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2jaeh · 3 years

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ORPHIC : YUTA X READER

genre: smut, angst

warnings: mature themes, enemies to lovers kinda, kinda toxic theme, multiple smut scenes, swearing, alcohol, toys.

slight jenoxreader

word count : 17,5k (sorrry he’s my ult)

author: sin!

You and Yuta never had a good relationship within your group of friends. The closest the two of you ever came to even slightly caring about each other was...in bed. After some friendly advice you decide to venture out of this toxicity and an old friend comes to the rescue. Thinking things will finally settle and you are ready to move on, Yuta comes to the realization that he wasn't a fan of you leaving him for someone else.

A/N: WHOA this took me so long to write and rn its 2am and I barely proofread anything and just wanted to post it already! ALSO I just wanted to add Jeno is practically my ult as well and I wanted to use him for this scenario ! I promise Ill make it up to you guys with a full length fic of him lol Anyways enjoy.

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You couldn’t understand why you hated him so much. Was it the way he did his hair ? The way he rolled his eyes at every snarky remark you directed at him ?

Or was it the way he stared at you from across the room, a smirk on his face signaling that it was going to be one of those nights.

You joined this collective of artists or the “blank space” as you were known to the public, a year ago. The team did everything from clothing to organizing crazy exhibitions, and the best part of it all was that the team members remained anonymous.

Now some of the members were already in the spotlight for their personal artworks and collections but anything under blank space was under that name only, promoted only under its respective social media accounts. The collective was founded by Taeyong, an introverted guy you met at a fashion show you once worked at. He approached you the night your art hit the runway and you’ve been working for him ever since.

You didn’t know everybody under Blank Space except for the people Taeyong trusted the most. Which from possibly 50 designers, only reduced to a total of nine close friends.

Taeyong, Johnny, Ten, Renjun, YangYang, Doyoung, Sungchan, Lucas and You.

And then, there was one person you called a friend when the mood was right. When he was not being an absolute pain in the ass.

Yuta Nakamoto.

————————————————————————

“So there’s a launch happening this weekend over at the shed” Taeyong announced to your friend group who were barely paying attention thanks to Yangyang attempting to stuff four marshmallows into his mouth. “Come on you can do one more” Lucas edged him on while Renjun shook his head disapprovingly and Sungchan tried to suppress his laughter.

“Guys please pay attention” Doyoung, the only type of authority around here spoke up, finally quieting down the room and allowing his best friend to speak.

Taeyong cleared his throat and shifted nervously as all eyes were focused on him again. “I’d like all of us to attend, maybe look for a new recruit” the timid pink haired boy spoke and everyone nodded knowing the routine of these launches at this point.

“Can we party hard or is this just one of those save face kinda gigs ?” Yuta raised his hand and the spark in Lucas’s eyes indicated that he may have had the same idea.

You rolled your eyes and crossed your leg over the other, “Yuta’s having a dry spell he wants to find some damsel in distress to get into his bed” you turned to him and he only smirked at your snarky comment.

“Well now y/n it’s only because you haven’t been in the mood for my dick lately” he pouted and Renjun threw his head back, followed by groans from both Johnny and Ten.

“I’m not in the mood for the two of you today seriously” Ten chimed in, rubbing his temples just waiting for this group meeting to be over. “Yeah me too” Johnny added, “you two fight the entire week then hook up over the weekend, we are tired.”

“Why are you guys tired ? Are you doing the fighting and fucking ?” Yuta scoffed and Doyoung jumped to his feet, folding his arms across his chest as he looked down at the scowling black haired man,

“This is a work meeting. If it's not about work” Doyoung eyes moved to you, “then we don’t want to hear about it.”

You nodded after getting reprimanded but Yuta being Yuta just snickered and downed the rest of his coffee, unbothered by what any of the people in the room had to say about him.

“Okay then well I’ll see you guys Friday night, if you find a possible recruitment just text the group chat and we will decide as a team then and there” Taeyong wrapped up the meeting and everyone dispersed back to their work stations to finish up any outstanding projects.

Blank Space had its own office block but you guys were the only ones with a private floor at the very end of the hallway, far away from the part-timers.

Everyone had their own cubicle made up of makeshift drywall, so it was private but not private enough. Taeyong felt that closed offices made no sense for a room of creatives and when working on bigger projects it was easier for members to move their stations to their partners' cubicles.

Your cubicle though had the unfortunate fate of being placed in front of Yuta. The members had tried to swap with either of you but neither of you budged. Moving meant there was a problem and showing that you had an actual problem with the other person meant it could sabotage the team and things may go sour.

So both of you conceded. Trying your absolute best to stay out of the other person's way during work hours. But it was impossible when bickering was just something you guys did.

From the very beginning You and Yuta had disagreed on almost everything. Both of you were pretty stubborn people and had a very similar mindset. Then on a random drunken night Johnny suggested that you and Yuta needed to release your anger in bed and the next day you’d be best friends. Yuta was pretty adamant on the idea and not only did you hook up once, it became this ongoing hell of fighting, building up your anger and releasing it during mind blowing sex.

Neither of you questioned the abnormality of your relationship. Rather, you ignored the red flags and the toxicity of it all and just assumed attraction only happened through liquor, high sexual needs and boredom.

“Hey y/n sorry about snapping like that earlier” Doyoung stepped into your cubicle, his gummy smile showing as he nervously scratched his head. “It’s no problem, I’m sorry about my stupid comment” you pressed your lips together feeling a tad guilty that it all started because of you.

“You guys really love riling each other up don’t you?” Doyoung took a seat opposite you which was a bit unnatural for anyone who walked by. Doyoung was a very reserved person and never bothered to converse with any of you besides Taeyong. Unlike the rest of you Doyoung was recruited to handle finances and foresee the operation. He appreciated the arts but never delved in it, hence his awkwardness with the openness and unhinged personalities of the group.

“I get that it can be...exhausting” you sighed, propping your elbows up on the counter and pouting.

“Then why do you continue ?” Doyoung quizzed and you shrugged, “stress relief ?”

Doyoung chuckled at your words and pushed his spectacles up his bridge, “you guys are the ones stressing each other out,” Doyoung turned back to look at Yuta who was busy sketching and turned back to face you,

“All I’m saying is that maybe it’s time to look for a stress reliever that doesn’t result in anger the very next day, you guys need to move on.”

Move on.

Doyoung’s words swam in your mind hours after the short conversation had ended and you wondered if it was indeed time to move on. You looked up from your desk and to your surprise Yuta’s eyes were locked with yours as he twirled a lollipop in his mouth.

The issue was, as much as you hated him you couldn’t deny he was so goddamn hot. From the long hair to the edgy attire, physically he was your type. Personality on the other hand, it was like nails against a chalkboard.

Unbearable.

You kept your eyes locked with him until he slowly pulled the sweet out of his mouth, licked his lips and blew you a cheeky kiss from across the room.

“Moron” you mumbled and shook your head trying to ignore his devilish motives and get back to work.

Doyoung was right. You definitely needed to find someone to distract yourself from Yuta’s hold over you.

———————————————————————-

It was the night of the launch and everybody showed up with their own rides and began mingling with former clients and partners. You arrived with Ten and Lucas who already decided to pre-game drinks just in case ‘there wasn’t enough at the party.’

“Hey please do us a favor and not hook up with Yuta tonight” Ten wrapped his arm around your shoulder as the two of you maneuvered through the groups of people. “Not planning on it” you replied in his ear, “and besides Doyoung already beat you to that pep talk.”

“Doyoung ?” Ten wrinkled his nose before ordering the two of you a mojito from the open bar.

“Yeah he said that I should move on, possibly find a new hookup” you shrugged, retrieving the drink and headed to a balcony that overlooked the first floor of the launch party. There were bodies of people everywhere, networking, checking out merchandise or just getting plain wasted.

“Seems like Lucas has already been cut off from the open bar” Ten pointed out, watching the tall man try to push his way back to the bar but the bouncer refused him to do so.

“Let me go help him out, I'll catch up later” Ten sighed and gave you a pat on your shoulder, “and yeah find a new hookup, if Yuta gets to sleep around so can you.”

You watched Ten disappear into the crowd and twirled the glass in your hand wishing what he had said was that easy.

There were no rules about hooking up with other people or just any reinforcements in general when it came to you and Yuta. But you we’re well aware of his loose sex life. There were many times where Yuta ended up going home with some random person if he wasn’t in the mood to hook up with you. But You on the other hand, never bothered these days because you were either too busy or whoever you met just ended up boring you to death.

“Y/n ?” You heard someone say from behind you and to your surprise it was a face you hadn’t seen in years.

“Jeno ? Oh my God” you quickly gave the blonde boy a quick hug, taken back by how much he had filled out since high school.

Jeno used to help you out from time to time during proms and fashion shows, lending out his strength to build anything from sculptures to installation art in the city.

“I was wondering when I was going to bump into you at one of these shows” his bright smile turned his eyes into crescents as he joined you at the balustrade. The Jeno you knew in high school was a lanky shy kinda guy but the Jeno you saw now was confident, mature and outright gorgeous.

“I’m quite surprised seeing you here actually” you chuckled shyly, “I didn’t know you’d pursue anything in this field to be honest.”

“Wow” Jeno mouthed and cutely grinned, “hmm that kinda hurt considering I’m the one who made the centerpiece of this entire launch”

Your eyes widened as you looked down at the structure of colored sharpies bound together to create a giant rubix cube in the middle of the party. “Holy shit that’s awesome my boss would absolutely love you” you gasped, knowing Taeyong absolutely loved installation art especially at a large scale like this.

“Oh who’s your boss ? I’m actually a free agent right now” Jeno replied and you quickly remembered the reason you were even at the launch in the first place. “Wait! We’re looking for recruits right now, let me just tell the others about it” you said excitedly, handing Jeno your drink and pulled up the group chat on your phone.

A few minutes later everyone confirmed the meeting place of a private room located on the second floor, quiet enough for a quick interview and decision. The best part of this job was everyone was so connected that there was no need to go through the process of a full portfolio look and a million interviews, all you needed was a trusted ally within the group to vouch for you and you were already one foot in.

“Ten and Yangyang took Lucas home after he tried to challenge the bartender to an arm wrestling match” Johnny entered the room and sipped his whiskey while Renjun and Sungchan followed close behind him. Taeyong and Doyoung stood in front of the room discussing something amongst themselves while you and Jeno took a seat on the burgundy couch.

Yuta entered shortly after, drink in hand and you noticed his eyes narrow in on Jeno who sat close to you. “Okay everyone who’s able to make it is here let’s get started” Taeyong clasped his hands together, “everybody this is Jeno Lee and a long time friend of y/n.”

