Holy- Baby, stop... Clenching around me s-so much, you're... You're gonna ma-make me cum," Leon's blue eyes looked into (M/n)'s. His (e/c) eyes were glued onto him, watching every small reaction coming out of him.

Leon reached his hands up, making (M/n) lean down closer to him, his arms and legs instinctively wrapping around him, keeping a tight hold on his body.

"Cum inside~," (M/n) groaned, his hands placed on the mattress as he tried to free himself from Leon's hold, but the omega was stronger than he anticipated, his grip not budging.

"Leon, I... I can't, you're... You're gonna get pregnant-," the whimper that Leon released next to his ear made him freeze, a shiver running down his spine.

"Yes please, fill me with your pups, it's o-okay~ I'm ready to be-become a mommy~," well, if (M/n) had any self-control before that, it was certainly gonna with those words.

(M/n)'s thrusts became rough and deep, growling at the feeling of Leon's slick walls tightening around him, whimpering when he felt his cum spilling inside him, muttering quiet and high-pitched 'thank you's over and over again every time he came.

"Fuck, baby, you're gonna be such a good mommy," he says between grunts, making Leon tear up at the sound of his voice, feeling him going feral on his sensitive body, fucking him and making sure every drop of his cum stays inside him, not spilling even a single drop.

Leon's hands pull on (M/n)'s hair as yet another dry orgasm shakes his body.

"I'll... I'll be the best mommy," he mumbles in a daze, feeling (M/n)'s lips leaving small kisses on the crook of his neck, where their mate mark is, before a surge of pain and pleasure racks his whole body as (M/n) bites him, dumping his cum inside him again as he can't hold back the loud moan as he orgasmed too.

//////

The next morning, Leon sighs and sits up slowly on the bed, feeling extremely embarrassed as his mind is flooded with memories of the previous night, alongside the sensation of something dripping out of him, but even if he's embarrassed about it all, he's also feeling giddy.

Slowly, he gets up from the bed, needing a few minutes, and attempts at keeping himself standing, holding tightly onto the long-sleeved shirt (M/n) dressed him when he was fast asleep, and he took small steps toward the mirror.

Silently looking from the open door of their room, (M/n) observes how Leon looks at himself in the mirror, a wide smile plastered on his blushing face and a captivating glow around him. He can't help but sigh as he looks at him, walking closer to him and making eye contact with him through the mirror, watching how he looks away flustered.

He wraps his arms around Leon's waist, gently caressing his belly, hearing the blond giggle as he placed his hands on top of his.

Fuck, he was so in love with him.

And he's definitely not surprised when Leon comes up to him a few weeks later, tears gathering in his blue and spilling down his rosy cheeks, the widest, happiest smile on his face.

"I'm pregnant."

[luxekook]

trivia love | knj

⇥ pairing: kim namjoon x reader

⇥ genre: non-idol au with fluff and smut

⇥ summary: in which the reader and namjoon become ridiculously attracted to each other over weekly late night trivia sessions

⇥ word count: 5.4k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, terrible trivia team names, namjoon being devastating, low-key exhibitionism, smut in a bar bathroom, oral (f receiving), sub!joon, switch!reader, everyone being nerdy af

Weekly trivia used to be so fun. Your team - The Multiple Scoregasms - used to demolish the competition with ease. You used to be able to think so clearly and answer so correctly. You used to revel in the free drinks earned with your $20 bar credit winnings.

Keywords: used to

For the last two Thursdays, not only had your team lost miserably, you seemed to have lost all recollection past your own name.

The reason? Team Text Us, We're Single.

First of all, their team name was highly deceptive. There was no way that all seven of those beautiful team members were single. It was absolutely ludicrous.

Second of all, only one member of the group seemed to even take trivia seriously. And they still won. Twice.

And last of all, you were high-key attracted to said member. You sighed, thinking back to simpler times before you first saw him two Thursdays ago…

The first thing you saw when you walked into Queenie’s Bar was a squad of middle-aged men debating the merits of Draco Malfoy’s redemption arc.

And the second? Just the cutest smiling boy you’d ever seen in the entirety of your existence. He was tall and deliciously tan, with cute dimples that surfaced suddenly when he smiled at the bartender in thanks.

As you stood in the archway of the bar gaping at this dimpled god, you got jostled from behind by your friend Olivia. “What’s the hold up? Go claim our usual table, (y/n)! I’ll get the drinks.”

You snapped out of your reverie. Cute boy or not, he was likely to be part of tonight’s competition; and, therefore, you needed to annihilate him accordingly.

Nodding inwardly, you stalked past the men who now had moved on from Draco to a heated argument surrounding house-elves and their rights.
 “Hermione just dropped her whole campaign! S.P.E.W. was never mentioned again!” One man thrust his hand through his thinning hair in exasperation, “God, did the campaign buttons mean nothing?”

You cracked a smile as you settled into your usual table in the middle of the crowded bar. You loved Thursday night trivia with everything you had.

Thursdays brought in an eclectic sort of crowd to Queenie’s. The groups scattered throughout the bar represented everyone from middle aged Potterheads to skulking e-boys to nerdy young adults (READ: you) and - apparently - to models (READ: Dimples).

You spotted your roommate Jordan and your friend Marlene hurrying through the door and raised a hand to wave them down. Marlene noticed you first and yelled, “Yo, (y/n)!”

Typically, you would have been embarrassed by this behavior, but it happened each week without fail. So, you just gave a half-assed salute.

The only thing that Marlene, the only extrovert in your circle of friends, loved more than being the center of attention was forcing the rest of you into the spotlight with her.

Her reasoning? Something about comfort zones and shit. Your reasoning? Pure evil.

Jordan rolled his eyes at you and grabbed Marlene, dragging her over to your table. “She needs to be stopped,” Jordan said in lieu of a greeting, “She’s a menace to introverts everywhere.”

“Puh-lease,” Marlene plopped into her seat dramatically, “Y’all love me. Besides, if you got rid of me, who would do speed trivia rounds for you?”

You and Jordan exchanged a panicked look at the mere thought of being put on the spot in front of a large crowd. “You make a convincing argument,” you sighed, “I guess we’ll keep you.”

“Well,” Marlene concentrated on something over your shoulder, “I might leave voluntarily if other teams are out here looking like that.”

You turned, seeking out the team in question, and locked eyes with Dimples. He blushed furiously and ducked his head, blonde hair falling to cover his eyes. His friend to his left, equally as attractive, gave Dimples a weird look and shoved his shoulder. You whipped back around before you got caught staring - again.

“What the fuck?” Jordan whispers-yelled across the table to you, “Do you know that boy, (y/n)?”

“No,” you choked out, already halfway to whipped over someone you’d never even met.

“Well, damn,” Olivia finally arrived, somehow successfully holding four drinks, “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Marlene smirked, “Just a cute boy thirsting over (y/n) from afar.”

“He is not thirsting!” Your disclaimer went by unacknowledged.

“Oooh, we love a thirsty boy,” Olivia slid into her seat next to you and turned around to assess the crowd, “Shit. Which one is he? All the boys at that table are hot.”

“The one with the dimples,” you automatically answered, your mind replaying his squinty-eyed smile in full HD.

“Whoa, hold on a minute,” Marlene whipped out her pen and notepad like she was about to take notes, “Now, how do you know he has dimples?”

“Uh,” you sank low in your seat, “A good guess?”

“Nope, try again,” Jordan cackled, “You twirl your hair when you’re lying, bitch.”

Goddamnit. You released your traitorous hand from your hair immediately. “Fine, because I saw him smiling when I arrived, okay?”

“Interesting,” Marlene scribbled gibberish on her notepad, “And how do you feel about that?”

Now, two long weeks later, you still had no idea how to answer that question. However, you did know that you longed to talk with him for hours and absorb the knowledge he seemed to hold in every crevice of his brain. You did know that a darker part of you wanted to see him kneeling before you, completely at your mercy. You did know that his thighs were distracting, to the point where you accidentally dumped your entire beer down your shirt because you were too gaping at the way he leaned over the bar to order drinks.

And, unfortunately, you did know that he seemed to be equally distracted by you. This bit of knowledge came via your friends; and, therefore, you were in full denial.

“Question nine,” the bartender-turned-announcer cleared her throat, jolting you from your inner thoughts. “Who wrote 1818’s Frankenstein?”

“Mary Shelley!” You whispered across the table to Jordan, who then scrawled the name onto your team’s answer sheet. Satisfied, you shot a furtive glance around the bar and frowned as the surrounding teams all seemed to be confident in their answers as well. Your gaze strategically skipped past the table in the back section of the bar before returning to face your teammates.

From her seat next to Jordan, Marlene spotted something in the very direction you had been avoiding and giggled, “Dimples is staring. Bottoms up, fam.”

“Again?” Olivia rolled her eyes and drank from her dwindling gin and tonic. “He just looked at her, like, thirty seconds ago!”

Your eyes swung to Jordan as he attempted to covertly take a sip of his vodka cranberry.

“Please tell me you all aren’t drinking every time he looks over here,” you groaned, crossing your arms, “How are you even sure that he's looking at me?”

“Maybe because his eyes were glued to your ass when you walked by his table earlier on the way to the bathroom,” Olivia cackled, “I mean, I can’t blame the guy. Those jeans really do make you look thick.”

“And that’s ‘thick’ with at least three C’s and possibly a Q,” Marlene added, shooting you a thumbs up and nod of approval.

Jordan arched an eyebrow slyly, sipped his mixed drink, and drawled,“Well, why do you think she wore them?”

That snake!

“Top ten anime betrayals,” you whispered, eyes wide in the wake of being exposed.

Marlene and Olivia gasped in unison and turned towards you. Olivia hissed, “You bitch. Have you been holding out on us? Have you been seducing him?”

“Question ten,” the announcement blared from the bar’s speakers, saving you briefly from the brewing interrogation you felt was headed your way. “What novel begins with the words 'Call me Ishmael’?”

“Moby Dick,” Marlene answered, “Now, back to the matter at hand. I cannot believe you didn’t tell us this crucial information. We could have been scheming together if we knew you liked him.”

“Like him?!” Your shriek drew the attention of the neighboring table, and you shot them a sheepish smile. When they finally looked away, you immediately reverted back to your murderous state, “I don’t even know his name! And when have you been scheming?”

“Fine,” Jordan acquiesced, stirring his paper straw around his drink, “Maybe you don’t like him yet, but you definitely want to sit on his dick. Am I right or am I right?”

Gleefully, Marlene and Olivia faced you with fierce looks of anticipation.

“Fine,” you sniffed, trying to scrape your shredded dignity off the floor, “Yes, I want to sit on his dick. Is that so wrong?”

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Olivia rubbed her palms together, grinning deviously, "I mean, we already know he's into you. Why can't you just say something to him?"

You looked at her like she had just spoken Latin backwards, "Have you seen him? He’s so sweet. I could ruin him.”

“I don’t think he’d even mind though,” Marlene sighed, gazing over at the boy in question.

Jordan snorted as you buried your head in your hands and audibly prayed for anyone out there to take pity on you.

"We're moving on to our next category, folks," the bar's sound system crackled to life, answering your prayers, "Harry Potter."

"Oh, fuck yeah," You and Marlene - resident Harry Potter dweebs - exchanged high fives. Finally, a category you could probably win with your mind functioning on minimal capacity.

"Question eleven: In the Goblet of Fire, who poses as Mad-Eye Moody, Harry's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor?"

"Barty Crouch," you and Marlene said, pausing for dramatic effect, "Junior."

You cracked up as Jordan and Olivia shook their heads. "I question our friendship every damn day," Olivia joked, gazing off into the metaphorical distance - aka at the wall.

"You love us, bitch-ass," Marlene aimed a kick in Olivia’s direction under the table.

You grinned at their antics and went to take a sip from your beer, only to discover it empty. "Another round?" You ask your friends, standing to head over to the bar.

"Yes, please," Jordan groaned, "Anything to make it through these next four questions."

"Anyone - besides Jordan - want another round?" You revised your original statement aloud.

"Wow, have I mentioned I love Harry Potter lately? Like, yes, ten points to Hogwarts, bitch," Olivia thrust her empty glass in the air.

"That's not even how House Points work, Liv," Marlene sighed, "Solid B- for effort."

You turned to leave. "Wait!" Jordan drew your attention back to your group, "Stick your ass out when you order. He'll be watching." He shot a quick glance in He Who Shall Not Be Named (Because You Don't Know It)'s direction. "Oh, wait. He already is. Go get 'em, Hedwig."

You inwardly screamed at the knowledge that you were being watched by the current focus of your attraction and decided not to comment before leaving.

"Hedwig?" You heard Marlene addressing Jordan as you walked away, "Did you mean Hermione? Hedwig is Harry’s fucking owl. RIP, by the way."

God, you loved your friends.

Arriving at the large wooden bar running the length of the room, you flagged down one of the bartenders and circled a finger in the air to indicate another round. You and your friends came often enough for most of the staff to know your orders by heart. It was awesome.

"Question twelve!" The sound jolted you upright. You hadn't noticed you were standing right next to one of the extra speakers the bar used for trivia. Idiot, you cursed yourself, why must you be like this?

"Why was the Whomping Willow planted?" Cringing again at the volume, you craned your neck and located Marlene, who gave you an affirmative nod of 'I got this, fam.'

"Here you go!" The bartender placed your drinks in front of you, "Same tab?"

"Yes, please," You nodded, attempting to smoothly grab all four drinks, "Thank you!"

"Need some help?" The sweetest voice you had ever heard in your life sounded from your left side. You slowly turned your head to face its source and was equally as stunned by the beautiful boy in front of you.

This was one of Dimples’ teammates - one of the Team Text Us, We're Single boys.

"Um," your brain resembled the scene from Spongebob where he forgot his name. Your eyes darted over the boy's shoulder in a deliberate attempt to avoid his cute scrunched eyes and wide smile. But, you were only faced with something even more devastating.

Six boys openly gaped at you from the back table. When you caught their eyes, three looked away, two grinned shamelessly, and one blushed right to the tips of his ears.

Cute. Your insides turned to mush over how adorable your Dimples was.

"They're the worst, right?” The boy in front of you commanded your attention once more, "So nosy. Now, let me help you. I'm Jimin, by the way, from Team Text--"

"Us, We're Single," you finished, "Yeah, you guys beat us the last two Thursdays. We had such a nice winning streak going, too."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Jimin smiled wide, "Most of us don't even care about trivia."

"That makes it even worse," you groaned, sliding two drinks his way, "I'm (y/n), from The Multiple--"

"Scoregasms," Jimin laughed, "Awesome name."

"Thanks!" Your confidence soared at his praise and you smiled genuinely, "It's some of my best work."

"Question thirteen!"

"Oh shit," Jimin muttered, "Let's go before I miss any more questions. Joon will have my ass on a platter."

You nodded, mind whirring to try to determine which team member this 'Joon' was. Maybe the intimidating-looking boy with the bleached blonde hair pushed back in a headband? Or the really muscular one in all black with the doe eyes and long brown hair?

"When Dumbledore and Harry first visit Horace Slughorn, what is he disguised as?"

At the question, you grabbed the two remaining drinks and head back to your table with Jimin following close behind. As soon as you began your journey, you rolled your eyes at the completely obvious way your friends were pretending they hadn’t been watching you and Jimin interact this entire time.

You had never seen them having such an animated conversation about... "Bagels are so good! I love how you can choose from so many different types, like cinnamon raisin, sesame, blueberry, honey wheat--"

"Hi," you forcefully placed the drinks down in front of your friends and succeeded in interrupting Marlene's riveting tirade about bagels, "This is Jimin. He was kind enough to help me."

"Hey, Jimin," Jordan eyed the boy appreciatively, "Decided to scope out the competition, huh?"

"Honestly, sort of," Jimin chuckled. Your eyes narrowed suspiciously, not liking the sly edge his grin took on in the slightest.

"Well, hopefully (y/n) didn't give much away," Olivia giggled, staring up at Jimin with heart eyes, "She's our team leader."

"Damn straight." You plopped back down in your chair, "Want to sit with us? We can grab an extra chair from a nearby table."

"Nah," Jimin glanced over his shoulder at where his teammates were probably still staring, "I should get back. Want to hang out after trivia though? We can merge tables!"

Before you could even answer, Marlene enthused, "Yes! That would be so fun. Don't you think, (y/n)?"

You gave her your most lethal side-eye, catching onto what seemed to be happening here, "Yes... so fun."

"Great!" Jimin ignored your dry tone, "Talk to you later then!"

You all watched as he sauntered away.

"Damn," Olivia sighed, "That boy is fine." You nodded sagely as your eyes stayed glued to Jimin's firm ass as he walked away in those tight jeans.

"So, what's the plan, team?" Jordan clapped, "We have T minus twenty minutes to get 'Operation Get (y/n) Dicked Down' up and running. Let's do this."

God, you hated your friends.

Twenty minutes later, your team had solidly lost. However, unlike the last two weeks, your loss did not come as a surprise or alongside any hard feelings. You four were too busy prepping to hang out with seven intimidatingly hot boys.

You were the only one not excited.

“And that concludes trivia for tonight, folks,” the bartender announced, “Team Text Us, We’re Single wins once again. Please come to the bar to collect your bar credits, lads.”

“Oh my god, okay, it’s happening,” Jordan bounced up and down in his seat as you all watched the bar start to clear out, “Stay calm. Stay fucking calm.”

“I don’t know how you have any room to call (y/n) and I nerds while you straight up quote The Office, Jord,” Marlene laughed.

“The Office is an Emmy award-winning show,” Jordan sniffed, “Come at me when Harry Potter wins a Pulitzer.”

“The Pulitzer is only for American authors,” Marlene cried.

“I rest my case,” Jordan lifted his glass.

“What?” Marlene yelped, “That makes literally no sense.”

“As much as I hate to interrupt this fascinating argument,” Olivia drawled, “We’re being summoned.”

You gulped, glancing behind you. Sure enough, Jimin was flagging you all down from across the bar, while a few of his teammates dragged over an empty table towards their own.

“Shit, I guess this is it,” you sighed.

“Jesus, you’re not going off to war, (y/n),” Jordan rolled his eyes, “You’re literally about to meet the your trivia daddy.”

“Please— and I cannot stress this enough,” you paused, “Never say that again.” With that, you stood, grabbing your drink and sauntering over towards Jimin with all the confidence you could possibly summon.

You heard your friends’ laughter behind you, and you discreetly flashed them the middle finger behind you back.

“Hey, Jimin,” you smiled at the boy as he greeted you and your friends.

“Hi, welcome!” His eyes were completely encompassed by his cheeks, and you internally screeched at his cuteness.

“This is Taehyung,” Jimin gestured to the curly-haired boy to his right. Taehyung greeted you all with a deep ‘Hi’ and a peace sign.

“Yoongi,” Jimin pointed towards the intimidating boy you noticed earlier with the bleached hair and the headband. Yoongi only nodded in your general vicinity as greeting.

“Hi, I’m Jin!” The stunningly handsome boy at the end of the table burst out, evidently unable to wait until he was introduced. Jin blew you all a kiss as his friends groaned.

“Please ignore him,” Jimin rolled his eyes before moving on, “Those two are Hoseok and Jungkook.” Jimin gestures towards the bar where two boys were collecting two pitchers of beer.

“And, last but not least, our trivia leader Namjoon,” Jimin’s grin turned devious as the boy in question raised his hand in greeting and ducked his head back down.

“Please sit,” Jimin gestured towards the scattered empty chairs amongst his group.

