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c-is-for-circinate · 4 years ago

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For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

#I don't actually know how to tag this #representation #maybe?#C needs help feeding the dinosaurs #because this is very much about being a fandom old #probably also #driveby meta attack #because that's where I keep my impromptu rambles #CR spoilers #technically I guess?#there's one line that references the finale #fandom history

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serenityseventeen · 4 years ago

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♫ Individual Members Masterlist 2:

back to [navigation]/m.list list | individual mb m.list 3

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This masterlist does not repeat what other masterlists already have

Consists of ONESHOTS, IMAGINES, AND SCENARIOS

Stories with more than one part are in numbered order (from left → right or from top ↑ to bottom ↓)

❥ = my personal favs

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All members individually:

(1/13 requested) Vampire Boyfriend Series - what vampire!seventeen would be like as your boyfriend & as vampires in general

↳ The Letter Box

Love & Letter: To The Thirteen Boys I've Loved Before - inspired by "To All The Boys I've Loved Before" by Jenny Han.

You find a letter box consisting of thirteen letters you never sent to thirteen boys that you've fallen in love with and reread them.

S.coups:

↳ "Hours"

(request) both of you forget it's your birthday but he finally remembers

↳ "Because I Love You" ❥

(request) you flinch because of an argument with him and he feels guilty, telling you to slap him in return for making you flinch

↳ "Sulky" (ft. Jun & Mingyu)

(request) you visit him during practice and talk with Mingyu and Jun, causing him to get sulky and jealous

↳ "Kkeke" (ft. 1997 liners - Mingyu, DK, The8)

(request) you and Seungcheol like each other. You are friends with the 1997 line and they are always teasing you two about it. When they leave, Seungcheol confesses and asks you to date him.

Jeonghan:

↳ "Reassemble"

(request) after you flinch during an argument, he goes into the bedroom when your friends come; after your friends leave, you go to check up on him

↳ "The Other Side of the Door"

(request) Songfic: "The Other Side of the Door" by Taylor Swift - you two have an argument & you hate him but at the same time, need him so bad

↳ "Love Poem" | "Love Poem 2" (ft. Svt members)

(request) You are the princess of the Caerat Kingdom and Jeonghan is the prince of the Svuentin Kingdom. You two get arranged for marriage since birth but as the wedding day ticks closer, you find yourselves truly falling for each other.

↳ "I'm Jealous" (ft. Joshua)

(request) he gets really jealous when you get partnered up with your coworker for a three-legged race. extremely jealous.

↳ "I want to kiss you" (ft. S.Coups)

↳ "I want to kiss you, because I love you" (ft. S.Coups)

(request) you tell him that you want to kiss him seriously but you two are just friends...

Joshua:

↳ "I Like You" ❥

(request) you two are cafe workers and you like him and you finally confess to him

↳ "Gifted"

(request) you see his large hands and compare them with yours

↳ "Wonder" ❥

(Combined request) song fic: "Wonder" by Shawn Mendes - you two are friends but he keeps wondering what it's like to be loved by you, which leads to him unexpectedly kissing you

↳ "060421"

(request) you are sick and joshua takes care of you

↳ "Flutters" (ft. Svt members) ❥

(request) you and Joshua like each other but are too shy to confess. One day, you two get stuck in an art supply storage closet and slowly confess your long term crushes

↳ "Fine" ❥

(request) you break up with joshua... :(

↳ "A Sweet Winter Night" ❥

(request) it's a cold winter night and you spend it sweetly cuddling with your boyfriend while eating yummy snacks and drinking hot chocolate (ft. Your first kiss w/ him + a bit of teasing the gentle sexy)

Jun:

↳ "Just For Kisses" (ft. Woozi)

(request) because of a collab, you and jihoon have to spend a lot of time together talking about music, making your boyfriend, jun, jealous.

↳ "Can't Take My Eyes Off You" ❥

(half requested) a fluffy break-day with a clingy Moon Junhui.

↳ "From a Small Glance"

(requested) you are exhausted from performing and no one notices except jun and he gets worried

↳ "Brother"

(request) brother!jun helping you with your homework

↳ "Special Boy" (ft. Hoshi & The8)

(request) You go to Jun's dorm and help him unwind after he had a hard and long day at practice (ft. Cuddles)

↳ "It's Okay"

(request) you get into an argument with your dad on the phone and Jun calms you down

Hoshi:

↳ "Horanghae 호랑해" ❥

(request) you two argue because it seems like he likes tigers more than you

↳ "Close To You"

(request) he gets a bit jealous and protective so he becomes clingy, handcuffing you two together

↳ "Dispatch's New Year's Couple"

(request) you are the oldest in your group and care a lot for your members and is afraid of creating a scandal that could harm the group. your members and boyfriend, soonyoung, comfort you.

↳ "Moonstruck" | "Moonstruck 2"

(request) you are a servant, working as the stable girl in the kingdom of Svuentin. You're best friends with prince Chan and one day, his brother, prince Soonyoung, comes into your life and starts to like you.

↳ "Spider" (ft. SVT Perf. Unit)

(request) you are on an idol survival program and for a performance, you decide to perform 'spider' by Hoshi, not knowing that he's a guest judge. (ft. A bit of feelings being developed)

↳ "Human" (ft. The8)

(request) Soonyoung is stressed and practicing really hard so Minghao calls you to go and help calm Soonyoung down.

Wonwoo:

↳ [12:07 am] with Wonwoo

↳ "A Warmer Valentine's" ❥

Because you have no lover, you also have no plans for Valentine's day. Your friend, Wonwoo, reveals that he does have plans for the day though. The next day, on Valentine's, he shows up at your door.

↳ "Heartstrings" | "Heartstrings 2"

(request) It's 1993 and Jeon Wonwoo is forced to study classical music by his parents. He meets you, the orchestra club's double bassist and begins to love music as he learns with you. He also begins to love being with you too.

↳ "UwU"

(request) you always call him 'baby' or by his name so one day you decide to call him something new, something like "oowoo"

↳ "To My Growing Child" (ft. Mingyu) ❥

(request) you two are shopping with Mingyu and his girlfriend and Wonwoo mentions that he's glad you aren't pregnant when you secretly was (this if fluffy)

↳ "Warmth Amidst The Snowy Night" ❥

(request) it's a snowy night and he is staying over. you notice that his hands are shaking from the cold and give him a back hug to warm him up.

↳ "Goal" (ft. S.Coups)

(request) you make a goal to win in an activity but everyone but you wins in an activity so Wonwoo decides to purposely lose so that he could see you happy

↳ "Beauty of Colors" | "Beauty of Love" (ft. Mingyu)❥

(request) soulmate au: everyone is born in a black and white world until they meet their soulmate. You and Wonwoo meet and your worlds burst with color. As you two hang out, you two fall in love.

↳ "Just Friends?" ❥

(request) your friend Wonwoo has never been on a date and asks you to go on a date with him as a friend but you try to make it realistic, causing him to see you differently as a woman

↳ "Starry Sea in a Healing Cocktail" ❥ (1)

↳ "Peachy Romance by the Blossoming Waves" (2)

(request) You're on vacation in the seaside and every morning, you get tea from the lounge bar, being run by the bartender, Wonwoo. He always greets you with sweet words and asks why you aren't smiling. Now, it's your last day on vacation.

Woozi:

↳ "My My My Darling" ❥

(request) while cuddling, you tell him how much you love him

↳ "Bonkers"

(request) you two are idols and are dating; he accidentally posts a photo of you two on his public Instagram account instead of his private one

↳ "Like Father, Like Son?"

(request) dad!jihoon: he takes care of his son alone for the first time

↳ "Muse"

(request) Woozi is staying up late trying to write lyrics while he's in writer's block so you go to the studio and tell him to go to sleep, ending up with you two sleeping on the couch

↳ "Hand-obsessed"

(request) you love Jihoon's hands so you cuddle with them, hold them, kiss them, and compliment them

↳ "Your Choice"

(request) You see your ex-boyfriend again and feel a bit of longing toward him. Your current boyfriend, Jihoon, notices this and decides to tell you something.

↳ "Moonlight in Unit 0526" (1) ❥

↳ "Sunshine in Room 0922" (2) ❥

(request) Jihoon is a ghost hunter, he could see ghosts for an hour and he uses this ability to send ghosts to the spirit realm. One day, in apartment unit 0526, he meets you, a human-like ghost who's been stuck in your lonely and cold home for who knows how long.

The8:

↳ "Faults"

(requested) you and Minghao get into a sort of silent argument and you flinch when he points at your phone + both of you fluffily comforting each other afterward

↳ "Galaxy in his Eyes"

(request) being clingy and fluffy; after two weeks apart, Minghao finally comes home and is clingy and cuddly because he missed you and loves you

DK:

↳ "Crazy"

(request) you and Seokmin are friends (he has a crush on you) and he invites you couple bungee jumping

↳ "Perfect: What It Means To Be A Singer" (1)

↳ "Perfect: The Process of Becoming One" (2)

↳ "Perfect: Imperfection Makes Perfection" (3)

(request) You and Seokmin are always in singing competitions, fighting for the first place. Suddenly, one day, Seokmin asks to sing for you, changing your relationship with him.

↳ "Idyllic" ❥

(request) You and Seokmin met through a mutual friend and enjoy watching musicals together as a hobby. One day, Seokmin invites you to watch "Marie Antoinette" with him but truthfully, he wants to confirm whether or not he likes you romantically.

Mingyu:

↳ "Criminal: Ruthless" ❥

(request) mafia au: you are captured by a mafia family as a hacker and he saves you

↳ "Cool" | "Cure"

(request) mingyu x doctor!reader; he gets injured and you care for him a bit. He likes you and thinks you are cool.

↳ "Reunion"

(request) you go to a high school reunion and see your former school crush and just as you were about to leave out of boredom, he stops you and you two talk.

↳ "Little Bits"

(request) Mingyu is your boyfriend and has never kissed you longer than a peck. You ask him why.

↳ "Off To School"

(request) dad!mingyu sending his twin daughter and son to school

↳ "Do You Know My Heart?" (ft. Hoshi & Dino)

(request) You like Mingyu and you are his makeup artist. You get switched and become Seungkwan's makeup artist, causing Mingyu to realize his feelings.

↳ "Maybe I Love You" (ft. Svt members)

(request) You two are childhood best friends and he is busy with work so you hang out with the members. After promotions, he wants to hang out alone but you two end up hanging out with all of the members...

↳ "I Like You Better"

(request) Mingyu, your boyfriend, sees that you have the vocalist of a rock band you like as your lockscreen instead of him.

Seungkwan:

↳ "Second Life" (ft. Joshua) ❥

↳ "Second Life 2" (ft. Svt members) ❥

(request) reincarnation fic: You and Seungkwan are in love during the great depression but you both die in a house fire. You two get reincarnated and you remember everything but he doesn't.

↳ "Beautiful Night" ❥

(request) you write a suicide letter but stop halfway; your boyfriend, seungkwan, finds the letter and immediately goes to find you

↳ "Thrice is Fate" ❥

(request) You never have a consistent schedule when it comes to visiting the cafe. However, you meet a guy in the front of the cafe by chance, but then you meet him again by coincidence. Would you meet him for the third time?

Vernon:

↳ "Sweetest Thing" ❥| "Sweetest Thing 2" ❥

(half-request) he is being tailed by a journalist and reporter and you help him by offering some strawberries...

↳ "Care"

(request) you are not feeling well after surgery and he comes to try and take care of you but you refuse because you don't want to be a bother

↳ "Just Ask"

(request) you two go on a date and you notice that he wants to hold your hand but doesn't (he's been wanting to for the whole day)

Dino:

↳ "LOVE"

(request) Chan likes you like crazy but you don't want to love him because you think of yourself as a burden and you think that he won't like you anymore once he knows you better

↳ "The Arcade Date" ❥

(request) going on a date with your boyfriend, Chan, to the arcade, competitively playing games, and making sweet, fluffy bets

↳ "Significance" | "Significant"

(request) you never really celebrated your birthday, on your birthday one night, you meet a man who is busking and he asks if it is anyone's birthday today (February 11th).

↳ "Promise for Eternity" ❥

(request) Chan on his wedding day with you.

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This masterlist has reached the maximum number of links available/is finished.

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-serenityseventeen

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felix21im · 3 years ago

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"Ice Cold", a Leon Kennedy x reader fanfiction

As an Art and Design student all you want to do is just knuckle down and finish that one goddamn piece you've been working on for months. Too bad your time is constantly stolen by your Waiter job with minimal pay, but hey, at least the tips are good if you unbutton your shirt that one more time.

Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Sketches

“It’s ten A.M. dumbass, get out of bed.” You woke up to the sound of your roommates voice and the feel of a pillow hitting your face. “We have our reservation in like fifteen minutes…”

The reminder of your scheduled fancy breakfast with your roommate managed to wake you up fully and you instantly ran into the bathroom to have a shower.

As you stood there with the water running on your skin you began to feel your head pounding. “Great, a fucking hangover.” You muttered as you turned the shower knob, stopping the water and leaving you cold. You stepped out of the shower with a towel hanging over your shoulders and sat down on the toilet seat. "Hey, can you maybe make me some tea or coffee or something? I got a headache, probably overworked or something" you lied, shouting to your roommate.

“Yea sure 'overworked', huh? Don't worry, I'll make something but get ready already!" You dried yourself with a small towel and put on some light clothes. A pair of shorts and a white shirt, it was hot outside due to it being summer and wearing anything other than shorts is a death sentence. You didn't feel like styling your hair so you just refreshed yourself, hoping you wouldn't look too bad. You stepped out of the small bathroom and were greeted by your roommate who handed you a glass of water with a pill. "I'm sure this will help more than just some tea.. after your 'overworking'". They winked at you and you feared they thought something different than what actually happened.

"Hey hey hey, that's not what happened okay? Imma tell you when we're eating, alright? But don't assume anything wrong, you hear me?" You laughed a little, but had to stop because of your headache. You took the glass of water and the mysterious pill, placing it in your mouth and then swallowing it with a gulp of water. You then saw your friend standing at the door, already wearing shoes and ready to go out. You sigh as you grab a pair of sneakers from under your bed, practically jumping straight into them.

“I read the reviews of this restaurant we’re going to and legit like all of them say that it’s super cold in there, you might want to grab your jacket.” They get the jacket off of the back of the door and hold it out for you to take.

“Thank you, thank you.” You accept the jacket and fold it over your arm as you place your phone in the pocket, but rather than it going straight in like normal, something is in there and blocks it from sitting perfectly. You place your phone in your back pocket and reach your hand into your jacket, pulling out a white envelope. The envelope was a little heavy and had a note written on it “This semester is on me, think of it as payment for agreeing to decorate my house - Leon S. Kennedy.” You slit the envelope open and it looked identical to your tips envelope, absolutely filled with cash. You let out a small gasp. "Holy shit."

You looked at your roommate who also looked at you and the envelope laying in your hand. "Yeah, holy shit. Are you working as a stripper now or how'd you get all the money suddenly?"

“Although I would be a great stripper… No.” You look at the cash, not knowing what to do with it. "I have to give it back. I can't just keep all.. this."

“Uh?! Yes you can!” Your roommate looked at you like you were an idiot. “That's like five grand there! If you’re not going to take it I will gladly take it for you!”

"No way! I can't just accept this money!” You close the envelope and place it on the desk on your side of your shared room. “This doesn't feel right, you know that." You thought about what you're going to do next. You looked between your friend and the money and decided you need to do the right thing. "I'm sorry, but I have to return it. As soon as I get my paycheck I will go out to eat breakfast with you, I promise! But I need to do this. Sorry." You grabbed the envelope again and walked past your roommate and out the door, giving them a look of excuse. They simply scoffed and slammed the door behind you.

As you sat outside on the curb you used your phone to look up where you were last night so that you could get Leon’s address. As you ordered your taxi it asked you for some contact details. “Kennedy.” You chuckled as you entered that as your last name, thinking it would be a funny joke. On your way you texted your roommate once again, apologizing for your behavior but not for your need to do the right thing. You sighed as you put your phone in your pocket and looked out the window.

After some time you arrived at what appeared to be Leon's home. You couldn’t really see it the night before since it was dark, but it looked even better during the day than you could have imagined before. You paid the taxi driver, with your own money this time, then left the car and went towards that big door. You looked for a bell but couldn't find one so you knocked against the thick wood, hoping someone would even hear it. After repeating this a couple more times and almost giving up, the door opens and you are greeted by a woman. She was wearing a white dress shirt and a black bustier over the top, followed by a black pair of trousers. Confused, you looked at her and then at the house, thinking you were wrong. "Can I help you with anything?" The woman asked, not even bothering to ask you inside.

"Uhm.." you stuttered, not knowing what to do in this situation. "I thought someone else lived here, but I guess I'm wrong. Sorry for bothering you." Something inside you actually hoped you typed in the wrong address. This couldn't be Leon's home, right? But it looked so similar? Maybe all the drinks added up over the night and made me remember this wrong..? You thought back to the day before and remembered how Leon was actually texting someone and didn't tell you a name or something. Maybe he actually has a wife or something and I misunderstood last night. Maybe he actually paid me to.. stay away? You shook your head. That's bizarre. Or is it?

"Who did you think lived here then? Maybe I can help you." You were taken back to reality from that woman's voice and looked at her.

Fumbling with your hands you tried to form a whole sentence, but all that came out was "Kennedy."

She looked at you. "Do you mean Leon Kennedy?" You nodded your head, still hoping you were wrong here. "Well, it appears you are right then. May I ask how you know him? I've never seen anyone like.. you here." It seemed to you she spit that 'you' out as if you were something less worthy than her. But maybe you were once again imagining things.

"Well, we actually met yesterday and he invited me to come over. I forgot to give something to him, so that's what I'm here for now. Can I see him now?" You looked at the woman standing in your way, trying to be confident.

“Mr. Kennedy is out of the house at the moment and he won’t be back for a few hours. I will tell him that you stopped by.” She stepped back from the door. “Bye now.” She practically slammed it in your face, the waft from the door causing your messy hair to blow backwards.

You rolled your eyes and sat down on the steps, exactly where you were sitting with Leon last night. You searched through your contacts and found Leon’s name. After tapping the call button it rang four times before you heard a rough “Hello?” come from the other side.

It took you back a little as it sounded like you had just woken him up. “Oh, hiya Leon.” You looked back at the front door as you began to talk. “I’m sitting on your doorstep right now…” You then looked back at the driveway, the pebbles and the green grass perfectly manicured. “I wanted to swing by to drop off that money you left in my jacket.”

“What, why?” He sounded confused. You could tell that he pulled the phone away from his face when he coughed, probably trying to clear his throat. “That money is for you, Buttercup.” He chuckled, making you blush a little. “You’re not supposed to give it back to me.” Sounds could be heard in the background as he talked but you couldn't tell what they were.