“Not that long but yeah we did work together” Jeno chuckled and got to his feet, “well I’m an installation artist, I actually made the centerpiece in tonight’s launch.”

“Wow, it's amazing!” Renjun complimented and Sungchan agreed, giving Jeno a thumbs up, “yeah man that piece is brilliant.”

Jeno smiled from ear to ear as the meeting proceeded with everyone going through a few of Jenos works and what he could bring to the team. While your teammates concentrated on Jenos work all you could concentrate on was Jeno himself.

You wondered if Jeno knew how gorgeous he was in his effortless tank top and denim jeans combo. You hoped no one caught you staring but someone was well aware of your actions.

Yuta watched how you looked at the young guy, he wasn’t stupid, he knew when you found someone attractive and the way you were ogling Jeno right now, he didn’t like it at all.

The meeting ended and everyone welcomed Jeno to the collective. Johnny gave him a few pointers on which coffee to order from the cafe next to the office and Sungchan exchanged gamer tags with his new friend.

“I’ll see you guys on Monday” you waved as everyone exited the meeting and before you could make your way to catch up with Jeno and Sungchan you were being pulled back into the room.

“Your place or mine ?” Yuta mused and snaked an arm around your waist, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“Neither” you responded, “I’m gonna hang with Jeno and head home, you should find that little damsel to play with”

“Don’t be difficult y/n we're long overdue for our therapy session now” he groaned, pressing his lips to your ear and jaw. As much as he aroused you by just breathing you thought about what Doyoung had said, you needed to move on from this mess.

“Listen I think we need to just stop our sessions” you stepped away from him leaving Yuta slightly taken back from your actions, “let’s move on, be out of each other’s way and not make the group uncomfortable okay ?”

Yuta watched you press your lips together and finally make your exit, leaving him completely alone. You denied his advances for the first time since the two of you started sleeping together and something in him broke.

————————————————————————

Monday came around and the whole team buzzed about Jeno joining the team. Usually a new recruit would hang downstairs with the part time designers but because Taeyong trusted your judgement on Jeno, he was able to integrate with the team.

“Man that Jeno guy seems real chill” Yangyang hopped alongside Johnny and Yuta who were doing the morning coffee run. Yuta kept his composure despite knowing he wasn’t a huge fan of someone new joining the team and throwing off the dynamic. Hands in his pocket he ignored Yangyangs endless questions about the meeting, allowing Johnny to entertain the eager young boy.

“All I know is that having Jeno around means I don’t have to do all the carrying when Lucas bails on me” Johnny sipped his drink as they made their way back to their office. To their surprise Jeno had just arrived, looking like a lost puppy as he examined the names of the floors next to the secretary desk.

“Speak of the devil” Johnny threw his arm around Jeno, startling the boy and led him over to the elevator, “we’re at the top floor newbie, make sure to get an access card from Taeyong.”

“T-thanks” Jeno grinned and bowed politely to both Yuta and Yangyang before stepping into the elevator. The other guys barely bothered with Yuta’s reaction to Jeno because he rarely liked anyone enough to show any sign of enthusiasm. Jeno wasn’t going to change that.

The elevator opened to the top floor and Jeno awed at the chilled atmosphere you all had created here. From Ten’s thousands of plants around the room, Taeyongs fish, a pool table brought in by Lucas and gaming stations set up by Sungchan, it looked like paradise.

“This....is so cool oh my God” Jeno stepped in, his eyes wandering all over the place until it locked on you hanging over at the fish tank with Taeyong.

“Y/n!” Jeno jogged over and you greeted him with a wide smile and a tight hug, “Jeno you made it!” You gleamed. Jeno quickly shook Taeyong’s hand unsure of how formal of a boss he actually was.

“Whoa I feel like a principal” Taeyong giggled as he dropped a few fish flakes for his babies. “Wow, does everybody have their own cubicle ?” Jeno strolled around the room taking a peak at the vast versions of decor each cubicle adorned.

“Yeah” you responded, “but I don’t think yours is ready yet right Doyoung ?”

“That’s right,” Doyoung replied and folded his arms across his chest, “you don’t mind sharing for the week do you ?”

Jeno shrugged and looked over at you, “I was hoping to catch up with y/n anyway, I don’t mind sharing if it’s okay with you ?”

“It’s perfectly fine” you assured him and gestured over to your cubicle, “me casa is su casa.”

“I’m just gonna need some admin stuff sorted Jeno can you join me for a bit ?” Doyoung asked and Jeno nodded, giving you a quick hug before heading off to the administration offices with Doyoung. You watched the blonde guy exit and something just felt so much brighter in the office. You felt a sense of excitement of what’s to come now that Jeno was back in your life. But like all sunny days there always comes a thunderstorm and yours was staring you down like he was waiting to rain on your parade.

“What ?” You blinked, and Yuta shrugged as he peeked into your cubicle. “It’s a bit small isn’t it ? Don’t think two people can work in here” he raised his brow and looked over at you.

“It’s fine” you sighed and pushed past him, “it’s only for a week and he’s not a stranger to me, why do you care ?”

“I don’t” Yuta mumbled, dragging his feet back to his cubicle leaving you questioning his slightly odd behavior. Your mind quickly snapped out of it when Jeno had made his way back, that bright smile spread across his face and suddenly it felt like sunshine filled the room once more.

“I’m back!” He sang and pulled a chair opposite you, retrieving his laptop already looking like a regular in the office.

“Did Doyoung tell you about tonight ? Our little welcoming party over at Kleo’s Sky Bar ?” You asked, skimming through your emails for the day. “Oh, yeah he did, I mean you guys don’t have to do all of this” Jeno chuckled shyly, those pretty eyes distracting you for the third time that day.

“Nah we do it for everyone, and it’s better you know everyone drunk to avoid future surprises” you pointed over to Lucas who was coaching Yangyang through a trick shot at the pool table. “Gotcha” Jeno nodded, as he watched one of the balls fly off the table and nearly knock Renjun in the back. It was chaos absolutely everyday in the office and you knew Jeno was going to love it here.

But even with Jeno in front of you, your new distraction, your new beginning, like Doyoung and Ten had said you needed, it was a habit at this point to look across the room, wondering what Yuta was up to. You watched him remove his cardigan, exposing his arms in those loose tank tops he always loved to wear as he concentrated on a sketch in front of him. Thankfully he was fully immersed in his work for once to take notice of your eyes on him. You continued observing him, watching him nod along to probably some alternative song blaring in his headphones as he sketched away on his iPad. He was so effortlessly attractive when he wasn’t aware of it.

You needed to snap out of this daydream.

“So are you seeing anyone these days ?”

“Hmm ?”

Jeno laughed as you finally realized that he’d been talking to you and you mentally cursed yourself for even being distracted by Yuta of all people.

“I’m sorry..Uhm no I’m not seeing anyone” you replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and Jeno nodded cutely, “uh good...uhm not good that you’re alone but I was hoping you weren’t...God I’m still so bad at this”

You felt your cheeks heat up seeing Jeno fumble over his words and get nervous about asking you such a question. He was so adorable and something in you also wondered if he was like this in a relationship, or in the bedroom.

Was he dominant ? Was he passive ? Yuta was very dominant and you’d even rile him up to the point of him making you shut up with his actions.

“Y/n ?” Jeno waved his hand in front of your face and you shook your head, you couldn’t believe you did it again. What the hell was wrong with you ?

“Oh my God Jeno I'm so sorry...these emails are just a pain in the ass” you lied but thankfully Jeno took the bait and nodded, “it’s okay I’ll let you get back to work, I was going to go down to the cafe, do you want anything ?”

“Yeah a cafe latte would be great thank you” You felt guilty but it was still only two days since you decided to cut off Yuta so adjusting was going to take a bit of time.

Jeno had left for the cafe and you quickly dove straight into your work, hoping the time would just fly by. That was until you heard a knock and watched Yuta saunter into your cubicle and take a seat right in front of you. You watched him prop his elbows on the table and his piercing eyes narrowed down on you as if he were waiting for an answer.

“Why are you here ?” You questioned him, doing your best to divert your attention from his chiseled arms and exposed chest.

“I want an explanation,” Yuta said calmly, his voice deep and monotone.

“To what ?” You knew fully well what he was talking about but you were really not in the mood to talk to him about this. Yuta sighed and cocked his head to the side, clearly annoyed by your response. “Why the fuck are we calling it quits when we are nothing to each other ? Can’t we just hook up and ignore each other as usual ?” You sensed the annoyance in his voice. Denying him that night was indeed eating him up since you’ve never done it before.

“Yuta that’s the whole point” you rubbed your temples, “if we are nothing to each other then we shouldn’t be hooking up, it just ties us together for absolutely no reason.”

Yuta stayed quiet for a bit and eventually just nodded, “fine do whatever you want I guess.” You watched him walk out, not bothering to give you a second look and you wondered if the unsettling feeling you were experiencing in this moment was how he felt two days ago.

Nothing made sense.

————————————————————————

The evening arrived and everyone was in good spirits because you were all headed to one of your favourite spots in town. “Lucas you gotta do karaoke tonight” Sungchan threw his arm around the large brown haired man as they entered the bar. “Hmm give me a few rounds of drinks first” Lucas stuck out his tongue as he gestured to the waitress to get the gang the usual table.

Thankfully tonight the bar was fairly empty which meant that the gang could really loosen up without the prying eyes of strangers wishing you’d all just leave.

“Wow this place is pretty cool” Jeno gleamed, allowing you to enter the booth first like a true gentleman before scooting right in next to you. Yuta opted for the seat at the very end as usual, so he could sneak off to smoke without bothering any of friends every couple of minutes. The position also gave him a clear view of you and Jeno who were snuggled up in the corner already lost in your own private conversation.

“Beer ?” Johnny nudged Yuta, snapping him out of his fixation. Yuta nodded and slumped back in his seat trying his best to focus on whatever Renjun and Yangyang were talking about. It’s not like him to feel this way. Usually by now he’d be seated next to you, annoying the shit out of you until he saw those pretty eyes glare at him with rage. Then after you’d have a few drinks you’d be leaning on his shoulder, playing with his rings until he offered to take you home, and then-

“To Jeno!” Lucas yelled, lifting up a shot glass of God knows what and rallied everyone to join in on his toast.

“To Jeno” you grinned leaning into Jeno’s side and clinked glasses with him. Jeno felt warm, comforting, he made it so easy for you to just enjoy having him around rather than it being a task. That’s what a healthy relationship was like wasn’t it ?