“(Y/n)!” Jin called suddenly, his arm flopping frantically in the air, “Come sit next to me!”

Your eyebrows shot all the way up as your heartbeat accelerated. Sitting next to Jin meant sitting next to Namjoon - your Dimples.

Nodding, you made your way over. It would be rude to refuse his request, and you could not help but wonder if Namjoon’s friends were also schemers.

You rounded the corner of the table and plopped down between the two boys. “H-hi,” you offered, eloquent as ever. You sipped your beer to cover up your burning embarrassment.

“Hi,” Jin grinned at you, “Thanks for joining us at the handsome end of the table.”

You choked on your beer, before cracking up, “The handsome end?” You loved this boy already and couldn’t resist the urge to tease him, “Oh, you meant Namjoon.” You shot the boy you just mentioned a sly smile as Jin spluttered.

Namjoon cocked his head slightly as he slowly broke into a shy smile, “Yeah, he definitely did, (y/n).”

Lord Almighty, the way he said your named almost sounded like a confession.

“Oh, this is insane, you fools!” Jin shook with incredulity, “I am worldwide handsome. Not Namjoon. Ugh, I need new friends.”

Jin stood and skulked over to the other side of the table as you all laughed. He was so extra, you could already tell. However, his antics had done wonders for your nerves.

Turning back to Namjoon, you leaned in closer, “Did he just make an Always Sunny reference? Or was that just me?”

Namjoon nodded, eyes glinting in amusement, “He did. You watch that show, too?”

Your conversation delved into your favorite shows, your favorite movies, your favorite meals. You felt like you had known Namjoon forever with how comfortable you already were with each other. Yet, you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes strayed to your lips every so often or how his hands crept closer to your thigh with every parting word.

The boy was into you. You were almost 85% sure of it. So, you decided to test him.

In the middle of Namjoon’s story about the time Jungkook almost burned down his apartment complex, you slid your hand over his. Namjoon paused, and you looked up innocently. He gulped and continued.

You smiled viciously on the inside. Your fingers played with his, intertwining with them, playing with his rings, brushing over his palm.

As Namjoon’s story drew to a close, you tugged his hand onto your thigh and released it. Nonchalantly, you picked up your beer and took a sip.

Shooting the boy a quick glance in your periphery, you found him staring openmouthed at his own hand encompassing your thigh. He gave your thigh a tentative squeeze, and you hummed in content. His eyes shot to yours.

“W-what are you doing?” Namjoon’s pupils were dilated as he blinked at you.

“I just wanted your hand on me, Joon,” you pouted, “You can take it off if you want.”

You moved to shift his hand off you, but his grip tightened. “I like having my hands on you, (y/n),” he said, his voice deeper than ever, “I also like you calling me ‘Joon’.”

“Two more things we can agree on,” you smiled at him, stomach full of butterflies and anticipation. Glancing around you, you realized that your friends were dispersed throughout the bar.

Marlene, Jordan, Hoseok, and Jungkook were dancing wildly in the middle of the bar’s tiny dance-floor. Jimin and Taehyung were bothering the DJ to presumably keep playing an assortment of random songs from the early 2000s. 

Olivia, Yoongi, and Jin sat at the bar, watching the others and laughing as Jungkook kept hitting the whoa no matter what song played. Currently, he was hitting the whoa to Baby Got Back.

Turning back to Namjoon, you find him looking at you with an unreadable expression.

“What?” you questioned, eyes searching his inquisitively.

He shoved a hand through his messy hair. “You’re so intimidating, (y/n). You’re so smart and beautiful, and it messes with my brain.”

“You’re intimidated by me?” You arched an eyebrow before smiling sweetly, “I promise I don’t bite… Unless you want me to.”

“I do,” he answered automatically. You both paused. His eyes widened comically, “F-forget I said that.”

“You want me to bite you, Joonie?” You sighed into his ear, relishing in his shiver, “You want me to mark your pretty skin?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Okay,” your mouth descended to his neck, searching for a weak spot. His breath hitched as your mouth neared his thrumming pulse point. Bingo.

You placed an open-mouthed kiss onto his warm skin before sucking lightly. Namjoon moaned, shifting in his seat. 

You bit down, and his hips bucked instinctively. Pulling back slightly, you licked over the mark that was slowly blooming on his neck.

The clear imprint of your teeth on his neck had you grinning like a fool. You really wanted to own this cute, shy, intelligent boy.

You looked up at Namjoon. He was watching you with his puffy lips parted, his breathing hard. “Can I kiss you?” You asked, eyes focused on his. He nodded frantically, and your lips tugged up in a small smile.

Slowly, you inched your mouth closer towards his. Your breaths mingled. You pressed your lips to his gently and wrapped your arms around his neck.

You kept kissing Namjoon until you finally had to come up for air. Leaning your forehead against his, you locked eyes, breathing each other in.

“Can I sit on your lap, Joon?” You asked in between peppering kisses on his reddened cheeks.

After getting a nod in confirmation, you straddled his lap and returned your lips to his. The small part of your brain still thinking rationally reminded you that you were in a very public bar. The much larger and irrational part of your brain urged you on as your hips shamelessly grind onto Namjoon’s. The hardened cock that you felt through his jeans was too tempting. And, besides, exhibitionism was fun, right?

You bit down on Namjoon’s bottom lip, and he thrust against you.

You broke away and turned your head to the side, needing another moment to breathe. Namjoon began to kiss your neck, and you let out a small laugh as he nipped at your skin. He was marking you right back.

Namjoon lifted his head again as your lips parted. His face was inches away from yours. He stared at you like a starving man.

“Fuck, baby,” Namjoon said lowly, “I’m beginning to think you might be the devil, because you just snatched my soul.”

You stared at him. “That was so goddamned cheesy.” Your giggles made him turn an interesting shade of maroon.

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Jin-hyung,” you heard him mutter before you captured his lips once more.

As you kissed, his fingers slowly inched downwards, caressing you. You decided then and there that you would have this boy.

“Undo my jeans,” you commanded after pulling away from his mouth. His eager fingers dropped to your zipper, fumbling in their haste. Once your jeans were undone, you felt him hesitate. You instructed him, “I need your fingers.”

He thrust a finger into you. “Mm, Joon,” you dropped your head into the crevice of his neck as he pumped another one in, stretching you. His fingers curled inside you, as you shifted your hips.

“Rub my clit,” You demanded, and he pulled his fingers out and circled it immediately. You moaned at both the new sensation and at the loss of his fingers inside you. “Keep your fingers in me, use your thumb.” You gripped onto the back of his head, pulling on his hair in punishment.

His fingers thrust back into you without warning as his thumb circled your clit. You felt yourself clenching around him, so close to coming just from his hands. Still, you needed more. You were definitely a greedy bitch.

You pulled his hand from your pants, and he stared at his fingers, which were sticky with you. You watched enraptured as he lifted his wet fingers to his lips and sucked.

His eyes widened, “Fuck, (y/n), you taste so good. You have to let me eat you out. You need to let me put my head between your thighs. Please.”

“Bathroom,” you gasped out, “Now.” You shimmied off of Namjoon’s lap and onto shaky legs.

“Follow me in one minute,” you kissed his cheek and tried your best to casually make your way to the bathroom. However, you were pretty sure you had already blown all efforts to be casual as soon as you sat on Namjoon.

Finally, you entered the empty single-stall bathroom and let out a sigh of relief.

Two seconds later, a knock sounded. You barely opened the door wide enough before Namjoon was all over you. His hands gripped your ass as he backed you against the wall next to the sink.

He gazed down at you with hooded eyes, “You still want this, right?”

“Yes, Joon,” you leaned up to kiss him one more time.

Namjoon sank to his knees before you.

You audibly moaned at the sight. Quickly, you tugged your jeans down your legs and kicked them to the side. Your underwear followed suit.

Namjoon cursed lowly as you lifted a leg onto the ledge of the sink, baring everything to him. “Well,” you smirked, “You wanted to put that smart mouth on me.”

“You are going to kill me,” he muttered. His hot mouth closed over your clit. Parting your lips, he caressed you as he sucked and licked. His fingers thrust into you once more, pulling out slowly then pummeling back in.

“Harder,” you moaned. He fucked you faster, adding another finger, stretching you.

He pulled his mouth away from you, his lips swollen and pink. “How the fuck can you taste this good?” He panted as he carried on fucking you with his fingers, grabbing at your ass with his free hand.

His mouth returned to your pussy, circling your clit with his tongue and moaning against it. His fingers continued to push into you relentlessly.

You felt your toes curl as your orgasm approached at a maddening rate. “J-Joon,” you cried his name, your back arching as the pleasure built up with each stroke of his tongue and movement of his fingers.

Without warning, he sucked on your clit harshly, and you came, clenching around his fingers. Namjoon continued to pump them in and out of you, carrying you through your orgasm. He licked your pussy, lapping up everything you gave him with his tongue. After a bit, your fingers wound into his hair and pulled. “Stop,” you begged, legs shaking with overstimulation.

He pulled back immediately and lifted his head, looking thoroughly fucked-out. His lips were more swollen than ever. His hair was a tangled mess. You had never seen anything better. “God, you look so sexy right now,” you mused, reaching a hand to stroke at his cheek.

“Are you guys finally done in there?” You cringed as Jordan’s amused voice shouted at you through the bathroom door, “You have work tomorrow, (y/n).”

“Jesus H. Christ, Jordan! Go away!” You screamed back at your infuriating roommate.

“…I’m going to take that as a ‘yes’,” he replied, laughing, “See you out there, champ.”

“I’m going to murder him,” you seethed, accepting your jeans from Namjoon who held them silently out to you.

You scanned the floor of the bathroom, “Wait, where’s my underwear?”

Namjoon’s cheeks flooded with color as he lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck, “I needed some form of reminder of tonight.”

You shrugged, giggling as you tugged on your jeans, “Let’s make a trade.”

“I’m listening,” he grinned, goddamned dimples popping out and making you want to kiss him forever.

“You keep my panties; I keep you,” you grinned back at him.

He blinked rapidly, “Keep me?” You nodded, nerves erupting. Had you misread the situation? Did he just want this to be a one-time thing? Shit, had you royally fucked this up already?

He kissed you suddenly, and you relaxed.

“Please keep me,” he mumbled, “I’m a mess, but I can be your mess if you’d let me.”

“We can be messy together,” you gripped his hand in yours, “Now, come on. We have to go face our friends.”

Namjoon gulped, looking rightfully terrified at that prospect. “Or we could sneak out the back?”

A smirk wound its way onto your face, “I really do like the way you think, Joonie. Let’s go.”

With that, the two of you snuck out of the bathroom and out the backdoor of the bar.

“I knew it!” Marlene and Jimin greeted the two of you with triumphant fists thrust high in the air. Jimin whipped his phone out before you or Namjoon could even say a word. “Hey, hyung? Yeah. They’re out here.”

Ignoring the gloating pair, you turned to Namjoon, “We could still make a run for it?”

He met your eyes; and, without a word, you both took off.

Shouts of your names followed you down the dark alley as you both cracked up. This was definitely not how you had pictured your typical Thursday trivia night to go down, but you were not disappointed. No, you shot the boy running beside you an affectionate look, you weren’t disappointed at all.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[ladyfl4me]

what other writing inspires you? like other fics or stories?

Hmmmm. I haven’t been doing much new reading lately, outside of stuff I do for my coursework. That being said, there are a lot of works I like to return to. (Sorry about this long, long infodump on my favorite works, but boy howdy do I love these. I’m probably forgetting about five million other things, but those are the ones that come to mind right away.)

As far as fic goes, I used to read a lot of MCU stuff; I even wrote a few in my day, before mainstream fandom got too exhausting/the franchise went to shit and I was swept up by TAZ. I always cite @miamaroo​‘s Northern Migration as the fic that inspired me to take the leap into long-form intricate TAZ AUs. I also adore Seven Raptors by DragonWrites. If I hadn’t discovered these two stories while on a Balance fic binge last year, I definitely wouldn’t have written The Moth who Came In from the Cold. @morganeashton​‘s fic Running Home is also a stunning work that I regret not reading sooner. The chapters are short, but each one blew me away. Morgie paid incredibly close attention to even the most minor characters, fleshing them out in quick brushstrokes of dialogue and action that made me fall in love with the characters in brand new ways. I highly recommend reading it.

Outside of fic, there are three books that I always keep on my desk when I’m looking for inspiration, or just trying to find something to model/use as a guide:

American Gods by Neil Gaiman. This is a big one. I keep a copy of it on my desk to page through when I have trouble with dialogue, and balancing inner character monologues with external events. It’s also a good book for me to read while trying to work out The Children of Sylvain; I have a lot of moving parts in it, much like American Gods does.

Salamander by Thomas Wharton. I read this one and was like, you can do that?? With words???? Damn, son. It’s about a 18th century book printer who makes novelty books; he gets hired by a duke who’s obsessed with puzzles, to the point that he rigged his entire castle to rearrange its own fucking floor plan like an architectural Rubik’s cube. I’m talking beds leaving their rooms to zip around the castle on rails, in the middle of the night; moving walls; entire bookshelves leaving the library to make loops around the building. Some serious steampunk shit. This duke hires the printer to make a book that never ends, and this quest leads him on a journey across the world to gather the materials to print and bind his book. It is not as boring as it sounds, I promise. I mostly remember it for the lesbian pirate who liberates slave ships, but also for the really good prose, which is one of the reasons why I keep it on the desk for reference.

Sabriel by Garth Nix. Amazing worldbuilding, excellent prose, great characters and relationships, an incredibly compelling narrative and a protagonist on the front cover (of my edition) that I’m very gay for. 

[ID: the cover of the book Sabriel, by Garth Nix. The cover art shows a young white woman, from about the knees up. Her eyes are hooded and pensive. She wears a flowing blue overcoat with white trim, patterned with silver keys. Twelve small bells in protective leather pouches hang from a bandolier across her chest. A scabbard hangs from a belt around her waist; across the bottom of the picture, just barely visible, she holds an unsheathed sword with arcane symbols carved into it. She holds one small bell in her hand. A blurred, formless black shadow with glowing orange slits for eyes reaches towards her shoulder with a gnarled hand. The woman looks slightly over her shoulder, eyes hooded and pensive. End ID.]

The titular protagonist is part of a divine line of necromancers sworn to make sure the dead stay dead. She’s forced to journey from her current residence - a country like WWII-era Europe, except everyone can do magic and has a sword - across the border into the Old Kingdom, when her father goes missing and dead things everywhere start rising. I keep this one around for help with basically everything.

Other passive sources of inspiration for me include:

Lord of the Rings. My first fandom and one I’ll always return to. It informs so, so much of how I structure arcs and characters. It’s a good thing that most of the friends I bounce things off of/write for aren’t super familiar with it, because they’d be able to guess the plot of TCOS in like 5 minutes if they did.

TAZ, of course

the MCU, before the franchise went to shit and I developed critical thinking skills

the Pendragon series by D.J. MacHale (more of an elementary-middle school inspiration for me, which convinced me to take a leap into novel writing. I still have 3 or 4 of the books from this 10-book monolith)

video games:

999: 9 Hours, 9 Persons, 9 Doors

Beyond Good and Evil

Myst, games 1-3

I’m also subscribed to the Poetry Foundation’s poem of the day newsletter, which often sends me something that fucking Gets Me. At the moment, I’ve been really taken with the poems of Catherine Pierce; she came to do a reading at my college recently, and we read her collection The Tornado is the World for my poetry workshop course. I can’t recommend her enough. She’s got a gift for saying a lot in a frank, arresting way. Here’s an excerpt from “The Mother Warns the Tornado,” which is from that book (time to see if tumblr fucks up the formatting):

I will heed the warning

protocol, I will cover him with my body, I will

wait with mattress and flashlight,

but know this: If you come down here—if you splinter your way through our pines,

if you suck the roof off this red-doored ranch,

if you reach out a smoky arm for my child—

I will turn hacksaw. I will turn grenade.

I will invent for you a throat and choke you.

I will find your stupid wicked whirling

head and cut it off. Do not test me.

If you come down here, I will teach you about

greed and hunger. I will slice you into palm-

sized gusts. Then I will feed you to yourself.

Good shit. Reminds me a lot of Mama. I highly recommend giving The Tornado is the World a read! Not every poem in the book is quite as visceral as “The Mother Warns the Tornado;” some are melancholy, some are brash and cocky, some are sad, some are sinister, some are overcome with joy. It’s a beautiful anthology, and I found it very easy to read and relate to. I annotated my copy to hell and back and I’m definitely keeping it for years to come.

I’m going to regret this later, probably, but! If anyone has any recommendations for books, TV shows, podcasts, whatever, send me an ask! I’ll make a list. Or, knowing me, a spreadsheet. Have at thee!

[cupofteaguk]

if i could tell her

summary: Jung Hoseok is just trying to pass his philosophy class, yet ends up with so much more. 

pairing: hoseok x fem!reader

genre: college au, fake dating au | fluff/angst

warnings: slow burn, hoseok is a fratboy in this fic, this fic is a mash of a tutoring with fake dating what can i say, and yes the title comes from the dear evan hanson musical 

word count: 16k

.

It’s not abnormal to wake up in a space that is not his own, considering his life and what he did just to feel any sort of rush of pleasure, awakening in an apartment and atop a bed with a touch too many scents that only makes the hangover pierce even deeper at his skull. He arises, a groan barely leaving his lips as he sits up, rubbing at his head and looking down to see that he wears nothing under the sheets. Again, all part of the typical one-night-stand escapades he participated in.

However, what is not typical is the way the bed feels cold, empty without the presence of the other figure sleeping opposite of him—someone he almost would not have missed had he had woken up in his own room, someone he might have forgotten had it not been for the vague memory of a girl underneath him, a name he might have been gritting between his teeth in the haze of his lust. Kathy, was it? Or Kat? No, the longer Jung Hoseok sits there, the more confident he grows in the fact that the name certainly had been Karly.

The physical appearance of the girl remains blank on him, no matter how desperately he tries to rack his consciousness, tries to remember the scene of the party and what she did to catch his attention. There must have been something, something hidden within the corners of his mind, perhaps a glance or a smile or a dance move or a joke. Either way, the answer refuses to present itself to Hoseok at the present moment, which is fine because aforementioned Karly is absent to spare him from that awkward situation.

Still, he remains motionless for a few more seconds, counting down to see if the girl—Karly—is perhaps just in the bathroom or making breakfast, doing anything within the apartment that could make an escape on Hoseok’s part awkward. Yet he doesn’t hear anything, fails to make out those telltale signs that leaving would be a bad move. So he straightens up, feet falling upon the carpet with a gentle sigh, and manages to find his clothing littered across the room. Hoseok makes quick work on dressing himself, pulling on his shirt, tugging on his jeans, slowly making his way to the bedroom door and down the hallway. The apartment is quiet, and he is momentarily stunned that this Karly girl would just leave him alone in her home, that she would be so trusting of someone she did not know personally.

That is, until he walks into the kitchen and finds that he is most certainly not alone in the apartment, that there is a certain someone sitting at the kitchen counter—a certain beautiful someone.

“Woah,” Hoseok greets, taking in the sight of you: philosophy textbook propped open and overhard eggs hovering over your lips, hair in a bun with the stray curls cascading down your face, eyes wide and fixated on his frame. If he hadn’t been enduring the aftermaths of a particularly bad hangover, then he’d realize that the gaze you were giving him is one of vague recognition and not a morning after ‘let’s share breakfast and have sex after this’ type of ordeal. He doesn’t really realize anything beyond the fact that you are extremely pretty and while he certainly doesn't remember the act of sleeping with you specifically, he wishes he had. “Are you Karly?”