"Is there anyone with you right now?" You didn't even think about that question before it left your mouth.

"Don't worry about it. And also don't worry about the money. It's a gift, just accept it." You let out a small laugh.

"Just accept it? This is more money than I would make in two months! I can't just accept that, Leon! I can leave it with your girlfriend if you don't want to take it back, but I won't keep it." It was silent on the other side. You were worried you took it too far now.

But then, a chuckle and a full out laugh. "Girlfriend? I'm sorry, but you probably went to the wrong house. I don't have a girlfriend, partner or whatever, Buttercup." You could hear him still chuckle on the other side of the phone, but you didn't feel like laughing.

You felt kind of dumb right now. "Well, whoever that woman was, she just shut the door before me and left me sitting in front of it. So I guess I'm just gonna leave the envelope under the doormat." You looked around. There wasn't even a doormat. "YOU DON'T HAVE A GODDAMN DOORMAT? LEON S KENNEDY WHAT HAVE YOU BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST THREE YEARS?" You heard him laugh out loud again and didn't even try to stop him from it. You just sighed and gave it up. "Well, Mr. Kennedy, I'm gonna find a place to put that money. And don't even think of sneaking it back to me, you hear me?" You didn't even wait for an answer and just hung up. You sat on the stairs for a few more minutes thinking about what to do next.

Just as you stood up to leave you heard the door behind you opening again. "Mr. Kennedy just called me. He wants me to let you inside. Please take off your shoes here and.. don't touch anything." There is not even a thing to touch here, what do you want? You went through the doors and left your shoes next to them. The woman looked at you again before turning her back and walking away. So now you just stood there, in this empty, big house with a woman who doesn't seem to like your company.

Just like the night before you went through the entire house looking around, but also trying your best to avoid that woman. At some point you even found some paper and a pen and began drawing some rooms with fitting, and for now missing, furniture. After a while you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket so you put your drawing away and checked your messages. Apparently Leon tried to call you a few times but ended up sending you a message instead. You opened and read it. I'll be back home in a few hours. Please just accept the money, but stay for as long as you'd like to. I wanna see you again later. - Leon. You had to smile. Who even puts their name at the end of a message nowadays? You just replied with a quick 'alright' before putting your phone away again. You went back to what you were doing: planning and drawing the interior design of Leon's big ass home, all from memory from your tour last night.

You ended up placing all of your designs and sketches on the floor in what you assumed was supposed to be a living room. It just had two simple fabric couches facing each other in the middle of a giant room. Each design was placed in order, somewhat resembling the floorplan of the house. You didn't know how much time passed, but you began to feel tired and had to take a small break. Since you didn't wanna cross paths with that grumpy woman, you just stayed in that room. After some time of relaxing you felt really tired and didn't have any more motivation to plan the last few rooms. It must have been the combination of lack of sleep and whatever that pill was that your roommate gave you, so you ended up sitting on one of the couches and you began to close your eyes. Before you even knew it you fell on your side and into a light sleep.

The sound of a door slamming against the wall scared you half to death. As you looked towards the noise, you saw the same woman from earlier looking at you. “My apologies.” She smiled as she looked to the other side of the room. You followed her eyes and noticed she was looking at Leon. He was sitting opposite you with all of your sketches in his hands. You rubbed your eyes, trying to look somewhat alive. Leon didn't even look at her or you, he was way too focused on your drawings. Next to him you saw a laptop, where he seemed to type a few things in separate to going through your sketches. You sat up and slowly walked towards him. Without looking up from the drawings he talked to you. "These drawings are amazing. When did you make all of these?"

You were flustered by his actual interest. "Uhm.. I just made them for fun while waiting for you.. I didn't even take it seriously.." You scratched the back of your head.

"Are you kidding me? You probably.. no, you DID more for the interior design in the past few hours than I or Angel over there did in the past three years!" You were kind of confused by the name. Angel? Her? Was that supposed to be an unfitting nickname or her actual name? You didn't want to ask so you kept that thought to yourself. After Leon's comment Angel looked at you even more disgusted than before, it's a wonder that was even possible.

You wanted to ignore the weird feeling that stood in the room, so you just sat down next to Leon on the couch. "What are you doing on your laptop?" You wanted to look at it but before you had the chance to make out what he typed in earlier he closed it.

"Nothing special, don't worry about it." You sighed but didn't push it. After a few seconds of awkward silence between the three of you Leon stood up from the couch with his laptop, walked towards Angel and gave it to her. You looked at him confused, but he didn't even notice that. He said something to the woman but you couldn't understand it since they were so close to each other. You didn't know what, but a weird feeling spread in your body. Jealousy? You had to laugh out loud, which made the two look at you.

"Is there a problem?" Angel asked you, to which you answered with a head shake.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking about... something funny." You saw Leon's lip lift up a little bit which made you smile a little bit, too. Angel turned back from you and Leon led her out the door to the main hall.

You could hear them talk for a few minutes before the door opened again and Leon came back in alone. "Soo.. now that you're awake, do you want to grab something to eat? We can drive somewhere or I'll just order something."

You thought about the offer, but instantly remembered why you came here in the first place. "No way, Leon! I can't take any more money from you. I actually came here to give you back that money you left in my jacket. It's good for you to have so much but I can't keep it! This doesn't feel right." You looked at him frustrated.

He just shook his head while laughing. "I told you it wasn't for nothing. You literally just proved me right with giving it to you after seeing your drawings. You earned that money."

You were kind of flustered but still couldn't just accept it. "Leon, it's really nice of you and I don't wanna argue. But you gave me way more money than these few sketches are worth! My roommate even thought I started working as a stripper!"

Leon looked at you with big eyes, then stepped closer to you. "Well.. have you considered working as one? They make a good amount of money and I'm sure you would do great." He winked at you as he laughed out loud and even though you knew he was joking you turned completely red.

"Leon...what. the. hell. No! Of course I didn't think about working as one! I'm happy with my current job.. I guess." You looked at him again, realizing how close he suddenly was to you.

"Well, if that's what you think, alright. But I'm not gonna miss that money and I'm sure you will bring it to good use. So please, stop arguing with me and just accept it." His smile had disappeared and his face was a little more serious, he really wanted you to take that money.

“I can’t, Leon.” You grabbed his hand from his side and placed the filled envelope in his palm. “It’s too much." He looked at you disappointed, as if all he just said meant nothing. "Whatever." He muttered to himself. It made you feel bad for your behavior but you knew it was the right thing to do.

You looked at him in a sorry way and wanted to walk past him. But he blocked the way. "That's all I came for, Leon. I think it's better I leave now. Your Angel is probably waiting for you already."

He scoffed at your comment. “I think you misunderstood something here. Angel is her actual name. If I had to give her a nickname it would be anything but Angel, believe me. She can be a pain in the ass, but she gets her work done. And that’s all that matters for me.”

You let out yet another sigh. Why were you relieved anyway? Whatever Leon is doing with women, or men, was none of your business. You’ve literally only known him for like a day and act like a jealous partner. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to say it like that.”

“You don't have to apologize all the time, sweetheart. I thought it was cute.” He gave you a little wink and you felt your face heat up again. You looked away shyish and waited for his next move. But it appeared he did the same since he was just looking at you, waiting for you to say something. “Ehem..Food, right? I guess that´s what you wanted. Soo... Do you have anything special in mind?” He looked at you with a childish smile and simply answered “Just you wait, I have something great in mind.”

“Pizza?” You chuckled. “I didn’t think a fancy man like you ate peasant food like that.” You picked up your phone and began looking up a place that would deliver to Leon’s house

“Oh come on! Who doesn’t like pizza?” He shuffled over on the floor so that he was sitting beside you, looking at your phone. “The third one down.” He pointed at a restaurant named The Broadway. “That’s the best one around here, trust me, I’ve tried them all.”

“Alrighty.” You tapped on the phone number and as it rang you held it up to your ear. “Oh hiya! I’m looking to place an order for delive-”

“Pick-up. They only do pick-up.” Leon interrupted you.

“For pick-up!” You corrected yourself. When the worker asked for your name you couldn't help yourself. “For Kennedy.” Leon chuckled slightly and shook his head.

You ordered food for the two of you and some simple drinks to go with it. Of course Leon would get wine for the two of you but there’s nothing wrong with soda, especially when you’re already eating a greasy pizza. “Do we get Angel anything?” You asked Leon in response to the other person on the end of the call asking if anything else was wanted.

“She loves garlic bread, just get her some of that.” Leon replied, looking up from his own phone.

After the guy on the phone told you a time to pick up the food both you and Leon put on some shoes and went outside. “You gonna drive up to that poor pizza place with your fancy Porsche?” You asked jokingly.

To your surprise he actually shook his head. “You can choose the car if you want to. If you got a driver's license, you can even drive it yourself.”

You looked at him shocked. “Yea, sure. I’m gonna drive one of your expensive cars. Even if I had a license I wouldn't dare to sit down on the driver's seat. If I destroy it there's no way I'll ever be able to pay for the repair!”

“What’s one car more or less?” As he said that and you looked at him with an open mouth you heard a garage opening next to you. The bright lights kinda blinded you at first but as soon as you got used to the brightness you saw multiple cars and motorcycles standing in the big garage.

“Wow. What the hell.” That was all you were able to say at that moment. “I’m guessing that this is like your passion or a hobby?” You said as you walked in. Each vehicle was spotless, so clean that you could see your reflection in each one.

“Yeah, something like that, you could say.” As he was moving past the different vehicles he told you a little bit about all of them. Even though you had zero knowledge of cars and stuff you listened to him closely, trying to understand what he told you. You could see it in his eyes how he loved talking about these things, which made you smile.

After a good twenty minutes however you had to stop him. “As much as I love listening to you blabber away, I really wanna get our pizzas now.” Exactly at that moment your stomach began to growl, making you and Leon laugh.

“Well then, I hoped you listened closely. Go on and pick a ride.” He gestured around the both of you. You were thinking for a few seconds before finding a car you liked. You pointed towards it. “I like this one.” He followed your gaze and walked towards the car.

“I see. So you like the big ones, huh? Well then this Jeep Grand Cherokee is perfect for your needs.” He talked like he advertised the car which made you laugh and shake your head. He opened the passengers door for you before taking a seat behind the wheel. In just a few seconds the car left the garage and you found the both of you on the main road. Leon drove the car with ease which really fascinated you.His left hand was on the wheel and he was leaning on his right arm, he probably noticed you staring because he turned to you. “You wanna take over? The streets are empty here anyway.”

You shook your head again. “I meant what I said before. Just you drive now, I'm starving.” He looked back to the street and the rest of the drive went on quiet but nice. “I’ll learn to drive another day.”

Once you got back to Leon’s house Angel greeted Leon at the door, completely ignoring you. Leon tossed his keys to her and she caught them with one hand. As both you and Leon kicked off your shoes Angel hopped into the car and placed it back into the garage with the rest of them.

Leon led you to the kitchen and placed the multiple boxes on the counter, rather than sitting down he reached into a cupboard and pulled out two wine glasses. “Red or white?” He asked you.

“I don’t really want to drink tonight.” You admitted. That small hangover you had this morning wasn’t all that bad but you didn’t want to repeat it.

“Are you sure?” He asked, filling up both glasses with ice cubes. “I would hate to drink alone.”

“Fine.. but only one glass!” You gave in, to which Leon held both of the glasses up in confusion. “Huh? Oh! Red!” You replied to his earlier question. Leon nodded and opened up a small wine refrigerator he had under the counter, he picked up a bottle and read the label to himself. “Only the finest huh?”

“The finest thing is sitting right in front of me.” He chuckled and winked at you as he poured the two glasses, placing the fresh cork on the countertop. “So is this a business date where I hire you to be my interior decorator?”

“I’m only a student, Leon.” You opened one of the boxes and a waft of the smell of the food hit your senses, making you feel even more hungry than before.

“Whatever you say, student. This doesn’t change the fact that you already helped me a lot today. So this one is on you.” He raised his glass and with a cling both of yours met. You took a small sip and then took out a piece of pizza. “Besides, wouldn’t furnishing such a fancy house like this look really good on your resume?” You nodded slightly.

“Yea, you´re probably right about that, too. But let's not talk about work now and just enjoy the evening.” He gave you a smile before eating and drinking too. That evening seemed to never end as the both of you talked and drank, with no end in sight.

Maybe working for Leon wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

A/N: hey guys! This fanfiction is a Collab from me and Qwertyyy12 on AO3. If you want to, you can also leave her some love over there :) thanks for reading!

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Taglist: @trinswhimsys

#resident evil #re2 #re4 #re6 #resident evil vendetta #leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #x reader #resident evil x reader

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yeoandmoon · 4 years ago

Text

you are now listening to graceland too by phoebe bridgers! ( yeosang x f!reader )

fluff, burnout!yeosang, bassist!yeosang, writer!reader, childhood friends 2 lovers but also idiots 2 lovers, yeosang and reader run away, seongjoong are engaged, wooyoung + yeonjun have a band, there is only one bed, yeosang has a nose ring, it’s implied reader has a bad relationship with her mother, wc is 3.1k

NOTE: happy yeosang day! this was a doozy to write, but i hope you all enjoy it! its based off one of my favourite phoebe bridgers songs! :)

There’s a mural on the wall of the hotel lobby. It’s a warm toned painting of a forest, with a hint of a bright blue sky peeking out from the top of the trees. There’s a moose standing at the forefront of the mural, and a little fox sleeping on a rock towards the bottom, surrounded by colourful flowers and leaves.

The mural confused you, if you were being honest. The hotel you worked the night audit at was situated in the busy downtown centre of the city you lived in, and there were barely any forests for miles around the city - let alone any wildlife, like moose or foxes. Hongjoong said it was to make guests feel more ‘in touch with nature’ and to help people forget about the ‘problems of the real world’, while Yeosang claimed it was ‘just another scam in the tourist trap’.

You, on the other hand, was sure the mural was put there to torture you. You would spend nights having staring contests with the moose (which, to your surprise, you always lost), or you would spend hours on Google with Hongjoong trying to find out what species of fox the sleeping fox was (you were sure it was a cape fox, while Hongjoong swore up and down that it was a gray fox). The blue sky between the trees teased you; a reminder that most of your days were spent in the library at your university, or in this dimly lit lobby.

Sometimes, it felt like the only time you saw the sunshine was when you were with Yeosang.

Despite the occasional burnout and the lack of seeing sun most days, you didn’t mind the job. You were always more of a night person, and your classes were always later in the day so you did manage to pull in some sleep. Due to the late hours, you usually only dealt with customers in the first hour or two of your shift, and most of that was just directing confused Ubereats delivery people and pretty Tinder dates to hallways and rooms. It was the perfect job to work on your writing, and get your school work out of the way without listening to your mother cry about how you’re throwing your life away like your sister.

Plus, you could think of a hundred worse people to spend the night shift with than the nighttime valet, Hongjoong. Hongjoong often kept you occupied with his latest reforms and art projects, and stories about his fiancee, Seonghwa & their friend, Yunho (who he kept insisting you needed to go on a date with).

“Your emo boy is coming.”

Well, you could think of ninety-nine worse people to spend the night shift with than Hongjoong, who sat next to you at the check-in desk.

You scoff, “He’s not my emo boy.” You mumble, glancing at the street entrance to see Yeosang walk in with an ice coffee on hand.

Despite your words, Kang Yeosang was your person (you wouldn’t quite use the term ‘emo boy’, even if it did fit), and he had been since your family moved in next door to his family when you two were children. Although your friendship lately had been reduced to these late night meetings while you two were on break on your respective graveyard shifts (you at the hotel and Yeosang at the convenience store down the block, of course) and occasional meetings in the garden when you were both running errands for your families, you still considered Yeosang one of your dearest memories.

It was hard not too, you suppose. He had been there for many of your firsts, and was always cheering you on. Yeosang always made you feel powerful and important - like a powerful heroine, and not his bratty next door neighbor who cried on his doorstep after being dumped by her first year partner. He always made you feel wanted.

Yeosang grinned at you as he stepped into the lobby (if your heart fluttered in your chest, you ignored it). He had on a backwards dad cap, and he had recently changed his nose ring out for the gold hoop San had bought him for his birthday. You could just faintly see his birthmark peeking out from where his bleach blonde hair curled under the hat.

“Hello, Sunshine.” He greets you, setting the coffee down on your desk.

You set the pen you were holding down, “Hi Yeosang.”

Upon first glance at Yeosang, you can tell he’s buzzing about something. He’s leaning over the check-in counter and chewing on his lip while making small talk with Hongjoong about the tourist season.

You raise an eyebrow, sipping your coffee as Yeosang turns back to you, “Do you remember Wooyoung and Yeonjun?”

You nearly choke on your coffee at the mention of your other neighbor and ex-boyfriend. Wooyoung had moved onto your street a few years after you had, and quickly became apart of the little bond you and Yeosang had formed. He moved to the coast with Yeonjun, your ex, the first chance they had gotten, but Wooyoung’s family remained in the neighborhood.

“I babysat Woo’s brother the other day…” You watched your friend, “Did something happen? Mrs Jung didn’t say anything the other day.”

Yeosang grins, and it’s his scheming grin, “Their band got signed,” He tells you, “They need a new bassist, and Wooyoung showed them that video you took of me from that show last month. Their label wants me to come down; play a few shows with them, record a couple demos. See if we have chemistry, basically.”

Your eyes widen - both out of excitement and fear. You were happy and excited for Yeosang! This is the opportunity he had been wanting for years, but you were also terrified.

You were terrified in a horrible, selfish way because you knew if Yeosang left to join Wooyoung and Yeonjun, he’d never come back to you.

“That’s… That’s great, Yeo!” You manage a grin whilst trying to shove the selfish thoughts away, “When do they want you there?”

Yeosang’s smile falters, just for a moment but you still catch it, “Monday.”

“F-Five days?”

He nods, “I’m leaving Saturday morning, so I can be there Sunday afternoon.”

You can see it in his eyes; he’s terrified too.

Before you can say anything else, Yeosang leans over the check-in counter and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, “I have to get back to work, Sunshine.” He tells you, his voice quiet as if he’s giving you a secret, “I’ll see you later.”

He’s already halfway down the lobby when you swear and move out of your chair, you quickly call his name as you move out from behind the desk. You rush over to where he’s standing, and look up at him. He’s confused.

He opens his mouth to say something, but the words die in his throat when you pull him into a tight hug, “I’m proud of you, Yeo.”

Yeosang wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His chest is warm, and you’re sure you could spend hours here. He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head, “I know, Sunshine.” He pulls away, his hand on your arm, “I really do have to go, though. I’m already late for work.”

You nod, wrapping your arms around your torso as you watch him leave the hotel and turn down the street to go back to the convenience store. When you turn back around, Hongjoong is watching you with an amused look on his face.

You glare at him as you walk back to the desk, “Don’t you have a fiance to call, or something?”