“Jeno Im glad and also sorry that you have to join the most annoying group of people ever” Doyoung half smiled and Taeyong waved his hand, “we’re not that annoying Jeno I promise” the pink haired boy reassured him despite Renjun and Ten agreeing with Doyoung’s words. Jeno just laughed it off and turned to you with a bright smile as he draped his arm over your shoulder,

“Kinda feels like fate that I bumped into you huh?”

You know he may have been joking but Jeno was really unaware that his presence really was the antidote to getting rid of the Yuta situation. The team loved him, he was someone you knew and could trust, it was all right there for you, written on paper. Nothing could possibly go wrong… right ?

“Fourth round is on me” Taeyong held up his card to the waitress despite his tired eyes were quite evident. Everyone was well over tipsy and Lucas had already entertained the bar with his beautiful rendition of “Starboy” by The Weeknd and Johnny stepped in as his air guitar player in the back.

“Gotta go to the bathroom!” You whined while Jeno helped you to your feet as you pushed your way past a sleeping Renjun and a spaced out Sungchan. You could tell tonight was going to take a toll on everyone tomorrow morning.

You quickly exited to the back where the bathrooms were located. You walked down the dim hallway, mentally thanking yourself for not overdoing it with the alcohol as each step became darker and darker.

“Watch your step” someone said and you turned around to see Yuta leaning over a railing with a cigarette sticking out of his mouth.

“Yeah” you managed to say and entered the bathroom before he could say anything else. The lack of alcohol didn’t stop the intrusive thoughts of Yuta filling your mind as you stopped to wash your hands. All you could think about was if he was going to be there when you walked back. Was he going to say anything ? Was he going to do anything ?

Were you going to do anything ?

You stepped outside, head a little more muddled than when you walked in and your first question was answered, Yuta was still there leaning up against the wall looking ahead of him. You slowly began your journey back, keeping your head down to avoid any type of confrontation with him.

“Y/n….” He mumbled, reaching out until he had a grip on your wrist causing your eyes to look up at him. Why did he look so goddamn breathtaking right now, with his stupid black hair all messy and his eyes luring you in like a lion to it’s prey.

“W-what ?” You replied, unsure why you still allowed him to hold you or even have the nerve to stop you from getting back to the rest of your friends. Yuta pushed himself off the wall and turned your body so you were now pressed against the concrete and his body was pressed against you. Your breathing hitched as he ran his fingers lightly down your arms. His eyes concentrated on his movements while yours focused on his face, watching him bite down on his lip as he took in the position the two of you were now in.

“You remember a few weeks back and I had you up against this wall moaning my name ?” His voice was so low that it aroused you, making you mentally curse yourself for the lewd thoughts.

“Yuta…” you sighed but there was a hint of desperation in your voice surprising yourself but not really phasing Yuta at all.

“Yeah just like that” he hummed before pressing his lips to your jaw, and peppered kisses all the way down to your neck. You felt yourself willingly giving him access, melting into every kiss he placed on your warm skin. Yuta’s hands grabbed your waist and pinned you against the wall while your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck and into the soft tufts of his hair.

“Yuta…we shouldn’t…I shouldn’t” you breathed, feeling yourself pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

“Tell me no and I’ll stop y/n '' Yuta said into your ear to which you responded by pulling him by his belt buckle and pushed yourself up to capture his lips. Yuta’s dominance finally showed when he slipped his leg in between yours, giving you the chance to gain a bit of friction your core so desperately desired at this point. You felt Yuta’s smirk in your kiss when you began grinding down on his thigh showing him the obedient whore you were for him. Nothing Yuta loved more was for you to beg for him, beg for his touch, need him. That was until the two of you heard footsteps and to your dismay it was the last person you’d ever want to see you trapped against a wall with the man you hated.

It was Lee Jeno.

“I’m sorry I - I’m sorry I’ll leave you guys alone-“ Jeno stumbled, he felt his cheeks heat up and made his quick exit out of the hallway.

“Jeno!” You called, pushing Yuta off and tried to neaten yourself. Yuta felt a heated sensation overcoming his body the moment he saw the look in your eye when you saw Jeno and the way you pushed him off like he was a piece of trash. Like he was nothing.

“You know maybe if you’d stop pretending like you don’t wanna fuck me then we can go back to normal” Yuta spat, not caring about the unfortunate situation that had just unfolded.

You turned around to face him and the next words that came out of your mouth you weren’t sure if you were going to regret it or not.

“You’re right Yuta that’s all you are to me and that’s all you ever will be, a good fuck for about an hour and that’s it. Other than that there’s no use for you. At all.”

You stormed away before Yuta could respond, but by now you would have heard his curses echoing throughout the hallway, the whole damn bar would’ve heard it. But there was nothing.

Absolute silence.

———————————————————————

It had been two weeks since the interaction with Yuta at the bar and what you had to him still resonated with you, wanting so badly to apologize. But each time you saw him at the office he paid you little to no attention, going on about his day peacefully and you didn’t want to interrupt that.

Jeno thankfully understood the situation and was more than willing to be the rebound guy, his only rule being that besides work related matters you needed to cut off communication with Yuta altogether.

‘It was the only way you’d get full closure and my mind would be at peace’ Jeno had said after you gave him the rundown of everything that had happened.

Jeno and you agreed to just casually date, nothing official and nothing too serious. You guys went on movie dates, cafe dates and kept the physical aspect to a minimum. It was simple. Laidback. A very normal form of dating.

“Y/n I’m gonna need you on a photo shoot set in a few hours” Taeyong peeped his head into your cubicle and you looked up at him with a frown, “I thought we were working on that rappers record party ?”

“Yeah that rapper wants you, Yangyang and Yuta to tag up the wall for a video segment of his photo shoot” Taeyong replied with a shrug and left you bewildered.

Yuta. From all the damn people he could’ve chosen you had to work beside the person who practically called trash in your last meeting.

Great.

You wrapped up the last of your work and headed downstairs to the parking lot where an Uber was waiting for you. Thankfully Yangyang could talk anyone’s head off because just sitting next to Yuta during the car ride felt tense. Normally he’d be pushing you into Yangyang or commenting on how his tattoos were better than yours. But all he did was look out of the window watching as the buildings moved past, keeping his airpods in to avoid any type of communication with anyone.

“You guys are finally here! Good Mark Lee is waiting for you at the shoot location” a woman dressed in all black led you into what looked like a gymnasium turned into a giant canvas.

“Are we going to paint all of this ? Man this is going to take forever” Yangyang gasped as the three of you walked through cans of paint, staff members and models.

“You guys are the designers from black space who did that painting over at Jynx Club ?” A young guy approached who you quickly realized was the new hot rapper around town, Mark Lee.

“Uh yeah, that’s us” you chuckled shyly and looked around, “are we really doing up the entire room ?”

“Oh hell nah just the backdrop behind me” Mark waved his hand, “we just laid everything out for a few cgi effects but you guys, do ya thing over there!” You watched the hyped boy get called over by the director leaving the three of you faced with a gigantic piece of white board and no idea.

“Since you guys are uncultured and probably don’t listen to Mark Lee, let me be in charge of this piece” Yangyang pulled out his iPad and began scrolling through some of his sketches. “Be my guest” Yuta shrugged, completely disinterested in the topic and most likely just wanted to get done and go home.

Yangyang finally settled on something that utilized all three of your styles and you all put on your white overalls, immediately getting to work.

The vibe of the whole job was quite chilled and because of the fumes most of the staff had left the gymnasium leaving the three of you to work in peace. “God I need to pee so bad,” Yangyang groaned as he dangled from a ladder, an aerosol can in hand and a nearly completed section in his corner.

“Dude take a break we’re way behind you anyway” you walked over to steady the ladder as Yangyang finally made his way down. “Thanks guys, be back in 20” he shot you a thumbs up and disappeared into the tunnel leading to the gym lockers.

The tension returned but it was somehow worse than ever before. Even though Yuta was minding his own business for the first time while retrieving a paintbrush he looked at you. There was no unsettling glare or the feeling that he was pissed off at you, he just looked at you like he’d look at anyone else.

And somehow that felt even worse.

“Yuta…do you mind if we talk for a bit” you cleared your throat and he looked over at you and removed one of his airpods signaling to you that he was listening.

“Okay Uhm well I want to apologize for what I said that night” you bit down on your lip, “I didn’t mean it, and it was selfish of me to even think of you like that after coming onto you in the first place.”

Yuta blinked and eventually just nodded, “apology accepted, and I can see that you like Jeno so I’m trying to stay out of the way” he shrugged and continued painting as if this conversation wasn’t that deep to begin with.

“Are you not going to get me back? Are you sure you’re Yuta ?” You raised a brow and Yuta’s manic laugh echoed throughout the gymnasium, “you want me to be mean to you ? Wow y/n that’s truly some kink you got there”

“Ugh you know what I mean” you shoved him playfully, unaware that the brush you were wearing was still wet and now Yuta’s jaw adorned a light shade of orange.

“Oh shit I’m sorry” you quickly said but Yuta had already responded by swiping his red painted fingertips across your cheek and smirked, “now we’re even.”

“Hey mine is way worse than yours!” You grumbled and flicked more paint at Yuta which then enabled a paint war between the two of you. Yuta giggled so much that for a second you forgot how silent he actually had been the past two weeks. He was back to his usual self and so were you, playfully making a mess with him until Yangyang emerged from the tunnel and yelled, “What are you morons doing ?!”

You and Yuta stood still in the middle of the room both covered head to toe in paint but the scene was way too comical to hold in your laughter any longer.

“Yangyang we’re so sorry but look, it gave the canvas a little more color” you gestured to it and you weren’t lying, it actually did look a lot better than before.

“Fine you two can go on break, I'll finish up so we’re not sitting around until midnight” Yangyang huffed and returned to his masterpiece. “Is there a place to clean up here ?” Yuta asked and the woman from earlier on walked in and pointed to the tunnel located in the back of the gym, “there are bathrooms and showers back there, our crew provided fresh towels as well so go ahead” she smiled and you silently thanked her before heading to the tunnel with Yuta.

“God I have paint everywhere” you whined as you took a look at yourself in the mirror. Yuta chuckled as he began inspecting himself, looking at the peculiar fingerprints all over his face and neck. “This shit better not stain my skin” he grumbled as he picked away a piece of paint from a crevice in his ear. “Tell me about it” you responded and began removing the overalls. All you could think of was jumping into that shower stall and allowing the hot water to melt away all the grime and paint when you noticed Yuta was already down to his boxers.