You actually laugh at that, a beautiful sound that immediately leaves him to believe that he most definitely would have remembered every single second, every single detail, of fucking you. “Karly is my roommate,” You say, shutting the philosophy textbook in front of you. “I’m Y/N.”

The name strikes a bell in his mind, but he lacks the mental capability to place it. He tries for his own laugh, immediately wincing when the noise makes him feel like he's just been struck across the back of the head with a shovel.

You straighten slightly, detecting his discomfort at once as you slide yourself off the bar stool you've been situated at, heading for the overhead cabinets to make a grab for a glass cup. You fill it with water, grabbing a bottle of pills and dumping two out into the palm of your hand before resting both on the opposite end of the counter. “Here, those should help,” You say, gesturing to the items before residing yourself back on the stool.

He manages another laugh, one much smaller and is really more of just a breath of air escaping his lips. “You seem very familiar with all of this,” He notes quietly, approaching the counter and grabbing the pills.

He lowers the glass of water, only to find that you are staring intently at him. “You think you’re the first guy to sleep with Karly?”

He doesn’t know how to answer the question, or if he’s meant to answer it at all. You give him one last lingering look before opening your philosophy textbook once more, clearly comfortable with the silence that has grown between the two of you once again. Hoseok finds that he doesn't necessarily mind watching you read, finding that you have this little crinkle between your eyebrows to show your level of concentration, how easy it is for you to tune him out, and he can feel the corner of his lips quirking up.

“I was referring to you,” He says at last, voice lightening up slightly as he leans across the counter and for a moment, it feels as if he’s back to being Jung Hoseok—too many parties under his belt, too many girls to keep him grounded, believing he could get anyone and everyone with just the right presentation of words. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around, although I’m sure I would have remembered if I had.”

If you’re impressed (or unimpressed) with his attempt to stir some sort of reaction out of you, he doesn't get the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you flip through a few pages of your textbook, barely sparing him a glance, as if Karly’s one-night-stands hitting on you was something you were only entirely too use to. Finally, you look up at him. “If you forgot that I sit next to you in philosophy, Hoseok, I doubt you’d be able to remember me under any other context.”

The smile on your face shows just how little remorse you hold for him, as if you had been expecting him to lack the ability to place you in his life. The news is certainly a surprise, which is why the best thing he can manage is a very intelligent, very coherent: “What?”

You jut your chin out a little. “Philosophy with Professor Tong? Every Monday and Wednesday?”

He knits his eyebrows together, searching his mind. “Yeah, but no, I think you’re mistaken. I always fall asleep in that class and on the rare occasion that I don’t, the girl who sits next to me aces every exam, highlights all her notes, and has some sort of dumb flower notebook—oh.”

He bites his tongue when you grab something from underneath your philosophy textbook, flashing the flower notebook straight from his memories and immediately making him feel vaguely like a jerk. Mistaking someone for someone else isn't necessarily the best way to start a relationship. “Do you mean this dumb flower notebook?” You inquire, tilting your head to the side, throwing it back down onto the table. “I just like to be organized and pass my classes.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hoseok says, at least having the decency to show a level of guilt at the downward spiral his conversation with you is going. “But, I mean, is it fair to hold me against the fact that I didn’t know we had class together? Like I said, I fall asleep most of the time, and it’s not like I’m trying to get on a name-to-name basis with any of my peers. We’ve probably never even spoken to each other before—!”

“We’ve had class discussions a bunch of times,” You interrupt dryly, gaze having resumed back to your textbook, although he doesn’t remember seeing you look down. “You once told me that the two kinds of evils are alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

“Well, am I wrong?”

You exhale in a laugh, shaking your head and rolling your eyes without contempt, not seeming to mind his inexperience on the subject matter, which only makes his own heart speed up slightly at your surprisingly playful attitude. “I suppose not, from a subjective standpoint.” Then you shift in your seat, making a grab for the cup of water you have rested along the side of the counter. You take a sip, flickering your gaze up to see Hoseok using the silence to take a sip of his own water. “I guess I shouldn’t be holding the whole ‘I don’t know what’s going on in class’ deal, otherwise I’m assuming you’d be freaking out a bit more about our exam coming next in a few days.”

Hoseok chokes on his water, coughing violently as the liquid travels down the wrong pipe and he desperately longs to find his breath again. You watch in silence, watching the way he lightly pats his chest, watching the way he takes deep inhales and exhales to calm his heart to regain control his body.

“You okay there?” You inquire.

Hoseok coughs one last time. “W-We have an exam in a few days?” He asks, raising his head to meet your gaze.

“Yep,” You say, your lips coming together to pop the p at the end of the word. You make work on picking up that dreadful flower notebook and flipping through some pages until you come across what you’re looking for. Turning the notebook at a 180 degree, you slide it across towards Hoseok. “We also have an essay due at midnight on Friday. Altogether, it’s worth about thirty percent of our grade—!”

“Shit,” Hoseok curses under his breath, taking in the long list of different concepts, theories, names, studies, and readings that will be on the upcoming exam—all of which he knows absolutely nothing about. “What’s the essay about?”

“Something about if criminals should be held morally responsible for their actions,” You say with the shrug of your shoulders, as if you’ve already finished the essay and have been finished with the essay for weeks now.

Hoseok is quiet, and must be quiet for a beat too long before you lean forward on the counter, immediately giving the boy a whiff of your scent: kind of floral and sweet and light and he’s floored from the sensation. How could someone smell this good first thing in the morning? Immediately, his mind starts to wander—he wonders if you wore perfume, what kind, and what you included in your laundry detergent. He wonders about your morning routine, if you had a boyfriend, what your major was, why he had never noticed you before, how you managed to stay alert in all your classes. He wonders if you work, if you did other things to occupy your time and he wants it all, he wants to be a part of your life more if it means getting to see you eat egg in the morning or getting to watch you tie your hair up in this bun, if it means getting a whiff of your scent over coffee.

“Hoseok, are you alright?”

He blinks, barely able to catch you staring at him, a flicker of curiosity in your eyes, before he’s turning away and forcing himself to study the Philosophy terms that might as well be Chinese characters for all the sense they were making to him. “Y-Yeah, sorry, I guess I got caught up in all this work and just started blanking out…”

You lean back in your chair, taking back the scent and he thinks he can officially put a label on the flower you’ve taken after. Definitely lavender.

“It is a lot,” You agree. He catches you furrowing your eyebrows out of the corner of his eyes and he wonders what idea you are brewing up in that mind of yours. “If you want, I could give you some pointers for the essay and help you study for the exam. It’ll be difficult because there’s only a few days until the test, but we can try our best.”

“Would you really?” He inquires incredulously, snapping his head up to meet your gaze. You aren’t entirely looking at him, your eyes are shifted elsewhere and he wonders how often you actually go out of your way to do this—to offer your help to someone like him who is in desperate need of it. That thought fills his heart with the sensation of… something. For now, he just decides to think of it as gratefulness. “Y-Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks a lot.”

The pair of you lock eyes across the counter and he watches the way you run your tongue over your lower lip for a moment before your teeth come out to gnaw at the soft flesh. Your gaze is broken by a distraction that seems to catch your attention because you’re flickering your gaze down to your phone.

It doesn’t matter if whatever on your phone holds any importance to you; it’s enough to break Hoseok out of his reserve, to let reality come crashing down. What was he doing? Yeah, he knows that he’s just taken up the offer on homework help from someone who clearly knows what’s going on, but what happens after that? Hoseok is not blind to all the social aspects of groups and circles that only continue to remain loosely true in college—there’s a reason why the pair of you have never interacted or have never crossed paths. It’s because both of you ran in two completely different social circles and just had interests that didn’t normally correlate with one another. The only reason the pair of you have crossed paths in the first place is because you just so happened to have a roommate that didn’t think twice about pushing her way into Hoseok’s life.

Yoongi would probably reprimand him for overthinking the situation. It’s not like there was anything that was going to happen with you and Hoseok—you’re just a peer who is going to help him get through the next few days of Philosophy. The fact that you’re cute and attractive and give off a positive first impression, one that leads him to think that there’s more substance to you than most girls he meets who are just looking for a quick fuck, is something that he’ll have to work around. But he needs to pass this class, if only to keep him on track for graduation. After all, keeping his feelings in check shouldn’t be too hard right?

Right?

.

The following day is Sunday, officially five days before Doomsday aka a Philosophy exam and an essay that the boy has absolutely no confidence over. Still, he remembers what he has to do and he values the importance of his assignment as well as recognizes the sacrifices you’re making to help him out. So he shows up at your apartment—partially retracing his steps from memory and partially following the directions you’ve given him on a slip of paper.

Pulling out aforementioned piece of paper, he sees the address as well as your phone number scribbled down underneath. The paper itself is slightly crumpled from Hoseok having to pry the slip out of his roommate’s grabby hands just to make sure that Jimin didn’t try to look you up on Facebook after the former boy let it slip that he thought you were ‘slightly more than attractive’.

He doesn’t put too much thought into why he had been so insistent on making sure that Jimin couldn’t find a way to open any lines of communication with you. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to distract you, make you uncomfortable, expose you into his world—or maybe he just wants to keep you to himself, keep you his little secret. He thinks he knows the answer, but he refuses to admit it.

Instead, he finds your apartment, checking the number a few times just to make sure, before knocking on the door. It takes a second, and for a moment he worries that he had gotten the time wrong in his haste to see you and get started on the tutoring—or, really, just to see you in general, probably without even realizing it. Luckily, the door swings open to reveal a familiar figure that most definitely is not you but—!

“O-Oh hey,” Hoseok greets at the girl on the other side, not you but your roommate who he knows he fucked the other night but cannot seem to remember her name for the sudden life of him.

The girl smirks, and he runs his mind through a mental list of potential names. Kathy? Fuck, no, that wasn’t it. Katherine? No, that sounds even worse. “Jung Hoseok,” She greets, leaning against the doorframe. There’s something like actual surprise in her eyes and he gets the feeling that maybe you left your roommate out of the loop regarding his return to the apartment. “What brings you back here? I thought you didn’t take second rounds?”

Hoseok, who had not been expecting to get an invite to sex today, can feel himself flushing deeply at the offer. The girl at the door is right, he rarely ever comes by for repeats. He’s about to open his mouth to reject the offer, before another voice cuts in, one that he finds himself visibly relaxing to despite the relationship it holds in his life.

“Karly!” You exclaim, appearing by your roommate’s side at once. He breaths in a little because yes of course, that’s her name. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N,” Karly returns, breaking eye contact to stare over at you. “I don’t know if you guys have ever met before, but this is Jung Hoseok—!”

“I know,” You interject, flickering your gaze over to him only to find that he is still staring at you. “I invited him over—I’m helping him with Philosophy.”

It doesn’t take long for the passes of embarrassment to start flickering across Karly’s face at how she had assumed Hoseok’s visit was for something under completely different circumstances. It looks like she wants to protest, whisper accusations to you, do anything to take the target of tension off her back, but she merely settles with flickering her gaze between you and Hoseok. A muffled “huh” escapes her lips, but she steps away from the doorframe and allows the boy to step through.

You grumble something about grabbing your laptop from your room before turning down the hall and leaving Hoseok with Karly. For a moment, neither of them say anything, just basking in the awkward silence and knowledge that they definitely fucked yet not being able to remember the experience. Not that Hoseok actually wants to—especially now that you’re in his life, even if temporarily.

Even with the tension, even though he is the last person to know anything about Karly, it’s easy to see that she’s weighing something in her mind, preparing herself to say whatever it is that’s occupying her thoughts. Considering what she had said the last time she let her mouth run, Hoseok finds that he almost panics at the thought of having to answer a question, statement, or observation from her.

Once more, he finds himself comforted by the sight of you appearing from the hallway, the laptop tucked underneath your arm and the words absentmindedly slipping between your lips. “So, Hoseok, I think we should start with you telling me what you know so we can start to work around that…” You flicker your gaze up to find Karly still in the same room. You raise an eyebrow. “Karly, don’t you have a group project meet up today?”

The question starts Karly out of her trance as she fishes out her phone, curses, and dashes into her room. There is a moment in which neither you nor Hoseok breath a word to each other, that silence broken when Karly comes rushing back out. She yells something out that sounds vaguely like: “See you tonight” before it is followed by a slam of the door.

You give him a smile. “I hope she didn’t say anything to you.”

He shrugs, saying the first thing on his mind, one that so happens to be: “I don’t think there’s anything worse than knowing that you fucked someone, yet not remembering what that had been like.”

In spite of the bluntness of the statement, you can’t help but laugh. Or, maybe, his candor is what stirs up that breathy exhale from between your lips in the first place. “That does sound pretty awkward already.”

“Oh, what, like you’ve never done that before?” He inquires, the question meant to be light-hearted and a joke; but the suddenly tight smile you deliver makes him think he had to go and step out of the line. Again.

“Not really,” You say, shrugging your shoulders after a moment. The gesture looks like an afterthought. You turn slightly so that your back is facing him, indicating that follow up questions would not be allowed on the subject, even if for teasing that you most likely would not think is funny.

Why couldn’t he seem to get it right with you?

“So, like I was saying before, since our exam is going to cover chapters one to five, why don’t you tell me what content you are familiar with so we can at least try to build a foundation around that.”

Hoseok falls short at that, nervous both under your observing gaze and his own lack of knowledge in the field. Suddenly, the fact that he doesn’t know anything and that he had spent the past few months either skipping class or just not attending it only becomes more and more clear to him the longer he sits there.

You only continue to stare at him, watching him, waiting for any sort of response from him in regards in your question. He wonders what you’re thinking—if you think he’s stupid or irresponsible or wasteful of money and time. Yet, there’s nothing in your eyes that hold distaste or dissatisfaction, even when you raise an eyebrow at him. “It’s okay if you aren’t familiar with anything, you know.”

“No, it’s just,” Hoseok starts, although he doesn’t know what he’s trying to say. You’re trying to spare him the embarrassment of the truth, the truth that he doesn’t remember anything from class, but his desire to prove you wrong is too overwhelming. To keep himself busy, he flips open the notebook he’s got reserved for this class, immediately landing upon a page full of words and lines and scribbles that dance back and forth across the surface. At first, he feels something akin to curiosity and confusion because he does not remember taking an ounce of relevant notes throughout the course but the longer he stares at it and takes in the words, the longer it takes for the realization of what the words in between these edges mean and he’s about to slam the notebook shut and write himself away forever but—! “Uh…” Hoseok starts, but you beat him to it.

“What’s this?” You inquire, already long since having leaned over to study whatever is written across his notebook. Hoseok doesn’t pull away or snap or do anything, really, he just sits there and lets your gaze flint across the pages and lets the realization dawn upon you that the notes he’s taken are not philosophy or remotely academic based at all but are more poetic and lyrical and string together a little too perfectly for these to be mere afterthoughts or something he only did when he was bored. So you open your mouth, your curiosity blocking away the social norm that mentions how maybe asking about something pressed between the spaces of a notebook were a touch too personal to bring up. Yet you do it anyways: “Are these poems?”

He winces. “Close, uh, they’re song lyrics.”

You flicker your gaze up and he jumps. When did you get so close? “You’re a lyricist?”

“Not a professional one,” He brushes off. “Hopefully one day I can be though.”

You hum thoughtfully, eyes continuing to roam across the page he has opened on the table. For a moment, you don’t pry or flip through the pages or even touch the notebook. You don’t even look like you’re trying to soak in every word, which he almost finds odd. Any other person in Hoseok’s life would have done anything to catch more of his personal life, especially since he kept a majority of his feelings and his past under wraps. But even after realizing what lay underneath the cover of his notebook, he doesn’t feel that painful desperation to hide the words and emotions from you.

He wonders if it’s because of the trusting, open, honest, naive look that shines like the daylight in your eyes, the fact that you’ve already caught him at his worse (aka his walk of shame and discovering his shitty work ethic) and he feels as if there’s not as much to lose around you.

“Well, you are very talented,” You point out quietly, leaning back into your chair and delivering him with the kind of smile that doesn’t have him doubting the truth of your statement.

Still, his lips twist up into a faint, rare, smile. “Really?”

You seem to understand the gravity of his expression, must know that the boy who lives in his laughter and smirks and lips pressing together didn’t just hand out smiles for free, because the corner of your own mouth curls up right back at him. “Yeah.” Neither of you say anything, too caught up in this moment, in basking under the fact that your smile reminds him of starlight and all good things, and he wonders why he wanted to write you off and out of his life after that first class because he already knew that you were different than him. Sometimes, different could be good. Better, even.

You are the first to clear your throat, resuming your attention back to your laptop and opening it. “R-Right,” You start. “So, philosophy.” You train your gaze on the screen intensely enough that Hoseok can feel himself shifting in his own seat. “I guess, even just to stay safe, we should start at the beginning.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok manages, looking down to study his fingers, long and lean, and bony around the knuckles but also so lonely on its own. “That’ll probably be best.”

“Alright,” You continue with the nod of your head, turning your laptop and he arches an eyebrow to find that you had started constructing a powerpoint for him. “Chapter one is about questions concerning God…”

.

It’s no secret that Hoseok hates philosophy and education in general with the fiery passion of a thousand suns—especially considering that his interests hardly corresponded with a field of general eds or speciality classes that the university offered. He didn’t need another class telling him how to download producing softwares that he’s been using since high school. He needs an internship, but he also needs the grades and the time management skills and the sports and his current job just to try and stay afloat before thinking about changing things up.

Given that he targets the academics as one of the many seeds of stress in his life, it’s no surprise that he barely finds the willpower to enjoy lectures and studying and tests, although this is a pretty common factor that resides with him and a majority of his friends. It’s hard for him to think that anyone could find the subjects taught at school fun.

But, then again, he really hadn’t met anyone like you—someone who could be so passionate about something yet not be annoying about it. He doesn’t know what it is, he doesn’t know if it’s his own desperation to have a grasp on philosophy or the fact that you’re actually kind of cute when you’re going on and on about freedom and determinism that could potentially be clouding his judgment. He doesn’t know what it is, yet it hardly matters because he’s actually enjoying learning about the different concepts and theorists and finds that he’s learning more in just three days than the three months that he’s been enrolled in the class.

Maybe it’s because the one-on-one interaction actually forces him to pay attention, or maybe it’s because you’re actually an attentive tutor who possesses the ability to explains things with such ease that his brain just naturally makes the connections.

Or, maybe, above all, it’s the fact that getting to spend time in your apartment, even if for schooling purposes, means getting to know you in all its minor details that you let slip or things that he just so happens to take note of. Like how excited you get when he is able to apply certain concepts perfectly to the topic being discussed, or how you use both your hands to cover your mouth when you yawn, or how you twirl your pencil between your fingers whenever you’re distracting or lost in your thoughts.

He finds that you’re also an extremely caring and compassionate individual, seen especially in the way you never fail to check up on him through various text messages or even when he’s sitting right next to you in your apartment.

You’re good at making him feel good about himself, about allowing him to feel positively about his academic accomplishments no matter how big or small they may be, which is why the pair of you are able to go through the five chapters as quickly as the pair of you do. Even with his other classes, homeworks assignments, work obligations—much like you—he finds that he looks forward to a new day and a new lesson from you. The confidence you instill in him, that he is able to instill in himself, provides as a turning point that guides him to your front door Thursday morning, that guides him to say, “I’m ready for that essay” as soon as you open the door. It’s the first time he takes such an initiation in the assignments, but it’s worth seeing the grin that overtakes your features.