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

You were tired.

Friday nights were always busy, but tonight was draining and loud and you could only take so much of Miss Liu’s incessant phone calls about mundane things at 3am. All you wanted to do was go home, and fall into your bed and sleep for hours.

Hongjoong didn’t help your mood either. It was an innocent question about Yeosang, asking if you’d seen him since he visited you on his break but it pushed your mood down to a low point. You had been so busy the past few days, and if you were being honest with yourself, you had been avoiding Yeosang.

You weren’t ready to see him leave. You knew it was selfish, but you figured avoiding Yeosang was easier than admitting you didn’t want him to leave you behind. You would just simply watch his life through Instagram and consider the ‘what-ifs’ in your life.

You shouldered your tote bag after clocking out before yelling a good-bye to Hongjoong. You could see the beginning rays of morning sun hitting the other buildings in the downtown core as you stepped out the employee doors, and then you were hit by the sight of Yeosang leaning against one of the pillars.

Your eyes widen, “Yeosan-”

“Come with me.”

You stop. Your words are left in your throat, “W-Wh… Go with you? To the coast?”

Yeosang nods, “Come with me,” He steps forward, taking your hands in his, “What do you have here? A degree you don’t care about? A job you hate?”

You frown, running over his words in your head, “I-I have my mom. And… I have Hongjoong!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Y/N, Sunshine… Your mom will barely notice you’re gone, and Hongjoong can visit us.” He cupped your cheek.

You’re so busy having an internal crisis you hardly notice the usage of ‘us’. You’re considering the logistics in your head. Yeosang was right; you didn’t care about your degree, and all it would take was an email saying you quit for them to find a new front desk person. Your mom would be upset for a few weeks. She’d probably make some passive aggressive Facebook posts about you before acting like your best friend again.

“Yeosang…” You look up at him, your hand coming up to circle around his wrist.

“Your sister is there, and you could write everyday.” Yeosang adds on, “I did the math, Y/N. Between the two of us, we’d have 6 months to figure it out. 6 months, and we’ll come back here if nothing works out.”

You stay silent for a moment.

“Sunshine, I promised I’d show you the stars, didn’t I?”

You gasp at the promise. It was a silly promise he had made when you were both kids; something you’d almost forgotten about.

It hits you quickly: there’s no one else you’d rather run away with. There’s no one else you’d trust to run away with.

You look up at Yeosang, “Yes.”

He grins, “Yes?”

You nod, “Yes, Yeo. I’ll go with you.”

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

An hour. An hour was how long it took for you to turn your life upside down for Kang Yeosang.

In an hour, you had emailed your program advisor and told them you wouldn’t be returning for the next semester, and you had called your manager and told them you wouldn’t be coming in for your next shift, or any shift after that (which was promptly followed by a phone call from Hongjoong, who seemed more excited about this than you were). You had packed up most of your clothes and important belongings, and they were loaded into the back of Yeosang’s shitty car. You left a note for your mother, and before you knew it, you were sitting in the passenger’s seat of Yeosang’s car.

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

You had fallen asleep barely an hour into the car ride.

The rolling hills and fields outside your window made your eyes feel heavier, but you tried staying awake to keep Yeosang company.

“Go to sleep, Sunshine.” He tells you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Yeosang’s promise was all it took for you to succumb to your exhaustion.

You don't usually remember your dreams. Though today, there are flashes of a beach, and a smile that takes your breath away. There are blue skies and if you try hard enough, you can just faintly smell sea salt.

You wake up hours later, smiling. True to his word, Yeosang is still there when you wake. He’s wearing a pair of sunglasses, and tapping his fingers to the beat of the song on the radio.

Yeosang smiles when he notices you’re awake, “I talked to your mother.”

Your eyes widen, “You talked to who?”

He laughs, “You didn’t answer your phone, so she called me.”

You frown, glancing at your phone in the free cup holder. You could imagine the amount of calls and texts that were in there.

“She wasn’t very happy.” Yeosang continues, “She wants you to call her when we get there.”

You nod, “Thank you, Yeo.” You say softly, looking over at him.

Yeosang throws you a smile, “Of course.”

“Not just for talking to my mom…” You watch him, “For not leaving me behind, too. Thank you.”

Yeosang reaches over, taking your hand, “I’d never leave you behind, Sunshine. You’d have to try really hard to get rid of me.”

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

The car ride was long, and full of Yeosang’s early 2000s emo playlist & fast food. You called your sister, who was ecstatic to hear about your plans and had immediately offered you and Yeosang her beach house. She made a comment about how ‘she always knew you two would end up together’, and it made your heart flutter when you glanced at Yeosang.

Yeosang told you about Wooyoung’s band, and how excited he was to play with Wooyoung. You smiled, listening to him fondly talk about your old friends and their music.

It was getting late though, and you could see it in Yeosang’s face that he was getting tired.

“We should stop for the night.” You tell him, “You’ve been driving since 6am, Yeo.”

He huffs, “We could drive through the night.” He proposes, “We’d make it to your sister’s place in a few hours.”

You frown, “Or... We could stop for the night, shower, and then leave first thing tomorrow morning. We'll get there by noon tomorrow.”

Yeosang glances at you, going to protest. He ends up yawning instead, his nose wrinkling slightly, “Fine.” He pouts.

You laugh, reaching for your phone to google the closest hotels. There's a comfortable silence in the car, filled with the occasional beat of Yeosang’s fingers on the steering wheel. You feel at ease, even if it's just for a moment.

“There’s a motel off the next exit.” You tell him, stifling a yawn of your own.

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

Sure enough, there had been a motel off the next exit. It was small and slightly rundown, but cheap and had an available room. You waited in the car while Yeosang went into the check-in office, promising to be back in a moment.

He came back dangling a key in his hand, and a slight frown on his face as he opened the car door to let you out.

“So... There’s only one bed.” He broke the news, a blush growing up his cheeks, “It’s all they had, unless we wanted to drive another hour down the highway.”

Your eyes widen, “O-Oh.” You glance at the key, and then back up at Yeosang, “I’ll sleep on the floor, or something.”

Yeosang frowns, shaking his head, “We can share for one night, Sunshine. I think it’ll be okay.”

Which leads you to here; lying almost nose to nose with Yeosang. Your hair was soaking wet from a shower in the tiny bathroom and the small motel bed wasn’t comfortable, but you didn’t seem to mind as you took in the man in front of you. You pushed the strands of bleach blonde hair out of his face, and your fingers softly lingered on the birthmark next to his eye.

His breath stuttered, “Y/N,” He says, his voice a mere whisper, “We’re free.”

You let your hand rest against his cheek. Your eyes lingered on his lips before you caught yourself, moving your gaze back up to his eyes.

Yeosang only smiled at you. He gently held your wrist as he tilted his head and placed a soft kiss on your palm, “I’m going to kiss you now, Sunshine.”

“Yes please.”

You felt every nerve in your body light up when Yeosang kissed you.

A small part of your brain told you that this is where you’re meant to be: in Yeosang’s arms.

You felt this way the first time Yeosang had kissed you too, all the way back on that roof in 11th grade. You two had been talking about the future; about your writing and Yeosang’s music. You looked up at the hazy night sky, and you asked Yeosang if you’d ever get to see the stars.

He smiled at you, telling you that he would show them to you one day before he kissed you so sweetly.

Yeosang still kissed you sweetly. He kissed you like you held the secrets of the universe in your hand for him to take.

You pulled away, “I think I love you.”

He smiles against your lips, rubbing soft circles into your wrist, “I think I love you too, baby.”

—————-

You had this assumption that the next morning would be awkward; that you would be stuck for the next 6 months with someone you could barely look in the eye because of a late night confession.

Instead, you awoke to Yeosang kissing your head and placing a bagel & ice coffee down for you. He had quickly ushered you into the shower, before you put on a change of clothes and were quickly led out to the car between bites of your bagel. This all happened over Yeosang telling you how you only had a few hours before you reached your sister’s beach house, and he wanted to try and make good time so you could enjoy the beach today.

You giggled at his antics before settling into the passenger’s seat for the last few hours of your journey.

You sipped your ice coffee as you watched out the window. The countryside on the highway zoomed by you, and the car was full of sunlight from Yeosang’s sunroof being open. There was a Fall Out Boy song on the radio, and you felt a sense of calm brush over you as Yeosang took your hand in his.

The sunshine had never felt so nice on your skin as Yeosang pressed a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

taglist: @vanishingboots @sunsethw4

#ateez imagines #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #kang yeosang fluff #kang yeosang imagines #b.

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animalkingdom-an0nymous · 4 years ago

Text

False God- Sean Wallace

Disclaimer: No gifs or photos are mine unless stated otherwise.

Warning: A violent, smutty NSFW Sean Wallace fic. What if that last day ended differently? What if Sean made it out with his wounds? And what if there was someone from his childhood who haunted him just as much as he haunted her?

Subject: Sean X Y/N

Growing up, Sean Wallace and I were one in the same. We liked the same jokes, ate our peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut the same way- in triangles- and our only real difference was that I was an American. Our fathers, both legendary crime bosses in their own right, were great business partners and made each other filthy rich. We were dangerously similar.

Until we weren’t.

I’d been in America when Finn Wallace was murdered, and I’d stayed in America during the aftermath. My father had cared deeply for Finn, but the world we lived in was fucking brutal, cold, and my dad would never risk my well being by allowing me to go to the UK to be with Sean.

Hearing about all of it had been a nightmare, though. Hearing about murders and the carnage, communities and families wiped out when Sean locked the city down. My heart ached for the boy I once knew and feared for the man that was, and then, just as quickly as it all blew up, the flames went out. All was quiet.

Sean Wallace was dead.

Or so the world thought. My father, who had an in with Billy and Jac, knew the truth. The Wallace family had connections within the police force- cliché, right?- and when a few of their own found him lying in a pool of his own blood, bleeding out from his fucking face, they quickly pronounced him dead at the scene. I didn’t know the ins and outs, didn’t care to, because the life I lived now was so far from the life I was forced to live as a child. All I knew was they got him out of there and Sean Wallace, as London knew him, was dead.

I needed him to stay that way.

It had been nearly a year since then, nearly a year since I last had the nerve to ask my dad about him. I think he knew how I felt, knew I had gone to great lengths to distance myself from him and my mother and the hellish, brutal life they created. But that didn’t mean my dad didn’t love me. I knew he did in his own, twisted way, and I knew he caught on to the hurt I felt whenever Sean’s name was mentioned.

So he stopped mentioning it.

Billy and Jac were stateside and living under different names, that much I knew. I had yet to see them, but I knew they were close enough to drive to because my mother had made sure to mention in her last email that their “home was beautiful and they think it was quite rude of you not to come around and visit, Y/N.”

It was bullshit. Billy and Jac didn’t feel any type of way about me, we were never close. That was reserved specifically for Sean and me. And look how well that turned out.

I was haunted by the ghost of a man I didn’t even know anymore.

He was labeled as a terrorist and maybe that’s what hurt more than anything. I could never scream from the rooftops how much I fucking loved him because that’s crazy. Because who could love a terrorist? Who could love a man that had murdered, cheated, stolen to get his way? And if I did love him, what kind of woman did that make me?

It was a thought that had been in my mind on replay all day long, the musings drifting into the night as I drove towards my childhood home. I had made the agreement with my parents- namely my father- that once a month I would return home for dinner. It was nearly a two hour drive but one that I committed to because if I didn’t I knew they would show up at my apartment. And what twenty-something year old woman wants her parents showing up at her apartment unannounced?

The gravel ground under my tires as I pulled my all black BMW into the driveway. It was already dark and I knew my mother would have something to say about me showing up late, but at least I showed up. Sure, I was still wearing the navy blue pantsuit I’d worn at work all day and I usually changed whenever I had dinner with them, but my mind was occupied tonight. By thoughts of Sean. By thoughts of Sean getting his face blown off. Did it hurt? Did he remember? Would I ever know?

My father met me at the door. Six foot three and wide like a linebacker, the man was not to be messed with. He was no nonsense and the only people he smiled at were me and the people he was going to shoot right before he shot them. You can do what you want with that information.

“My little angel,” he said and reached for me, taking both my hands in his and bringing them to his lips. It was a simple gesture but one he did every single time. It was the one constant my dad ever provided me. “How was the drive up?”

“Traffic wasn’t too bad tonight, but I ended up getting out a bit later than I thought I would.”

He swung an arm around me as we made our way through the marble foyer, my heels clacking against the floor. “My art gallery owner. Your mother and I are so proud of you.”

I raised my eyebrows. He was feeding me bullshit, both he and my mom wanted me in the family business more than anything, but from the time I could voice my opinion I let them know. No. I would be taking no part in the family business.

Not that I didn’t know my shit. I knew my way around a gun shop and had a better shot than half the men my dad hired to protect us. I hit harder than my first two boyfriends and let everyone know that my last name was still my last name and not to fuck with me. I knew I was untouchable.

That didn’t mean I was embracing the lifestyle.

“Yeah, business is going great, I even hired someone part-time to help out.”

“Background check?”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Of course.”

“Family ties?”

“Her name is Mindy and she’s from a farm in rural Kansas.”

He paused and raised his eyebrows, one of the rare times my father ever looked shocked. “She doesn’t even know what our last name holds, does she?”

I shook my head. “Not a clue.”

He laughed his hearty, deep chuckle and stopped us at the bar cart outside of the dining room. As always, he grabbed two tumblers and threw a handful of ice in each before adding to fingers of whiskey. Our favorite. One of our few commonalities. “Proud of you, kid.”

“Thanks, dad.”

I was about to ask him how his week was when my mother’s voice drifted in from the balcony. She liked to drink her wine out there at night, before dinner. Just one glass, but it was a ritual she followed religiously. Her voice was somewhat raspy, a little cold, and I could hear her laughter as though it was wrapping around me like a vine.

But that was the thing; my mother drank her wine outside alone. That was her time. So who was she laughing at?

I glanced over my shoulder at my father to find him looking as though he was at a loss for words. It was so rare that he was speechless, a man of his stature always held a level of composure that was sometimes shocking. But not this time.

“Dad, wha-“

“You’re going to want to finish that drink, angel.”

My blood ran cold at his words. His tone was low, suddenly serious. The lighthearted moment from before was gone, something dark and heavy in its place.

I should have listened to him and finished the drink because as soon as I turned around I was met with the coldest, most pristine set of blue eyes I’d ever seen. Eyes that I once swore I would drown in someday.

Sean Wallace was standing eight feet in front of me. It was the first time we had seen each other in years, the first time I’d seen him since he was… dead.

His face was… fucked. Marred by the bullet that ripped through his left cheek on that fateful day. The skin was raised, almost burn-like, and left a medium sized indent in what would otherwise be a perfectly symmetrical face. His left eyelid held a little lower and it looked like he tried to cover up the other, minor scars with the facial hair that littered his jaw and around his mouth.

But even with the new, broken face, Sean Wallace was still the most breathtaking man in the room. His suit was impeccable and fit him like a glove, the stormy gray matching the storm that seemed to be raging in his eyes. His tie was a navy that matched my own suit and it felt like the universe was pointing at me and laughing. It felt like that bitch was having the time of her life watching me suffer.

“I…” I started, unsure of how to finish.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I know this” he held a hand up to his face “is a lot to take in.”

I already shook my head, my stomach turning at the thought of him thinking he was ugly. “No! No, I… I, I’m, I wasn’t-“

“Best private schools in the state and she still has that damn stutter.” My mother’s cutting voice ceased my own and I bit at the inside of my cheek. She came around the corner in all her glory, designer dress, perfect manicure and not a hair out of place.

She made me fucking sick.

“It’s nice to see you.” I finally managed to get the words out, although I didn’t know if I was talking to Sean or my mom.

“Jesus, Y/N, you couldn’t even change first?”

“I think she looks great.” Sean’s voice caught everyone off guard and even my mom turned to look at him. “Beautiful, really. You always looked great in a suit.”

I knew he was referring to my high school graduation. Sean was two years older and had flown in to see me graduate. My mom, ever the lady, was determined to force me into a nightmare of a ball gown while I wanted a simple, chic suit. Sean had been there for the entire screaming match, laughing at my mother as she tripped over the dress she had been hellbent on making me wear.

I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged my lips and nodded at him. “Thank you.”

He nodded in return and said nothing else.

“Let’s eat, shall we?” I felt my dad’s hand on my back as he ushered me into the dining room. My feet felt like stone blocks were attached to them as I walked, feeling Sean directly behind me with his eyes burning holes into my suit jacket.

We all sat in silence with the ghost of my past sitting directly across from me. Sean made no secret that he was staring at me and it reminded me of the ignorant young boy I once knew. Sean knew he was handsome, powerful, and could easily get his way. He held himself with the confidence of a man who had everything and it seemed a gunshot to the face didn’t change that.

“You’ve managed to stay under the radar.” I noted as one of the maids poured red wine into my glass.

“Y/N!” my mother scolded.

I raised my eyebrows and didn’t glance in her direction, my eyes holding Sean’s. “What? Are we supposed to sit here and pretend everything is normal? You want me to ask him about the weather?”

“Y/N…” my father’s tone held a warning in it.

“No, she’s right.” Sean spoke up as I took a hearty gulp of wine. “Facial reconstruction had me laid up for a bit. Reconstructing an entire cheekbone can be tricky. And expensive.”

I nodded. “Especially when the entire cheekbone belongs to a dead man.”

The room fell quiet with even the staff scurrying to disappear. My mother was glaring at me and I was sure my father was too, but I didn’t care. I’d spent my entire childhood and teen years caring about and loving Sean only for him to cut me off when he became Finn’s minion and then fake his own fucking death a few years after. He got so caught up in the Wallace life, in the life I thought we both hated, that he forgot about me. And I was angry about it.

“I deserve that.” His accent was the same as always. Smooth. Elegant. The best that private school could buy. “I should have reached out sooner as I knew my siblings were in touch.”

My mother, the martyr, was quick to reassure him. “Sweetheart, you don’t owe us anything. We’re just so happy you’re alright.”

She was so warm with him, a complete contrast to how she acted with me. It was a constant reminder that she always wanted a son and ended up with me instead.

My father opened his mouth to speak when his right hand, Marcus, walked in with a phone in his hand. His face looked pinched, stressed, and my father immediately stood. “Excuse me.”

Sean nodded politely and turned to my mother, but she was already standing and following behind dad, sensing his stress.

“Should we be concerned?”

I shook my head, my eyes still trained in the doorway. “I doubt it.”

Things were quiet then. Too fucking quiet. So quiet I felt like I was suffocating. I took a sip of wine. Then another. Another until my glass was empty and the bottle was taunting me from the center of the table.

“You have every right to be angry.”

“I’m not angry.” I was instantly defensive.

His smile was small, but it was there. “You always were a shit liar.”

“You were always a good one.”