Your gasp made Yuta snicker to himself as he walked around the bathroom looking for the ideal stall to take his shower in.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before” you heard him say before hopping into one of the stalls and drawing the curtain. Despite his words being correct it still made your cheeks heat up with embarrassment. You guys were comfortable like this before, not now, not with Jeno in your life.

You shook your head and entered a stall opposite Yuta and a few rows down, just so you weren’t close to him but not far enough that made you feel alone.

“Fuck how is their paint on my ass ? That’s impossible!” Yuta groaned and you couldn’t help but laugh, “TMI, Yuta” you replied and Yuta scoffed, “says the person who’s responsible for this.” The banter ended and again all you heard was the sound of both showers hitting your bodies simultaneously, the air filled with steam and more unusual tension.

“Y/n ?”

“Yeah?”

Yuta was silent for a while and then you heard his water turn off. “Do you uhm mind checking if I got all the paint off my back ? I’ll uhm put my boxers on” he mumbled and you felt your heartbeat speed up.

First of all the Yuta you knew would’ve just walked over butt ass naked and pulled your curtain aside not caring at all. The way he acted now was out of character, but somewhat familiar.

“Yuta I’m still in the shower and naked” you chewed on the inside of your cheek while you waited in silence.

“I’ll close my eyes, I just don’t want this shit to dry up when we get back to work later” he replied and you heard his light footsteps coming toward you. Quickly moving your hair back and holding the curtain against your body, you slowly peeled back the material to reveal Yuta with his back facing you and with his eyes closed, like he said.

You peered down at his golden skin, taking in his broad shoulders and tiny waist as you inspected for any more signs of acrylic paint.

“Uhm yeah you have a little on your shoulder blade and lower back”

“Do…you mind…”

You bit down on your lip knowing this was already crossing the line. But you had just made up and it was your fault that he had paint on his back in the first place. It was innocent. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself while staring at one of the sexiest people you had ever met.

You began rubbing away pieces of the paint, ignoring Yuta’s whines when you used too much pressure. Your hands traced down to his lower back, settling in the dip as you tried to remove a very stubborn piece of paint.

“Ugh this one is not coming off” you scratched at it and to your surprise Yuta had let out a moan instead of the usual wincing.

“I don’t mean to kink shame but-“

Yuta spun around and glared at you, challenging you to finish your sentence but you were more concerned at the fact that the only thing protecting your nude body from Yuta right now was a thin piece of fabric.

“Yuta!” You scolded and he rolled his eyes, “oh please y/n I’ve seen it all, now can you please help me with the paint ?”

You watched wide eyed as Yuta stepped into the shower going back on his word to close his eyes and face the wall. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now but the quicker you removed the paint the quicker he’d be out of here.

“Aren’t your boxers…going to get wet ?” You watched him step closer to water already allowing his hair to soak up the warm stream. “Well you’re not gonna let me take them off with you in here and I’ll probably just go commando when we get back to the office” Yuta shrugged and you should’ve known that was one of his options since he has done it in the past.

You sighed and let go of the curtain allowing your naked body to be free and go back to work on his paint splatter. Yuta was calm and collected throughout the process, you silently commended him on his restraint, that was until he decided to turn around and look at you.

“Y-Yuta you promised” your voice was small but you still didn’t do much to cover up your body. Yuta leaned against the cold ceramic wall as he stared at you, his stare was dark, inviting you in like that night at the bar.

“I’m not going to do anything y/n unless you want me to” he reassured you, still maintaining a distance and doing absolutely nothing to persuade you. But did you need persuasion when all he needed to do was be in the same room as you?

The two of you stared in each other’s eyes for a few minutes and you had no idea who actually made the first move but there you were in the center of the shower stall, in a random gymnasium, kissing Yuta Nakamoto.

Yuta’s bare body was pressed against yours as the two of you fought for dominance in the kiss. You placed your hands on his chest to which he responded by wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer until his hardened member twitched against your stomach. There were no words, just actions. Each kiss only made you more desperate for him, not feeling this type of arousal since that night at the bar. He was the only person who could turn you on to the point that every image of Jeno was erased from your mind.

You tugged down his boxers with urgency and Yuta helped you quicken the process, quickly kicking away the piece of clothing and had you pushed up against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. Yuta pulled away from your lips with a sultry bite on your bottom lip and lined up his member with your core. He kept his eyes on you the entire time from the moment he slipped into your wetness to the harsh thrusts he was now giving to you against the coldness of the wall. You felt like you were complete, filled with the right amount of passion and ecstasy. God you hated to admit it but nobody could fuck you the way Yuta did. Absolutely no one.

Yuta slowed down his thrusts and you brought your feet back to the ground, gesturing for him to take a seat on the floor and got on top of his member once more. Yuta threw his head back as you rode him relentlessly, grabbing onto your ass as he tried to meet your rhythm. The sight of him partially under the water and his swollen lips was delicious, you couldn’t ask for a better view right now. Yuta on the hand was also enjoying having you bounce on his length, quickly realizing that the women he had bedded during his time without you were not worth it. Not a single one of them made him feel the way you did. Even the times you guys were fucking around he’d sleep with other women because he didn’t want to admit that you are his best. You will always be his best.

“G-gonna cum” you panted and Yuta quickly rubbed circles on your clit to help you reach your orgasm. He watched your body spasm and you threw your head back with a soft moan. The sight alone made him come undone straight after you, filling you up completely.

You slowly got to your feet with the help of Yuta offering his hand and managed to finally catch your breath.

What the fuck did you just do ?

“Before you say this was a mistake and you hate me, hear me out” Yuta spoke up, “I need to know something”

You bit down on your lip. “Yeah?”

“Do you like me ?”

“What ?” You quietly questioned and Yuta sighed, rubbing his temples, “do you like me y/n ? actually like me ? Or is it you just like fucking me ?”

“I don’t know Yuta you know that I’m seeing Je-“you began explaining before Yuta quickly cut you off. “Don’t say his name, listen I know you like fucking me because that’s what happened right now despite whatever feelings you have for…Jen..him.”

“So what am I supposed to do ?” You asked, still unsure of how you were even going to face Jeno back at the office after this.

“Use me,” Yuta deadpanned, “keep me as your dirty little secret and I won’t tell a soul. I just don’t want this to end. I’m fucking addicted to this, and clearly you’re in need of me just as much as I need you.”

Yuta took a step forward and cupped your cheek with the palm of his hand. “I just crave you all goddamn day and nothing is fulfilling that need until right now.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about but you couldn’t bring yourself to share how much you ached for him. Late nights when you were alone you even pleased yourself with memories of him. You were unsure if it was lust at this point or you actually missed being around him. Despite every fight and argument the two of you had, there was something always drawing you in.

“First of all I don’t hate you” you sighed and he chuckled dryly before you continued, “I don’t know if this is a good idea but I’m only agreeing because Jeno and I aren’t serious yet and if we are-“

“I’ll back off I promise” Yuta quickly added and you nodded, “he can’t know about this, nobody can.”

“You have my word” Yuta pressed his lips together and for the first time he looked absolutely serious. Something in you made you trust that he wouldn’t fuck this up, because that would mean the one thing he wanted most right now would fall through.

You just hoped that this little need the two of you had for each other wasn’t turning into an…obsession.

————————————————————————-

“You guys are finally back” Ten stretched his arms above his head as you, Yangyang and Yuta returned back to the office after quite an eventful afternoon.

“Wanna see pics ? It turned out great!” Yangyang grinned quickly, running over to the older guys, showing off his artwork. Jeno was over at the game area with Sungchan completely invested in beating his friend in a round of Call Of Duty.

“Hey you” you sunk into the beanbag next to Jeno who shot you a quick glance before concentrating on his next move, “your hairs wet, why ?”

“Showered after the painting session” you answered diligently hoping there were no follow up questions. Thankfully he was way too invested in his video game to care much, you really weren't in the mood for an interrogation after half a day with Yuta.

Jeno asked a lot of questions when he felt insecure about something. Even though time had been short with him, it still somehow felt like a 2 year relationship. For a young guy Jeno was pretty old fashioned, he made you pick all the date places and never bothered to make the first move physically until you hinted to him that it was okay.

He was so different to what you were used to and you were afraid that if you didn’t speed things up with him this little secret with Yuta would turn into a reality.

“Hey y/n can you help me with lunch ?” Doyoung called from the makeshift kitchen area a few feet away and you silently thanked him for distracting you from your thoughts.

“Hey Doyoung” you smiled as you began opening containers from the Chinese delivery you guys frequented. “Just wanted to check in with you” Doyoung sweetly said as he grabbed a few utensils, “you and Jeno huh ? Was that part of my advice ?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “Yeah I guess so, it also helps that I’ve known him for a while now and he did actually have a thing for me in high school” Doyoung cocked his head at your words and leaned in, “and you liked him back or you’re seeing something in him now that you didn’t see before ?”

“U-uhm I think he’s hot” you chewed on your lip and Doyoung chuckled softly, “you know not everything is about looks or…hooking up, do you enjoy his time ? His interests ? His company ?”

You turned back to where Jeno was still playing his video games and you did feel a little confused as to what you guys actually did have in common. “I mean…” you began, crossing your arms across your chest, “we’ve only been seeing each other romantically for two weeks I think it’s too soon to tell.”

Doyoung combed back his hair and instead of bringing forth his insight in order to make you see things clearer he just nodded.

“You’re probably right, well I wish you guys all the best, it’s better than being with someone who doesn’t care emotionally right ?”

You slowly nodded and with that Doyoung began taking the food to the dining area leaving you with more confusing thoughts than you had before.

Lunch and the rest of the evening went on smoothly. Yuta stayed out of your way and there was absolutely no sign that the two of you we’re together that day. It was easier to fake seeing Yuta since the group knew the two of you would’ve been bickering straight after hooking up. It was the perfect illusion.

“Mark Lee’s party is at 9pm tomorrow night you guys, don’t forget” Taeyong looked around the room until he heard a confirmation from every single mouth.

“9pm ? Shit would it be okay if I only stuck around for an hour ?” Jeno sighed and looked over at Taeyong, “my brothers in town and I promised I'd get him from the airport at 10:30.”

“Well you’d have to show one of the guys here how to turn the installation on” Doyoung’s worried look matched Taeyong.

“I’ll be there to turn it on I’ll just need to leave straight after” Jeno assured them and squeezed your hand under the table, “it’s all really sudden but you’ll be okay right ?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m probably going to head home after the music video airing anyway” you smiled at him and he placed a soft kiss on your forehead earning a whistle from Lucas.