“What’s so funny?” He inquires, slipping in through the opened door and setting his backpack down on the table so he can discard his jacket.

“Nothing!” You retort, trailing closely behind him. “I’m glad that you’re ready to work on the essay, even though it’s due tomorrow night. And we should do a review of everything you learned just to make sure you have everything down.”

“Wow, you can’t just let me have my moment, can’t you sweetheart?” He teases, deciding at the last second to add in the nickname he’s started addressing you by after the third day after he accidentally let it slip and you had merely laughed to show your indifference to the name. In a way, labeling you with such an intimate nickname to no protest solidifies the strange relationship you and Hoseok developed, one that had been created within the four walls of confinement.

“Not until you pass your exam,” You return back with a teasing curl to your lips. He’s use to seeing this part of you now after managing a crack in your facade, one of the joys of being within your company for long stretches of time not occupied with work or classes or other assignments.

It leaves almost a strange tickling, eating sensation at the pit of his stomach, where he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after the exam passes him by. He had told himself in the beginning that he wasn’t going to let his feelings cloud his judgment, but he hadn’t predicted you would be so easy to get along with, that you would know more about him than some of his friends, that he would have been able to keep that emotional distance from you. You’re way too funny and energetic and alive to stay away from.

You keep up that same level of cheer and support from the side as Hoseok starts to cram down on his essay. You stay up with him to assist him with potential flashcards or last minute questions about theories, offering help in regards to new topics he could indulge into for this five-page essay on moral obligation. You bring your chair closer to his in order to read over his shoulder—the scent of lavender and the additional coconut conditioner from your shower only continuing to soothe him. You fall asleep on his shoulder, and he wonders what he had done to deserve you in such a vulnerable state.  

.

A week shouldn’t often be considered a long period of time, especially when looking at the grand scheme of life and the existence of human existence and Earth in the long run. A week is probably just a blink, a second, a millisecond, definitely not enough to leave a claim or a mark upon anything. However, in spite of that, Hoseok likes to think that within the week (or, technically, five days), he’s been able to spend with you, it’s safe to say that the pair of you could consider each other friends. Or, at the very least, acquaintances. A pair of individuals with inside jokes and an easy air of understanding between the two of you, in which he thinks that he knows you and your body language and the air around you relatively well.

He’s not going to claim himself an expert on you, that he suddenly knows all the secrets you’ve been hiding from him and from the world, but he feels as if he can read you well enough to know that something is definitely up when he knocks on your apartment door to show off the A- he got on his exam—and you can only return his enthusiasm with a tight-lipped smile.

“Is everything okay?” He asks upon seeing that you weren’t going to celebrate your own amazing tutoring abilities with him, lowering his phone and looking at your expression.

You blink, shaking your head slightly, and giving him a grin that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “O-Oh yeah, sorry, everything is fine. But congratulations.” You reach over to pat him on the shoulder. “See, I knew you could do it. And how about the essay?”

He opens his phone again to find the grade the professor had gifted him with. “B+!” He remarks brightly, following you into the apartment space as you turn around to make your way into the kitchen. “Not bad, you know, considering that I started the day before.”

“It’s amazing what you can do if you put your mind to it,” You say, smiling cheekily, but it still doesn’t reach your eyes and Hoseok wonders if he should be alerted or bothered by the fact that he is very aware of this. Instead, he lets himself continue to ponder about it as he takes a seat at your kitchen table and watches the way you move about the space, the way you fill some glasses with hot water before digging out his favorite tea bags to rest them in the liquid. There is a new kind of silence, the loudest one he’s ever heard and it eats so deeply at his skin that he pushes himself from the table and rounds the counter to approach you.

Without a warning, he gently grabs you by the shoulders to spin you around. At first your eyes are wide with surprise, but they fill with exasperation when Hoseok flicks your forehead.

“Yah!” You retort, pushing at his chest, eyebrows furrowing together. “What was that for?”

“I can practically hear the internal monologue you’re having from the table,” He points out. “And you’re acting weird—weirder than normal.”

You glare at him, shifting slightly to brush your hair back. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just… family stuff.” You shrug your shoulder, showing the first genuine signs of emotions today: confliction. It looks like you want to say what is on your mind, that you have to share the depth of your problems with the first willing participant. It momentarily strikes Hoseok in regards to how long you’ve been keeping this issue to yourself, considering that he’s been seeing you every day for the past few days. Rather than comment on it, he just keeps his gaze level with you, willing you to disclose your concerns with him. It works, because you heave in a sigh. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re looking at someone who use to think the two kinds of evils were alcohol poisoning and when girls say they’re fine.”

You snort at the memory. “Well, you weren’t ever really wrong. Just from a philosophical standpoint.”

“I’m glad you think so,” He replies, taking in a breath before deciding to reach out and gently touch the top of your head. He can feel your hair underneath his touch, just as soft as he had imagined, but it’s enough to get your attention and help let your guard down long enough. “C’mon, I promise I won’t judge. Out loud.”

“It’s just,” You start. “I have this family gathering tomorrow evening and all my relatives have spent the past few years pressuring me about getting into a relationship so I know that if I show up tomorrow without a boyfriend they’ll get that disapproving look like I’ve failed at my only purpose in life—like I don’t have other things I want to focus on right now. So, yeah, I don’t know, I’ve been debating on what to do for weeks now and I don’t even know if I should show up or not.”

Hoseok chews softly on his own lower lip. He’s never received that type of pressure from his family or friends about going out and getting a girlfriend—mainly because his friends were only too aware of what he preferred doing over the emotional stuff (the thought suddenly brings a nauseous sensation to the pit of his stomach)—and his family probably just entrusted in the hope that he would bring back a girlfriend one day. One day. They know his love for music is more secure than any love he could hold for a singular person. At least, right now.

He stares at you for a moment longer.

“You should probably go,” He points out. “I mean, if you don’t show up, your relatives will just assume that you couldn’t get a boyfriend and that’ll just be giving them all the power and no one wants that.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do then.” You grumble, a bit of a whining complexion to the tone of your voice. “It’s not like there’s a line of guys who’ll want to help me, or anyone that I trust enough not to make a fool of both of us in front of my family.”

Hoseok thinks about it, seeing the truth of your statement. He knows that you’re the type of person who keeps mostly to yourself, not because you didn’t enjoy the company of other individuals surrounding you, but because you were more comfortable on your own. It’s something that he’s been able to pick up, even if in just small pieces and small flashes—whether it be noticing how much calmer you are in the silence or your passing obsession with using headphones and music as a way to hide yourself away from the world.

He’s never taken you as the type of person with an overabundance of friends, but rather someone with a few select close individuals whom you entrusted everything to. Although he finds it hard to be in that position himself, given that it seems like his entire life is just surrounded by other people and finds the thought of being alone… well, lonely, he can’t help but think that lifestyle suits you and your shy smiles and the way you often like to curl up on the couch with a notebook after a particularly long day—!

The offer slips out before he can stop it: “I’ll help you out.”

You blink, staring up at him, eyebrow raised, clearly not understanding the angle that he’s coming from. “What?”

“I could pretend to be your boyfriend for that family event,” He explains, shrugging one of his shoulders and realizing that he cannot bear to look you in the eye. Instead, he fixates his gaze on the electrical outlet directly behind you and hopes that his face is not as red as it feels. There a beat of silence a moment too long, but it feels suffocating and Hoseok scrambles, wondering how long it’ll take him to fling himself out the window of your apartment. “Actually, no, that’s a stupid idea. Forget I said anything, I just thought I’d drop a suggestion—!”

“No, no, it’s not a stupid idea!” You retort a bit too quickly yourself, and it shows in your expression. You bite your lip, swallowing thickly, and can’t look him in the eye either. “I-I mean, we’ve spent all this time together so it wouldn’t be too different from our interactions right now.”

“R-Right,” He says, unsure if he’s trying to convince himself or you because he had promised himself a week ago that he would do well in keeping his feelings in check and when that clearly hadn’t worked, any normal or sane person would know that the next solution would be to step away to try and write away those emotional attachments so what the fuck is he doing? Offering to be your boyfriend for a day—was he serious? “I mean, actually, I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know how well of a boyfriend I could be, I’m not good with the whole relationship thing.”

“Me either,” You shrug, although your reasoning is a whole lot different from his. “We can just figure it out together, we have a whole twenty-four hours before the gathering.” You meet his gaze, looking a whole lot calmer and reassured than you had seconds ago, which is interesting considering that Hoseok still looks like he’s just been challenged to duel with a bear. “Hoseok, please? I don’t really trust anyone else right now not to fuck this up.”

“Not fuck this up,” Hoseok echoes, running a hand through his hair, the worry still prevalent although he had been the one to make the suggestion in the first place. The fact that you’re putting all this trust in him only makes him more nervous, more hesitate about letting you down, how he doesn’t want to disappoint you. But it does make his heart race, does fill him with the vaguest sense of pride, which is probably why he can’t turn you down, why he made the offer in the first place, why he keeps coming back to you.

“Please?” Your eyes are wide now, wider than he’s seen them before and you look like you’re about two seconds from grabbing his hands. Not that he would mind that. “I’ll buy you all the tacos you want.”

He scoffs. “Yah, you really think food is going to sway me?”

“If we go to taco trucks, then maybe?” You answer hesitantly. Rather than making a grab for his hands, you lace yours together. “Hoseok, please. Besides, you can’t just drop a life saving suggestion like that and just walk away.” Your eyes light up, which he knows cannot be a good sign. “Plus, you owe me! I helped bump your Philosophy grade up to a B!”

That is true, yet the argument of him owing you a favor is not the reason why he relents, why he lowers his arm and lets out a sigh to feign exasperation. “Fine, fine. I’ll do it.”

Your eyes brighten as you clap your hands together. “Really? Hoseok, thank you, it means so much that you would do this for me.”

You take your time to gaze up at him, bright smile overtaking your features, the gratefulness etched in your eyes and he responds with a pinch to your cheeks.

“I’m just in it for the tacos.”

.

As it turns out, and as one might have guessed, Jung Hoseok definitely does not agree to do anything just for three-dollar tacos that he could just as easily go out during taco truck season and purchase a handful himself. He definitely does not agree to do anything for anyone. Period.

So what the fuck is he doing here, on a Saturday morning, back at your apartment, your hand extended out towards him, fingers curling in slightly the longer he leaves you hanging because this—this—is just too much, too overwhelming, too—!

“Weird!” Hoseok whines, bringing his own hands close to his chest. Your hand is still being offered toward him, your knuckles and skin look soft and the space between your fingers look lonely and a hand has never looked so tempting before and maybe that’s why he’s being so strange and so hesitant. He knows he’s about to bite off more than he can chew, knows that this is all much easier in theory than actual practice, but he can’t help himself.

You roll your eyes without contempt. “C’mon Hoseok, it’s just my hand, it’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“You clearly haven’t been on the receiving end of any of your slaps before,” He bites back, although he doesn’t know why he’s trying to put up such a fight. This had been his idea to start with and his idea to do this with you, yet he’s the one being stubborn about it.

You pout. “Hoseok, this family gathering is in less than ten hours; we need to have at least some kind of practice on hand holding and relationship shit, I don’t want either of us screaming when the other tries to wrap arms around the other’s waist or something.”

“That would be pretty funny though,” Hoseok adds, grinning, the smile diffusing when you shove his shoulder. “Ow, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll be serious now.”

“Good.” You reply, offering your hand towards him once more.

Hoseok flickers his gaze from you to the hand settled between the two of you. He looks down at his own hand, already looking significantly bigger than your own and wonders not for the first time if this would really be a good idea before reaching to overlap his hand with your own. Strangely, the palms fit nicely on top of each other, even as everything around him feels as if it’s slowing down to match the chilling and overwhelming sensation of fingers lacing through the empty spaces.

He can’t tell if he’s sweating or the feeling of his heartbeat increasing dangerously could be felt through the skin. He really doesn’t hope that’s the case, especially since the last time he held hands with a girl was during some middle school theater production which went about as well as one might think—even considering the fact that he hated that girl to death. Now that he’s here, with someone who he most definitely does not hate, holding your hand, the experience is sending his brain in through a haywire.

Still, despite his own feelings to keep himself afloat, he can’t help but bask in the sensation of your touch. He hadn’t even realized how desperately he needed it until this moment, how nice and natural it feels to hold your hand like this, even though your fingers and palm are much smaller in comparison to his. It makes him feel protective and needed, but also reassured and comforted.

“You’re tense,” You point out, giving him a side eye, which is when he realizes that yes, he’s just about as relaxed as a board.

“I’m not,” He says instead, trying to hunch his back slightly to give off the impression of being slightly more composed despite the fire going on in his mind.

“Yes you are!” You fight back, untangling your fingers from his and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from whining at the loss of contact. It’s almost embarrassing how lonely his hand now feels on its own. “Hoseok, you have to loosen up otherwise we’re never going to pull this off.”

He lets out a breath. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’m not use to this, okay sweetheart? It’s not like there’s a FAKE RELATIONSHIP RULES FOR DUMMIES book at Barnes and Nobles that we could pick up and skim through.”

You raise an eyebrow at that. “That would be a pretty good idea actually, you think we should go check it out just to make sure—?”

“Y/N.”

You close your eyes, shake your head. “Right, right. Okay. Here, how about we do a little bonding exercise that I learned while at summer camp.” You’re leaning over to the coffee table to make reach for your phone. “It’s where we look at each other for two minutes in complete silence.”

“Uh.” If the thought of holding your hand is more than enough to set Hoseok’s body aflame, then having to stare at you makes worries spring up in his mind. What if you caught his eye and read all the emotions he had tried to stomp away to a place where they would never have to see sunlight again? What if he can’t stop himself from staring at your lips and kissing you or whispering a dreadful secret that usually takes the form of three words?

However, before he can speak the first set of excuses that reach his mind, you’re already setting the two minute timer on your phone and turning to look at him. He’s expecting something dreadful and awkward and flushed cheeks, but once again he finds that he is pleasantly surprised. It’s definitely an unique experience, but it’s not uncomfortable or bothersome by any means. He finds that he cannot simply stare at one place for too long, even though you’re rather good at keeping your eye contact with him. He looks at your eyes, takes in the deep color that threatens to drown him, how he can count the number of specs that dance behind the orbs. Then, he decides to move on, taking in the sloping curve of your eyebrows, the apples of your cheeks, your nose, the cupid’s bow of your lips—!

Panicking, he darts his eyes back up to find yours once more. It’s only two minutes of his life, but the seconds sure seem to stretch out. He watches the way you flicker your gaze between his eyes, an unusual touch hidden within the color, the occasional flicker downwards and he can feel his heart racing and plunging and compressing all in one when he mirrors your gaze and finds that you have been staring at his lips, just as he now is with you—oh fuck—!

The timer goes off.

You blink, pulling yourself away from the situation and bringing your attention to your phone to turn off the timer, leaving Hoseok alone with his thoughts over what had just happened and what could have potentially happened if time had been irrelevant. He leans back on the couch, watching you, trying to will his heart to calm down before facing you again. He allows himself two deep breaths in and out, offering his hand out to you this time.

You catch the gesture out of the corner of your eye and grin, reaching over to take it slowly, lacing the fingers together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for you to do. “See, that wasn’t so bad.” You look at him, continuing to smile with all teeth and no hesitance, yet there is a longing touch of something crinkling at the corner of your eyes and there is something lopsided about your smile that he finds difficult to ignore.

Yet he does, just managing a smile and he squeezes your hand just enough to keep him grounded. “Yeah.”

.

Even with the brief overview of your family, a simple walk through on how the pair of you met, how long you’ve been together, even when the small practices on hand holding and arms curling around the waist, trying to do enough to plant an air of naturality between the two of you, it doesn’t feel like enough—although Hoseok is sure that all the preparation in the world wouldn’t come close to making him feel any more assured. It makes him wonder why he had decided to engage in something of this degree, why he would dare to make himself pretend to have feelings when he really does but he can’t have you know that. The complication of having to feign emotions that he actually harbors while acting like he doesn’t while he really does is enough to make his head spin.

All he knows is that he cannot seem to stop drumming his fingers, a nervous habit that he developed at a young age and something he just couldn’t seem to write off so here he is years later drumming his fingers on his legs, on the dashboard, against the back of your hand as he pair of you wait on the front porch of your relative’s estate.

“Don’t worry,” You say underneath your breath, as if your entire family could hear you through the door. “You’ll be great. Just don’t try to overthink it—just be yourself.”

Hoseok exhales. “It’s impossible to put ‘being myself’ and ‘overthinking’ in the same sentence.”

You give him a side glare. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what you really mean, but he doesn’t get to say that because the door swings open to reveal a figure who he recognizes to be your mother. “Y/N!” She greets, delivering forth a bright smile even as her gaze slides over and notices Hoseok by your side. “Oh, who’s this?”

You cast him a look. “Uh, mom, this is Hoseok, my boyfriend,” You introduce, turning to look at him again. “Hoseok, this is my mom.”

Your mom claps her hands together, looking ecstatic that you’ve (finally) been able to bring someone to a family gathering, and she isn’t afraid to voice that out loud as she gestures for the pair of you to step inside. A majority of the rooms are filled with groups of people, each engaged in their own conversations, but each take the time to say their hellos as well as bombard poor Hoseok with questions regarding his major, family life, friendships, his plans for the future. These don’t last long, thankfully, because you do well on dragging him away when he feels like he’s about to burst.

He’s too caught up in answering the questions, in trying to come up with decent answers that’ll impress your relatives that he nearly forgets about you until the pair of you are finally alone for the first time in almost an hour, both of you at the buffet table.

He’s in the middle of trying to reach for a wonton when, “Hey.” A nudge right into his rib cage. “Hey.”

“Ouch, what? What is it?” Hoseok returns, suddenly all alerts and careful eyes as he turns his neck slightly to look at you. You’re staring right back at him, taking in his cautious expression and worried front—the same one that he’s had since the start of this gathering. As casual as it may be, and as laid-back as your family actually is, Hoseok still feels like he’s been stepping on pins and needles since the start of this goddamn thing, since the start of the goddamn request that’s gotten him in this mess to begin with, since he discovered you at the kitchen counter in a time that suddenly seems so long ago.

“My aunts and uncles have been staring at you for the past twenty minutes,” You hiss, trying to keep your voice low and smile present, so your relatives would think you and Hoseok were discussing typical romantic relationship shit (whatever the fuck that meant) rather than planning on how to go about continuing to lie to their faces.

“What am I supposed to do about that?”

You give him a side glare. “Shouldn’t you be more… I don’t know, romantic or something? Everyone is looking at you like you’re not doing enough.”

“I’m just doing what you taught me back at the apartment!” He protests, lowering his voice when he sees the warning glint in your eyes. “In case you didn’t realize, sweetheart, I’m just as lost and confused as you are. I’m playing this by ear just as much as you are.”

You make a face at him, one that he returns back with ease, until you’re reaching over to gently pinch his cheek. “Okay, how about this. We’ll just keep walking around, maybe talk to my cousins and my aunt over there. Put your arm around me.”

He sighs, trying desperately to think about all the free tacos you had promised him in exchange for this. He doesn’t try to think about how nice you feel underneath his touch, how warm and comforting and study you feel as you wrap your own arm around his waist, leading him through and making more conversation with your family. Even when the pair of you do find spots to sit at.

Yet, he still feels the impending weight of expectation on his shoulders, provided forth so lovingly from your family that takes the form of lingering stares and flickering eyes in a way that leaves him with the vaguest panic that your family isn’t entirely buying the handholding and quiet behind-the-scene bickering in the corner about how the fuck the pair of you were supposed to pull this off.  