His smile disappeared then and I was soon sitting across from the gangster that was always lurking underneath. Sean could do cool, calm, and collected. But he could only hide the angry, arrogant Wallace traits for so long.

“I… can’t remember the last time we were face to face.”

I shrugged my shoulders, suddenly uncomfortable. “Christmas. Six years ago. Kingston.”

His smile- God, that fucking smile- reappeared. “You threw a drink in my face.”

“You called me a spoiled fucking twat.”

“You were acting like one.”

Now it was my turn to smile. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help it. My early twenties were filled with vodka soda fueled arguments and boyfriends that my family- and Sean- hated. I was so different, that girl doesn’t even seem real anymore.

I was about to respond when I heard shouting coming from down the hall. My father’s office.

Sean and I stood at the same time, both of us sensing a certain level of danger. My father rarely ever shouted, it had to be something catastrophic for him to raise his voice like that.

Entering the hall, I quickly grabbed my bag next to the bar cart and produced my glock before tucking it into my waistband. Sean watched me silently the entire time. He was getting a little too comfortable with staring at me.

“Always prepared.”

“Family business, right?” I shot back at him over my shoulder as we neared my father’s study.

“No, no, fucking No! What do you mean they’re all dead? An entire fucking warehouse of people and they’re all fucking dead?”

My heart stopped in my chest. That was… impossible. The warehouses were untouchable, no one knew where they were unless they were part of our inner circle. Our microscopic inner circle. Which could only mean one thing…

It was an inside job.

“Fuck.” I spat. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

“Y/N, something’s happened.” My mother appeared in the doorway as we approached.

“Who did it?” I asked, getting straight to the point. “Any ideas?”

My dad was seated behind his wooden desk, a desk so large it was fit for a king. When I was a child I would spend hours in there reading on the stuffed leather couch while he worked silently. It was one of the few places I felt “safe” growing up.

“Kensington’s dead.” Our eyes met.

Rodger Kensington was my father’s longtime business partner and someone who was like an uncle to me. He’d been there at my prom, my graduation, and when I took my first steps. He was… family.

“Shit.” Sean’s word was quick and quiet, but then I remembered he knew Rodger too, and he knew what this meant.

“What about Sherry? The kids?” I was desperate to make sure their little ones were alright, they were all so young.

“They’re fine. They weren’t home, they-“

My father never got the words out as one of the staff walked in. I had turned at the sound of him entering the room, just barely meeting his eye as he raised his arm, a small handgun pointed directly at the man whose home we were in.

“Y/N!” My mother screaming my name like that would haunt my nightmares for months after.

A single shot rang out and my ears rang, a gasp leaving my lips as I reached for the gun in my waistband. But it wasn’t there.

The man was dead, a gunshot to the temple with crimson blood spilling all over the Italian wood floors. And then there was Sean, standing at my side with my gun pointed straight ahead, a dead look in his eyes.

It was all dangerously quiet and I could hear my own heartbeat, but only for a moment. Because as soon as I took a single breath, shit hit the fan.

My mother released a blood curdling scream, Marcus rushing to her side and grabbing her as she collapsed. My father, stoic, stood and walked over to the wardrobe near the window, swiftly pulling out guns and rounds of ammo. More security rushed in and I stood next to Sean, everything moving in slow motion. I could hear voices, hear my dad barking commands at his security who acted like his soldiers.

“There’s blood on my shoes.”

“What?”

What? Did I just say there was blood on my shoes? But it was true. My expensive cream suede shoes had blood splatter on them and I was ninety percent sure there was bone fragment near my heel.

“Blood. On my shoes.” My voice sounded far away.

Sean was suddenly in front of me and tucking my gun back into my waist while everyone shouted around us. “I’ll buy you a new pair. Bought them at the store on fifth, yeah?”

“How the fuck did you-“ I stopped, putting two and two together. “Have you been watching me?”

Sean’s face changed then and he straightened his shoulders. Our height nearly matched but only because of my heels, and I knew his gesture was dominant, authoritative. “I promise we can talk about that later, but-“

I pushed past him and walked towards my father who was barking orders into a phone. “Did you have Sean keep tabs on me?”

“Y/N, this isn’t the time for you to complain about your independence.”

I slammed my hand down on the wooden desk the same way I had watched him do it so. Many. Times. “Answer me!”

My father, all six foot three of him, stood tall and looked over me even with a desk separating us. “Watch yourself, young lady.”

“What the fuck is going on that you hired someone to watch me? That you hired Sean to watch me? What aren’t you telling me?”

He paused for the briefest of moments while everyone moved around us. I could hear safeties being turned off, my mom screaming down the hallway, and feel Sean standing close enough that I could smell his cologne.

“I’ve known for a bit that someone on the inside was giving information to Merkov brothers. Rodger and I spent months sifting through the weeds trying to figure out who it was. We had a break last night, I was going to tell you everything-“

“Four black SUV’s were spotted five miles from the property. Moving quickly. We need to go.” Marcus had appeared in the doorway sans my mother, his face wiped of anything sort of emotion. In fact, Marcus may have been the most emotionless man I had ever come into contact with. I would even venture to call him heartless.

“Shit.” My dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “I promise I will tell you everything, angel.” He looked at me, the desk separating us. “But right now you need to go and it can’t be back to your apartment.”

“Dad, I…” I had no idea what to say. I couldn’t go back to my apartment in the city, there was most definitely a hit out on my family, including myself, and Sean Wallace was back from the fucking dead. My day was going from bad to worse, my life blowing up in a twenty minute time span.

But I knew my last name, knew the weight it carried. I knew I had a certain responsibility to handle my shit and handle it well, with my shoulders back and my chin up.

“Where am I going?”

He was already on the move and I was on his heels, following him down the winding hallways of the home I grew up in. It was the same house that was sure to be shot to shit as soon as those SUV’s showed up.

“Harbor House.” He barked over his shoulder. “You can drive down there in the charger. Tinted windows. Marcus, have Anthony load a bag into the car. Ammo, guns, everything she’ll need.”

“No one knows where Harbor House is except us.” I reminded him. His business partners may have known about the warehouses and my father’s permanent residence, but Harbor House was for family and family alone.

“I’m not taking any chances, Y/N, not with you. Sean will accompany you and you’ll stay there until you hear from me. I’ll call-“

“What?” I cut him off. “Sean’s not coming with me.”

“I’m not taking any chances with you.” He repeated.

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

Sean cleared his throat behind me and I refused to look at him. I knew he was offended by what I’d said, but quite honestly I was offended by everything he had done since stepping foot in my parents’ home that day.

“This isn’t about what you need or want, Y/N. He’s going with you.”

I was about to fully lose my temper when shots rang out through the house. I reached for my glock and turned the safety off, immediately ducking behind a marble pillar with Sean’s hand on my elbow, holding me still.

There was yelling and gunshots, some of the housekeepers screaming bloody murder from the second and third floors. There was no way those SUV’s were already on the property, no way. It had to be someone else.

Someone had burned our entire fucking family.

“Dad!” I yelled as a bullet whirred past my head.

“Y/N, go! Now!” I could hear him but I couldn’t fucking see him. Marco was beating the shit out of a man dressed all in black, ripping his gun away and firing off a round into his chest. The smell of blood and gunpowder burned my nostrils and I winced.

“I’m not leaving you!” I screamed so loud my voice cracked.

“Sean!” My father shouted. “Get her the fuck out of here! Get her out now, kid! Now!”

I glanced over at Sean, warning him with my eyes not to touch me, but it was too late. He ripped the gun from my hand and wrapped an arm around my waist, tugging me backwards.

“Sean, no!” I screamed, trying to pull away.

“We have to go, Y/N.” He dragged me down the hall while I fought him the whole way , dragging my feet and scratching at the suit clad arm wrapped around my waist. He finally stopped at the side door at the end of the hall and yanked it open before tossing me in.

I stumbled across the cold concrete of the garage and caught myself against the car I was supposed to be leaving in.

Sean locked the door behind him and turned to me, my gun still in his hand. “In.” He motioned to the car.

Still the same, bossy man he always was. Without responding, I turned and made my way across the expansive garage, shoving a table out of the way and yanking open the drawers of a metal cabinet.

“Y/N!” Sean was losing his temper and we were losing time.

“You took my gun!” I finally screamed back, practically growling at him as I picked up twin Berettas and tucked them into the back of my waistband. I grabbed a rifle to throw into the backseat, and one more Glock since Sean had unceremoniously stolen mine and left me empty handed.

He was staring at me as I made my way back to the car, his chest heaving. God, he still looked good. A gunshot to the face only amplified how rough and beautiful he was. Dumb fucking asshole and his dumb fucking face.

I grabbed the keys from the wall and tossed them to Sean who caught them with one hand.

Show off, I thought to myself sullenly as I got into the passenger side, my heart leaping out of my chest. I was about to leave my parents to potentially die. My childhood home was being torn apart, half the staff that knew me since I was a child were now lying dead in the same house they’d dedicated their lives to. It made me sick.

“Just focus on driving.” I told him as the garage door began to rise. I could already see the shadows of feet on the concrete leaned halfway out the window, my nine millimeter raised. One shot to the knee and a man fell, a second shot between the eyes and he was done.

The second man was smart, moved off to the side and just out of aim, and Sean floored the gas pedal while I kept watch.

“Your left.” I said quietly and pointed the gun in front of him, sending shots flying out of the driver’s side door, taking out the second man who had been waiting for us.

“Three of them in front of the gate.” Sean nodded towards the gate at the side of the property, all of them holding assault rifles and aiming at us. “Duck.” he commanded with the car still in reverse.

“What?”

“Duck.” I felt his hand grab at the back of my head he shoved me down, my forehead nearly knocking against my knee as he picked up speed. A loud blast blew out the back windshield and then there was a loud, violent thunk.

His wide palm was still resting on the back of my head, grip so tight it made my scalp prickle in a way that annoyed me. My body had no business getting turned on while in the midst of this shit.

When the tires squealed against the gravel and we went surging forward, I sat back up. I could see smoke coming out of the windows, bullet holes in the brick and mortar. It was a fucking war zone and we were on our way out, leaving behind my family and any shred of sanity I had left.

Fuck.

* * * * * *

The ride to Harbor House was almost completely silent. Sean, ever the Brit, would curse out other drivers every now and then even though ninety percent of the mistakes were his own. Maybe I should have insisted on driving, but at the time the only thing I could think about was whether or not my parents got out.

Although we were never close, I didn’t wish death on my parents. Sure, I resented them for bringing me up in a life of chaos and violence and I’m well aware they caused me a lifetime of trauma, but that didn’t mean I wanted them dead. Definitely not murdered.

It was nearly midnight by the time we arrived. Harbor House was in an exclusive neighborhood and every home had a gate. It had been years since I was last at the house, but it held the only fond memories from my childhood. Harbor House and the Wallace house always felt like home to me. Strange that I was sitting next to a Wallace and not a single shred of me felt comfortable or at home. It was strange, when we were kids he was always my safe space.

I punched in the code and black iron gates opened up, promptly closing with a loud clang behind us. The property itself was a sprawling estate with a two floor home as well as a large yard, pool, and separate guest house. It was on the edge of a cliff and overlooked the Atlantic. Isolated. Safe. Private. The kind of place my family relied on to keep us safe.

“Pull the car into the garage, we’ll get a rental tomorrow.” My voice was monotonous. I felt so drained of every emotion other than pure exhaustion. I was covered in blood, my clothes smelled like gunpowder and sweat, I needed a hot shower.

Sean silently pulled into the garage and killed the engine. We sat there quietly for a moment, so quiet I couldn’t even hear him breathing. If he had any blood on him, I couldn’t tell. From this angle he looked every bit the GQ model. It was only when he turned his face to look at me that I got a glimpse of the mauled left half and got angry all over again.

I was angry at my parents for birthing me into this.

I was angry at whoever burned us.

I was angry at Sean for disappearing from my life in favor of violence. But I was so fucking angry that he had let it go so far that the world thought he was dead.

I almost wished he was.

“There’s five bedrooms. I trust that you’ll find one far away from me?” I phrased it like a question but we both knew it wasn’t.

He gave a curt nod.

The house was exactly as I remembered it. It even smelled the same. Hardwood floors, light walls, French doors leading to a beautiful deck. A kitchen so modern it would make Gordon Ramsey cream his pants. It was the homiest home my family had. It was my haven.

Only now Sean was here to cast a shadow over it.

“There’s plenty of clothes in all the guest bedrooms. My parents like to be prepared for every emergency, you know that.”

Sean nodded as he closed the door that connected to the garage. He locked it and was quick to set the code. The code that he definitely shouldn’t have had.

“How did you-“

“Your father.”

I raised my eyebrows incredulously. “My father gave you the codes to Harbor House?”

He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes narrowing. “He gave me the code for the gate too, but I was polite enough to let you do it. That’s something, innit?”

He was being a smart ass, pushing my buttons on purpose simply because he could. Or because he’d had enough of my attitude. Either way, I wasn’t having it.

“You must be so fuckin’ proud of yourself. You still have an in with my father even after the shit you pulled in London. My father, Sean, not me. You don’t have shit with me and you made that perfectly clear.”

He squared his shoulders and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I sat on the edge of a beautiful cream colored sofa. I couldn’t wait to sink into it tomorrow with a good book.

I quickly fingered at the straps on my heels and kicked them off while mentally preparing for whatever speech he was about to throw my way.

“I’ve really had enough of you talking to me like I’m some shit person. Enough, Y/N.”

I stood back up, hating that I was smaller than him now as I turned on my heel and headed up the stairs. “If you hate my attitude so much then leave me the fuck alone and let me take a shower in peace.”

* * * * *

My shower was hot and relaxing and everything I needed. As soon as the steam surrounded me, I was able to calm down a bit, and once the hot water hit my skin I was able to sigh in relief. Washing off the blood and grime left me feeling like a whole new woman.

So new, in fact, I briefly forgot about the bane of my existence showering down the hall.

Sean. Showering. Sean in the shower with water dripping down his chest and into that perfect V of his hips. Sean’s hot, wet body pressed against mine. Sean’s-

“Can you not?” I said to my reflection as I ran a brush through my hair. Even when I was angry at him, violently angry, it was impossible to deny that he was attractive.

We never hooked up, not even when we were young. But there was always something there. We flirted. We toyed with each other. We got into nasty arguments. People noticed, my friends made comments. I always ignored them and played it off and said it was because we knew each other forever and just connected that way. They all argued that it was more.

I ignored them.

After changing into a comfortable pair of loose cotton pants and a long sleeved shirt, I made my way downstairs. The windows were open and I could hear the waves crashing against the cliff side. My favorite sound. It gave me peace. It soothed me.

The kitchen was empty and I grabbed a bottle of red wine with every intention of drinking the entire bottle. After pouring a rather large amount into the pristine crystal stemware my mother bought, I threw my head back and took a long, large sip.

Ugh. That’s better. I closed my eyes and took another sip, getting lost in the sound of the waves and the dark, cherry taste of the wine. A moment of peace after all the bullshit I had to endure tonight.

It was only when Sean cleared his throat that I realized I wasn’t alone. He was standing at the bottom of the stairs wearing black sweats and a white t-shirt. Simple. Clean. Comfortable. If this had been a few years ago I would have been aching to curl up against him.

“Kitchen’s all yours,” I said as I grabbed my glass and bottle, preparing to go out back.

“You told me you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” His words cut like a knife to my retreating back and it made me pause, not yet turning around. “You fucking told me you were done.”

I knew what he was referring to. The last time we spoke had been over the phone, maybe four years ago. It had been a normal night with normal conversation and normal “I miss yous”. Sean had truly been one of my best friends and closest confidants. And then the conversation turned ugly when he informed me his father was sending him out on a seriously violent, potentially fatal, mission. Our argument had gotten vile and I said horrible things. He did too, including telling me to “stop acting like a girlfriend because you’re so fucking lonely”.

That had been my breaking point. He reminded me so much of Finn then. He dressed like him, spoke like him, became a carbon copy of him, and I was having none of it. So I had told him to fuck off and lose my number, to never call me again, to pretend I was dead.

It was the one time Sean listened to me and the one time I wished he hadn’t.

To this day, I got embarrassed when I thought about what he had said to me. The way he screamed and the way he humiliated me. Maybe I was lonely, maybe it came off as clingy, but my intentions were always good and I never thought I was a burden to him. But after that last conversation I spent years telling myself that’s exactly what I was. A burden. I checked in too much, my double texting him probably got on his nerves. Constantly complaining about our families when I knew how fortunate I was to live such a lavish life made me sound spoiled, he got tired of it. I spent years convincing myself there was no possible way he missed me and I didn’t miss him either.

“Do you even remember our last conversation?” I turned slowly to face him. “Do you remember what you said?”

He took a step forward and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of course I do. I’ve had plenty of time to think about it- you. I’d been out drinking with my father-“

“And then turned into him?”

“Oh, fuck off then.” He shook his head, his frustration evident as he rounded the marble island in the kitchen. An expert, he seemed to know where everything was. The glasses. The whiskey.

“I’m not wrong.” I defended myself.

Sean laughed and the sound was hollow, sarcastic. He took a sip of whiskey before turning to me with a cold look in his eyes. “And I wasn’t wrong that day either. Was I?”

I scowled at him to mask the absolute hurt I was experiencing. My heart ached. He’d known he was hurting me. He didn’t care. He remembered and he didn’t care.

“Oh, fuck you, Sean.” I whispered before quickly pushing through the french doors and stepping onto the deck.

“Oi!” Sean shouted as I slammed the doors behind me, taking off down the steps, wine glass in hand.

“I’m not done talking to you.” Sean was hot on my heels.

“The conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” I felt long, thick fingers curl around my elbow and then he was hauling me back against him. “You say what you want to say and then think we’re done. We’re not.”

I ripped my arm back and shoved my finger in his face. “I’ve waited four years to say this shit to you!”

“So have I!” He shouted back, the vein in his neck becoming prominent. The female part of my brain wondered what it would feel like to run my tongue along that vein, feel it pulse against my mouth.

Wrong time, I thought to myself and shook my head. “You fucked off for four years, faked your own death, and now I found out my father has had you following me. I don’t know what kind of weird, stalker fetish you’ve developed, but it’s really not doing anything for me.”

Okay, maybe that last part was flat out bitchy, but at that point I didn’t care.

I drained my wine glass while I waited for his response.

“Would you like to tell me about your fetishes?”

“Sure, they all involve watching you bleed out.”

“Should have been there a year ago then, yeah?”

I didn’t have a response for that. I zeroed in on the left half of his face, the scar on his cheek. His cheekbone curved differently, probably because it was handmade, and his scar disappeared into his stubble. He looked so vastly different from the Sean I used to know. He was hardened by life, by Finn’s life. Thirty and angry and alone and legally dead.

I ached for the Sean I once knew, but this wasn’t him.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“A little more than three months.”