Yuta awkwardly shuffled at the sudden PDA and he hoped no one at the table noticed but it caught the attention of none other than Johnny Suh who narrowed his eyes at his coffee run mate.

The evening had wrapped up and everyone had already headed home except for Yuta and Johnny who were adamant on finishing a photography project for a band they were working with.

“Trouble in paradise ?” Johnny hummed as he edited an image on his laptop. Yuta, who was busy sorting out the Polaroids, turned to face his large best friend with a lost expression.

“Huh?” He raised a brow to which Johnny shook his head still staring at his screen.

“I can’t believe this, after all these fucking hellish months now you realize you like her?”

Yuta leaned in on the desk. “What the heck are you on about Johnny ?”

“Y/n” Johnny sighed and your name made Yuta’s heart race a bit, hoping Johnny hadn’t found out about the shower incident. God you’d hate him forever if anyone found out.

“Listen Johnny we-“

“You like her! After all those months of fighting I knew you were secretly in love and now” Johnny threw his hands in the air, “now that Jeno has entered the arena you have ruined your chances. Way to go buddy.”

“Wait what ?! I’m not in love with y/n!” Yuta scoffed. Saying that sentence out loud felt like a lie even though he couldn’t fully convince himself. Was he in love ? Was Johnny mistaking love for just lust ?

That’s all it was and ever was right ?

You enjoyed fucking around with him and he was okay with it. That’s what he wanted too. Even if you didn’t answer his question of whether you liked him or not, it was okay. Whatever you wanted was okay as long he got to be with you.

“I’m not in love with y/n.”

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

You and Jeno arrived at the party with Yangyang and Sungchan all helping carry equipment for Jeno’s installation. The piece was a pixel art board that formed Mark Lee’s latest EP cover, and once plugged in it gave it an animated effect, basically bringing the EP cover to life. You marvelled at the hard work Jeno had put in, it was just a shame that he wasn't sticking around to receive praise from everyone who attended.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay here ? I know how much you hate these parties” Jeno pressed his lips together as he brought you into a tight hug. You hummed and looked up at him smiling, “Only been dragged to one of these parties a million times, another round won't hurt.” Jeno responded by pressing his lips to your forehead before joining Sungchan in setting up the installation. You always wondered why Jeno opted for your forehead instead of your lips most of the time despite already having your first real kiss. You understood he wasn't big on PDA, but the only time you ever got to kiss him was at your apartment door when a date had ended or when you sneaked in a kiss at the cinema. As much as you liked his chivalry, God at times you just wished he took initiative and bent you over your kitchen counter and had his way with you. It was kinda humorous how Jeno was the ideal type of any women out there but for you, you needed an unhinged, sex-crazed maniac to match your energy.

You needed Yu-

“It looks really good Jeno.” Your breathing hitched when you heard Yuta’s voice from behind you. You turned around but to your surprise he wasn't alone. Yuta was accompanied by a familiar face, Mei, a part-time designer from a few floors down. The way she held onto his arm made something stir inside of you. Your cheeks burned up and you dare say it for the first time you felt...jealous.

You were used to seeing Yuta with many different girls but it was always some nobody that he never bothered to introduce to the group. He always made sure none of them integrated with his work life but Mei, Mei was the first person you actually knew.

“y/n its been a while, Oh my God you look great” she said sweetly and you returned a friendly smile despite your awkwardness. Yuta gave you a quick glance not really paying you any mind as he kept a steady hand on Mei’s lower back, the two of them practically looking like a couple. It made you feel uneasy. After all he had said to you that afternoon in the shower, It seemed like he didn't mean it.

“It’s perfect Jeno you really outdid yourself” Taeyong applauded as the rest of the team finally arrived, all congratulating Jeno on his first big project under Blank Space. Jeno shyly thanked everyone and checked his watch, sighing that it was already time for him to depart.

“You're going now ?” You walked over to wrap your arms around his waist. You didn't care much before about Jeno leaving early, before Yuta decided to bring a date to the party which meant you would definitely be on your own. Jeno pouted and stroked your head, “yeah, we're still on for Sunday though right ?” and you replied with a nod before sinking into one of his very warm hugs. You had no idea why, but the need to ease your jealousy and get back at Yuta was so strong that you ended up pulling out of the hug and kissed Jeno in front of everyone. Thankfully Jeno didn't shy away and maybe the guilt of leaving you made him return the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against your body.

“Get a room you guys” Ten joked when the two of you finally pulled away, and Jeno chuckled shyly before leaning into your ear, “let’s do that more often” he cheekily smiled and pecked your lips once more before making his way to the exit. Johnny watched as Yuta still looked visibly uncomfortable, more so now than before. But Johnny also knew how damn stubborn Yuta was and watched him throw his arm around Mei, departing from the group most likely for the rest of the night.

It was late into the night and Yuta was already way too many shots down to call himself sober. Mei was talking but he was not listening. Mei was a nice girl who had made it known to him that she liked him for a while now, but unfortunately for her she was not you. All Yuta wanted was you and again he cursed himself for being so fucking hooked. He wanted to make you jealous but after he saw you kiss Jeno it just came back to him ten thousand times harder. He came to terms with his addiction now in his drunken state he was scanning the crowd for a glimpse of the only person he cared about.

You.

“Hey I'm going to leave now...do you want to come with ?” Mei nervously bit down on her lip hoping the man she's been pining for months will finally take notice of her.

“Nah im good, I’m probably going to wait until my friends leave” Yuta replied coldly, his eyes still scanning the crowd as he took another sip from his jack daniels and coca-cola concoction. Mei nodded, disappointed that her night had not gone as planned and left silently, leaving her date to finally gain his freedom.

Yuta scanned the crowd for the tenth time until he did a double take at a figure in the back corner, dancing on their own with no care in the world. Downing the rest of his drink Yuta kept his eyes focused on you despite the alcohol blurring his vision and his body feeling heavy, he had to get to you.

You were in the same state as him, most likely worse since Lucas challenged you to a drink off. You had no clue when you separated from the rest of the group so you stuck a little corner hoping to sober up before heading home. As you swayed along to the music you felt someone wrap their hands around your waist and the familiar scent of that Tom Ford perfume made you realize who it was.

“Yuta…” you groaned, pulling his hands away from your body, still remembering how awful he made you feel a few hours earlier. God were you the rebound chick now ? The thought alone was sickening.

Yuta, still blissfully unaware that you were mad at him, still pushed his body against yours until your back was pressed against the wall and you had no choice but to look up at him. You watched him move his face down in order to capture your lips, but you quickly evaded it with a turn of your head. Yuta scoffed and sufficed for your neck, giving you soft wet kisses all the way down to your collarbones until you pushed him off yet again.

“What the fuck ?” He growled in your ear, “I thought we had a deal.” You rolled your eyes at him, there was the side of Yuta you hated the most. You wondered how long it would be until he factory reseted back to an asshole.

“I thought I was first choice” you snapped at him, “all your talk about no one can satisfy you like I can, use me y/n, I only want you” you mimicked his voice and flipped him off with your finger. Yuta knew you were jealous but it was kind of ironic given the situation. You were the one in a relationship, not him. “Oh so I'm supposed to see you suck face with Jeno but I can't have any fun y/n ?” Yuta had you back against the wall, this time his hand was locked on your jaw with his lips against your ear.

“Maybe I should've fucked Mei” Yuta’s voice was dark, you felt him smirk against your ear when his words clearly affected you, “Maybe if I fucked her she would've been so good that i would forget all about you y/n.” Your eyes darted to him and he cocked his head, challenging you, waiting to see how much you could take before you caved. Normally you’d be the one getting Yuta riled up like this. It was common knowledge that Yuta was a very jealous person and just mentioning another man sexually he would lose his mind. Once you were craving his attention and casually mentioned to him that if Doyoung was interested you’d let him screw you on his office desk, and Yuta responded by fucking you senseless in the supply closet until the only name that escaped your lips was his.

But now the tables were turned and you didn't want to hear about Mei. You didn't want to picture her next to Yuta let alone in bed with him. It was selfish on your part considering Jeno, but you wanted Yuta all to yourself.

“Shut up” you narrowed your eyes at him and grabbed a fist full of his shirt and brought him closer. Yuta traced his thumb over your lips and smiled, already knowing he won this round.

“Tell me why I cant fuck her right now y/n, tell me” he coaxed, and you responded by pulling him into a sensual kiss, your tongue slipping into his mouth and your hand palming his member until you heard him groan in your ear,

You pulled away from the kiss and pressed your swollen lips to his ear, “Because...you're mine.” Yuta licked his own lips at your words and grabbed at your ass,

“Show me I'm yours, baby.”

You had no idea when and how the both of you got to Yuta’s apartment in one piece but the moment he had his foot in the door, Yuta was tugging your dress over your head. “Fuck why do you always wear the most complicated things” Yuta whined which you found cute even though you would never let him know that you were well aware of his adorable side. Sighing from victory, Yuta finally got your dress off and pulled you into his familiar bedroom, which you honestly missed so fucking much.

Taking in the familiar scent of his perfume and his slightly messy room, with posters on the walls, and a rack of band shirts - it was his little heaven and you loved it.

You walked over to lie on his bed, sinking into the soft fabric of the bed sheets as a familiar rock song began playing from Yuta’s stereo. You watched him as he discarded his shirt and ripped jeans, showing off his chest tattoos and belly ring, just the sight of him was already making you wet. Yuta was none the better, groaning as his boner pushed against the fabric of his underwear as his eyes took in your body, sexily laid out for him like you used to be.

“Fuck…” his lips parted as he watched you spread your legs, waiting for him obediently. Yuta crawled up onto the bed and nestled in between your thighs, his mischievous eyes looking up at yours before he began peeling away the thin piece of fabric revealing your core.

“You're…so…wet baby” he said in a low voice and leaned in to give your heat a soft kiss. The instant contact made your body shiver, reaching down to play with his dark curls. “Yuta…please” you whined as he continued his light kisses, not giving you the pressure you desired. Yuta looked up with an innocent face and cocked his head, “Why should I do it ?” His fingers traced circles on your hips and abdomen, waiting for an answer.

“Because…you’re mine Yuta, I want you…all to myself…I want to please me, only me” you threw your head back. Not having sex for over a month was really getting to you and the frustration had you saying just about anything. Yuta watched you squirm and after hearing those words he figured it was a good enough reward for his dear fuck-buddy. Yuta kissed your core once more but this time his tongue darted out every once in a while, awarding you with a better sensation. You moaned inaudible words as he began eating you out like a pro, lapping away like his life depended on it before inserting two fingers inside you.