“Hey,” You say again, recapturing his attention as soon as the pair of you break away from the group once more with the excuse to throw away your finished plates, but also to engage in another private conversation. “Kiss me when everyone is looking.”

The forwardness of your statement is enough to get him to raise his eyebrow, although it’s not enough to mask the sudden racing of his heartbeat. “What?”

“My relatives are getting that disbelieving look on their face that I hate,” You explain, casting a sideways glance at them, to which Hoseok realizes that they’re all doing the exact same to the pair of you. “Please? Do this for me.”

He rolls his eyes to cover up the little voice inside of his head that says that he would pretty much do anything for you. Of course he would. Why else would he have agreed to take time out of his Saturday night just to convince your family that you weren’t as big a loser as they all seemed to think you were (although, honestly, you are a loser, but he means it more as a term of endearment because—oh, you know what, never mind).

So, for you, he flickers his gaze over to your family and can only catch a handful of them blatantly staring back at the pair of you before he is overcome with the sudden urge to follow through on your request.

Rather boldly, he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, stealing one last glance at your family before he brings a hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer, so close, but not close enough—he only manages a brush of his lips against yours before there are already butterflies and fireworks exploding in his stomach and behind his eyes. He only lets himself indulge in the lightest amount of pressure, the briefest graze of his tongue along your upper lip, before he’s pulling away just as quickly as he had come in.

He opens his eyes first, long enough to see you slowly peel your own eyes open, orbs gazing up at him with questions springing up behind the color like flowers taking in their first breath of spring, and although he isn’t aware of what his own eyes look like, he can only assume that he’s not too far off.

And if you hold him a little closer, grip his hand a little tighter, like you’re afraid to let go and watch him slip away, he tries not to pay attention to it and tries not to notice the way he feels the exact same way with you.

.

Walking to your apartment feels strangely like returning home, although he doesn’t entirely blame himself for this sensation. Truthfully, he’s spent more time in your space than he has in any other place throughout the duration of the week, whether it be with desperately trying to shove philosophy terms into his mind or training himself on how to hold your hand without simultaneously letting out all of his deep and meaningful secrets. He may roll his eyes about it or grumble about how uncool it is to your face, but he can’t really picture himself doing anything else now that he knows that you’ve been such an extensive feature of his life for a week.

This feeling leaves a strange and unpleasant sensation to brew in the pit of his stomach, the thought of what he’s going to do next when he steps away and no longer serves a purpose in your life plaguing his mind.

He must not do a good job of covering up his emotions, because he notices the way you spare him a glance out of the corner of your eye in the car, the way you turn to him, the way your arm reaches to cross the space of distance, the way your hand finds his. “Is everything okay?”

He doesn’t even have the mind to let you know that none of your relatives are in this apartment complex, that there is no need to put up a front and feel like you have to hold his hand out of sheer obligation, because he likes your touch and craves it and can’t lose it now that he’s been faced with all the goodness that happens while having it in his possession.

“Y-Yeah,” He manages after a moment, long after you’ve parked in your typical parking spot, bathing the pair of you in the darkness and the silence of the evening. “Everything is fine.”

The corner of your lips quirk up slightly as you try to untangle your fingers from Hoseok’s hold. “Okay.” You run the palm of your hands over each other. “You good to drive back?”

“L-Let me walk you to your door first,” He offers a little too quickly, but it’s worth it in the way you smile lightly, the way you nod and allow him to follow closely behind you as the pair of you make your way into the complex and into the elevator. There is an air of naturality that doesn’t feel too constraining, even as you both stand in silence, the movement of the elevator moving up providing background noise.

There is no pressure for conversation even as you lead him down the halls, even though he knows the direction by heart at this point. He doesn’t really know the purpose of his intentions, perhaps to extend this moment for a long as he possibly can, because Jung Hoseok may want to be a lot of new things because of you, but selfishness is a consistency he cannot stand to lose right now.

To him, it feels like you reach your front door too early, so he hopes that the disappointment doesn’t show in his features as you dig around your bag for your set of keys before turning around to face him once more. You bite your lip to hide your smile as you gesture to the closed door with your shoulder. “So, this is me.”

He smiles back. “I know.”

You nod, taking in a breath, steering yourself for the next set of words that are about to leave your mouth. “Hoseok, thank you again for today. You really helped me out and now I can just prolong on getting a real boyfriend, which might be good for my sanity, so thank you.”

“Of course,” He manages earnestly. “You helped me with my Philosophy grade, so it only seems fair.”

“You’d better work hard on maintaining it though,” You tease. “I won’t accept any excuses if you try to come crawling back to me.”

“I’ll miss you breathing down my neck though,” He retorts back with just as much of a light-hearted touch to his statement, because it’s the truth. Even though the pair of you still share the same Philosophy lecture, it still feels like as soon as he allows himself to walk down the hall, things would be different. “Hey, another thing…”

“What is it?” You tilt your head to the side.

“You… you shouldn’t see getting a real boyfriend as an obligation,” He manages, scratching the back of his neck because this hadn’t been rehearsed. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll find the right guy no matter what—anyone would be crazy not to fall in love with you.” Myself included.

Something in your expression changes. Your eyes widen slightly, your lips part, you look genuinely taken aback by his words, as if you hadn’t expected anything of the sort; yet you don’t look angered or discomforted by it. Instead, you smile shyly, pressing your lips together and you cannot look him in the eye and he wonders if your heart is beating just as much as his.

So he steps forward, brushing the hair out of your face and willing you to meet his gaze, which you do after a moment of hesitation. Your eyes have taken on a glassy shade, a feeling hidden behind that is not unlike the glimmer he saw back at the gathering. There is a yearning that he feels in his own nerves, underneath his own fingertips, silently pleading him and guiding him forward. He cups the side of your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbone as he brings you towards him to press his mouth against yours—the sensation not unlike the kiss he delivered to you at the gathering. But there something more; both of you want more, and it shows in the way you grip his t-shirt this time, the way you lean forward to return his kiss.

It’s like swarms of butterflies have grown in his stomach, his heart expanding to the size of the moon for a different reason other than just pure adoration for you—it feels like something more earth-changing, a feeling more hardwired to another akin to eternity, like he could spend forever just kissing you and being with you and he wouldn’t mind one goddamn bit.

Both his hands have moved up to cup your face to keep you as close as possible and even closer than that, his fingers desperately trying to remember everything about this moment, from the way your neck as craned up to meet his mouth, the way he can feel your heartbeat against his skin.

“Y/N,” He grunts against your lips, the vibrations dragging whimpers from the back of your throat. “I-I have to tell you something.”

The sound of the front door opening immediately pulls both of you from your trane, sending a whirlwind of different emotions through his body as his first instinct is to rip himself away from you. It appears to be your reflexive decision as well, because you back up so sharply that you hit the doorframe. It allows him to see the flushed complexion of your face, the fact that he made you like that, but it also allows him to see that Karly is the one who had opened the door.

It’s easy to see the shock upon her expression, the momentarily flare of jealousy that goes off like an explosion behind her eyes, but that light disappears just as quickly as it had come, because she is suddenly back to being the attentive roommate Hoseok never got to see.

“Y/N, you’re back,” She says, training her gaze intently on you in order to gauge your features. “How was the gathering?”

You catch your breath, looking down to pick up the keys you hadn’t even noticed you had dropped. “U-Uh it went good. Great, actually.” You flicker your gaze over to Hoseok. “I-I should go.”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

He exhales in a laugh. “I look forward to it. B-Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Hoseok.” You spare him one last glance before allowing Karly to drag you into the apartment.

.

It’s hard to categorize your feelings as you step in through the door and can barely catch the way Karly shuts the door behind you, too overcome by a tickling, fluttering sensation rooted at the bottom of your chest. It makes your fingers reach up for your lips, makes your mouth curl up at the corners, makes the longing sensation in Hoseok’s voice and eyes replay itself over and over again like flickers in the back of your mind.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Karly inquires softly, snapping you out of your trance as you whirl around to find her still lingering by the door. Her gaze is fixated intensely on you, not a ounce of remorse or envy or sadness hidden behind her eyes—instead, there is something akin to sympathy and that gets you to stall slightly with your movements.

“Karly…” You start, bringing your fingers together. “I just—!”

“I get that he offered to pretend being your boyfriend and all, and that’s fine, but pretend anythings don’t make out like that in front of an apartment,” She notes, gesturing past the door but you don’t need a reminder. “When did… that start happening?”

You shake your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, I think something has always been there.”

“Are you in love with Hoseok?”

You dig your nails into the skin of your fingers, the fear of having to battle this question hitting you for the very first time since you started that… thing with the boy. You recognize that your friendship with him doesn’t necessarily sprout from the most traditional of means, but you like to think the pair of you have reached a good place, a stable setting, a relatively strong foundation. It’s why you trust him so much, even though you shouldn’t, why you’re so naturally fond and drawn to him, despite his reputation.

“Look,” Karly starts, her voice soft and soothing and clearly preparing you for some bad news as she takes the few steps in order to reach you. “Y/N, I really care about you, and I know your whole deal with relationships isn’t the most positive so I would hate for you to get hurt. I just, I’m just not sure if Hoseok is the best thing to be introduced in your life. I mean, look at him! Look at his reputation! If he and I hadn’t had sex that night, the pair of you might not have even met in the first place.”

You give her a nervous look, having completely forgotten that the only reason Hoseok was in your apartment in the first place was because he and Karly did have sex that night—and much like cold water you can feel the reality of the situation beginning to settle in. You are reminded of the difference you and Hoseok led in terms of interest, activities, and ambitions; how you believed in love and romance and Hoseok has never committed himself to a relationship, how Hoseok did not do the relationship thing, how he used them until they used up their purpose in his life.

It makes you think, makes you think if all of these things Hoseok has done with you has been part of an act, as been part of his desire to knock another girl off his list. He had been trying to flirt with you when the pair of you first met, perhaps he had tried to do whatever he could to get under your skin. It had worked.

You had played yourself right into his trap.

“Guys like Hoseok,” Karly adds in, reaching over to rest her hand gently on your shoulder. “They take innocent girls, ones who haven’t been hardened by life yet, girls like you, and he gives them a reason to make them wary. He doesn’t do the dating thing, I’m not even sure if he has the emotional capability to hold romantic feelings anymore.”

You look up and fixate your attention on Karly’s expression, seeing the truth of her words and the purity of her intentions and you find yourself consoling in it. After all, Karly is a byproduct of the same world that Hoseok lives, so it makes sense that Karly would have a closer hand in understanding the type of thoughts running through the boy’s mind.

Karly squeezes your shoulder. “I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re my best friend and I know that it’s best to let you know these ahead of time before you get hurt.”

“Do… do you think he’s just using me?”

She sighs. “If it makes you feel better, I’ve never seen him return back to people the way he returns back to you. But I just… I don’t know, Y/N, he’s bad news—bad news before you met and he’ll probably just be more bad news once the pair of you move past this.”

You press your lips together, mind reeling over this presentation of new information and how a seemingly perfect day can go horribly wrong within the span of just a few minutes. There are so many questions you have, so many things you want to ask that it makes your head spin, but you simply nod and grumble something about going to your room.

In a way, you shouldn’t be mad at Karly for sharing her concerns with you, because Karly is one of your best friends and telling her not to be honest with you was something that you would never want to do to her. If anything, you should be mad at yourself for letting your mess with Hoseok unravel and letting yourself be blinded with the dose of reality you knew would come back to bite you in the ass at some point.

You shouldn’t have allowed yourself to be so naive, to think that the world didn’t exist beyond the walls in which you and Hoseok used to isolate yourselves from the world, to think that the time you shared together could just carry on forever with no repercussions whatsoever.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, why would Hoseok actually want to date you? What kind of personal benefits would come out of that? He wouldn’t gain anything socially and people like Hoseok thrive off their social life. The longer you sit on your bed, letting Karly’s words and your own insecurities eat at the inside of your mind, the longer you can feel its poison settling in that you had to end things with Hoseok and that you had to cut yourself out of his life while you still could.

You wonder if it’ll hurt, but you wonder if he’ll even care.

With a sigh, you lay yourself atop the covers of your bed, curling up and only allowing the words of your roommate to sink even lower and lower underneath your skin. Hoseok has always been quiet about his feelings, always quiet about where he saw you and him in the long run, always quiet about whether or not you were actually of value in his life—all of which leaves an uncomfortable sensation brewing in the pit of your stomach.

You needed to do this, if only to make it easier for you to let go, if only to let you swallow the pill of Hoseok’s real life with a bit more ease.

You know it’s the right thing to do for the sake of your sanity, yet you find yourself still dreading the thought of walking into Philosophy and seeing Hoseok and wondering if he has any idea. He probably doesn’t, probably doesn’t even realize what he’s been doing to you for the past few weeks, probably doesn’t even care.

The thoughts are valid enough to drill itself into your mind with little resistance to the matter. Why would there even be a problem with trying to convince you otherwise? Doubt festers like a poison in your mind because Karly has a point. You and Hoseok are separated by miles and oceans and space filled with different activities and different interacts and different futures—you weren’t cool like him or talented or funny. You would never had the opportunity to talk to him or be with him or fall in love with him if it wasn’t for Karly introducing him into your life.

And now you were paying the price.

.

You don’t go to class on that following Monday. It’s a first for you, but the thought of having to sit next to Hoseok and have him smile at you and remain oblivious to your mindset only makes you nauseous and hurt. You know that the more responsible thing to do would be to confront Hoseok and just say the words that have gradually become more and more lodged in the back of your throat but you also can’t bring yourself to be upfront. Being upfront would make everything a reality and could potentially uncover everything that you’ve tried to hide away.

So you stay quiet and you stay away. You ignore Hoseok’s texts inquiring about your whereabouts and if you had caught a cold, you ignore his calls and when he shows up at your front door with polite knocks and stammering questions. You know that Hoseok isn’t stupid and you know that ignoring the problem won’t make it go away and yet you persist on.

It’s only a matter of time before Hoseok is able to catch you, able to find a flaw in your schedule of How To Avoid Jung Hoseok—but you have to admit that he seeks you out much quicker than you had originally anticipated.

Except you really hadn’t expected to find him in your apartment, although you don’t know why you’re so surprised. You had told him where the spare key was and had completely forgotten to move it after attempting to set your plan into motion. This just goes to show how little success your arrangement involving Hoseok typically go.

“Hoseok,” You manage to greet, finding yourself completely rooted to the spot as you practically stick yourself to the front door, the noise echoing through the silence of the apartment. You wish Karly was here to help you find your bearings but of course she’s out attending another party. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I was always welcomed into your apartment anytime,” He says softly, a undertone of hurt in his voice but you do well in trying to ignore it. “You’ve been avoiding me for the past few days so I wasn’t sure if the offer still stands.”

You chew your lip, angling your head away from Hoseok’s intense stare so you could attempt to hide away from the full impact and full emotion dancing behind his eyes. “I’m not avoiding you,” You try, swallowing and knowing that you are terrible at lying to him.

“You haven’t been going to our philosophy class,” He reasons. “You always attend class.” He straightens off the kitchen table where he had been originally seated. “The only thing that changed between last class and the class you didn’t attend was…” He trails off, clearly in reference to the kiss that still makes your cheeks burn. “Did I make you uncomfortable? Did I do something to hurt you? Because I’m sorry if I did, you’re honestly the last person I would ever want to hurt.”

“I-It wasn’t you,” You protest weakly.

“Then what was it?” Hoseok presses, stepping closer to you. “Is someone fucking with you? Is something on your mind? You know you can always come to me if something is bothering you.” He makes a move, as if he wants to grab you and keep you from drifting so far away even if you haven’t moved from your position against the door since arriving. But he must see something in your eyes that spell out just how much you’re lying to him that it keeps him from reaching out to you.

You press your lips together, trying to steel your nerves and make yourself stronger. “I can’t do this anymore,” You whisper, looking up from some faraway point in the distance to risk a glance at Hoseok’s expression.

There is a flash of something in his eyes, something that you are unable to catch before it flickers away. He shakes his head. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t expect you to,” You whisper back. “Look Hoseok, we’re just from two completely different worlds and we both have different expectations for our own lives. You live your life the way you want to just as I do the same for myself and I think trying to avoid that will just be prolonging it.”

“Woah, woah,” Hoseok cuts in, bringing a hand up to the door to cage you in. “Y/N, where is this coming from?”

“It’s not coming from anywhere,” You say, shaking your head a little. “It’s just, you’re you and I’m just… me.”

“You’re just you?” He repeats, furrowing his eyebrows together. “What are you talking about? You aren’t making sense.”

You shake your head, already feeling the flush of embarrassment beginning to hit your cheeks. “It doesn’t matter. I think you should leave now.”

Hoseok swallows, clenches his jaw together, something he only does when he’s desperately trying to understand something to no success. You’ve seen the expression more than once while tutoring him and just being around him so you have to look down before you can start to regret shutting him out.

“Y/N, please, try to help me understand,” He urges quietly, desperately, leaning in, cupping your face with one hand. “Please. You’ve become so important to me that the fact that you’re just shutting me out now is just so confusing and I don’t think I can handle that.”

You move to pry his hands from your face. “We’re just two completely different people from two different worlds and it’ll never work out. You should go.”

“But I just—!”

“Go.” You cut in, closing your eyes, a note of finality in your tone, letting go of Hoseok’s hand and moving to the side to leave the door wide open. He doesn’t try to stop you this time, doesn’t try to suck the answer out of you through puppy dog eyes. Instead he watches you for a few more seconds, as if he wants to say something more, but he doesn’t. He recognizes your stubborn nature and knows how difficult it is to fight it. So he nods regretfully, opening the door, turning to look at you one last time, before finally taking his leave.

You are left alone in the apartment, staring at the spot that Hoseok once stood as you process everything and try not to tell yourself that you had just made a terrible mistake.

.

Jung Hoseok doesn’t try to contact you after that and for a moment, you are grateful. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you must mean that Karly’s previous accusations have been right and the boy is only now starting to realize that you have caught on. You are grateful because Hoseok refusing to reach out to you means that you can attempt for some closure and be able to end that chapter of your life without making too big of a deal about it.

However, like everything in your life that involves Jung Hoseok, there is flip side to every blessing and it’s as if life can never wait too long before attempting to bite you back in the ass.

Except this time, this particular moment just feels like the biggest bite the world has ever delivered to you.

If you had known an hour ago that walking into the coffee shop just off campus would result in exactly what you’ve been trying to avoid for a weeks now, perhaps you would have rethought your decision to enter aforementioned coffee shop in the first place. Maybe you would have rethought the schedule of your entire day, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid the shop and therefore avoid him.

Not just avoid him, but avoid those lingering stares he’s been giving you for the past few weeks—the touch of desperation that always seemed to hide in the inner corner of his eyes but worse of all that feeling you got in your chest whenever he was in close proximity. Like right now, for example.

All you know is that maybe, just maybe, turning around had not been the smartest trick in the book and you should consider yourself lucky for not dropping your coffee upon the ground. You have a tendency of getting carried away in the midst of a great shock, especially when it comes to Hoseok.

He’s giving you a wide-eyed stare, the kind that reveals the depth of his shock and how he had most certainly not been expecting to actually run into you today. Even though the pair of you still share class, you’ve always managed to escape before he could successfully corner you and it’s clear that he’s almost given up the prospect of trying to fix whatever had broken between the two of you.