“Three months?” I was shocked. I’d had a tail for three months and I didn’t even know it? How embarrassing.

“You wouldn’t have known.” It was as though he could read my mind. “I’ve always been better at it than you.”

“You’re so fucking cocky.” I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or slap him, so instead I walked past him and back up the stairs, making my way back into the house to refill my glass. I knew he was following me, knew that the alcohol in my bloodstream was making me feel bold, more bold than I was sober.

Sean closed the French doors, the lock clicking with a tone of finality. I was too aware of it.

“You were shit as hide and seek when we were kids.”

“So that makes you a better spy?”

His tone was serious when he responded. “I was never spying on you. I didn’t have access to your flat. I didn’t follow you around with that ugly wanker with gray hair.”

“Leave Beckett out of this.”

“Beckett?” It was the first time his face had resembled something other than anger. He looked amused. “You’re dating a man named Beckett?”

I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “We actually aren’t discussing my dating life, we’re talking about my stalker.”

“Stop saying that. It was to and from work. Only when you were out in public.”

“That doesn’t make it okay!” I finally shouted. None of what happened today was okay. Sean, my dad, the shootout. None of it was okay. “You don’t get to keep up with my fucking life when I have to pretend you’re dead!”

“Lower your voice.” Sean took a step forward.

“Fuck off!” I shouted even louder than before. “You don’t get to just come back and bark orders at me. This isn’t London, Sean!”

“Enough.” He took another step forward and I backed up, reaching for my wine glass.

He was so calm, so fucking collected while I was beginning to fall apart. I hated him for it. Fuck Sean Wallace, I wanted him to hurt the way I did. So, without thinking twice, I hurled my glass at him. Sean barely dodged it, whipping his head to the side as it soared past him and landed on the floor in a million little pieces.

He was a blur as he flew across the kitchen, growling as he slammed my back up against the wall. I cried out as searing pain sent shock waves down my back, but I was too angry to focus on it. My hands instantly went into fight mode and my fingers caught the tip of his nose as I swiped at him, but he pulled his head back, out of my reach.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He roared in my face. “Are you bloody mental?” His hands circled my wrists and he pinned them at my sides, effectively halting my movements.

Stuck between Sean and the wall, I suddenly couldn’t breathe. “Let me go.”

“The fuck I will.” He squeezed my wrists harder.

“Sean.” I shoved myself against him and he did the same thing, his face even closer than before. I could smell the whiskey on his breath, see the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. God, he was a sight. “Fuck. Off.”

His eyes zeroed in on my mouth as I enunciated the words, nostrils flaring slightly. My breasts were pressed against his chest and I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, because suddenly we were staring each other eye to eye and I couldn’t look anywhere else. I was drowning the way I always imagine I would except this time I didn’t want it. I wanted no part of it.

“Don’t even think about it.” I whispered softly.

“Or what?” Sean’s remark felt snide and childish, something I would have happily said to him had he not leaned down and slid his lips over mine. It was a light touch, so soft I barely felt it. But I still gasped because it was Sean’s lips touching mine and I hated that I liked it so much.

At the sound of my sharp intake of breath, he smirked. “I fucking knew it.” And then he smashed his lips against mine, not letting up on the grip he had on my wrists.

Sean’s tongue pushed past my lips and slid against mine, weakening my reserve just a bit. He tasted good, his scruff scratched against the edges of my mouth and I reveled in it, loving how rough he felt.

He fucking engulfed my mouth, taking complete control of the kiss and demanding that I give him more. Forgetting the position we were in, he let go of my wrists in favor of cupping my face, wide palms against my cheeks.

I should have pushed him away, should have told him to leave, but the simple truth was that Sean Wallace knew how to kiss. He kissed like a man, held my face, stroked rough thumbs over my cheekbones, and swallowed my moans. He crowded me, stood so close our torsos were touching while we made out against the kitchen wall. Our tongues touched, teeth clashed, and when I sucked Sean’s bottom lip into my mouth the groan he let out was guttural. Animalistic.

But the noise was enough to bring me back to reality and I shoved my hands against his chest, pushing him away from me as hard as I could.

Sean stumbled back and caught himself on the counter. He was just as caught up as I was, his eyes wild, cheeks flushed red.

“You’ve got some nerve.” I cleared my throat and wiped my mouth, still tasting him on my tongue.

“Me?” He had the audacity to smile, still clearly fired up. “You were the one sucking my lip like it was my cock.”

My cheeks felt hot. The way he said cock with the accent and the smirk… it murdered me on the inside. It absolutely killed me how good it sounded. “You wish.”

“Every fucking night.” Sean stepped forward again. “I think about you sucking my cock every. Fucking. Night.”

His admission left me breathless. It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. The thought of Sean laying in bed at night and thinking about my mouth wrapped around his dick lit me up. I was hot everywhere.

“Sean-“

“Shut the fuck up.” He crowded me again, this time wrapping one arm around my back and pulling me against him. “For once in your life, please, Y/N, shut the fuck up.”

Cupping the back of my head, Sean kissed me again. I wanted to fight him, wanted to tell him to fuck off, but that would only prove him right. I really did have a problem with shutting the fuck up.

So, I kissed him back. I gave it my all, twining my arms around his neck and leaning against him. Sean tongue fucked my mouth as though he’d been dying to for years, and after his admission I wondered if he had. His body felt warm against mine and feeling his fingertips glide along the exposed area of my lower back made my knees nearly buckle.

He smiled against my mouth and before I knew it, Sean was sliding both hands down, gripping my hips and hoisting me in the air. My legs locked around his waist instantly, ankles crossing at the small of his back while he carried me through the kitchen.

Our mouths never stopped touching. I’d been waiting years to kiss Sean. I’d been waiting years to slap the fuck out of him as well, but right now the only thing I cared about was keeping our mouths fused together for as long as humanly possible. I felt drunk on him, on the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

I didn’t realize we were in the living room until Sean sat down on the couch with me straddling his lap. I took the opportunity to pull back slightly, his lips chasing my own, and I smiled at the way he leaned forward. I cupped the right side of his face, loving the way his scruff felt against my soft palm. He truly was beautiful, the red-brown hair and beard, the plump mouth that spent more time scowling than smiling. His freckles, God, when we were young I could have spent hours counting them.

And then there was that scar. That brutal, obvious scar. The trauma his body must have gone through made me sick and when I reached up to run my fingers over the jagged, raised skin, Sean was quick to grab my wrist in a bruising grip.

“Don’t touch me there.”

But I wanted to. So badly. But it was clear in his reaction, in the stiffness of his body, that he was serious. Of all the limits Sean DIDN’T have, touching the left side of his face was one of them and I had no choice but to respect it.

“Fine, how about you touch me then?”

It was all the incentive Sean needed and he flipped me onto my back, hovering over me with one hand braces on the back of the couch. Our eyes held as I slid my hands down his chest, his heartbeat pulsing under my hand as I slid lower, lower still until I gripped the hem of his shirt and yanked it up. He leaned back, only for a moment to rip the shirt off his head and send it flying.

Fair skinned with broad shoulders and a tapered waist, I itched to lick the V that disappeared into his waistband. He may have been injured, but he hasn’t been resting this last year. Sean didn’t have the body of a man who rested, he had the Jody of a man who was constantly pushing himself. He was strong in every sense of the word and it made me pathetically, desperately wet for him.

“Your turn,” he said against my lips, fingers playing under my shirt and sliding along my ribs. “You’re so fucking soft.” He whispered against the skin of my cheek.

Unable to help myself, I reached down to cup him through his sweats. Jesus… Christ. “You’re so fucking not.”

Sean laughed then, but I was dead serious. Either Sean was hiding a gun in his pants or his cock was just that fucking solid. And… thick. Even through his pants I could tell. I squeezed once and he let out a guttural groan, the sound sending shock waves between my legs. I wanted that sound on a loop for the rest of my life.

He pushed my shirt up and over my head, eyes zeroing in on my breasts. “Fuck me…” He trailed off, cupping one in his hand and giving a firm squeeze as he settled his eight between my legs. I could feel him against my clit even with barriers of clothing separating us.

“I always wondered what your nipples looked like.” He licked one gently and my back arched hard, my whole body tightening. “They’re so much better than my imagination.”

Sean fastened his mouth against my nipple and he sucked, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bud while I writhed underneath him. My nails scraped through his shirt hair, digging into his scalp and holding him against me. He said he had wondered what they would look like, but I spent the better part of a decade wondering what this would feel like.

Fuck, it felt good.

Sean’s hips ground against mine as he moved to my other nipple, hands roaming felt over my body, gripping my clothes thighs and sliding up my sides. Tracing along my collarbone, fingers tugging at the nipple that wasn’t getting any attention.

I felt like a horny teenager, aching to have him inside me as fast as humanly possible. My nails raked over his shoulders and he gave a delicious growl in return, leaning up and hovering over me again.

“I’ve thought about your mouth on my cock for ages, but right now the only thing I want is to be buried inside you. That okay?”

I was modding before he even finished speaking. Fuck a blowjob, fuck foreplay. I didn’t need that with Sean, not now. Right now I just needed… connection. I was almost desperate for it and it fucking terrified me.

Sean leaned back on his knees and hooked his fingers into my pants, tugging them down in one swift move and leaving me completely naked and sprawled out in front of him. His eyes raked over me and my breath hitched in my throat. He could see… everything.

“Fuck me… this body was fucking made for me.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, wiggling my brows. “A bit cocky, yeah?”

“No.” His face was serious, eyes focused as they raked over my breasts, my hips, my legs, zeroing in on the spot between my thighs. Sean slid one long, thick finger over my slit and I cried out, my body stiffening. “I knew you’d be bald here.” He repeated the motion. “Been dying to see that tattoo on your thigh for ages.”

I’d gotten the tattoo when I was 20 and officially moved out of my parents house. It was one of those stupid young decisions, but I didn’t regret it. It was a snake that wrapped all the way around my right thigh, the snake’s tongue permanently engraved on my inner thigh like an invitation. Or a warning.

“And?” I asked inquisitively, rubbing a hand absentmindedly down my stomach.

“And I think this body was fucking made for me.”

His lips came crashing down on mine again and I wrapped my bare legs around his waist, loving the way his hip bones pressed into my thighs. He littered kisses over my cheekbone, an oddly sweet gesture, and then absolutely assaulted my neck, licking and biting and nipping at my collarbone until I cried out.

I reached down, yanking at his sweats and pushing them down his thighs with my heels. I was fucking dying for Sean Wallace to be inside of me, I couldn’t even breathe because I wanted him so badly. Needed him, needed to know what it was like to feel him.

“Sean.” I gasped as he braced one hand above my head, the other one gripping his cock and lining it up at my entrance. I gripped his bicep when he pushed the tip in, my nails digging half crescents into his skin.

“Sean.” I repeated his name, this time somewhat panicked because what the fuck was I doing? Was I really about to fuck him?

“Remember when I told you to shut the fuck up?” Sean’s eyes met mine and he gave one sharp, hard thrust and was suddenly inside me so deep I swore I could feel him in my cervix.

I didn’t even have time to gasp, my mouth fell open in a silent scream and Sean’s groan was something I’d think about for months. He was so deep I felt as though I couldn’t breathe, looking up at him completely frozen.

“Oh, fuck.” He finally breathed out. “That’s right, so good you can’t even speak.”

“I… hate you.” I finally managed, leaning up and catching his bottom lip between my teeth, tugging so hard he let out a groan of pain.

“You don’t hate me.” Sean pulled nearly all the way out before slamming back inside me, giving me no warning or time to breathe. But the yelp I let out was enough to make him smirk.

Cocky bastard.

Fine, I could play. Tightening my legs around his waist, I raked my nails down his back and watched his face change, jaw clenching tight. I licked his collarbone before sucking the skin there. I sucked hard and didn’t stop until I felt his fingers tangle in my hair and yank me back, forcing me to look at him.

“You’re not the fucking boss right now.” He practically growled the words, not letting up on the grip on my hair. He pumped in and out of me, my scalp pricking with a weird, pleasurable pain that left me moaning for more.

Sean’s thrusts got harder and I cried out when he hit that spot, so deep I could feel him everywhere. “Sean!” I cried his name, my breath hitching in my throat.

He let my hair go in favor of those perfect ducking fingers wrapping around my throat. His thumb pressed firmly under my jaw, I had no other choice but to look at him as he fucked me into oblivion.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He groaned, pressure on my throat tightening just a bit. “Thought about you every fucking day.”

I was instantly thrown back into reality. Everything that happened that day. The shooting. Sean coming back from the dead, all of it.

“Nope, stay with me.” Sean commanded, sensing my disconnect. He slowed his thrusts leaning down to lick at my lips lightly. It was oddly erotic and I found myself whimpering for more. “That’s it, relax for me.”

“I…” I started desperately. “I can’t. Sean-“

He squeezed my throat harder and I suddenly gasped, my air being cut off. “Relax.” His voice was oddly soothing. “You can still breathe.”

I shook my head.

He paused his thrusts, once again settling deep inside me with my legs splayed. “Yes, you can. I’m not squeezing that hard. Breathe.”

I took in a breath. It was shallow, but it was there. Letting it out slowly, I repeated the motion, Sean catching on and thrusting every time I exhaled. It all felt different like this, barely able to breathe and dripping wet onto the couch. I’d never wanted someone more and I was terrified, I’d never been “handled” the way he was handling me, treating me like I was his.

“Been waiting years to feel you come on my cock.” He groaned when he released my throat, leaning back on his heels and looking down at where we were connected. “God, you’re soaked. Made a proper mess all over me.”

I moaned because at that point words were not possible. My stomach felt tight, I felt like I was going to cry or laugh or scream. I felt like I was going crazy.

And then Sean rubbed his thumb over my clit, watching me jerk, and I knew I was done for. He did it again and again, giving me shallow strokes while he rubbed the little bundle of nerves that were certainly going to send me into a tailspin.

“Sean, please.” My back arched and I shouted, so fucking close, teetering on the edge.

“Come all over my cock so I can watch you lick it off after.”

My mouth fell open and I screamed his name, my orgasm hitting me like a ton of bricks. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling Sean lean over me and wrap an arm around my back.

He picked up the pace while I clung to him, whispering in my ear about how he’d wanted it forever, how this was his, how I was his. It was overwhelming, yet I couldn’t bring myself to do anything other than rake my nails through his hair and whisper his name over and over again in his ear.

“Fuck.” Sean’s groan was long and low, stroking into me one, two, three more times before holding himself still, his climax hitting him as hard as mine hit me.

His arms shook as he held himself over me, eventually collapsing onto my chest in a huff. We sat there silently, the sound of the waves crashing against the cliff side lulling us. Sean’s right cheek was pressed against my breast and his dick was still inside me. He was as close as he could possibly be but I somehow wanted him closer. I wanted to fucking absorb him into my body, keep him there forever and enjoy the weight of him on me.

“Sean?” I whispered, wondering if he was still awake.

“Hm?”

I ran my fingers lightly over the back of his neck and delighted in his shiver. “I’m really glad you’re not dead.”

He lifted his head then, searching my face for some sort of emotion, but I forced myself to remain stoic. It took Sean fucking my brains out for me to realize how much I missed him. How much I fucking loved him. But I couldn’t tell him that, I couldn’t give him that much power over me.

“Today was the first time in a year that I was thankful that bullet didn’t kill me.” Sean’s words were honest, quiet.

We didn’t say anything after that, we didn’t really need to. In that moment we were safe, together after years of being apart, and now all we had to do was wait for word from my father. Until then, I was going to enjoy whatever time I had with Sean and I prayed I would never have to pretend he was dead again.

#joe cole #sean wallace #gangs of london #gol #smut #fic

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seanfalco · 4 years ago

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I Caught Fire | Klaus Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k Prompt: (I can’t find the original prompt, but it was from the I wish you’d write a fic where... series) Klaus & y/n’s first time Requested by: Anonymous Warnings: smut, loss of virginity, awkward sex, oral sex a/n: This was sitting in my to write list for a while (I’m so sorry!) Takes place in the PwF’verse, an extra scene from Klaus’s POV that takes place during Chapter 2 of Playing with Fire

It was strange being back at the mansion, all the memories from his youth he’d forgotten or purposefully blocked out kept sneaking up on him, rushing back to choke him at the most inappropriate moments.

Rubbing his kohl smudged eyes, Klaus reached for his clothes strewn abandoned across the parlor floor from the night before when he’d collapsed to the leather couch in naught but his underwear… was it even his? He wondered for a moment, glancing down at the colourful leopard spotted pattern. He honestly couldn’t seem to remember where it’d come from.

Shrugging, he dressed, ignoring Ben, and headed for his old room, where more memories were surely waiting for him.

As he stepped across the threshold he found, bingo! he was right, and he bit his lip as the memories assailed him, almost as annoying as the ghosts that hounded him and he wondered if he were high enough if he could drown those memories out too.

These ones actually weren’t bad per se, but the pain they brought hurt so much worse.

“Ugh,” Klaus groaned heavily, throwing himself down on the bed and draping his arm over his face. As tempting as it was, he didn’t exactly want to think about his first kiss, which had happened right where he lay, or the fact that the woman it had happened with happened to be downstairs at this very moment, and despite her hostility yesterday (which frankly, he deserved) he still wanted to kiss her.

Lifting his arm he sighed as his eyes found the scribbled lyrics on the wall nearby and his thoughts drifted to the very last time either of them had set foot in this room and what had come after.

——

[ Twelve Years Ago ]

“You don’t hafta do this y’know. The old man kicked me out, not you,” Klaus exclaimed as [y/n] ambled next to him, her bag of belongings slung over her shoulder, while he dragged his behind him.

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed, “stick around that hellhole without you? No, thank you. You obviously don’t know me as well as you think you do,” she exclaimed, nudging him with her shoulder as he leaned into her.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, my lovely partner in crime,” Klaus announced, pausing to reach into his jacket pocket, “because check what I nicked before we left,” he exclaimed, holding out the rather valuable trinkets he’d taken from the living room cabinet.

“And what’re you gunna do with those? [y/n] asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Pawn them, duh,” he exclaimed, dropping the valuables back in his pocket and slinging his arm around [y/n]’s shoulder.

The money they got from their ill gotten gains was enough to pay for an upscale motel room for a couple nights -- long enough to figure out what to do from there, as well as a small baggie of pills Klaus carefully tucked into his jacket pocket.

“Ooh, swanky,” Klaus exclaimed as he pushed open the door to their room, and stepping inside, turned to make a flourish as he pulled [y/n] in after him.

“My dear, welcome to our palace! Well, for the next five days, at least.”

[y/n]’s laughter warmed him and he grinned as he followed her in further, flopping down on the bed next to her as he bounced on it lightly where she sat.

“Hey, at least it’s comfortable,” she exclaimed, flopping back as well before turning her face to him. “Now what d’you wanna do?”