“Yuta wait I’m gonna-“ you grabbed onto his hair, feeling your orgasm come on way too early for your liking as his fingers moved rapidly and his tongue licked away at your clit. Yuta ignored your plea knowing this was only the first of many and honestly he was glad that he was still the only man giving you orgasms for the past couple of months.

Yuta pulled away, a devilish smirk spread across his face as he watched you cum all over his fingers and just as your vision was in focus you had the pleasure of seeing him lick his fingers clean as if he just had the most amazing meal ever,

“Mmmm tasty” he bit down on his lip and winked at you. God he was so damn cocky, and it didn’t take you long to recover from that orgasm to make room for another. You got to your knees and sat back, your face now level with Yuta’s clothed member.

Yuta groaned as you palmed him, his length already twitching against your touch. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but since the night you had called it off with him, his desire had subsided and he wondered if you were the sole reason for his high sex drive. You placed your lips against his belly ring, giving it a kiss before pulling down his boxers and allowing his member to spring free. Yuta cursed as your tongue swiped across the tip and you looked up at him with those large eyes, and Yuta knew exactly what you were waiting for. Positioning your mouth over his tip, you waited until Yuta grabbed a fistful of your hair and guided you down on his length, groaning loudly as you took in all of him.

Yuta’s hips began to meet your rhythm and the grip on your hair tightened, the sudden roughness made you shiver with excitement. You and Yuta always liked it rough, since it took out your anger on each other and any type of nurturing or romance would throw off the dynamic.

Yuta threw his head back as he released, keeping you on him until you swallowed every bit. He muttered curse words as he pulled out and watched you lick your lips, swiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb and sucked it off.

“Yum” you mimicked his words from earlier with a smirk essentially driving Yuta crazy with lust. You giggled as he pushed you onto the bed and attacked you with bites and kisses, leading from your neck down to the valley of your breasts. “How long until you get hard again?” You sighed playfully but winced when Yuta’s teeth sunk into your skin, punishing you for your words.

“Cocky aren’t we ?” He moved back up to your lips and kissed you passionately. Just as you began melting into the kiss, Yuta pulled away and jumped off his bed heading to his closet.

“What are you doing ?” You groaned as you watched him sift through the mess of his closet until he finally retrieved a familiar box. “Yuta you’re literally hard right now, come on let’s just fuck already” you whined, knowing that when Yuta brought out that box it was his way of getting rid of your bratty attitude.

“If you wanna be impatient two can play at that game” he grinned and hopped onto the bed, pulling out his favorite pair of hair cuffs and with ease, cuffed you to his headboard. You watched him look through his box of toys, rubbing your thighs together excited about what his choice will be.

Yuta grabbed something out of the box and discarded the rest onto the floor, making his way back up to your body and pressed his lips against your ear, “you remember the safe word baby ?” Yuta pecked you when you nodded and you watched him insert a mini vibrator in your core and roll off the bed with the remote in his hand.

“I wasn’t even that mean to you” you grumbled, still getting used to the device inserted in you. Yuta shrugged and turned the device on, keeping it on a low setting as he watched you stir in his bed.

“I’m not punishing you for that actually, I’m punishing you for something else you did” he said calmly, pacing around the room butt ass naked. You frowned and thought back to the party when he had found you, what did you say to him ?

“I’m sorry I pushed you…away” you pouted but a moan escaped your lips when you felt the setting turn higher and you watched Yuta shake his head, “nope that’s not it.” You groaned and threw your head back, unable to even think what the hell he could be on about. Yuta would get mad at every little thing so it honestly could’ve been anything.

“Can’t I have a hint or something ?” You pleaded and Yuta raised his eyebrow and eventually sighed, giving in too easily. “It happened in the beginning at the party” he said annoyingly, and finally something in your brain clicked.

“The kiss ? You’re mad over the kiss ?” Your words fell off when you felt the vibrator go another setting higher, the new speed was decent enough to start building a second orgasm. “You don’t sound like you’re apologizing for it” Yuta scoffed and dangled the remote in front of your face, “this goes up 4 more speeds y/n.”

“Why do I need to apologize for kissing my boyfriend when-“

Another setting higher.

“Fuck wait Yuta” you breathed, it was impossible to even keep focused at the new speed and the sensation was now running throughout your entire body. “You kissed him in front of me to make me jealous didn't you?” Yuta questioned and you nodded frantically, pressing your thighs together to ease the intensity, “yes yes oh my God, I wanted to make you….jealous because you brought someone else…and..fuck” just as you felt your body finally build up a perfect orgasm the vibrator suddenly turned off and you were met with Yuta’s cocky smile.

“You like to have it all don’t you y/n” he hummed as flung the remote aside and knelt between your thighs that were shaking from the orgasm denial. “You want to fuck me, but not let me fuck anyone else, you want Jeno but you don’t want me to get mad over it” he continued as he pulled the dripping wet toy out of your core and tossed it to the floor. Yuta placed his hands on either side of you and looked down at your defeated face and smiled, “Do you want me to fuck someone else?”

You shook your head and Yuta undid one of the handcuffs. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek and again asked you another question, “Do you want to fuck me ?” and you quickly nodded, earning your second hand free from the cuffs allowing them to fall to your sides. Yuta placed his hand around your throat and squeezed gently, smirking as you arched your back, thirsting for him so desperately.

“Who would fuck you better, me or Jeno ?” Yuta mused as his hand released a bit of pressure on your throat. “Y-you” your voice was small and Yuta released your throat and his hand moved down to smack your thigh.

“Say it, say who will fuck you better” he hissed.

“You Yuta, you will fuck me better than anyone…better than Jeno” Yuta grinned at your words, a little surprised that you used Jeno’s name in such a blasphemous way. He was in euphoria at this point. It was all he needed to hear after continuously seeing you and Jeno look as if you were in love with each other.

It was all wrong.

You and him loved each other.

Fuck. He loved you. He really did.

Yuta pushed his length into your core and groaned as the realization of his thoughts and his conversation with Johnny all hit him at once. The sight of you beneath him, moaning his name and your confession that you wanted him over Jeno. It was all too much.

You moaned as he thrusted into you, his hips violently hitting against yours as your nails dug into his lower back. The lewd sounds filled the room and for a second the two of you looked into each other’s eyes, both feeling something…different. Usually Yuta would be fucking you from behind, his favourite position because he loved looking at your ass but tonight especially after his sudden questioning, he took care of you differently.

You don’t know what came over you and it was yet another thing you never did during sex but you pulled him down to kiss you. Your lips moved passionately against his, desperately clinging to his body as his strokes became longer and more powerful. Yuta sighed into the kiss, palming your cheek and his movements suddenly became more gentle as if he were making love to you, not fucking you.

“Yuta…I’m close” you moaned into his ear, loving this new feeling of him on your body. Yuta hummed in response and quickened his pace, making sure to sneak in a kiss every now and then until he finally brought you to your long awaited orgasm. You watched him bite down on his lip as he thrusted into you, chasing his own orgasm until he pressed his against your ear and said the words you never thought you’d hear from him.

“I love you y/n”

Your body slightly froze as Yuta finally came and he rolled off your body, mentally cursing himself for allowing those words to escape his mouth at this moment. But it’s what he felt.

Johnny was right.

“W-what ?” You finally managed to say and turned to him. Yuta licked his lips and kept his focus on the ceiling above him.

“You heard me right” he said calmly and you felt your heart race. Where was this coming from ? He was the one who always implemented the no romance rule and he chooses now, the moment you’re seeing someone else to confess to you.

“I have to go” you murmured and jumped off the bed, starting to collect your clothes from the floor. You heard the bed creak and Yuta sat up and watched you dress up. “It’s late now y/n and you drank, stay the night and leave when the suns up” he insisted, eventually grabbing his own boxers,

“Here you can sleep in one of my shirts and you’re welcome to sleep in my bed for the night.”

“Y-you…that was one of the rules…no staying over” you were biting on your nails, everything that had happened in the last ten minutes made no sense. Yuta shoved the shirt into your hands and sighed, “Look, we don’t have to talk about what I said or what happened, just stay the night and you can go back to your perfect life with Jeno.” Yuta began making his way to his door when you grabbed onto his arm making him stop in his tracks,

“Where are you going ?” You asked him softly.

Yuta looked at you and sighed, “I’m going to sleep on the couch.”

“Yuta..”

“What ?”

“Stay with me.”

—-—————————————————————

You had no idea why you had told him to stay in bed with you considering all that had happened a few minutes ago. But here you were, curled into his chest listening to his heartbeat as he lightly stroked your hair.

“How…long ?” You broke the silence and felt his heartbeat slightly race, “The realization came recently but I’ve…always liked you y/n” Yuta responded softly.

“Well you don’t have a good way of showing it” you rolled your eyes and Yuta’s soft laughter filled the room. “Well at first you actually were annoying but I did find you cute” He replied and shifted until you were on your back looking up at him,

“You put up with me and we’re not afraid to fight back. You know it’s not even about the sex, I think we’ve always enjoyed each other’s company, we just have a weird way of showing it.” You listened to his words and did a bit of reflection for yourself. You were already well aware that he occupied your mind 24/7 and did not enjoy seeing him around other girls he would eventually sleep with. But was this…love ? You weren't so sure.

“Do you ever think it’s more of an addiction rather than…love ?” You looked up at him, hoping your words did not offend his sudden confession in any way. Yuta sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling deep in thought.

“What is love then ?” He murmured, clearly by the look on his face he had been pondering on this question for a while now. You joined him in laying on your back and looked up at the ceiling, “love is when the other person completes you” you began, “when you’re having a dull day and just the sight of them could turn that around. Love is wanting to protect that person all the time, it’s just love.”

Yuta turned to you, “have you ever been in love ?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.” Yuta shrugged and returned his focus above him, “whatever you just described is how I feel, but maybe I’m just still hung up on the Jeno situation.” You felt a pang in your chest as if you just completely destroyed his spirit. You always saw Yuta as a strong confident presence, yet the person next to you seemed lost, he looked broken. But deep down you knew that whatever he was describing had floated in your head from time to time, maybe it needed to be said out loud for you to finally realize.

“Give me a week”

“Huh ?” Yuta’s eyebrows raised at you.

“Give me a week to figure all of this out and we will have this talk again” you sat up and looked back at him. Yuta propped himself up on his elbows and shook his head, “y/n, if you don’t feel the same way it’s okay I won’t come in between you and…Jeno anymore.”

“Yuta”

“Hmm?”