At once, seeing him right here and right now, just reminds you of all the characteristics and qualities you’ve come to adore so much about him: from his warm, good-spirit to his dorky and careful habits that almost didn’t match the popular facade he gave off constantly in the halls. Within such a short period of time, you made him different and better—time and distance definitely has not come close to changing that.

“Hey,” You say, voice barely above a whisper. “Y-You aren’t following me, are you?”

“U-Um…” He stammers, returning your question with his own awestruck quality, his tone airy and unbelievable and you wish you would have better prepared yourself for a situation like this. The pair of you go to the same university and attend the same class and have come to know him better than you know yourself in only a week—how the fuck could you have not seen this coming? “N-No, I’m really not. I just… I just needed a caffeine fix.”

You nod quickly, holding up your own cup of coffee and gripping it a little too tightly with the hopes he won’t see the way your fingers tremble. “Me too. H-How have things been with you? It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

“It has,” He agrees, trying for a shrug. “I, uh, just found out I got this job at the music studio in the city. It’s just for an internship, but I’ll get to organize music and meet producers so I’m pretty excited.”

The news of Hoseok’s good fortune makes you lower your coffee and lower your guard, lips parting and curling up and the hesitancy momentarily disappearing. “Really? Hoseok, that’s so great.”

“Thanks,” He returns breathlessly, lips curling up into his own, private smile—the kind that’s usually only reserved for you. “C-Can you stick around? We can catch up.”

For a moment, you blame the momentary race of your heartbeat on the anticipation you had constantly felt towards the thought of a moment like this and how hesitant you are. Of course you’re still feeling this way. After all, as soon as Hoseok walked out of the apartment, you had fully readied yourself to carry on with the rest of your life with the boy no longer in the picture. You had gone through the whole process of accepting your differences and coming to terms with the fact that things would never have worked out regardless of your beliefs and your hopes and the whole reversal process of your grief is not something that could be so easily mended over a cup of coffee.

So why does a part of you feel like it could? Maybe it’s the romantic part of you, the hopeful part that has always loved and believed in Jung Hoseok and the idea that perhaps he could return your feelings, the part you’re often too scared to think about that just wants to try and make things right.

All it takes is one lingering gaze upon his expression, to really see all that desperation and pleading in such close proximity for you, kind-hearted and whole and reassuring and much too good for this world, to cave. “Oh, alright.”

You try to ignore the way his eyes light up, the way the corner of his lips turn up for a second too long before he’s leading the way, gesturing to a corner booth big enough to house the two of you and private enough that you don’t have to think about any onlookers—a probably unconscious movement on Hoseok’s part that you find yourself appreciating. That way no one will see the popular, the charming, the star athlete, hanging out with the quiet, the studious, the nobody.

You swallow. You try not to think about those things, because thinking like that will lead to missing him, which would lead to wanting him back in your life, and you don’t think you could stand the heartbreak of having to let go of him again due to your own insecurities.

“So, how have you been?” He starts off, slow and steady and testing the waters, not knowing how far he can go without getting shut out again. It seems as if no matter how far he tried to separate himself, his mind always returned him back to that evening where his whole life changed, in which he tried to do everything afterwards to separate himself from his feelings to no true success.

You brush the hair out of your face, picking up your coffee in favor of looking at him because you have a feeling brewing in the pit of your stomach that tells you he’s most definitely watching you and trying to generate some sort of noteworthy response. You wonder what his expectations of you are right now and you wonder if you’re any close to meeting it—you wonder if he’s hoping you would be willing to offer some sort of explanation pertaining to that night and you wonder if you’re willing to be that vulnerable.

“I’ve been good,” You say, nodding carefully, curious about how much would be appropriate to disclose to someone you used to not think twice about telling everything to. A part of you hates it, hates the wall that you’ve gradually started to build around yourself, even if it had been done so out of your own fears and insecurities of not being good enough. You decide to talk briefly about your classes before you find yourself accidentally going off about a recent situation that had occurred while you took a visit to the campus bookstore.

To go more into detail, you talk about talking into aforementioned shop looking for twenty books for some English extra credit assignment, in which said twenty books needed to be read and converted into an essay. You go into the difficulty of trying to find all those novels on your own, how you had attempted to stack one on top of the other only to have the whole thing fall in you, how you had received multiple bruises along your face and arm as a result. By the time the story is done, Hoseok is smiling fondly over at you, shaking his head with a smile still present on his lips.

“You’re just way too clumsy for your own good,” He points out, lowering his hand, eyes never leaving yours.

His statement leaves you unable to stop from rolling your eyes. “Yeah, I bet you must really miss me and all of this, huh?”

The question, meant to be nothing but sarcastic and light-hearted and your stupid, stupid attempt to rid of the tension in the atmosphere, produces only the stiffest laugh from the back of your throat. You lift your coffee, desperate for some kind of distraction to keep your hands busy, but you make the mistake of lifting your gaze to see how Hoseok is taking your stupid, stupid joke.

You stop short when you notice how quiet he’s become, how silent and unbearable your words have rendered him into and for a moment, you think that you are the one who has overstepped the line—which, considering everything Hoseok has subjected to you over the course of the week you had gotten to know him, is stating a lot.

Hoseok’s attention is focused entirely on you, lips parted slightly, and you swear you can see the way his breathing has picked up as if he’s trying to will himself to say something that could either make or break the next step of your relationship.

It isn’t until your own smile has diffused does he finally will himself to speak his mind: “You know I have.”

You swallow, looking down at your coffee cup and tracing your finger lightly over the rim, feeling the panic of Hoseok’s words start to settle in. “T-That was out of line for me to say,” You say, tightening your grip on the cup and starting to stand. A flash of panic flickers in Hoseok’s eyes. “I should go.”

“N-No, Y/N, wait.” Hoseok stands up just enough to make a desperate grab for your wrist. You stare back at him with wide-eyes. “Please, just stay for a moment. I haven’t been able to talk to you or even look at you for too long over the past few weeks and it’s been driving me crazy s-so please. Stop shutting me out. Tell me what I did wrong, and I promise I’ll fix it.”

“It’s really not you, Hoseok,” You state, staring down at the sight of his fingers wrapping around your wrist. “It’s me.”

“Bullshit,” He cuts in, interrupting you with so such a sneer that you find yourself looking up to study his expression. He clenches his jaw, trying to will himself to stay calm but it’s hard. “You don’t get to look at me like I’ve become your whole world and then avoid me and never talk to me again—that’s not fair.”

You try to pull your wrist back to no luck. “Oh, you mean like what you were going to do to me eventually? I was just trying to spare myself that heartbreak from letting you drag out whatever this is any longer.”

Hoseok knits his eyebrows together. “Like what I was going to do to you? What are you talking about? I would never do anything to hurt you like that.”

“Well, why not?” You bite back. “Why would I be any different from all these other girls that you sleep with and mess around with?”

He looks pained. “Are you really asking me what makes you so different?”

“Of course I am! Why would I be different? I’ve got nothing going for me when it comes to you—I mean, you’re Jung Hoseok and I’m just me; you’re just as out of my league as you were when we first met. I don’t live like you so how could I ever be enough for you—!”

Without a warning, Hoseok tightens his grip on your wrist and steps out of his side of the booth, circling around in order to be as close to you as possible. “It’s because I’m in love with you, you fucking moron. I don’t care if you don’t live like me, I’m glad you don’t because I’ve always hated the thought of you only seeing me as the party kid, the guy who messes around with girls, or the guy who doesn’t even care because I care about you so much that I didn’t even think that was possible.”

You continue to stare wide-eyed at the boy, flickering your gaze between his eyes as if trying to read any potential sarcasm in his statement and you grow increasingly more nervous when you can’t find any of that. “B-But,” You manage. “I’m just me—!”

“Yeah,” He interrupts. “You’re just you—but that’s what I love so much. You being you is the only thing I’ll ever need. I promise. Please give me the chance to show you how much you mean to me.”

You flicker your gaze down to his lips, switching between his mouth and his eyes and knowing you can never resist him and that maybe Karly didn’t know as much as you thought she did. “Okay,” You whisper, nodding even after the words of confirmation leave your lips.

Hoseok’s own eyes widen for a second, his lips curling up into that breathless smile you love so much. “R-Really?”

You nod. “Yeah, I believe you. I trust you—and I love you too.”

He presses his lips together, but his attempt to diffuse his smile doesn’t work out. “So, is there another family gathering you need to attend? It’ll feel less guilty when we go knowing that we aren’t lying to them the next time around.”

You laugh, heart racing at the implication of his statement. “I know.”

[thegremlinofransei]

Welcome to the Family | Ch. 3

Resident Evil 7 AU

Fandom: Split, Glass

Rating: M (strong language, VERY INTENSE violence this chapter)

Word Count: ~2.7K

Summary: Casey has finally found Kevin in an abandoned farmhouse three years after his mysterious disappearance, but she doesn't anticipate the short life of their less-than-joyous reunion...

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Casey's heart pumped so hard she could hear it. Someone...something...waited for her to take one more step down the stairs. As she descended, she finally saw it. A hunched figure with deathly pale skin and stringy brown hair, built of pure muscle showing through his dingy t-shirt, crawled up the stairs.

Casey's jaw quaked as she pitifully attempted to address the approaching menace. "K-K...Kev…"

He lunged at her and grabbed her by the throat, holding his face to hers and breathing the scent of death. His eyes were opened maniacally wide, his teeth were speckled with black as his mouth opened in a wild grin, and his complexion was ghostly pale. In one swift motion, he retracted his arm and thrust her back up through the doorway. Casey crashed into the wall behind her and fell forward, catching her breath and staggering back to her feet.

Kevin now stood directly in front of her, that menacing smile still disgracing his disfigured face. Casey held up a hand and mouthed, "Easy." 

It did little to stop him from grabbing her wrist and pulling out a kitchen knife in his right hand.

Kevin flung Casey to the side like a ragdoll and got down on his hands and knees to crawl after her. She rolled over and reached out a hand to block, which gained her a slit on the bony part of her wrist as he thrust the knife down at her. He continued to climb fully on top of her as she thrashed to deter him, but by the time she could see into his enraged blue eyes, it was too late.

The knife had gone clean through her left hand, and Casey screamed out in pain.

Kevin slid the knife back out of her hand, and she took this opportunity of retreat to kick him back and whip around to her feet. He had fallen, but was back on his feet in an instant, scrambling back down the hall.

"Wait...Kevin, hold on! Stop!" Casey shrieked at him as she backed away, but he refused to back down, instead lifting the knife as he ran. He gave her a few more nasty slashes on the wrist until she finally got a hold of him, his arm in her left hand and his face in her right. With all her might, she pushed back against the brutal onslaught.

Kevin staggered backward again before a third charge. Casey wrapped her hand around the blade, able to ignore the pain of it slicing through her palms by continuing her resistance. She was unable to keep him completely at bay, however, as he sunk the knife into her shoulder before dropping it to the floor and shrinking back.

Casey looked down to her blood-spattered hands in horror and reached down to retrieve the gory weapon. Turning back to Kevin, he now stood clutching his head, his appearance back to normal. 

"I can hear him," he groaned, his face exhibiting pure pain, "he's...clawing his way back inside of me." 

The pitch of his voice elevated as he reeled his head back. "Get out!" he screamed, slamming his head into the wall. "Leave me alone!" Another slam. His tone fell into defeat. "I've been bad. I deserve this." One final slam, and Kevin collapsed onto his back.

Casey heaved, but her stomach had nothing left to expel, so her eyes made up for it in a tsunami of tears as she stared down at her boyfriend's body sprawled on the floor. "What the fuck happened to you?" she thought out loud in a choked whisper. What happened to the loving hugs? The gentle kisses? The reassurances? Her memories harassed her. What the hell in this place changed them into knife fights and amnesia and cryptic messages?

Casey didn't want any more of this. She hustled to the end of the hallway and found door around the corner. Locked. Like everything else in this goddamn house, she grumbled internally. Deciding to go back to the basement and search for another exit, she ventured back down the hallway.

And was stopped in her tracks by Kevin rising to his feet like a marionette and regaining his sickly look from earlier.

He grabbed her arm, twisted it into submission, and pulled her closer to him by the throat, growling in her ear, 

"Leave me."

She crashed through the wall into an abandoned room and watched as Kevin yanked at an exposed stake in the wall, attempting to free it as a weapon. A gleam caught Casey's eye, and she reached for it as she rolled over to her hands and knees. Catching the smoothly carved handle, she pulled back and spun around to face Kevin, who had almost wrenched the stake free.

Casey readied her axe. If he was going to start another fight, she was going to finish it.

She sprinted at him and swung, landing a deep gash on his shoulder just before he could bolt out of the way. They exchanged a few slashes and blocks back and forth before Kevin shoved Casey away, and they squared up to each other.

Casey went in for another shot, but Kevin was ready this time. He thrust the stake through her torso, barely missing her vital organs and retracting as she stumbled back. She held him off as he approached again, threw in a few futile punches to his jaw, and shoved him away. 

Lining up her last shot, Casey landed the axe directly in the crook of Kevin's neck.

He slowly turned his head up to look at her, the color returning to his face and the light fading from his cerulean stare. His body began to collapse, and Casey reached out with a trembling hand. Despite his returned reach, Kevin went down, driving the axe further into his neck and spilling a pool of blood around his head.

Casey's breathing grew shallow as she stared down at Kevin's body. The pain from her multiple stab wounds was catching up with her, and her head throbbed as she tried to process the hopeless sight in front of her. 

You murdered him.

He tried to kill me first.

He's still the fucking love of your life, you callous bitch.

Every one of her internal monologues was screaming, tugging her in a different direction, justifying her actions and demonizing her for them and over and over again.

An electronic ringing sounded from down the hall. Casey gingerly stepped out of the room and peered at the phone. The orange light was flashing. Incoming call. She ran as fast as she could and picked up the handset, and a sassy, effeminate voice with a light Southern twang began to speak.

"You really shouldn't have come here."

Casey was beyond pissed at the lack of information surrounding her calamity. "Who's this? And what the fuck is going on?"

"My name's Jade. There should be a way out through the attic."

Beeeeeeeeeeeep.

Casey looked at the handset in disgust before replacing it. As she turned back to the long hallway, she heard a door squeak open and shut in rapid succession and paced back to the enormous hole in the wall. A bloody smear trailed out of the room and around the corner.

"Kevin?" Casey asked between incoming sobs. As she looked into the room, she was greeted by the axe, planted firmly into a plank of wood. She removed and readied it with her good hand, preparing for whatever skirmish waited beyond the next door.

It was wide open, revealing the main hall in as much disarray as she had left it, give or take the claw marks and blood spatters of Kevin's escape. Casey recalled that this Jade girl had told her to take the attic, but it very well could be a trap. Nevertheless, she wracked her brain to figure out a route up there.

The missing fuse!

She flashed back to the locked armoir in the first hallway. It HAS to be hiding something! she told herself, ecstatic at the renewed prospect of escape.

Casey journeyed through the kitchen, lulled by the thunder- at least, she hoped it was thunder- from overhead. Readying the axe, she hacked at the door, making five heavy swings before it shattered fully open, revealing the desired fuse on a hat shelf.

After slipping it into her waistband, she turned back to the kitchen and froze. Across the long room, she could see Kevin stumbling past the doorway to the stairs. She took a deep breath, desperately wishing she wouldn't be so afraid. It's just Kevin, she reminded herself as she trekked forth. Sweet, caring sensitive Kevin.

However, her ego overcame her denial. This isn't YOUR Kevin.

Casey readied the axe as she rounded the corner, but there was no sign of him. She made quick work of reaching the living room and replacing the fuse, ready to leave this house of death and the hollow, bloodthirsty shell of her boyfriend behind.

That is, until Kevin tumbled out of a small closet beneath the stairs.

He tenderly reached for Casey's arm as she remained petrified where she stood. "Casey, babe, it's me, you're okay!" he reassured her, guiding her as he inched backwards. He kept a hand behind his back, and upon noticing this, Casey began to struggle but his grip only tightened as he cooed, "I know you didn't mean to hurt me."

Kevin had already started to morph back into the pallid monster as he finished this sentence, and he slammed her into the wall along the stairs by her shoulders. "But you shouldn't have done that," he whispered heavily into her face, his breath smelling of decaying flesh. He pulled her left hand up further on the wall and pulled a screwdriver from behind his back. "It fucking hurt!" he screamed, driving the tool through the open wound in her hand.

Casey screamed for help, knowing it wouldn't come, as Kevin trudged away. She couldn't bring herself to cry, having dehydrated herself in such a manner with each of the prior revelations. Trying to escape her compromising position, she reached for the screwdriver and tried her best to shake and twist it loose. She heard a dull revving noise from just beyond the stairs and tugged harder. With a final strong pull, she removed it and held her left hand out in front of her to hastily block whatever attack Kevin had prepared.

The chainsaw cut through her wrist like it was melted butter.

Casey shrieked out in agony as her hand fell to the floor. Kevin growled, grabbed her by the throat, and lobbed her back, leaving her to watch him retreat as she wrapped her right hand around the raw stub in a pointless effort to contain the rapid bleeding. She climbed slowly to her feet, her breathing shallow and her vision spotty, and muscled her way up the stairs.

A quick press of the button at the top released a creaky set of steep stairs from the ceiling. Casey ascended, refusing to lose the light at the end of the tunnel. She was met by a dusty passage with a wide open door on the right, light flowing out of it from a small white lamp. Stumbling through the door, she spotted a welcome friend on a cedar table and slid the narrow axe into her last available belt loop.

Resting before her was a loaded M19 handgun and a magazine of bullets. Casey slipped the latter under her bra strap and pulled out a tube of ointment. She hoped that rubbing some on would at least dull the pain and slow the bleeding, and after her hasty  medical procedure, she dropped the empty tube and picked up the gun.

"Playtime's over, fucker," Casey muttered, hardening her expression.

She reentered the corridor and rounded another corner, finding a door. Fumbling with the knob between her palms and the gun, it finally creaked open, and Casey stumbled into the rectangular room, which was covered in all manner of tarps. 

A pair of eerie mannequins were balanced against a support post in the room's center. And on the other side of the post, a ladder leaned precariously against the wall, leading up to a small cupola with a hatched window. Before ascending to freedom, Casey did another once-over of the room and picked up two more magazines, stowing them with her other spare. She nodded, and a small smile broke out onto her face.

I don't care what's controlling you, Kevin, she resolved as she approached the ladder, we never even knew each other.

As she began her climb, the familiar revving sound came from overhead, and Casey opted instead to flee as sawdust sprinkled down from the cupola hatch. She sprinted across the room and only turned back as she heard the ladder clatter to the floor.

Kevin had hopped down and landed on his feet, and he was bolting toward her with the chainsaw.

Casey could only slow him down with a quick aim and fire directly between his rabid eyes, which only made him feel back slightly. He slowed his approach, and she began to back away cautiously continuing to fire at him.

"You…" he spat out between coughs of blood, "you were always watching me. I… don't need your HELP!"

Casey fled the room and kicked the door shut behind her, sprinting to the end of the hall. She hastily worked a new magazine out of her bra strap with her left arm stub, moved the gun into the crook of her elbow, and loaded it with her right hand before turning back and taking aim at the door.

"Why are you hiding, Casey?!" Kevin screeched before thrusting the chainsaw through the door and carving a long slash across it. The door collapsed, and Kevin emerged.

She shot him in the face twice, but it was no use. He charged, and Casey made a quick leap out of the way as Kevin screamed, "Forget about me! Everyone...is...relying on me!"