“Order some take out, I’m starving,” Klaus replied, his stomach growling pointedly.

A couple hours later, empty takeout containers littered the dresser and nightstand while [y/n] and Klaus watched tv in a heap, content and comfortable.

“Hey [y/n],” Klaus murmured suddenly, catching her attention and she turned to him, propping her chin in her hand.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I’m glad you’re here with me,” he admitted, reaching out to take her hand and she smiled.

“Me too. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” she murmured, threading her fingers with his.

For a long moment they merely stared at each other, Klaus’s pulse pounding in his ears as he wet his lips. She was so close, all he had to do was lean in…

“Klaus,” [y/n] whispered, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Yeah?” he breathed, not daring to move.

“D’you wanna make out?” she asked, her lips curling impishly, drawing a grin to his face as well.

“You read my mind, sweetheart,” Klaus exclaimed, and before he knew it she was kissing him, her hands balled in his shirt, pulling him closer and he obliged, rolling atop her as his lips moved insistently against hers.

Acting on instinct, he drew his knee up between her legs as he hovered over her and she moaned into his mouth as she ground against his thigh, her tongue darting out to meet his in a somewhat sloppy dance.

Each time [y/n] writhed against him, Klaus could feel the crotch of his jeans grow tighter and he groaned, [y/n]’s soft moans in his ears certainly not helping matters.

“[y/n],” he murmured, pulling back to catch his breath, his voice husky.

“Hmm?” she hummed, shifting under him as she plucked at his shirt.

“Do you wanna, oh, I dunno…” Klaus trailed off, suddenly feeling foolish.

“Do I wanna… what?” she replied softly, biting her lip as she gazed up at him knowingly, clearly wanting him to say it.

“Nah, you wouldn’t want to,” he mused teasingly, a mischievous smirk tugging at his swollen lips at the pout that flashed across [y/n]’s face.

“Klaus!” she huffed, slipping her hands up under his shirt to run up his chest, sending a fresh wave of arousal through him.

“Oh, alright,” he relented, grinning hesitantly, “d’you wanna fool around?” he asked, holding his breath.

“I thought you’d never ask,” [y/n] breathed and Klaus groaned, half sitting up to help her push his shirt up over his head before his lips once more crashed against hers with a fresh sense of urgency. As their tongues warred, hands groped, searching for flesh and tearing at clothes until they’d both undressed, [y/n] laid blessedly bare before him.

Klaus paused, letting his gaze roam over her, taking a moment to really see her, memorizing her every curve and swell. He’d never seen her like this before, completely unclothed, and now that he had, he wished she never had to dress again.

“What?” [y/n] asked, flushing as she noticed him staring, attempting to cover herself with her arms, but he caught her wrists, lifting them so he could see her unhindered.

“No, don’t hide,” he murmured, awe coating his words and [y/n] turned her face to the side in embarrassment.

“Klaus!”

“What?” he asked, gently nudging her chin back toward him. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, catching her eyes. “It’s a shame to cover this work of art!” he exclaimed, slowly running his hands down her warm skin, wanting to feel every inch of her.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she arched into his touch and he didn’t fail to notice the appraising way her half lidded eyes traversed his body in turn, causing him to blush this time.

His physique had never really been something he’d been proud of, thinking himself rather tall and gangly growing up, but the way [y/n] looked at him… he felt desirable.

“So, we gunna do this or what?” [y/n] asked, sighing as Klaus leant forward to kiss her again.

“Hell yeah,” he replied with a smirk, his hand trailing southward, to slip between her thighs, his fingers brushing her sex as she gasped.

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he exclaimed with a groan, his cock twitching at just the thought of being buried in those slick folds soon enough.

“Wait!” [y/n] gasped, her eyes snapping open as if she’d just remembered something.

“What? Something wrong?” he asked, worry clutching him that maybe she’d changed her mind already.

“No!” she exclaimed quickly, noticing the panic on his face. “Just, uh… do you have a condom?” she asked.

Fuck. Klaus’s dark limned eyes widened in horror, his mouth falling open. “I don’t…” he admitted. Was he really gunna get this far only to be cockblocked by his lack of condoms?

[y/n]’s laughter tore him out of his thoughts and he gaped at her. “What the fuck’s so funny?” he yelped, his lips drawing into a pout which only made her laugh harder.

Pushing herself up, she placed a peck to his stunned lips -- wait, was she leaving?! Reaching over the side of the bed, she grabbed her bag and began rummaging through it.

“What’re you doing?” he demanded weakly, confused, until [y/n] straightened, a small foil packet between her fingers.

“Getting this,” she answered, flashing him a smirk.

“Why do you have a condom?” Klaus exclaimed, his brows drawing down as [y/n] giggled, patting his cheek.

“Because I had a feeling this would happen.”

“Wait, how long have you had that? And how many do you have?” he asked incredulously, watching her eyes dart away.

“Does it matter?” she countered, but Klaus wasn’t ready to let this drop, crawling closer to where she knelt, pulling her into his arms. “Just how long have you been thinking about jumping my bones, huh?” he pressed, amusement filling him at the evasive look in her eyes and the way her cheeks warmed.

“Klaus,” she groaned.

“No, I’m curious,” he exclaimed with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers.

“A while, okay?” she mumbled, “and I may have bought a whole… box of them.”

“Oooooh,” Klaus exclaimed, laughter tinging his voice as he eased her to her back, plucking the condom wrapper from her hand as he stole a deep kiss. “What would I do without you, my dear?” he exclaimed with a wink as he straightened.

Fumbling with the wrapper, his tongue peeked out between his teeth in concentration.

“Do you need some help, Klaus?” [y/n] asked, fighting back a smile as she watched him struggle.

“I’ve got it!” he huffed, a little petulantly, which only made [y/n]’s grin grow and she took him by surprise as she sat back up, her hand wrapping round his cock, giving it an experimental stroke and Klaus nearly dropped the condom as the wrapper tore open, an involuntary moan springing from his lips.

“Holy fuck,” he gasped feebly.

Giggling softly, [y/n] grabbed the condom, biting her lip as she pinched the end and slowly rolled the sides down his cock til he was covered.

“There, now you’re good to go,” she murmured with a smirk as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down atop her.

In this position -- [y/n] naked below him, his cock wrapped in a condom, hovering at her entrance, it finally hit him what was about to happen and a wave of nerves washed over him. What if he was bad? What if he hurt her? What if this changed things between them forever?

“A-are you ready?” he asked, noticing the apprehension radiating from her as well, but when his eyes found hers she nodded without hesitation.

“I’m ready. I want this. I want you,” she said, her voice firmer than his had been.

“Okay, well here we go then,” he exclaimed with a nervous laugh, his cock slipping as he tried to press into her, forcing him to reach between them and guide his overeager cock to her slick folds, his heart leaping into his throat at the way her breath hitched.

“You okay?” he asked, stopping abruptly.

“I’m fine,” she murmured, though she grimaced slightly as he continued to slide into her, the tightness of her walls clenching around him nearly more than he could handle.

“You sure?” Klaus pressed, his voice hoarse, before swallowing.

“Just, go slow,” she whispered, letting out a shuddering breath, her fingers clutching at his forearms.

Klaus nodded, taking a deep breath before moving again, his eyes nearly rolling up into his head at the sensation. He’d never imagined being inside her would feel this good. If he wasn’t careful he’d blow his load before even getting properly started and that was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to make her feel good, to hear her screaming his name as she writhed beneath him, lost in a haze of pleasure he created.

“God, you feel amazing, [y/n],” he gasped, pausing as he finally sheathed her completely, gazing down at her as he hovered somewhat stiffly over her. “You still alright?”

She nodded, her hands sliding up his arms to hold his face, her thumb stroking his cheek as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Fuck me, Klaus. Please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Klaus said incredulously and he began to move. Slowly. Awkwardly. Pulling out too far only to have to guide himself back in haltingly before resuming, thrusting slowly as he watched [y/n]’s face fervently, his heart pounding in his ears, pride filling him with each moan she let slip.

Her sounds egged him on and she began to roll her hips in time, meeting each thrust, his movements strengthening, his pace quickening as confidence filled him, losing himself in his pleasure until he realized with horror that all too soon he was about to come... and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, dropping his face to her neck as he came, his muscles tensing before he reluctantly lifted his face with a grimace.

“Did you just…?” [y/n] asked, frowning slightly and Klaus cleared his throat.

“Uh… yeah,” he admitted sheepishly, noticing the disappointment on her face, though she tried hard to hide it as he pushed himself up, discarding the used condom in the trash can next to the bed. Biting his lip, he thought quickly, wanting to salvage the situation. Things had not gone how he wanted at all and he didn’t want to leave [y/n] hanging for their first time.

Before she could sit up, Klaus turned back to her, holding her down as a thought came to him, his gaze roaming her body.

“Klaus?” she asked, confusion lacing her voice though hope flashed across her face for a moment.

“Oh no you don’t,” he chastised lightly, parting her legs and positioning himself between them. “Did you really think I wasn’t gunna make sure you came too?” he asked, bringing an embarrassed grin to her lips and she covered her face with her hands.

“Yeah, no way, [y/n],” he exclaimed, teasing her folds with his fingers as he leaned over to plant a trail of kisses down her chest, taking the time now to memorize her body with his mouth, unsure if he was doing it right, but doing what felt good.

The supple feel of her warm flesh beneath his lips was nice, but the sounds she made as he neared his destination were enough to send arousal coursing through him again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be good to go again soon, but first... there’s something I wanna try,” he mused against her skin, a nervous flutter filling his stomach at the thought of what he was about to do, hoping he’d be better at it than his first attempt at sex.

When his lips brushed against her sex she gasped, the sound sending a shiver through him and when his tongue hesitantly swiped up her folds to her clit she tensed beneath him, her hands clenching in the sheets.

“Fuck, Klaus--!” she moaned, her hips rolling against his face and he grinned at her response.

Fuck, but she tasted so good. He’d never imagined that something could taste this heavenly.

Lapping eagerly, Klaus took his guide from her, trying several approaches before finding what she seemed to like, refocusing his efforts there til she was squirming beneath him, her hands moving from the sheets to bury in his short unruly curls.

His jaw was starting to tire, but he could tell she was close and he’d be damned if he gave up before finishing her, wanting desperately to watch her come undone, her moans alone driving him crazy. Pausing for a moment to catch his breath Klaus dove back in, spreading her folds with one hands as he reached up her body to grope her breast roughly as he practically buried his face in her cunt, lapping broad unrelenting strokes against her clit as her cries grew louder, his cock growing hard again as he ground his hips against the bedding below him.

“Klaus, I’m--!” she didn’t even get the words out before she threw her head back with a high pitched whine, her whole body arching off the bed, pressing her cunt harder against his mouth, but he didn’t stop until she finally went limp beneath him, wanting to make sure she’d came.

Lifting his head, his face coated with her slick he met her gaze as she looked down at him, reaching for him, and Klaus quickly crawled back up to her, wiping his lips and chin with the back of his hand before laying next to her and pulling her into his arms.

“Klaus, that was…” she murmured, taking a deep breath as her eyes fluttered shut, her forehead pressing to his, “that was fucking amazing.”

“You like that?” he asked, pride filling him.

“I really like that,” she answered, grinning up at him.

“Good,” he replied, squeezing her tighter. “I didn’t completely fail.”

“Hey now,” she murmured, holding his face tightly between her hands. “Don’t say that.”

“But--” he yelped, quickly quieting under her stern look.

“From what I can feel, you’re gunna be good to go again soon,” she pointed out, rubbing her thigh against his hardening cock and he flushed. “Did it turn you on that much to eat me out?” she asked and Klaus quieted her with a kiss.

“Maybe,” he admitted, clearing his throat. “But you’re right, I’ll be good to go again very soon, as long as you wanna give it another go?” he asked hesitantly.

“I do have a whole box of condoms,” [y/n] mused, raising her eyebrows as she regarded him, a grin playing at her lips.

“You do, don’t you,” Klaus agreed, smirking in turn. “And we have this motel room for the next few days,” he pointed out, to which she nodded. “I bet by the time we check out, we’ll be really good at this.”

[y/n] laughed, letting Klaus roll her to her back again, sighing as he plied her with kisses.

——

Opening his eyes, Klaus groaned, pushing himself up off his childhood bed with a grimace. Now that [y/n] was definitely on his mind, he needed more than ever to find something to help dull those thoughts. Shoving his hands in his coat pockets he rummaged through them, hoping there was at least one pill left.

Finding none, he pushed himself up completely before ambling to the door and peering down the hall both ways.

Maybe he could find something else to pawn.

Heading in the direction of Five’s old room, he set to work scouring every nook and cranny for something, anything valuable -- needing just a little cash to chase a high. Little did he know that the woman he was so desperately trying to get off his mind was about to catch him in the act, rendering any hope of escape completely useless.

But really, he’d be lying if that wasn’t exactly what he wanted.

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Klaus Tag List: @magic-multicolored-miracle @midnightseance @etherealsxnder @iamsexytrash @orions-nebula @unlistedpond @remibarnes22 @slutforrobbiebro

#tua #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves smut #prompt request #i wish you would write a fic where...#anonymous #my writing #PwFverse

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bcbdrums · 3 years ago

Text

What Happens In Vegas

A/N: A silly little gift fic for split-n-splice, partially inspired by this amazing art and also inspired by my imaginings of things she's teased are to come in her outstanding fanfiction, The Company You Keep.

Do view her art, do read her fic... Laugh at my nonsense if you so choose.

Read on: FFn AO3

Mature rated fic, you have been warned.

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

Drakken was lying on his back when he woke up to a severe throbbing at the front of his skull. As he opened his eyes to a powerful light, the pain spread like claws out across the rest of his head, and after covering his face with both forearms to block out the blinding brilliance, he realized its source was a ceiling light.

The next thing he became aware of was a very soft yet definitely solid something under his knees, keeping them elevated. And then a tight pain in his feet.

A guttural groan escaped his lips as he pushed himself upright, and he almost fell again as he wiped the drool from the side of his face.

'What happened...?'

His vision was swimming, and through the fog he saw waves of pale green on either side of his knees, surrounded by white and pale pink. His fingers gripped the fabric of what he realized were bed sheets, and before his vision cleared, as he stared at his bare blue legs and came to the realization that the rest of him was bare too, he suddenly knew just what—or rather, who—the soft green mass beneath him was.

"Shego?" he whispered fearfully.

He didn't want to jump to conclusions about what had happened, as his clearing vision began to reveal a spartan motel room surrounding them, but it seemed...like it was a fair assumption to make.

He shifted and felt the tight pain in his feet again, and his brow furrowed as he looked down and saw a familiar pair of black high heels on his feet that most definitely were not his. As he reached to pull them off with a grimace, a glinting of gold caught his eye and his eyes widened as he thrust his hand up to only inches from his nose, squinting at the metal band on the fourth finger of his left hand.

'How...?'

"Ungh..."

The groan from the figure face down on the bed showed his whisper hadn't been soft enough. But he was glad she was waking up, in hopes she might be able to provide answers, and not the ones his mind was insistent on hammering into his aching skull, now with images. A panicked confusion arrested his mind as he realized the images weren't mere groggy fantasies, but memories.

"Shego?" he said a bit more loudly.

Her hands flew to cover her ears as her body began to twist beneath his legs, and then she held her head as if in pain as another groan escaped her.

"What...? My head..."

She started to push upright and Drakken hurriedly removed his legs from her back. This action seemed to startle her to attention, and she sat bolt upright, eyes wide and blinking around them in confusion and fright.

"What? What hap— Dr. D.?"

He watched as she took in the room in mere moments, his nude form afterward, and then herself. Drakken snatched the only pillow left on the bed to cover himself, and then felt guilty as his eyes strayed lower than her face. It was all coming back to him. And he knew that every possible repercussion from what they had done involved him experiencing pain in some way.

What he hadn't expected, however, was for Shego to burst into tears.

"Sh...Shego?" he asked in confusion and concern as she buried her face in her hands, not even bothering to cover herself. His vision clearing at last, he glanced past her at the small purple pharmacy-type box on the nightstand with its colorful promises, and then at the mess on the floor.

The other pillows were everywhere, along with a blanket, their clothes, numerous empty and still sealed bottles of alcohol, and...a scattering of too many wrappers and used condoms.

Drakken swallowed as more and more images flooded back to his mind and tried desperately to calm his panic. He shifted closer to her and felt the tight pain again, and with a scowl he pulled her high heeled shoes off his feet and pushed them aside.

"Shego..." Drakken said again, this time his voice coming out choked and pained. He realized then his throat was hoarse. "Shego I'm sorry..."

Shego wiped her nose twice with the back of her hands, but her eyes remained closed as her bawling grew louder. Drakken glanced at where they sat and after a moment, tentatively tossed the sheet over her lap for a hint of modesty.

"I don't...I don't remember exactly how it started..." he continued, desperation beginning to take over as she wouldn't even acknowledge him. "I remember we were at the casino, and we were drinking... You ordered us two more shots after I'd said it was enough... But Shego please, please know...if I had thought for one instant you didn't want... That this wasn't... I know we were drunk, but you...you took us to the gift shop, and bought that box... You said you couldn't wait and so we got this room... I know I wasn't thinking straight but...but you wanted..."

Drakken trailed off as he wondered if Shego was even hearing him, her sobs continuing unfettered.

"I...I thought you... I know I was very drunk, but I'm...v-very...positive...that this was all your idea... And Shego it would have never, ever entered my mind to... Had I been sober I would have never dreamed of... Shego? Wh-Why aren't you saying anything?"

Drakken had expected rage, green flames, and a verbal assault at the very least. Not the endless streams of crocodile tears that kept falling down her face. Her hands remained uselessly in her lap as her shoulders shook with sobs, and glancing around, Drakken spotted a tissue box that had just avoiding falling off the nightstand—the lamp hadn't.

He leaned over and grabbed a few, and when he pushed them into her hands it startled her. She blinked down at them, and then up at him, her expression unreadable. Drakken bit his lip then as he cautiously reached over her shoulders and pulled her hair to her front to give her more modesty. Shego looked down at this, sniffled once, and then exploded into further sobs.

The panicked confusion continued to race across Drakken's nerves as he watched her cry, a response like nothing he'd ever seen out of his partner in crime save when under the influence of the Moodulator. And even that hadn't been this bad.

"Shego, I... I..."

Drakken finally hung his head with a heavy sigh. If she was so upset to not even...unleash her fury, he knew it was far too great a crime to forgive.

"I'm sorry, Shego," he said quietly, fidgeting lightly with the edge of the pillowcase. "You can...consider your contract fulfilled, and...you can have anything you want in severance. I... I'm so sorry."

He started to shift away from her, thinking to give her some privacy until she was ready to either unleash her fury or apparently leave him without so much as that. He wasn't prepared for her suddenly seizing his arm, and his breath caught. It was about to happen.