You pulled the boy by his shirt until you were able to lock your lips with his, slipping your tongue into his mouth and he mimicked your actions before pulling away, a confused expression spreading across his face.

“I don’t know where this is going to go and whether we’re right for each other,” you chuckled dryly, “but I will always want you Yuta, you’re not coming between Jeno and I because the one who wants… .”

————————————————————————

It was finally Monday and you already regretted seeing Jeno at the office since you faked a terrible hangover to get out of the Sunday date, something that wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent the whole of Sunday laying in your bed thinking about the night you spent with Yuta and all that was shared during the morning.

You thought back on your own words about what your version of love was. Protecting someone. You reminisced about the days when Yuta got sick after a night out and you were the one to take care of him despite his protests. You thought back to when the two of you were working on a project, arguing as usual and you managed to slip on a wet paint spot, causing you to sprain your ankle. Yuta was the one to help you around the office when needed, he wasn’t appointed to you nor did he have to use up his own time to help you but he did it anyway.

When you were having a dull day the person you loved would find a way to brighten it up, just the sight of them was enough. There was an occasion where a client got real mean with you in the office, and hated the project you worked almost a month on, refusing to pay you for the labor you had put in. Yuta had seen the commotion and joined you in your booth and the two of you flooded the clients company with hilarious bad reviews anonymously until you were literally tearing up from laughter. That was one of the rare days the two of you didn’t get into an argument and the moment completely slipped your mind. You had forgotten that Yuta and you actually shared fond memories of each other outside the bedroom.

You thought about every moment you got to the office and Yuta would be sticking his tongue out at you, calling you names and being a jerk as usual. But days when he had to work out of the office felt boring, empty, it wasn’t worth sitting in your cubicle without seeing him across from you.

But then after feeling the warm fuzziness of knowing Yuta felt the same way about you, your phone buzzed with Jeno’s name across the screen. Why were you doing this to him ? Why was Jeno in the crossfire when all he wanted to do was get to know you better ?

All you ever wanted was a distraction from the man you were scared to fall in love with.

“Heyyy you, you feeling okay ?” Jeno beamed when you entered the office, immediately bringing you into a tight hug and ending with a kiss on the cheek. You nodded and the sense of guilt over took your body as you looked up at his cheery smile.

“I heard you guys got so wasted at the party, damn I wish I stayed” Jeno giggled as the two of you walked hand in hand over to your cubicle. “Yeah it was…crazy” you faked a smile before settling in your seat. You looked across, a force of habit and you were greeted by a soft smile from Yuta before quietly returning to his work.

“I was thinking we should go see that new marvel movie tonight, what do you think ?” Jeno’s eyes were so bright and full of energy that everytime you looked into them it just made it harder to keep up your facade. “I’m pretty busy this week but hey Friday you can come over, I…need to talk to you anyway” you bit down on your lip and Jeno’s expression changed from excited to slightly wary, clearly noticing that something wasn’t quite right.

“Is….everything okay?” He asked in a staggered voice, and you slowly nodded and reached to squeeze his hand, “yeah let’s hang out on Friday okay ?” You smiled and Jeno pressed his lips together and nodded. You watched him exit your cubicle and all that was left in your view was the only person you wanted to see today, Yuta.

Yuta looked up and caught your stare, smiling softly as he rested his chin on the palm of his hand and winked at you. It was sweet and innocent, nothing like how he usually acted from across the room. You found yourself blushing and hid your face until you heard a beep come from your phone. Opening the messenger app you were greeted by a picture of yourself hiding your crimson cheeks with the message ‘Cute’ attached to it.

y/n: didn’t take you for a simp.

yutaa: fuck off, I have a folder like this.

You stifled your laughter when Yuta sent a screenshot with a folder just of you in your cubicle. From you flipping him off, to you glaring at him clearly pissed off at something he had said, and one of you trying your best to pay attention to whatever story Yangyang was on about.

y/n: oh my god you’re a BIG SIMP.

yutaa: maybe.

y/n: well I do have ONE of you that I don’t have the heart to delete.

yutaa: oh really ?

You sent Yuta a picture you absolutely treasured of him in your bed fast asleep hugging one of your plushies. It was one of the last nights you had with him before things got sour. Normally you’d never allow him to nap in your bed after a hookup but he looked so at peace and so adorable that you decided to bend the rules a little.

yutaa: that was a good ass nap. yutaa: simp.

y/n: maybe.

The rest of the day went on and honestly you felt as if you were on cloud nine, chatting to Yuta like he was your high school crush. Smiling every time he texted back and glancing up every now and then, waiting for him to look at you with that cheeky grin. But as reality set in and Yuta’s smile faded, you were still dating another man. Who now had his arms wrapped around your waist peppering kisses all over your neck and shoulder while Yuta looked on, not being able to do a thing about it.

————————————————————————

The team decided to head out for dinner the next day, and something in Jeno had switched. After Yuta had watched him cuddle you until the day was over, you barely even got the chance to talk to Yuta face to face since Jeno offered to take you home. He was being suspiciously clingy and you wondered if he suspected anything.

“You’re okay with sharing a pasta and plate of fries ?” Jeno smiled over at you, one hand rubbing your waist and the other holding up the wooden menu. You nodded and Jeno placed his order in with Johnny who was doing the rounds for everyone. Yuta sat across from you and you could feel his stare on you from time to time, and the moments it felt like he was staring, Jeno’s grip on your waist got tighter.

“Is...is something wrong ?” you leaned into Jeno as he took a sip of his water. Even though he was smiling, his jaw was clenched signaling that he was trying to suppress himself from doing or saying something. “I'm just really tired” he rubbed your back and to your surprise leaned in to capture your lips. It was innocent but your lack of effort to mind his feelings wasn't good enough for Yuta. Frankly he had no idea where you two stood at the moment, for all he knew you could be playing him right now. It probably wasn't the case though, but Yuta was not really used to his life getting a happy ending. The night drove on and the group split with you, Ten, Doyoung, Taeyong and Renjun seated at the table while the rest of the guys were hanging around the bar babysitting their drinks. Jeno was really a changed man since high school. He was so confident, well-built and a good socialite with the team. You watched him lean against the bar counter, drink in hand entertaining whatever story Lucas had for the night.

“So you and y/n huh ? Have you scored yet ?” Lucas raised his brow cheekily to which Jeno chuckled and shook his head, “Really Lucas ? were talking about my sex life now ?” Yuta was in conversation with Johnny and Sungchan but he couldn't help but overhear your name in the chat next to him.

“Yeah man, I'm sure she’s good too after locking down my boy Yuta” Lucas smirked and Yuta flinched when the boisterous man grabbed onto his shoulder and pulled him into the conversation. “Even though they hate each other I just know they had the best hook ups” Lucas laughed despite Johnny trying to make him shut up.

“Well that’s all over now” Jeno’s eyes narrowed on Yuta before looking up at Lucas, “she invited me over tonight and considering the type of pictures she sent me, i'm guessing it’s going to be one hell of a night.” Yuta’s chest felt tight not only at the possibility that you may have invited him over to finally sleep with him but mainly because of the way Jeno spoke about you. He probably only shared that information to appease Lucas but hinting at you sending him nudes was not something you would like the guys to know about.

“She’s really been trying to speed up the process between us too it's cute actually” Jeno continued as Yangyang and Lucas egged him on, “that night after that painting you guys did for Mark Lee she was practically begging me to fuck her after our movie date. God if my brother didn't give me all those errands I would've done so right on the kitchen counter.”

Yuta shot back the rest of his drink and stormed off as Lucas and Yangyang hyped up Jeno, pouring him another shot and laughing erratically in their drunken state. From where you were seated you saw Yuta storm off and watched Johnny run after him worriedly, making you slightly anxious.

“Yuta don't listen to them man '' Johnny huffed as he finally caught up to his friend a few blocks down from the restaurant. “I dont fucking care man I really dont” Yuta chuckled dryly and ran his fingers through his hair, “It doesnt matter because at the end of the day im still the worthless piece of shit and guys like him are God fucking sent.” Johnny watched Yuta’s expression change and he turned around to find you standing there, desperately looking between them for context.

“Yuta what happened ?” you asked in a small voice and the familiar sting in his chest returned, hearing you call out his name, following him out here while Jeno was still inside, it was all just confusing to him.

“I thought you giving us a week meant you felt the same way and I could finally relax knowing you were going to be with me y/n” Yuta groaned in frustration while Johnny took a step away from the heated exchange. You shook your head as you approached him, “yes I did, so what's the problem ?” Yuta scoffed and folded his arms. “What's the problem ? doesn't look like anything’s changed y/n. I have to see you act like the couple of the year after telling you how I felt about you ? That's brilliant.”

“I told you I would speak to him this week” you snapped, unbothered by the now random onlookers who were concerned at the scene taking place. “But fine honestly Yuta if you really want me to say it you have my permission to fuck some random girl until im finally free.” You rolled your eyes about to turn on your heels to leave when you felt a tug on your wrist and Yuta pulled you into a kiss. He held your face in his hands as he kissed you passionately, sighing as he slowly pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours,

“When I said I loved you I fucking meant it y/n, I only want you. But please, if youre going to invite him over or send him dirty...pictures atleast tell him not to tell the whole fucking world about it.”

You took a step back and frowned at his words, “What ? What pictures ?”

“The ones he told Lucas about, y/n honestly I don't care I was just mad that he was airing your business out like that” Yuta bit down on his lip and yet again you were deeply confused as to what he was on about.

“I...I didn't send him anything” you responded, “I didn't invite him over tonight and I definitely haven't sent him any...nudes.”

“Tell that to him then”

You turned around and noticed most of the team was now outside watching the commotion go down and right in front was Jeno, who by the look on his face had most likely seen the kiss you just shared with Yuta.

Jeno approached the both of you with an irritated groan and scoffed, “I was going to ignore the signs but God I was so right, you were still fucking him this entire time ?” You lowered your head and Yuta glared at Jeno, “If you knew all this time why didn't you just break up with her and move on ?”

Jeno rolled his eyes and took a step closer to Yuta to which Johnny quickly responded by placing a firm hand on Jeno’s shoulder making sure the boy was at safe distance from his best friend.

“I'm not like you Yuta” Jeno licked his lips, “unlike you I respect her, I understand that she was going back to you because you like to play around, you never cared about her until I showed up. You were threatened by the fact that you were no longer in control of her.”

“Nobody is in control of me first of all” you chimed in, “and second what’s this about me inviting you over and sending you nudes that apparently the whole fucking bar knows about”

“It's just banter y/n” Jeno shook his head.