He came at her again, but Casey thrust her left elbow against the plastic casing of the chainsaw and her right hand at Kevin's face, barely holding her assailant at bay. She took a swift kick at his balls and took off down the next segment of the corridor as he stumbled back.

Casey had a perfect shooting range as Kevin rounded the corner to follow her. Bang! Forehead. Bang! Bridge of the nose. With those two shots, he dropped the saw to his right and fell to his knees, growling in a choked death rattle,

"I love you."

Kevin slumped over face first and a fountain of blood gushed from his face, but Casey wasn't taking any chances. She kept her gun trained on him and stayed about four feet away as she stared. There were no more tears to cry for this monster that repeatedly tried to kill her. Just the promise of escape and the thought of burning every last photograph she had taken with him.

She slowly crept around him, grunting in pain as the adrenaline wore off. But he didn't move this time as she stood by his feet. The wood creaked around the hallway, and a renewed uneasy feeling grew in her stomach as she aimed at the staircase back down at the second level, waiting for something else to come. When it was silent for a few long moments, she turned around, hoping the ladder wasn't broken.

A large hand grabbed her shirt and finished pivoting her around. Her eyes widened in fear and her breathing grew shallow as she looked up into the face of a tall, burly man. He wore a neatly-pressed yellow flannel tucked into his slacks and heavy workboots. His head and face were shaved, and his glasses gleamed over his dark eyes as he gave her an evil smile.

"Welcome to the family, kiddo."

With that, he slammed her head into the wall and let her fall to the ground like a rejected toy. 

Casey's last sight before the dark spots took over her field of vision was Kevin's bullet-riddled face.

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

A/N: You know I had to do it to 'em. Also, for those of you who have played RE7, you may realize that Casey is in Ethan's role and Kevin is in Mia's role. However, I was just thinking the other day that, if this game were to receive a film adaptation, Anya Taylor-Joy would be great as Mia IMHO. Anyway, be sure to like, comment, and reblog. If you want to be on the tag list, just drop me an ask!

Tag List:

@lady-serenitty

@martina-leanza

[ryewi]

When I’m With You I’m In Utopia [Chapter 14]

Summary:  9 years ago, the world split in two halves, Utopia and Dystopia. One of the laws allows citizens of both worlds to visit the other once in their lifetime, for a whole week, after which, they’re forced to return home. If by any chance, they don’t return, a death punishment is sentenced. Jeon Jungkook, a citizen of Dystopia seemed to be desperate enough to challenge that exact law.

Genre: Utopia!au, Dystopia!au, fluff, drama, angst, tragedy

Words: 2,1k

Warnings: truly, just emotions overload

“They’re going to kill me today, aren’t they, Joon?” Faith’s quiet and trembling voice resonated in the spacious, white room. Her eyelids were dropping, eyes tired, glassy, broken, their fire long put down. She had no more energy in her weak body; at that moment, even the thought of death wasn’t looking all that scary. Faith just wanted it all to end, any way possible.

The man she was speaking to and from who she was trying to bribe out an answer, was pacing nervously around her, numerous papers in his hands. Occasionally, his long fingers would thread through the thick strands of freshly dyed black hair, followed by a deep sigh. His natural hair color was waking up numerous unwanted memories in Faith’s mind. Only if the times were as happy as they once were.

“Why would I know such information?” Namjoon asked, shooting the other a cold glare. Faith knew, she knew that Namjoon wasn’t having it easy either, she knew that deep inside, he strongly cared. Behind his cold orbits, there was so much emotion, devotion, way too many unspoken words of comfort he wasn’t allowed to say.  

“You do, I know you do” She answered, standing up from the creaky, wooden chair, its legs scraping loudly against the white tiled floor. With cautious steps, Faith approached her friend and snatched the papers from his hold. Her eyes slowly dragged over the slightly blurry text, watching all the different information about current imprisoners. Way too much info for each person – this would be considered a privacy invasion in many situations.

Along with twenty other names, there was an all too familiar one.  

Jeon Jungkook, written with bold letters, along with all of his information, such as birth date, birth place, parents’ names, time he entered Utopia, every time he was seen outside and where… Unfortunately, Faith’s eyes skimmed way too fast over the paper, her brain unable to process everything that she saw.

Eventually, they caught on to ten red letters, that weren’t only bolded and italicized, they were underlined. Faith Keith, it said, the obnoxious way of writing sending shivers down her spine, why was she the only one whose name was written like this?

Faith’s eyes moved up, examining the look Namjoon was giving her. Although she felt emotionless, she began to tear up, the reality of the situation being way too cruel and hitting her at horrendously fast pace. She was going to die. Her flame is going to be put down forever. A soul with huge dreams, and a future that was supposed to be one to envy.  

And all of that because of love.

“You know...” Faith choked out, tears spilling faster than ever, puffy eyelids and red nose closing and scrunching automatically. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe, way too hard to maintain a normal heartbeat, her lungs and heart spasmed.

“What did you want from me?!” Namjoon yelled out of nowhere, strong voice startling the smaller. Never once has he raised his voice at her, actually, Faith was pretty sure she never heard Namjoon yell at anyone. The change of demeanor only fueled her tears and Faith felt pathetic, weak, vulnerable. “Do you want me to tell you I know the exact minute you’re going to be taken away? Do you want me to tell you I know exactly how much of the lethal substance will be injected into your body?!”  

His eyes began watering too, the situation obviously affecting him too, how wouldn’t it?

“Fuck, do you know how hard it is for me to look at you right now? Do you know how much it’s suffocating me to know that every second could be our last? It’s so hard because each time we say goodbye it really could be our last words spoken. Faith why did you get yourself in this?”  

Namjoon approached Faith, hands cupping her face, eyes boring holes right inside of hers. His thumbs wiped away Faith’s never-ending tears, the heartbreak and disappointment that the female’s irises oozed rubbed off of him too.  

“Do you want me to say that you’re here right now only because I requested it? I wanted to see you, I wanted to hold you once again, talk to you honestly, about anything really, remember your voice, remember how it was when you were mine”

His lips smashed against hers, aggressively and fast. Faith was taken aback, the plush and tender lips that danced with her own sent a shiver down her spine. Tears haven’t slowed down one bit, now fueled by horrible amounts of sentimentality, and although nausea crept upwards from her stomach, Faith didn’t pull away. Although everything in her mind screamed at her to stop, she didn’t. It was ruining her, but it was ruining the other too, maybe even more than her. He will have to move on with this moment buried deep inside of his memory. She on the other hand...

The second they broke off, Faith fell to the ground, muscles relaxed and bones elastic. Her head hit the ground, hands immediately covering the hurting spot. Screams of agony filled the spacious room, and although nothing was happening at that moment, Faith felt immense torture. She felt her limbs being ripped off, her stomach stabbed, throat held in a tight hold. Breathing was a hard action, her lungs convulsing, gasping for oxygen. She didn’t know what happened to the air, but the thickness doubled, the smell changed and she felt her body relax. Suddenly, she felt nothing but instant relief as Namjoon picked her up and hugged her tight.  

Her panic attack was finally over.

“Please don’t cry my angel, you aren’t here because you’ve done something wrong, it’s because your wings have been cut off” the man said, tightening his hold and rocking them both left and right. Sniffles and audible gulps have gradually stopped, the eyes of the smaller closing and body going numb, she felt safe. Ironic.

Unfortunately, Namjoon forgot about the man on the other side of that one-way mirror. He forgot that such interaction with an imprisoner could get him fired, but at that moment he didn’t care. This was probably what they wanted too. They wanted to break each and every one of them, regardless of their position. Evil undescribed. He didn’t care about the policies, his job, the possibility of being arrested even, all that mattered was Faith.  

All that mattered was the smaller creature currently finding safe residency inside of his hold; the exact creature he once held like this while binge-watching Friends on a Friday. Namjoon felt extremely guilty, as if his life-choices impacted her more than they should’ve. Would she be living her last moments if he stayed all those years ago? Would she be taking her last breaths if he told her he loved her too? That he was only scared, that he didn’t really want to hurt her?

Abruptly, a man rushed inside, pushing the door open with such force that the metal knob left an indent inside of the wall. His posture was stoic, shoulders wide and tense, while his arm muscles were almost ripping the material of his suit. Faith flinched at sudden entrance and sound, eyes catching a glimpse of the giant behind them.  

It was Lucas.  

“Sorry, you have to leave, it’s already 8:37” Lucas hurried, strides long and quick as he approached Faith. His hand grabbed her bicep carelessly and with much power, pulling her out of Namjoon’s grasp while pictures from the past flashed before her eyes quick. Namjoon tried to pull her back, she felt his hands squeezing around her, but his grasp disappeared fast. He gave up. There really was no point at trying one last time.

Faith was forced out of the room, time for goodbyes non-existent as she was already walking down the long corridor, trying to follow Lucas’ steps. Her head was spinning, panging, thoughts were unclear, but she still somehow managed to form a coherent question.

“I’m going to die now, aren’t I?” Faith asked with extreme confidence, words steady and clear. The other just looked at her, spared a pitiful glance, not bothering to answer. He wasn’t obliged to, so why would he want to say such hurtful words to her?

“Hey, Lucas, please reply to me” She pulled on his sleeve, like a helpless puppy, begging for a treat. Her eyes were once again hooded, chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. Lucas wasn’t replying either, but she could see the way his jaw clenched and eyes closed at each of her tugs.  

She was to ask more questions, to nag, but they soon approached an entrance, guarded by two equally as strong men, who only nodded at Lucas and opened the door for him. Faith’s eyes managed to catch a glimpse of the text written on them, although she was pushed through quick. With big bold font, thirteen letters laid comfortably on the expanse of white wooden door, extermination.

As if she was some kind of a ball tossed to a child, Faith was quite literally thrown into the arms of someone else. At this point, she wasn’t sure if her first impression about Lucas and his caring nature still stayed with her.  

A small framed woman was the one to catch her, her short black hair looking like a fluffy cloud on top of her head – making Faith smile. She was wearing a white coat, like most doctors, although she didn’t look like one. Forehead wrinkles made their appearance quick, as she smiled at the younger and showed a perfect row of white teeth. Her hands were covered in blue gloves, the sticky material that came in contact with her skin made the other cringe.

“Miss Keith, talk to us, it’ll calm you down and help the process” She said, leading Faith towards the leather bedding that was slightly angled downwards. Faith felt scared and her hands were shaking as she laid down, arms open and resting on the leather arm rests.  

That’s when she got to examine the room she was currently in, eyes trying to catch every single detail, but then coming to conclusion that there really were none.  

What she noticed was the amount of people inside right now. Faith could recognize Lucas, standing stoically near the door, hands crossed and lips forming a frown. She could also recognize a doctor she approached a few days ago, asking for something for her sore throat. Other than them, Faith could only describe the other three dressed in white as doctors of some sort, and the remaining two as reporters.  

“Did you kill anyone else today?” Faith asked, not quite sure why, it seemed like an okay question for some kind of a small talk. She watched everyone casually, but felt at display, eyes playing between seven strangers, not sure if she wanted to beg for help or tell them to just end it fast.

“You’re the last one, Mister Kim wanted to keep you for some time, although this really was inevitable” She answered, carefully putting a blanket and a few safety straps over the smaller. Then, just for a moment, she disappeared from Faith’s vision, only to be back with three translucent IV bags and three differently colored injections. The woman was quick to connect said bags with Faith’s arms, quick sting nothing compared to whatever the younger was expecting to experience later.

“What’s inside of those injections may I ask?” Faith questioned, curiosity poking her interest. Curiosity killed the cat, hah.  

“There’s three substances, sodium thiopental, pancuronium bromide and potassium chloride, but I’m sure the names are just a bunch of letters for many” She laughed, her voice way too calm and monotone for such a strange situation. Well, strange for others, she probably got used to this. Faith appreciated the fact that she maintained small talk with her.

“Will it hurt? How long will it take?” Faith couldn’t help but push on questioning, her mind was a mess, she had a thousand questions more and although she wanted all the answers to them, there really was no time.

“Time? 8 minutes. Pain? Sodium thio- whatever, THAT, sends you in an unconscious, relaxed state, so if it works out well, it really shouldn’t hurt, you won’t be awake to experience it. The other two, well, they do stuff to your body I really don’t like to talk about in detail, but they stop breathing and then heartbeat. You won’t be there to experience it so don’t worry”

“Oh...okay, I’ll try not to be difficult” Faith said quietly, eyes now fixed before her, looking, but not really seeing anything. She stared at a blank spot, waiting for whatever is to hit her. At least it won’t hurt. “Before we say goodbye, can I please ask for a favor?”  

“Of course, little one, what is it?” The woman replied, carefully checking if all needles were in place, while rubbing Faith’s forehead. She’d never admit after all these years, but cases like Faith’s always broke her heart, they didn’t deserve this. Love wasn’t supposed to kill.

“Can you tell my sister that I’m sorry I won’t be able to attend her wedding? Please call my parents too and tell them their little bean sprout will look over them”

Shattered, thats how the woman felt, heartbroken. She was trying to keep her tears in, now refusing to keep eye contact, scared that if she met eyes with a pair of disappointed, emotionless, tired ones, she’d have to give up. She isn’t allowed to do that.

“And please, if any of you ever find Jeon Jungkook, my Dystopian prince, tell him he didn’t disappoint me”

A tear fell down.

The clock said 8:53.

No one remembered.

No one waited.

                                       »»————-　♡　————-««

On the other side of the door, an announcement echoed throughout the whole prison, startling every single person present.

“Attention. Attention. Abandon all actions. Utopia and Dystopia are officially merged into one. Repeat. Utopia and Dystopia are officially merged into one. After nearly a decade, the experiment is over, congratulations and thank you for helping us”  

The doors of the cells unlocked, red lights went off in every room, people were dumbfounded, surprised that the day has come, that this is the reality.

Faith too, would’ve been happy, only if...

                                        »»————-　♡　————-««

AN: Uh,,,, sorry?

[rainythefox]

Nightfall (Resident Evil WeskerxClaire fanfiction, CH.4)

Synopsis: Pre-Resident Evil 1/Pre-Resident Evil 2, slight-AU. 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…ClairexWesker. Slight ChrisxJill. (An old FF.Net multi-chapter fic of mine that I’m revising and publishing to AO3)

Rated M for Adult Content/Violence/Sex/Language

Genre: Suspense, Romance, Thriller, Mystery

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17794784/chapters/41982563

Chapter 4: Wrong Place, Wrong Time

Redfields were known by two distinct traits: Stubbornness and fearlessness. Anybody else would have gave into Wesker’s piercing gaze and dark grin, or died out of fear, if Claire’s heart was any indication. But because of her dominant Redfield traits, she defied him almost immediately. She glared up at that smug expression on his face as he patiently waited for her to speak. She refused to answer him. After what she saw, she wouldn't answer a crooked officer. Silent minutes went by, the cold air creeping into Claire's clothes and chilling her skin.

"Well?" Wesker purred. The fact that he was amused by this sickened Claire.

William stepped back from them, anxious. His head swiveled, looking around, as if expecting them to be caught any moment. Claire, again, remained silent, her eyes unwavering from his, openly challenging him. She didn’t try and push away from the tree, push against his hold, knowing his strength overpowered hers by a mile, despite Claire being fit and athletic. Her pulse threatened to burst from her veins, the nausea ate at her stomach and panic swam through her nerves. But still, she glared at him. Still, she showed defiance.

Wesker’s grin disappeared. Warm metal tingled the flesh of her neck, and her breath caught in her lungs as she realized the recently fired handgun was now pressed hard into her throat. Her defiance melted away as she gasped, her eyes instantly watering.

"Do not try my patience, Ms. Redfield. Answer me, if you want to remain alive," Wesker warned.

"I came here to run on the trails! Last I heard, it wasn't against the law! What the hell are you doing out here?"

Frustration laced her voice, and Claire wasn’t sure if she was more upset that she gave in or that she was actually scared.

"Business that is none of your concern.”

Claire pushed on him, but Wesker’s strength didn’t allow her to budge, and the gun remained wedged under her jaw, pressed right against her pulse. "It is my concern seeing as how I’m a fucking witness to you killing an innocent man. Just wait until I call the law on you!"

Her threat earned her another dark smirk from Wesker, but his friend choked on his laughter nearby. Claire then noticed the white lab coat the other man wore beneath his larger coat and the ID that hung on his breast.

"Did you hear that, Al? She's gonna call the law on you!" he mocked.

Wesker chuckled, a low, venomous sound that rattled her bones. "I'm only one position shy from running the whole police department myself. Do you really think you can use the law against me, dear heart? I am the law."

"Let me go or I’ll-"

"You’ll what?" Wesker whispered.

The cool rasp of his voice chilled her as it tingled her ears.

"Looks like you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, little lady," William said, and then sighed. "C'mon, Albert. No sense in wasting anymore time. Let's just kill her and get it over with. I've already paged Sergei to send a cleanup crew.”

William's words cut her like a knife. Wesker's grip on her didn't loosen, even as she suddenly pushed against him, fighting to break free and get away, panicking. The gun barrel pushed harder into her throat. She whimpered, her fighting spirit succumbing to the deadly steel.

"Where's the fun in that? She can come with us."

William’s eyes went wide and he waved his arms and shook his head. "No, no, no! Hell no! Bad idea! Sergei will wring our necks if he finds out you let a witness live! And I don't even want to think about Spencer!"

"You worry too much, Will," Wesker replied, side-glancing the other man. His eyes then found Claire’s again and he smirked. "She needs to be taught a lesson."

"No, she needs to be shot in the head and tossed beside ‘ol Fin's body!" William retorted. He gestured to Claire with an apologetic smile. "No offense!"

"There's a pay-phone at the entrance to the hiking trails. Call Annette and tell her to come pick up your car."

William glared at Wesker. "Why?"

"Because you are going to drive Ms. Redfield's truck back to her house. Annette can pick your car up while Sergei’s men handle the scene here."

William groaned, grabbing his hair in frustration. "You and your sick, twisted games, Albert. Fine, give me a quarter!"

He held out his hand. Wesker scowled at his partner-in-crime, and then received the coin. William went on ahead of them on the trail, walking for the parking area while cursing and complaining.

Wesker let Claire go. She inhaled a shaky breath as he stepped back, but the gun remained pointed at her chest. He used the gun to motion for the trail. Claire wanted to run for it, but knew all that would get her was a bullet in the back. Instead, she refused to move, her back still hugged against the tree.

He grabbed her and shoved her towards the trail. Claire stumbled, but easily caught herself. She glared over her shoulder at him, but was met with a cold smile and a gun barrel in  her lower back. Reluctantly, she followed the trail back to the entrance, far behind William. She was scared, angry, and confused. Her mind raced for a way to escape. She had no idea what Wesker was planning to do with her, and didn't want to find out either.

"You're not going to get away with this. I will tell Chris and everyone at the police department and have you arrested," she threatened.

Wesker chuckled softly behind her, and she shivered. "You’re brave for someone who has a gun to their back. I love your fighting spirit, dear heart. But why waste energy barking empty threats? You won’t get away."

"I'll find a way."

"I look forward to you trying."

"Why did you kill that man?"

"Because he knew too much. And if you keep asking questions, you’ll end up like him as well."

Claire glared over her shoulder at him. "And what if someone else comes through here besides me? You gonna kill them too?"

"I actually had these trails closed off. But if there is someone careless enough to disregard the signs like you, then yes, I will kill them. And I won’t lose any sleep over it either,” Wesker answered.

His tone was colder than the wind as it brushed by, dusting snow around them.