"I can't remember any of it," were the words that came from Shego's lips, choked and thick.

Drakken blinked in confusion. "What?"

"I've been trying..." Shego forced out through sobs, "to get you into bed...for two years... And it finally happened—"

Her eyes opened at last and glanced sideways into the room.

"Several times..."

Drakken followed her gaze and he bit his cheek in nervous confusion as he looked at the used condoms.

"And I can't remember any of it!"

Drakken relaxed, shifting nearer to her as she continued to cry, albeit less loudly, finally making use of the tissues he had offered. Once they were spent he hurriedly placed the box in front of her, and she took out another.

"Wait, Shego, you...you...wanted...to get me into bed?" Drakken finally asked, shaking his head in confusion—which he regretted instantly for the hangover.

"Mr. Can't Read Signals when they're literally right in front of his face," Shego grumbled.

"What signals?" he asked, still reeling from the idea that Shego was actually interested.

"All the flirting," Shego said plainly, her tears beginning to still.

"What flirting...?"

Shego looked up and narrowed her reddened eyes on him. "Are you really that dense?"

"Shego, what flirting!?" Drakken said, racking his brain for any time outside of her absurd behavior while under the influence of the Moodulator, either before or after given the time frame she indicated, that could have been considered flirting.

Shego scoffed. "You mean you didn't notice me leaning up into your space, getting so close I could blow on your ear, or putting my chest right at your eye level while you worked?"

Drakken had a flash of memory of times when Shego would suddenly be in front of him, blocking his view of what he was working on, or leaning between him and his tools, or whispering about nothing so close to him that he couldn't concentrate.

He blinked at her several times in succession as he realized...she was serious.

"...What?" Shego said, wiping her nose again and then hugging herself.

"I thought you were trying to annoy me," Drakken said.

"...What!?"

"I didn't know you were flirting! It...didn't come across that way," Drakken said, trailing off at the end as he saw the flashing of green eyes across from him.

Shego screamed. She threw her hands up in the air for a moment and then let them fall at her sides, seemingly finally spent of tears as she blinked at nothing on the bed sheets.

"Shego...why?" Drakken asked.

Shego began gathering the sheet up around herself to wear as a toga.

"Well if it isn't obvious now, blue bonehead, I have a major crush on you. But since the feeling isn't mutual I guess I'll just stop making a fool of myself and—"

Drakken's hand on her arm halted her words at the same time a gasped 'no' left his lips.

"Let me go!"

"Shego."

"This is humiliating enough," she said, struggling against his grip.

"Shego. Look at what happened."

Drakken gestured broadly to the mess of the room, and Shego followed his gaze. She blinked several times as she took in what to him was a very embarrassing scene, the room looking as if it had been trashed by a group of rowdy party-goers and not just defiled by a drunken couple in lust. Or...could it be more?

"Wh-What on earth made you think it wasn't mutual?" Drakken continued, his voice a mixture of nervous, embarrassed, and annoyed. "I've spent four years trying to hide my feelings for you."

"What?" Shego asked, her eyes snapping back to his.

Drakken looked down. "Yes, well... It wouldn't be appropriate, a boss and an employee..."

"Four years?" she said incredulously.

"Sorry," Drakken said, keeping his eyes on his slightly swollen feet.

It was quiet. And then, "Hmmm..."

Drakken looked up at Shego's thoughtful, almost playful tone.

"What?"

"Wouldn't be appropriate, you say?" Her tell-tale smirk was starting to return.

"No..." Drakken said, finding his mouth suddenly dry.

Shego grinned. "I quit."

"What!?"

"How many rubbers came in that box?"

Drakken blinked rapidly, his mind processing her intent so fast that he'd pounced on the purple box on the nightstand and was yanking its contents out onto the bed before he could realize he'd nearly knocked her down in the process.

"There's three left," he said, peering into the empty box as if more would somehow materialize at his will.

"Then put some clothes on and go buy some more," Shego said decisively.

"What, why?" Drakken asked in annoyance.

"Well I count nine all over this room," Shego said. Drakken's face flushed. "Since I can't remember any of that, we're going to have to make up for it all before we leave."

Shego scooped up Drakken's boxers from the floor by the bedside and tossed them at him.

Drakken grinned as he shimmied into them. As he did so, the light glinted off the gold of his ring, and he glanced over at Shego as she began tossing more of his clothes at him. A matching band adorned her slimmer finger. Drakken looked around, and for the first time he noticed the half-folded piece of paper stuck out of the drawer of the nightstand. His brow twisted with nerves but it couldn't stop his smile growing.

"I guess...this is a good time to point out we got married?" Drakken said.

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woahitslucyylu · 4 years ago

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Erik ‘Killmonger’ Stevens

Author’s Notes: A few days late, but here it is. I write my alphabets as if I am talking to my frands (which I am), so enjoy it, loves!

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A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Don’t expect much if it’s casual - you knew what it was when he was two fingers deep in the Uber. He will be polite, cordial, and a decent host, but don’t expect to lay up. He will absolutely ask you for your number, because he loves options, and is generous to his friends - passing along recommendations of girls worth remembering, buttttttttt, frand, if he loves you…

You. Are. A. Motherfucking. Princess.

He will shower you with cum and cuddles and then leave you to soak in the jacuzzi tub while he rubs your shoulders. He’s a Daddy, so he’s going to take care of you in all aspects after an intense session.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Erik’s favorite body part is his face. His smirk is predatory. A glinting gold-fanged smile leaves a lasting impression.

On his partner, he loves thick - here, there, and everywhere. Big boobs, fat ass, thick thighs - love, love, love; whether it is one or all. Erik is a hunk - muscles for days, and he will easily handle allllll you have to offer.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Anywhere you let him?

He’s a freak, so it’s been all over your body. His favorites though are in you and your face. He is really into ownership and dominance, and when he has you in the most vulnerable positions, that’s when he gets off the most.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He lost his virginity late - 17, a week before his senior year of high school started. A girl three blocks down from the corner store in his hood. She stayed with her grandma and he had to sneak in through the window. He didn’t start fucking until college and well, those scars are from killing pussies too. Meme

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s for the streets, unless you’re the real deal. Erik is incredibly loyal, because he expects it from you - a true ride or die. If he’s not in a relationship though, well, he’s running trains.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Back shots are his go-to. Watching your ass bounce against his chiseled hips, your lips stretching over him as he glistens from you will have his eyes hooded as he grips your hair reminding you to be a good girl.

Sliding behind you while you do your make-up, hair in a bonnet leaves you late at least twice a week. He presses his dick into your ass as his hands cup your breasts through your chenille robe.

“Just the tip, ma. Just let me feel you.” Pro-tip: It’s never just the tip.

But, even Kill needs intimacy from his girl though, sooo…

If your Baby Girl, he will slow stroke you so deep with your legs draped over his shoulders as he says you look so pretty taking your dick. The pad of his thumb pressed against your throbbing nub. He will bury his face in your neck - nipping your tender skin and burying himself in you.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Erik finds humor in your proverbial suffering, when you’re whining and whimpering for more or for a break, but he isn’t cracking jokes and dropping one liners.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s groomed and he smells like a man. I get Dior Sauvage vibes from him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

This is a privilege, but if you’re lucky enough, you’re spoiled. Candles lit, flowers, soft sheets, expensive lingerie - making love is an art for him. He will degrade you in the most loving way as he lets you cum first, second, and third. Your pleasure and your worth make him feel like a man. Loving you correctly is a source of pride for him, and that means you are emotionally taken care of, even in the nastiest scene.

J = Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

When you first teased at a FaceTime show, you didn’t know you’d love it so much. Watching Erik left you so overwhelmed, you came hard - moaning his name as you pushed the toy in and out. He loves when you initiate. Knowing you want him validates him and indulging you is something he enjoys doing, so when he’s away for business, he treats you to the shows.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Sex is Erik’s kink. There is very little he doesn’t enjoy in the pursuit of pleasure. Not surprisingly, kinky Kill is reserved for his girl only. It’s a privilege to be tied up in his bed as his heavy hands run over your body, whispering the filthiest thoughts. It’s a privilege to role play in the bar on a spur-of-the-moment trip to New York with a blonde wig and end up bent of the bathroom sink as the game melts into real fucking. It’s a PRIVILEGE to have his submission - the times when he sinks on the bed, calling you with a finger, and he begs you to ride him leave you with heart eyes as you sink onto him, getting drunk on his moans as your ass bounces against his thighs.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Erik is a sucker for baecation sex.

Your melanated skin sparkles in the sun as you lay topless in the southern Pacific sun. The ocean breaks gently against the private dock and the soft R&B lulls your eyes shut behind your large sunglasses. Erik leaned against the door frame, watching your curves against the aquamarine seascape and his dick throbbed. He finished the rum - the sweet liquid icing his throat as he swallowed thickly and padded to your lounged body. His dick rested heavy against his thigh, already hard under his swim trunks, as his hulking frame shadowed you.

“Babe, what are you doing?” You raised your glasses and squinted in the bright sun - a wide smile on your face. He dropped between your knees - your legs falling open to accommodate him as his fingers danced over your warm skin. Your breath caught as the pad of his thumb brushed over your nipple - raising it under his touch, “Oh, so we’re doing that?” You mocked as he lifted your leg over his shoulder, his breath warm against your now-wet bikini bottoms.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Erik’s motivation in life is to dominate, and in the bedroom, that’s no different. He wants to own you in every sense of the word, and vice versa - he wants to be owned by you.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Cleanliness is next to godliness, so anything that is actually dirty, Erik is not into. On another note, disloyalty, shadiness, or any evidence of fuckery really just piss him off.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Not all pussy gets eaten, and that’s just really how it is, but for you, giving head is Erik’s solution to most problems and you don’t hate it. Bad day at work? Need attention? Broke a nail? All of it can be solved with his mouth. He loses his breath at the sight of your sticky lips and swollen clit as he brushes his nose against your folds before licking, sucking, and kissing all the places that make your pussy cry with joy.

Overpowering Erik’s dominance is rare, but you on your knees will make him relax and watch as you take him down your throat, gagging and slurping, as your tongue slides over each vein, swirling his mushroomed tip against your full lips. His hand will fist your hair, holding you still, as he thrusts into your throat - saliva dripping as you moan against him. The vibration leaves his dick throbbing as he lets you swallow, greedily enjoying your prize, hard earned from Daddy.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

There’s a time and place for it all and Erik reads the room.

You’ve been acting out, talking shit in front of his friends, kissing your teeth, and stomping through with a bratty attitude, and the only remedy for you is arched on the bed as his heavy hand lands hard on your ass and thighs. The cracking sound of your skin echoes through the room as you count in a weak voice - wetness pooling between your thighs, as he spreads your cheeks. “You just fucking up, so Daddy can fuck you up? Hmm?” He questions as he pushes into you. His question answered with a string of curses sprinkled with moans. “Don’t got shit to say now that I’m deep in my pussy, huh?” He fists your hair, holding you against the comforter, “If you wanted a little dick, just say it, ma.” His chuckle is sinful as his hips snap against you making you forget why you ever had an attitude in the first place.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

If Erik wants you, he will have you. Periodt.

The same, however, also goes for you, and the moments when you just. can’t. wait. leave Erik bustin’ earlier than he wants.

As Erik reached for the door, the locks snapped, leaving the door shut as he tossed you a side glance. This was the fourth stop of the night and your eyes were glassy from liqour as Erik shuffled you between kickbacks. “Come here,” Your hands reached for him, sliding down his t-shirt, resting on his crotch. “Just let me touch it, daddy.” You stretched the syllables as you pulled at his belt, urging it lower. “Come on, no one can see.” His hips rose, jeans sliding down as you pulled him from his boxers. “I just want a little bit.” Your hand jerked him slowly as you slid over him - your thick thighs pressing against the console and the door. He pulled his bottom lip through his teeth - his golds glittering - as you sank slowly onto him. “Just a little bit? You taking the whole thing,” His shirt was pulled under his chin as he watched his dick disappear into you with each rock. “It’s mine. I can take it all.” Your head lazed as Erik’s powerful thrusts took over and your soft moans filled the car.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Erik’s whole life is a risk, sex isn’t any different. Threesomes, orgies, tying people up, being tied up - all of it can find a place in his life.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Realistically, he can go two-three times in a row. During a day, you could give it five or six times if you really wanted it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Toys aren’t for children and Erik uses them to his advantage. Plugs, vibrators, ties, restraints, lube - all in the drawer beside the bed waiting to be chosen to work your body into a puddle.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Before Erik, you never knew the beauty and power in a delayed release, and with Erik as a teacher, you learned the lessons of edging quite well. He’s a general tease - the build up is half the fun, and unless you’re being punished, he always delivers for you.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Erik is nasty and his words alone leave you dripping. His dirty talk is another level of freak, and he leaves you speechless when he says things like…

“Is this my pussy, ma?”

“Your shit drippin’ all over me.”

“Where did you learn to suck dick like this, baby girl?”

“Come on, give me my nut.”

“This tight pussy all mine.”

“Daddy knows the spot, ma.”

The filth that falls from his beautiful mouth leaves you begging for more, but the only thing that matters to you are his moans - hard earned and coveted from being a good girl. The throaty sounds that escape as he bottoms out or you squeeze him gently leave you panting and craving more.

Your acrylic nails raked over his scars - a sharp hiss escaping his mouth - as he pulled your leg over his hip, deepening his thrust. A flex of your walls shut his eyes - a guttural moan slipping out as he stilled himself above you. Your eyes drank in the heavenly sight above you. Loose dreads hung over his face, his lip caught between his teeth - his amber eyes glazed, “Quit playing, baby.” It was barely a whisper as he pulled back, slowly inching from you, when you squeezed him again and another moan echoed through the room.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Intimacy, for Erik, comes in the form of non-sexual activities. Almost anyone can get the dick, but not everyone gets their hand held at the Farmer’s Market while he shops trendy black-owned farms for fresh vegetables, not everyone gets to drive him to urgent care when he chilled with a fever, and not everyone gets the privilege of cleaning on Saturday mornings with 70s funk narrating the choice to use Fabuloso or Pine Sol.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

8-9 inches

Thick

Curved

It bounces when he walks

And it smells good.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He enjoys sex and it keeps him even. He wants you all the time. Of course, there’s real life responsibilities, but in the house, if he wants you, he will take you.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This is assuming he only has sex at night or in a bed, but generally, he sleeps when he wants to and that includes after sex too.

188 notes · View notes

love-n-pirates · 4 years ago

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The Harm of Accusing DNF of Queerbaiting + Ignoring The Issue

I like to keep the stuff on this blog lighthearted and jokey and I like to just reblog art but I did wanna make another post about the kaceytron issue but specifically the accusations of queerbaiting. This is gonna be a long post so sorry about that but this stream made me really mad and I’ve put a lot of time into gathering my thoughts and reviewing the VOD again to ensure my citations and interpretations are accurate.

TW for mentions of homophobia and ableism and please remember no matter how mad this might make you as well. Don’t send any hate. Best thing to do is unfollow, block and move on, she’s already had enough of a stage to perform on.

I’ve sectioned the post into summary and thoughts with pictures in case you only want to briefly look but I tried to be cohesive enough without going on too long so hopefully you’ll give the whole thing a read. Particularly a part I wrote at the end about her using Dream as a scapegoat (titled such) I just think it’s important to keep in mind. I watched this shit a second time so you don’t have to! It wrecked my head but I’m unhappy with how they spoke about queerbaiting, which is a serious issue in media, and wanted to talk openly about it here.

At first I did feel bad for her and thought that some of it was blown out of proportion, things that she could learn and grow from but ultimately she showed no remorse and after how she handled speaking with Dream and the immature nature of the whole ordeal I can’t feel entirely awful for her anymore.

This is the tweet that started it all. Kacey is in a very similar circle to Dream and George so it makes sense that Dream stans would find it. Ignoring the sort of humour behind the fact that so many assumed it was about them, it is a shitty tweet and seems kind of irrelevant. Ironically enough, she was getting called out moments later as stans brought up prior racist, ableist and homophobic issues with Kacey. Cancelled for a little more than breathing it seems.

One thing I wish had been asked from the get go was “Who is this tweet supposed to be about?” Kacey said it wasn’t even about them and that people were assuming incorrectly. She could’ve saved herself from the wrath of all the mc stans that came her way if she just said who it was really about. But she didn’t, which indicates to me that it definitely was about them. Not a great statement to make as a cishet woman, unprompted, especially when your influence often intertwines with theirs and when you share mutuals.

I did speak about queerbaiting before in reference to George just a couple posts down but it's blown up massively recently and I wanted to get detailed in a more general sense while using this event as a sort of case study.

For clarification I am a queer woman so I've had my fair run ins with queerbaity content etc. This is gonna be a detailed rundown of what was said with my own thoughts on it and some time stamps are included if you feel the need to see for yourself.

TL;DR

Dream and George are not the malicious straight boys they’re being made out to be. Saying they’re Queerbaiting is a disregard for their own emotional autonomy and they have been open with the fact they do not date nor do they use it for views. This argument is being used to shift focus from the important conversation which is Kaceytron’s use of slurs and arose from a stream that was made about Dream and forced him to be involved. She’s doing it for attention and should be ignored.

WHAT IS QUEERBAITING?

First of all, queer baiting is defined as "a marketing technique for fiction and entertainment in which creators hint at, but then do not actually depict, same-sex romance or other LGBTQ representation."

Technically twitch streams do fall under entertainment although I would argue that there is a certain nuance to this. We know that streamers often put on a certain persona when streaming (Tommy and Quackity are very loud in their own streams because that's their brand, then on their alts they are very laidback) but I would say that Dream and George are two streamers that are often just themselves while streaming. Particularly when they are together, it makes sense that a stream has a change in vibe when the cc is talking with a friend rather than focusing on talking to chat. Since these two usually only stream when they're with friends, we tend to see a more authentic side. We very much feel that they are real people showing their casual side. Their streams do not feel performative, this is part of their appeal.

Don’t forget that Kacey, a cishet woman, puts her streams under the LGBTQIA+ tag on Twitch. A tag only usually used if the streamer is LGBT.

SUMMARY OF EVENTS IN THE STREAM

Now, the stream. During the stream Kacey had her sister and two friends(both gay men, important for a later point) to back her up. Dream joined at about 3hr and 55 mins and already there was a distinct power imbalance in Kacey’s favour within the call. They titled it a debate yet it felt more like relentless high school bullying. They spoke for about an hour and the entire time, Kacey’s chat was spamming for her to ask about queerbaiting. Finally, one of her friends, Shaun, brought it up at about the 4hr and 43min mark.