Claire shivered, holding herself. "What’re you gonna do with me?"

"You will find out soon enough."

By the time they reached the vehicles in the parking lot, it was snowing again. Claire lost track of time, but knew it hadn’t been long enough for Chris to start worrying about her. As much as she wanted him to come find and rescue her, she knew that would only end up getting them both killed.

William finished with his business on the pay-phone and hung up. He walked over to them, looking as though the snow and icy wind bothered him. He rubbed his palms together for warmth.

"Alright, Annette’s on the way. She’ll take the BMW back to the Pharmacy. So let's drop off her truck and you can give me a ride over there. We better hurry. Sergei’s men will be here any minute. Hopefully, my dear wife can come up with a convincing reason as to why my vehicle is still here."

Wesker nodded. He grabbed Claire's arms, pulling them behind her back. Claire struggled, yelling out. Metallic braces squeezed shut on her wrists, pinching skin, and with a hollow clack, the handcuffs locked.

"Hey! Take these things off of me!" Claire demanded.

"If you want to survive this ordeal, Ms. Redfield, then you better cooperate. Now, where are your keys?"

She stopped fighting, glaring at the two men. She bit her cheek, head lowering. "Front right pocket."

The tall STARS Captain stepped up to her, their bodies inches apart. With an amused, taunting smirk, he shoved his fingers into her front pocket of her jeans. Claire bit her tongue, her eyes glaring daggers into his. Wesker fished the keys out and tossed them to William. He caught them with quicker reflexes than Claire thought he’d have and, without another word, unlocked the Dodge truck and climbed in. Wesker pulled Claire over to the passenger side of the Jaguar. The luxury car’s lights flashed for a second with a soft chirp, and unlocked. Wesker opened the door and pushed her inside. The interior was clean with leather upholstery, and still smelled like new car. Claire leaned forward a bit to keep from pressing on her cuffed arms. Wesker slipped into the driver's side and started the car. William followed behind them in Chris's truck as they left the Arklay Mountain Trails.

"Do what you want with me, but when I get the chance, I will tell Chris," Claire said, glaring at Wesker.

Wesker pressed the clutch and shifted up a gear as the car gained speed on the highway. He barely glanced over at her. "It would be a poor decision on your part. You wouldn't want Chris to end up dead, would you?"

"You’re bluffing. You wouldn't risk getting caught."

"I assure you, I’m quite serious. You misunderstand me, Ms. Redfield. I control most of the city. Telling anyone…Chris, Jill, the law, your friends, will result in your death as well as your brother's. What happened to Mr. Finley back there will never be brought to light. He died in a car crash, you see. Committed suicide, or simply disappeared. His fate is whatever I decide to make it. You and your brother are no different, same with all the others who thought they could expose me."

"You're crazy if you think I’m just gonna stay quiet! I’ll fight you every second. I will find a way to expose you.”

Wesker’s cruel smile and amused, purr-like chuckle was enough to boil Claire’s blood. "I admire your tenacity, dear heart. I expect you to fight, and I will enjoy every minute of it. However, depending on how far you’re willing to save your brother's life, you might just be able to buy your freedom back from me."

“Why should I believe anything you say, you bastard?”

"It isn't as though you have a choice now, is there?"

Claire fell silent, her eyes falling. Her situation seemed hopeless, she was trapped. Wesker laid down the terms already. If she wanted to stay alive, and keep Chris and her friends alive, she would have to listen to him. But that wouldn’t stop her from fighting. She would find a way to expose Wesker to the public, to the right side of the law. She would have to plan her moves carefully to make it out alive. This was going to be a game of cat and mouse, and she was the mouse.

Claire couldn't believe it. She was shocked, speechless. William parked Chris's truck in the driveway while Wesker unlocked the handcuffs and freed her. Wesker’s Jaguar idled behind the truck, its black body sticking out amongst all the white of the snow in the neighborhood. William walked over to steps of the porch, peering up at Wesker and Claire, fidgety and eager to leave.

They were just going to drop her off and leave.

Claire rubbed her sore wrists, freshly freed from metal braces. "That's it? You’re just gonna drop me off and go? Not a very bright way to keep me from talking.”

Wesker snapped his fingers at William. The thinner man grumbled and tossed Claire’s keys to him. "I told you what to expect in the car. That's just it, Ms. Redfield. I’m giving you absolute freedom right now. You can tell anyone in the world what you saw on that trail. Doing so, however, will result in dire consequences that you are fully aware of. The choice is up to you. Either protect your family by keeping quiet or destroy it by talking."

She wanted to believe that he was bluffing. That he was just trying to intimidate her into keeping her mouth shut. It was working, but it still made her believe that she could find a way to expose him.

"And believe me, he’s not bluffing, sweetheart. He’s done this before…lots of times," William said. "Why? I do not know. It only seems to waste time and gives me a headache."

Wesker handed Claire her keys, their fingers brushing. Claire felt some kind of static ripple through her flesh from the touch. "This is far from over, dear heart. So, if you want your life to remain as it is, then you’ll stay quiet about this whole ordeal. It would be such a waste to have to make it look as though you and Chris got into an accident."

She narrowed her eyes at him, her stomach flopping from nausea. "I get it. Now leave."

Wesker slid his sunglasses back on, a ghostly smile forming. He turned and followed William to his car. "It's your call, Ms. Redfield. Tread carefully."

Claire watched them get into the Jaguar and drive off, heading for the city. The sickness that flooded her hit her like a freight train. She ran inside the house into the bathroom, feeling as though she was going to vomit. Her head spun, and her blood was icy cold despite her skin being hot. She recalled how that man’s head blew open from the gunshot, how the loud boom didn’t completely cover the sound of shattering bone and tissue. She threw up the breakfast she had earlier that morning, groaning. The telephone rang in the kitchen. Claire spat and rose slowly to her feet, head pounding. She answered the phone, hoping it was Chris.

"Hello?"

"Hey, there ya are! Thought I’d call in since I haven’t heard from you. Was starting to worry. How were the hiking trails?”

She swallowed hard, feeling a sense of guilt and pain. "Oh, it was…fine. Lots of snow out there."

"Are you alright? You sound upset."

She forced a fake smile, even though her brother couldn't see it. "I'm fine. I just saw a dead deer along the trail. Kinda freaked me out. That and I think I was out in the cold for a bit too long. I feel sick."

"I tried talking you out of it, didn’t I? Who goes running in the woods with snow everywhere in twenty degree weather? You do apparently! Make yourself some soup and rest. I should be home a bit early tonight."

"Alright, take care, Bro. Love ya."

"Love ya too, bye."

She hung up, getting lost in thought. She sat the phone back down on its receiver, walking for the couch and slumping down on it. Her mind raced with so many things. She had to find a way to expose Wesker, but she just didn't know where to start. She couldn't risk Chris's safety, or her friends' safety, not even her own safety. But she couldn't allow Wesker to get away with this, to control her or continue to hurt innocent lives. She was at a complete loss.

She couldn't call the law. Wesker controlled the law. And she saw first hand how he could manipulate and deceive the truth. Whatever conspiracy he was caught up in also gave him more room for control. She would have to do some investigating to see what kind of shadows Wesker was involved with. If she couldn't call on the law for help, then she just might have to do it alone. The only man above Wesker at the police department was the Chief of Police…Brian Irons. Claire wondered if she could go talk to him. Sure, Irons was a jerk at times, but he knew how to keep a city in line. Claire heard stories of how he had arrested crooked cops before.

Then again, she didn't want to risk Wesker finding out and killing her brother. She remained lost in thought until she heard a car pull up in the driveway. Shaking out of her trance, Claire realized she had been in deep thought, confused and worried, for several hours. Peeking out the window, she saw Chris get out of Jill's car, and then Jill pulled out to go home herself. It was dark outside, and it was lightly snowing still.

Chris entered with a smile on his face, brushing off snowflakes from his uniform and hair. "Hey Sis, feeling better?"

"A little," she replied, trying to sound calm. "How was work?"

Chris took his coat off and hung it up, and the siblings moved into the kitchen to talk. Claire leaned restlessly on a counter, watching her brother as he took of his utility belt and weapons.

"Very hectic! Tomorrow should be much more laid-back. We plan on catching up on some paperwork. But with Barry in charge, I highly doubt we get much done," Chris said.

Claire perked up. "Barry? What happened to Wesker?"

"Day off. He was late today, but I'm sure for a good reason. I'm just glad he put Barry in charge. Usually, he has Enrico come in to cover him, but I guess Enrico has a lot of work with Bravo Team."

She did not like the fact that Wesker would be off of work tomorrow. That meant she wasn't safe, because Chris had to work. She swallowed softly, playing with a nearby pen she found on the counter.

"Anyone else off tomorrow?"

"Yeah, Brad is." Chris then peered at her curiously, as if catching the strange tension coming from his younger sister. "Claire? Are you alright?"

He sounded worried, and so Claire quickly thought of an excuse. She smiled faintly, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about college. I think I had a project I needed to finish not long after winter break. I better call up my roommate and ask to make sure."

Chris looked as though he didn't fully believe it, but dipped his head nonetheless. "Okay."

"Oh, by the way. I'm gonna go out with some friends tomorrow. I'm tired of hanging around the house waiting for my oaf of a brother to get home," Claire replied, forcing a playful smile.

Chris worked on untying his boots. "Good. Just be careful. This might come as a surprise to you, but it's supposed to snow some more tomorrow."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Smartass. If it keeps snowing like it is, then we'll be trapped inside."

Chris laughed. "It's Colorado. What do you expect?"

"I know," she said.

And though Raccoon City was located to the far east of the state, near the border of Kansas, there was still plenty of snow to go around.

"Why are you still wearing your clothes from earlier? I thought by now you’d be in your pajamas laying on the couch with a blanket and watching old horror films," Chris asked.

"Oh, just in case I needed to go somewhere," Claire answered rather quickly. "Well, I’m gonna jump in the shower. It's time for pajamas now!"

Chris vaguely nodded at her, sitting his boots aside. "Alright, I'll cook some dinner."

The next morning after Chris left for work with Jill, Claire was quick to get ready and get out of the house. She didn't want to stick around in case Wesker came after her on his day off. Though she really didn't have any friends here in town to hang out with, she was determined to stay in the public and away from any chances that Wesker could nab her.

She regretted being bull-headed and going jogging on the trails. If she hadn't of gone, she would be safe and out of Wesker's grasps. William was right. She had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Damn her luck.

She wondered about William's involvement. She had no idea who the man was or what he did. She could tell he was a researcher or doctor of some kind. And though his behavior was odd, she could tell he was quite intelligent and perhaps just as dangerous as Wesker. William and Wesker knew each other very well, obviously. Without a last name though, Claire wouldn't know where to start with William.

That's it…I'm going to see Chief Irons. He's the only person who can stop Wesker…

Claire jumped into the Dodge, driving straight for the police station with a speeding heart. Traffic was slow because of morning rush and the weather, but she was prepared to deal with it. When she arrived, she parked the truck in the public area, and entered the grand building. She at once regretted her decision when the vast main hall engulfed her. Police officers, investigators, civilians, the press, and police dogs were all over the main hall. Claire could hear phones ringing constantly, and voices echoed across the vast hall.

She got directions for the Chief's office. She was relieved she didn't have to sneak past the STARS office to get to it. Located on the second floor near some old art exhibit rooms, she was able to find the door easily. The emblem on the door read: Chief of Police: Brian J. Irons.

She shook, her nerves getting the best of her. Her heart thumped quickly in her throat. She took a moment to gather herself and to think this over, taking in a deep breath. Did she dare talk to the Chief and risk her life and Chris's life? Or did she dare to stay quiet and let Wesker intimidate her into a cowardly puppet until he finally killed her and Chris?

Grinding her jaw, and stomping her foot, she huffed. She had to do this. She knocked on the door, ignoring her nerves. She listened, hearing only faint movement. "Come in!"

She slowly entered, closing the door behind her. There the Chief was in his large office, sitting at his desk. Brian Irons was in his late forties, plump, with grey hair and a greying brown mustache. He wore dark gray slacks with a white button up long sleeve shirt and a blue tie. She could see the jacket that went with his outfit hanging on the nearby coat rack. Irons smoked a cigar, typing away on his computer. The smoke from his cigar lofted around in the air like a fog.

He stopped as he noticed her, as if surprised to see a stranger in his office. Claire glanced around the room for a moment; dark chills coming over her. There were taxidermy animals on display all over. She saw several native wildlife mounted each way she looked. There was a cougar, a black bear, a fox, a coyote, a wolf, and a bobcat. There were smaller animals like raptors, owls, raccoons, and even the large skull of an alligator. Mounted on the walls were several heads of bucks, bears, and even a bison and elk. All of the animals seemed to stare with lifelike intensity, and it made her shiver.

Irons raised an eyebrow, looking guarded. "Can I help you?"

"Uh, yes. I came to report a crime that one of your officers covered up."

Irons’ eyes flashed and he motioned her to take a seat in front of his desk. She slowly sat down, not liking at all how Irons stared at her. She felt like one of the taxidermy rabbits stuffed on the edge of a table nearby.

"You look familiar," he stated, beady eyes glaring.

"Chris Redfield's sister. I'm Claire."

"Oh, I see," Irons replied smoothly, puffing on his cigar and leaning back. "So, this sounds serious, Ms. Redfield. Please do explain. I cannot have any crooked cops running around in my city."

"I was out jogging on one of the Arklay trails yesterday morning. I came across Albert Wesker. He was with a man named William. I saw them kill a man before they caught me. Wesker is blackmailing me to stay quiet or he’ll kill Chris and me. He needs to be stopped!"

Irons paled in the face, eyes widening. He blew out smoke from his cigar, snuffing it out in the ashtray nearby. He sat up straighter in his chair, much more rigid than he had been when she entered his office. Claire saw him press a button on his nearby telephone. The smooth motion confused her, and she nervous of his quiet reserve.

"That…is a lot to take in," he finally said, tapping his fingers on the desk.

"What are you going to do about it? Our lives are in danger!"

The Chief held up his hand to silence her. "I assure you, Ms. Redfield, you came to the right person. You’re very lucky that you did not go to anyone else with this. We can't let this dangerous situation be handled by the wrong people."

She didn't like how he was talking. She gripped the arms of the chair to where her knuckles turned white. Irons casually laced his fingers on his desk, studying her closely, a dark aura coming over him.

He slowly shook his head. "I hate to say this, but it sounds as though you were in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"W-What?" she grunted.

She started to get up, but the Chief suddenly aimed a handgun at her. She froze in place. Fingers clenched on her chair as she was halfway to her feet. She slowly lowered herself back into the chair as Irons got up. The horror of yesterday replayed as she was yet again held at gunpoint by an officer of the law, tainted and cruel. Irons gave a dark smile, walking slowly around his desk.

The Chief of Police was in on it too. He was crooked just like Wesker was.

“You should’ve stayed quiet. I’m not gonna let some college girl ruin my all my hard work.”

Before she could challenge him, her temper rising, her heart crushed, he whipped the pistol into her head and everything went black.

Claire groaned, slowly opening her eyes. Her eyesight was fuzzy at first, and she blinked the tears away. Her head pounded, and it hurt to move her neck. She looked around, but as she tried to move, to get up, she felt her hands were handcuffed to a metal desk. She was in a different room, full of old museum artifacts and paintings. She saw a small section blocked off by a metal fence and electronic door. Voices reached her ears, and she instantly awoke, turning her sore neck to look. She saw the Chief talking to a familiar man.

“I want an explanation, William! Right now!”

“You want an explanation, you take that up with Albert,” William answered, crossing his arms with a scowl. “I’m not here to talk in circles with you, Irons.”

“That’s Chief Irons to you, you lab monkey! I’m the one that gives you security down there in NEST! I’m the one who covers up everything in this goddamn city!”

Despite Irons’ temper, William didn’t look at all intimidated, slightly rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Chief. I’ll take the girl from here.”

Irons grabbed William by the lab coat, nearly picking the smaller man up off the ground. “You listen to me, you little-”

“And you listen to me,” William snapped. “You might be in a higher position than him in the public’s eyes, but Albert has control over you. He holds your contract. You do as I say, and what he says. You wouldn’t want me to make a complaint to my best friend or dear ‘ol Spencer, would you?”

Irons shoved William away, red-faced and tense. “Sergei specifically told me that the trails were closed for you and Albert to take care of Finley. Now I have one of the STARS members’ sister here as a fucking witness? What the hell is Albert thinking?”

“I often don’t know,” William casually joked as he straightened his coat. “But it’s none of your concern, regardless.”

Claire tugged at the handcuffs, but they wouldn’t budge on the metal desk. She couldn’t believe this. She made a mistake. Irons was in on all of this. She wanted to throw up. She fleetingly wondered how long she was knocked out. She hoped Chris was alright.

Irons pointed back at her, fuming. “Get her outta here. Take one of the secret passages down to the sewers and away from the public eye. I’m going to go have a talk with Albert right now.”

William snorted as he pushed by the larger man. “Ya, good luck with that, genius. He’ll rip you to shreds.”

“You and Albert are treading on thin ice, William. Spencer and Sergei will hear about this! You’re lucky I didn’t kill the girl myself!”

William unlocked Claire’s cuffs from the desk. He stood her up, but reattached the handcuffs together, keeping her arms bound in front of her. He gripped her arm and started pulling her towards the exit behind the Chief of Police.

“No, you’re lucky you didn’t kill her yourself. Albert would’ve killed you and dumped your body in the sewers next. But, yeah, have a little chat with him, let me know how it goes bud, alrighty? Ciao.”

Irons mumbled curses at their backs. Claire was too shocked to really do anything as William led her into a narrow hallways that led them right by a huge stuffed Bengal Tiger. The next door led them back into the Chief’s office, but instead of taking the door that Claire came through earlier back into the police department, William tugged her to a hallway behind Iron’s desk that led outside. When they reached an elevator, William let her go long enough to push a button.

Claire bolted for it. William snagged her arm and pulled her back into the elevator just as the rusty cage moaned shut, trapping her inside. She fought his hold, needing to get out of there. It was time to escape, to find Chris and get the hell out of the city.

"Let me go!"

"Are you stupid?" William hissed, shoving her into the wall as the elevator descended.

"I need to stop him! And you!"

"You can't! Albert controls the city. He's in charge over Irons for crying out loud! If you want to live you better start listening to him. You're lucky he didn't just kill you on the trail and make it look as though you disappeared forever."

She stopped fighting him. Claire felt tears sting her eyes as the realization dawned on her. She snapped, breaking from William’s hold. She clasped her cuffed hands together and whipped them upward, catching William in the face.

He yelped as she pushed passed him, going for the elevator’s control panel.

"You go back, and Irons will kill you," William said.

She halted before the control panel, the button pad glowing as the old gears faintly grumbled as they turned to lower the elevator.

Claire clenched her fists in front of her, pulling on the handcuffs. "Then he will be found out."

William covered an eye, glaring at her. "You want to take that chance?"

She couldn't take that chance. She was trapped. She turned back to William. She got herself into this mess, and may have just cost Chris his life. She slowly walked over to William, emotions flooding over her as she realized there was no escape now.

"Ugh, that freaking hurt," William groaned. "Now, if you want to live, please follow me and no fighting! I’d hate to have to inject you with an anesthetic and drag your body down there."

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

The small, rusty elevator shook as it landed in place, dinging as the metal doors moved open with some complaint.

William sighed, rubbing his eye. A drop of blood leaked from his nose. "You'll find out soon enough. Which means you will be in even more trouble. Albert is not going to be happy about this…at all."