Now, the reason I have a few issues with this is that it seems to me that he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about. You can see on his stream(in the background of Kacey’s) at one point that he has a massive text post from tumblr up that is accusing Dream of queerbaiting, saying that he gets to benefit from maintaining a queer audience but without the issues that come with being a gay man as he prefers to keep it ambiguous. That text post is super problematic, a creator is not there for your wish fulfillment or to be your idol. Also, there is a lot of assumption coming with saying he isn’t ostracized just because he doesn’t label himself. Instantly it’s clear that this post is the basis for the accusations that Shaun is making. I’m using accusation lightly here because over all I think the Shaun guy was very civil, (at least to Dream’s face) but the rest of the group were quite on the attack, particularly Kacey’s sister, Holly. (I’ll come back to her)

Shaun says that he feels that Dream and George, possibly unintentionally, are guilty of queerbaiting. Dream handled it well and said he would like to open that dialogue and asked Shaun to expand on what he means by queerbaiting and if he has any specific events that would be prevalent. Shaun says he has examples that he can pull up, which he never does, and continues to be very vague and general about it in saying that there’s been a “culture” going on for years that he’s noticed.

At this point, the other guy (I didn’t catch his name, sorry) jumps in and says there's a “clear flirtiness in attitude and undertones” which Dream agrees to. He points out that this is how he interacts with most friends, male and female, on the Dream SMP. He also points out that he acts like that with his friends both on and off camera and it’s not like he’s only approaching gay men and flirting with them. It’s clear that this line of joking is a constant in his friendships, where comfortable, and is never malicious. He even asks what their thoughts would be if he only did it with gay men and how that would differ, they don’t answer this question and the conversation moves on.

At the 4hr 46min mark is where Holly jumps in and tells of VERY personal experiences from Shaun’s past of him being tormented by straight guys in school, being called slurs and jokingly flirted with. She even tells a story about how a homophobe hit him with their car. This was very uncomfortable as it was not her experience to share and Shaun was IN THE CALL. She said that Dream’s flirtations with George could be a trigger to people like Shaun because of that experience. This shows again a lack of awareness for other people, she’s using Shaun's personal story for her own gain and not even letting him be the voice that tells it. This sat poorly with me as Kacey was already being accused of speaking over LGBT voices rather than lifting them up with her, then her sister goes and does it live. Maybe Shaun was ok with this, maybe not, it just didn’t sit well with me. At 5hr and 05mins, after Dream is gone, they mention this again and Shaun asks them to point out when he said he was triggered after he talked about his experience. He was clearly uncomfortable with the use of the word and it seems to have been put in his mouth.

Shaun then says that he doesn’t like it because here are Dream and George exhibiting behaviours that some people are often scared to do because of homophobic violence. To me, this was probably one of the only valid sort of feelings against it (Shame he wasn’t let speak more). I understand why someone might look at it that way, but at the same time there is a clear difference between messing with your friends and real life romantic flirtation. In my own personal life I know that I’ve been afraid of any sort of pda with a partner but when it comes to my own joke flirting with friends, I’m never afraid to do it. This can differ from person to person and maybe is very different for gay men but this is my own gay experience as someone who understands that fear. I think that the line is fairly clear between the real and the jokes and I honestly have no doubt that Dream and George have probably had people throw homophobic language their way but it may not have had to same effect as they don’t present themselves as homosexual.

Worth noting that during this exchange Dream does say in passing he’s straight but it’s said in a hypothetical sort of way which leaves it unclear and he’s stated before that he doesn’t like labels and he wants to keep it ambiguous so it would be more respectful to continue thinking of him as such. Ambiguous is the way he chooses to present his sexuality and this should be accepted by everyone instead of making assumptions that he is straight. He was under pressure from four other adults to explain himself and handle accusations, anyone would say they were straight if they were being pushed like that and felt it wasn’t a safe environment. Which it definitely wasn’t and I advise that anyone who does want to watch back the VOD to turn off chat because they’re extremely toxic.

Holly proceeds to say that this makes gay people the butt of the joke, Dream says that he sees it more as the flirting with his friends as the joke, again, I’d agree with him. Depends on your humour I suppose, but arguably, anyone who watches Kacey interact on egirl rejects and stuff like that will see she often makes flirty jokes with Minx and other female friends, for some reason this isn’t seen as queerbaiting, but it’s unfortunately not brought up. I can understand why, Dream wasn’t trying to make any accusations in return, he was legitimately trying to have an earnest conversation which quickly went sour.

Holly goes on to explain how Shaun feels, by speaking over Shaun, and asks Dream what he thinks about that. Dream agrees that Shaun’s feelings are valid and says “That’s why I started this off by saying ‘lets talk about this’“. Holly gets extremely patronizing and asks if he understands it now that it’s been explained.

Dream is still very patient with them and agrees that he’s said things and learnt from mistakes and criticism that he’s received. He speaks honestly about his original cancelling and how he handled it poorly but learnt from that and has grown to be more careful and thoughtful with the things he says.

I have a real issue with this again because words are continuously put in his mouth. He’s asked several times throughout the whole call to denounce things, from people hating on Kacey to actual MASS SHOOTERS. He’s barely given space to defend himself and is ignored when he tries to say that he can’t control his fans. They just ask him time and time again to denounce multiple things.

The only time where Dream seems actually riled up by anything they say is when Holly, at the 4hr 11min mark, mentions the hashtag “Shooters4Dream” trending and says its Dream stans promoting gun violence (which was just a handful of idiots being insensitive under the tag). Dream responds to this with his classic “Oh come on” but before he can say anything else, Kacey does talk over him and says that the tag was mostly people denouncing it and tries to change the subject, but Dream brings it back and says that the tag was stupid and wrong. Holly and Kacey talk about how people were making jokes about it and Holly asks “Is it funny to you? Because your community think it is.” She’s playing such an abrasive blame game with him and he talks about how he spoke against it on twitter, they discount him, and Holly can be seen laughing at him. When Dream tries to explain the issue properly and Kacey just says, “Lets skip this, let's move on.” Dream points out that it is bad that the tag was trending, but he didn’t want to speak about it too much otherwise it would become a bigger thing. Ultimately, he doesn’t control his fans and the meaning of the tag was misconstrued massively. A matter of poor use of language and appalling timing.

Love or Host

Love or Host is brought up a few times as an example of him flirting with George which I found interesting as he’s only been in one episode (George’s) and he was talking mostly to the girls on the show to figure out who is good for George, as that was his role. During this there was joking about how he should come before the girl and even female guests joined this line of joking. This is all part of the show and most played along with the bit, it’s not an uncommon bit for guests on the show to do. Not just Dream and George, but other guests in their respective episodes.

I also find the mentioning of Love or Host interesting purely because, if anything, it’s the exact type of content that Kacey should hate, right? False relationships being formed? It’s not like there’s only straight people on the show as well, there’s been gay and bi love or hosts so queerbaiting, under the parameters which Kaceytron has set, is on the table. I’ve yet to see a real romantic relationship come out of an episode of LoH. This is a show purely for content and Kacey knows this, she’s appeared on multiple shows and even won Sapnap’s episode. She knows their date wasn’t real. Her sister says that many women are afraid to be on LoH because of hate they receive in the aftermath of the show and she claims it’s running its course because of this. I’d have to disagree with this (it’s a super successful show cmon) and, though a lot of people do get hate on the show, I think it’s often outweighed by the benefits they get from that type of exposure which is why people like Kacey continue to appear on multiple episodes.

What I found most interesting was what she said about her appearance on George’s episode. Mostly jokes were made about this costume:

admittedly, it was kind of funny albeit rather creepy. However, if Kacey felt so strongly about Queerbaiting, why would she dress like that. Why wasn’t she a passionate advocate then? Where’d the sudden fire come from? I think we all know the answers to these questions.

In response to people bringing up how she pandered by using this costume, making her a hypocrite, she said that in dressing like that she knew she was appealing to children. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t know many kids that want to sit through a four hour long dating show filled with adults they don’t know and stuff they don’t understand. I don’t think the Austin Show’s demographic contains an awful lot of kids, no matter who the guest on the show is. Also, the point of the show is not to appeal to the audience per se, but to the person whose episode it is. It felt like a weak excuse and another chance to try take a dig at mc stans for being younger and trying to brand them as immature.

INITIAL AFTER THOUGHTS

As I said before, creators do not owe you anything, especially not a window into their personal lives. We’re lucky that Dream shares so much and is a very open person, you don’t need to pry any more than that. When you get upset about him queerbaiting you, what you say to me is that you don’t see him as a person. It’s a level of objectification that leaves me feeling uneasy, if you feel robbed of something because of this then you need to set your priorities straight.

As Dream said in the stream, he hasn’t misled anyone. He has specified that him and George are not dating nor do they plan to (I included a SS at the end of this as well where he states this again). If he were queerbaiting then he would title his videos as though George was his boyfriend, he doesn’t do this. He makes it clear that they are friends, their chemistry is never used as a marketing device or as the main attraction of a video.

Many pointed out the hypocrisy of Kacey’s claims. Some pointing to her own channel where she has a playlist of 16 videos titled “gay videos”

These are just a few of the videos. Within one of these videos, titled “The F Word”, she complains about reclamation of slurs and repeatedly says the r slur. She shows no remorse for saying slurs and this is part of why it’s difficult to forgive her.

I don’t even know what to say about this video. This is extremely offensive, even if the people involved agreed to it, it doesn’t mean it's not offensive to other gay people. This clip features her sister and Shaun, who were on the call, kissing while clearly intoxicated. The narrative that gay people can be ”turned straight” is extremely harmful and is an unfortunate reality that many LGBT people are forced through. In the call with Dream, they mention how maybe some gay people are fine with Dream and George’s flirting but people like Shaun weren’t and so they should be more respectful. When it comes to a video, like the one I’ve shown above, you’d think they would follow the same thought process. This is far more offensive and harmful to the LGBT community than any harmless flirting between friends. The hypocrisy is blatant.

Sometimes streamers are tricked into saying slurs by donos etc. but instead of saying sorry I didn’t mean it and here’s what happened, Kacey tends to jump on the defensive. Dream said to her around when he first joined the call that he understood how difficult her position was because when he was first cancelled he felt like it was very unfair. He told her that even if you don’t think you’re wrong you can’t control how other people feel and you have to acknowledge that. He did mention how he handled his cancelling badly (something he still gets shit for today despite the fact he learnt from his mistakes) and that instead of getting upset about it now, he knows you should just take accountability and move on. Kacey doesn’t register this and goes on about how terrible it is for her.

MISOGYNY AND AGE DEMOGRAPHIC

Part of me wonders if the reason she continues to fight with mc stans is because she knows she can just call them stupid kids and call it a day. This is interesting to me as I think I’ve seen more 15-24 year olds in this group rather than young children. Maybe this is just the content I’m looking through but I actually think that her demographic is more similar to Dream’s than she thinks. It’s just easier to write them off as snot-nosed minecraft playing children. This is a theme she sticks with as she makes half-assed jokes about bedtimes and parents etc. etc. It’s boring.

Also, despite the accusations at Dream, calling him a misogynist, it actually was both Kacey and Holly who came in with the sexist narrative as they go on about how his fans are just teenage white girls. This is a clear double standard as they are trying to use both age and gender to discount the validity of their feelings.

For someone who says she doesn’t care, it sure is interesting that she’s tweeted constantly about it and streamed for hours at a time. The stream with Dream was seven hours long. She blames the fact that she accidently read a slur out on stream on her lack of sleep. As a creator, you should know your limits and when you are and aren’t emotionally ready to be on camera. Kacey clearly does not know her limits and it effects her greatly. On the first watch I skipped forward in the VOD to the six hour mark and found she was still chatting shit about Dream with her sister while playing Roblox.

Ironic that she goes on about stupid minecraft kids while being a 30 y/o woman playing Roblox. Nothing wrong with playing stuff at whatever age but not when you’re ragging on kids for the same thing.

USING THE GAY NARRATIVE

I finally wanted to come back to the use of her two gay friends in the so called “debate”. At 6hr and 08mins she reads out a message in either chat or from twitter.

“Listen up here cishet woman, you are cishet, shut your mouth and do not talk about queerbaiting ever again, ok?”

I don’t think people should bother going to her chat to say this stuff because it only fans the flames and will not change her mind but it’s what she said after that left me thinking that she knew exactly what she was doing when she included two gay men in the narrative on her side. She says

“That’s why there were two gay people on the show who talked about queerbaiting and how it’s offensive to them. Are they trying to speak over gay voices? Like, who are they playing?”

I find it difficult to consider this a valid point as they quite literally spoke over said gay people themselves and as I mentioned, it was pressure from Shaun’s chat that made him bring it up when it was clear he wasn’t educated on the specifics of who he was speaking with. It all felt very false and like a set up to try catch Dream out. They were essentially there for the clout they get for being plants for Kacey as long as they go along with the narrative she was pushing. They seemed dispassionate about the topic and were more interested in drama. It makes them unconvincing debators.

KACEY’S CHAT AND ABLEISM

I could barely look at the chat the whole time because they were very toxic and some even used slurs in there. Kacey claims to have created a safe space for people, particularly LGBTQ people, yet from what I saw, it was only really a safe space for bigotry and toxicity. These are just some screenshots that I took during the call.

Blatant ableism in the first one, maybe they didn’t know about his ADHD, but this was one of many and even Kacey and her sister made fun of it when he was out of the call.

Gaslighting is a serious accusation. The definition is this: “Gaslighting is a form of psychological abuse where a person or group makes someone question their sanity, perception of reality, or memories. People experiencing gaslighting often feel confused, anxious, and unable to trust themselves.”

This does not apply to Kacey; she is not questioning her sanity or being confused. She’s outright denying things. There is no gaslighting going on here, yet the chat was FILLED with it. Bitches will learn a new word like gaslighting and queerbaiting and really use it for everything oof.

Not once did he invalidate the fact that there is misogyny in the community and if anything he has expressly supported female creators very vocally and without being asked to. Writing off anything he says just because he’s a white man is not even an argument; he accepts the privilege he has and has never claimed that others don’t experience issues because of these things. This is not a misogynistic attack, this is a grown woman being asked to own up and apologize for her mistakes.

Chat continued to be extremely toxic towards Dream and even people in game with Kacey made multiple jokes about him. Here’s an example of just one.

It says ”What I wear omw to dream’s court hearing.”

They say a lot of horrible things about him and Holly even makes implications of him being inappropriate with fans which is an extremely serious thing to say and is based in NO truth.

SHIFTING FOCUS

Right before Dream left, they reiterated that they didn’t think he was a bad person because of his “queerbaiting”. This was something repeated many times throughout the talk. The implications of this language use is that Dream should be the one apologizing and that Kacey and her friends somehow were the ones with the power to forgive him. Overall, it was misguided and gross. He shouldn’t have had to be defending himself from four people at once all by himself, especially when the conversation was not supposed to be about him. And to clarify, he did not make it about himself, he started by talking about Kacey and how he had been trying to dm her about her cancelling. It was them that turned it on him to flip it in their favour.

There was an insistence that they were the victims, direct quote from Kacey at 5hr 55min and 40sec Kacey says “I am a victim, I am literally a victim of cancel culture.”

Yes, I think the doxxing is too far and constant hate doesn’t do much but Kacey needs to acknowledge that her words hurt a lot of people and she needs to own up to that.

Even after Dream left, they continued to chat shit about him, with Shaun even saying at about the 5hr 16min mark that he thought Dream had “perfectly scripted” his responses in a way that meant he wouldn’t have to denounce his fans. Of course he won’t talk crap on his fans when they’re the reason he is famous and he knows it’s a minority that ruins it for everyone else, he’s said he doesn’t like people who spread hate calling themselves his stans. The idea that Dream could have prepared a response to the questions and accusations thrown at him from a cast of half high and fully ignorant strangers who are all almost 10 years older than him is ridiculous. He was clearly out of his comfort zone and was a complete curveball for him. This leads me on to the main reason I think Dream was dragged into this.

SCAPEGOAT

If we’re being real, this is a clear attempt to change the subject away from Kacey. Dream is someone who people come for often, whether it’s accusations of cheating or scripting or bringing up past mistakes which he has apologized for and showed that he has grown from. He even said to Kacey that he does get death threats and he’s been doxxed before. He constantly gets in trouble because of the more radical “stans” who are a problem starting minority for the rest. Dream separates himself from those people as best as he can, but he knows himself that he can’t escape that brush he’s been tarred with. Kacey also knows this.

By bringing Dream into the narrative, she’s successfully shifted the focus of the conversation in a way that favours her. That stream conversation should’ve been about Kacey and the things that she has said, instead it was a grilling session from four strangers for Dream. Now people are very focused on that aspect of the whole thing (myself included ofc but this post is specifically about qbaiting accusations so) rather than the important part which is holding her accountable for her use of slurs.

It’s not her first attempt at this as she made a twitter post about how she was no.1 trending despite a mass shooting taking place. Of course this is terrible that that would be higher up but it was an obvious blame passing as this reply points out.

She knows what she’s doing and has shown no sign of stopping. It’s best that she’s not given any more attention now but just try not to watch anymore content with her in it. As I said before, don’t bother with any hate, just block and move on. For a creator complaining about all the “kids” coming for her, she doesn’t act all that much older despite being fully grown at 30 years of age.

CONCLUSION

At 6hr 42min 30sec Kacey mentions that she is number 2 on trending to which her friend replies “Good job Kacey”, she laughs. It’s clear that she does this for attention, her friends are there for clout and they are all irrelevant clowns looking to get a career boost out of creators more successful than them. They don’t stop to consider others’ feelings or empathize towards anyone. Kacey will say herself that she got her start from baiting on 4chan, this is her brand. It’s just unfortunate that she seems to think that she��s doing something just when, in actuality, she is causing a lot of damage to the LGBT community and invalidating many people with her unapologetic use of ableist and racist slurs. Her friends congratulate her because it's obvious it’s the attention she wants, this is why she streams for so long and tweets so much. She hit a far higher viewership on this stream than she normally would. I’m sure this sort of hatred does affect her negatively, whether she notices or not, I hope she gets the help she needs to become a less selfish person and to become more productive with her time.

Remember again to not send hate, just block and move on. I also recommend that you don’t watch this stream but if you are going to then watch a reupload on YT so she doesn’t get money out of it.

I was very uncomfortable after watching the stream, especially with all the false allyship with the LGBT community. People like Kacey act like this to get views whenever they’re losing their following. Just don’t fall for any bait and petty jibes that they throw this way. Don’t let any anger get the better of you and just lets move past it as it can’t be healthy for people like Dream to have to see this on his TL as well, which he will if we keep interacting. Though I do think that for now, it’s pretty much over.

For all the talk of how hateful this community is, I couldn’t disagree more. I’ve found most people very pleasant and the CCs themselves very accepting of all types of people. I’ll leave off with these tweets Dream made at the end of last year. Stay safe folks, be positive and kind to each other! Much love <3

#dreamwastaken #kaceytron #georgenotfound

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eggtoasties · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro drabbles #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kuroo imagine #kuroo fanfic #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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