“Banter ?” Yuta repeated, “didnt know talking about how you were going to fuck your girlfriend on the kitchen counter in front of her coworkers is banter.”

“What?” you walked up to Jeno, “W-where is this coming from Jeno ? you’re not like this.”

“Well how am I supposed to be y/n ?” Jeno raised his voice, “you wouldn't mind if he said that to you. You're always letting him get away with shit. Im the one sitting around here knowing my damn girlfriend is fucking around with someone else yet somehow still trying to forgive you and figure this out.”

“Why, though ?” you shrugged, “Is it because you want to prove to other people that you're the bigger person ?”

“Would you rather be with someone like him ? someone who will probably throw you aside after he’s bored, or someone like me who was always patient, always willing to put you first no matter what” Jeno reached for your hand, his eyes widening when you shrugged him off.

“Someone who I barely know that talks about me to my friends like im just some kind of whore or someone i've known for a while and not once shared anything intimate that happened between us,” you looked over at Yuta, “It was my one rule, the same rule I gave you Jeno and he was, Yuta is the only one who has abided to it.”

“y/n Im sorry,” Jeno lowered his voice, “we hurt each other and I want to fix that, just make your final decision...me or Yuta”

“Jeno….I apologize for using you, I'm sorry for leading and hurting your feelings” you began and Yuta slowly shook his head and turned around ready to hear the bad news that always seemed to follow him,

“But as crazy as it may sound to everyone here, I'm most like myself when I'm with Yuta, I love the person I am when I'm around him” Yuta turned at your words and instead of the sting he felt a sense of warmth. Hearing you say that in front of everyone who wanted the two of you apart, besides Johnny ofcourse, was absolute bliss.

“Who knows maybe it won't work and it will explode but I really want to try, that's the thing I'm most sure of, I really really want to try” you smiled as Yuta made his way over to you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“Let's get out of here” Yuta whispered before placing a kiss on your cheek and draping his arm over your shoulder as the two of you exited the street walking away from the mess and not even giving it a second glance.

The two of you ended up at your apartment full of smiles and giggles as you slowly discarded your clothes on the way to the bedroom. Once your back touched your soft duvet covers Yuta pressed his body against yours and peppered your skin with kisses all the way up to your ear. “I want to try something different” he whispered and you nodded in response while Yuta pulled his shirt over his head and discarded his jeans. Yuta pulled you on top of his body and returned to your lips, kissing you slowly and passionately. His touches were so delicate and nurturing that every time his fingers ran down your back you felt butterflies in your stomach. You unhooked your bra shimmied out of it, still attached to the addictive taste of Yuta’s lips. He slowly rolled you onto your back and left soft kisses all the way down your neck, down the valley of your breasts until he reached your abdomen. You watched as he pulled your underwear off, looking at your body like it was the most beautiful thing he had seen. That was it. Instead of lust he looked at you with love. He looked like he wanted to take care of you, be gentle with you, savour every moment he had with you. Your breathing hitched when you quickly realized that he inserted himself inside of you and used one arm to steady himself on the bed as he lent down to meet your lips. His strokes were slow but sharp, digging his nails into your thigh from time to time, preventing himself from losing control. Wanting to feel more of him you signaled that you wanted to switch positions and Yuta licked his lips as he watched you place your knees on either side of him and sit down on his member. “F-fuck” he cursed as you began to ride him, keeping to his wishes of keeping things calm and slow. Yuta wrapped his arms tightly around your waist as the two of you kissed in between your moans, twirling your tongue with his as your hips slammed into his.

“Y-Yuta…” you moaned, feeling a tear escape your eye as the long night and the building orgasm caught up with you.

“Yes baby ?” he hummed in your ear.

“I really fucking love you” you sighed, just the words finally leaving your mouth made you sob with joy. It felt so fucking good to finally say it out loud.

Yuta responded by flipping you onto your back and chased both his and your orgasm, fucking you with his usual intensity until you came and he followed straight after, filling the room with heavy pants and both of you trying to catch your breath.

“I love you too y/n” He finally said, bringing you to his chest and pressed his lips against your forehead.

The two of you lay in your bed both napping for a bit until the first sight of dawn began filling the bedroom. You winced at the sun and hid your face in Yuta’s arms as he grinned at your actions.

“I don't want to go to work!” you grumbled.

“Fuck go to work after all the drama you caused ?” Yuta pinched your cheek playfully, earning a nudge in his side from you.

“Anyway” Yuta continued, “I got an email from Taeyong and he said if we want we can work remotely, he gave us the Okinawa project.” You sat up in bed and turned to face him, “the Okinawa project ? Its 9 months in Japan, the same project the whole damn building was trying to get” you blinked, still unsure if Yuta was just fucking with you.

“That's the one” Yuta shrugged, “anyways he said he was going to send either of us anyway since he knows we always get the job done. Oh and he actually said something really funny actually”

“What ?” you raised your brow and watched Yuta reread the text message on his phone.

“He said Doyoung was the one who suggested the two of us be the ones to go, who would've thought ?” Yuta closed the messages and tucked himself back into bed.

“Yeah” you smiled, “Who would've thought.”

THE END

#yuta smut #yuta nakamoto #yuta x you #nct yuta #nct smut #nct 127 smut #yuta angst #nct scenarios #jeno angst #lee jeno angst #nct angst #nct dream angst #2jaeh masterlist

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neon-junkie · 4 years

Text

Ruin Me

Summary: Micah seems a little off since he came back from jail, and he soon asks for your help as he pins you up against a tree on the outskirts of camp.

Pairing: Micah Bell x f!Reader

Word Count: 2702

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Squirting, Multiple orgasms, Thigh riding, Dry humping, Creampies, Creampie eating, Face slapping, Dom/Sub, Sub!Micah, Dom!Reader, Switch, Hickeys, Bruises, Dirty talk, So much sin.

Notes: honestly, I wrote this for myself cause I haven't seen much squirting or sub!Micah, and I just wanted to include a handful of my personal kinks in a fic with my rat husband, so :) yay :)

"Come here," Micah orders as he grabs you by the wrist, dragging you away from the conversation you were currently having. He's quick to storm out of camp, you dragging behind as you ask over and over what's a matter with him. Your questions are soon answered when Micah walks you far enough from camp, quickly pinning you to a tree and placing his lips on your neck, his moustache a little rougher than usual as he nips and bites at your skin. You can feel the damp patch between your legs growing and Micah's quick to put his thigh between them, his hands tightly gripping onto your hips as he forces you to roll your hips on his thigh, grinding your clit down against the fabric of your clothes.

He's not wearing his hat for once, his red shirt hangs half-open as usual, and his gunbelt is nowhere to found. He looks like he's just rolled out of bed, despite it being the evening. "Micah?" you question, still not knowing what's caused the sudden move from your sweetheart. It's not rare to have Micah pull you out of camp so he can fuck you up against a tree, but he seems... different. He's been off since he came back from jail, still with those bruises under his eye and his dried blood that he was yet to wash off his shirt. "I just need you right now. That's all," Micah mutters against your neck as he moves off it, quick admiring the marks he'd left on you as he moves his head up, his eyes meeting yours. His brows are slightly furrowed and there's a feral glistened in his eyes, a lot stronger than the usual one he has dancing in them. "Get movin'," Micah orders you as he grips even tighter onto your hips. "These clothes are already ruined, but I need you to ruin them more for me. Hell, ruin me. I don't care. I just need you right now," Micah tells you as one hand moves up to grip your hair, holding the back of your head firmly as he introduces his lips to yours. It's more than obvious that Micah needs you right now, so you follow his orders, grinding your crotch against his jeans. There's enough friction to satisfy your needs, but Micah momentarily moves his thigh away so he can grab at your skirt, pulling it up in bunches and almost ripping your undergarments from you. You kick them off, leaving them on the floor, and Micah pulls you back onto his thigh, your skirt still gripped tightly in his hand. Micah told you to ruin his clothes, so you begin to grind your clit on the rough fabric of his jeans, leaving more of a wet patch there the more you grind. Micah lets out a chuckle as your face bunches up in pleasure, mouth parting slightly as you softly moan, getting yourself off on his thigh. One of his hands moves to the tree trunk, propping himself up, whilst the other slides under your skirt and grips onto your ass. You move your hands around his shoulders, supporting your weight as you feel your knees go weak, though you know Micah will always catch you if you fall. He said to ruin him, so why hold back? You undo a few of his shirt buttons, slipping his tatty red shirt off one of his shoulders, and begin to bite along his neck, leaving marks all over him, sprinkling down to his collar bone and slowly up across his shoulder. Micah's loving it, letting out a chuckle here and there, though it's mostly moans and grunts that escape his lips, along with praise and words of encouragement. "No holdin' back, sweetheart," Micah tells you as you leave another mark on him. You have to stop your artwork so you can bury your head in the curve of his neck, panting and gripping onto his arms as your orgasm hits you. "Atta girl," Micah praises as he holds you, enjoying your body trembling against his as you ruin his jeans. You soon slide off, admiring the dark patch on his pants leg, but it seems Micah isn't satisfied yet, despite the bruises dotted along his shoulder, matching the one under his puffy eye. There's an obvious bulge in Micah's pants, and he moves his hands off you so he can begin to undo them. "Lie down," Micah orders. Thankfully, the ground beneath you is grassy and dry, so you take a seat. Micah falls to his knees and is quick to hook your legs over his hips, stroking himself a few times before pushing his cock into you. He's working so quickly, fumbling about and rushing as if his life depended on it. He wasn't lying when he told you he needs you now. A moan escapes your lips as you lie back in the grass, enjoying the way Micahs cock stretches your overly-sensitive pussy, your orgasm barely settling before it begins building up again. Micah often enjoys fucking you slow at first, watching you squirm and whimper underneath him as you tell him off for teasing you, but he's slamming his hips against yours as he towers over you, his hands gripping onto your thighs, his shirt still hanging off his shoulder. Micah soon leans over you, placing one arm beside your head as he moves his lips down to meet yours again. His tongue slips against yours, and for once Micah is moaning rather than letting out those grunts. As he breaks the kiss, he buries his head into the curve of your neck, focusing on slamming his hips down into you whilst he leaves a few more matching marks on your neck. "Sweetheart," Micah sighs as he lifts his head up, eyes meeting yours. "Mhmm?" you moan, moving your arms around his shoulders as he changes his pace, rolling his cock into you rather than slamming it. "Would you squirt for me?" Micah asks, his mouth remaining slightly parted after he speaks. There's a desperate and tired look in his eyes, and you question when he last slept seeing as he'd been acting so off since he broke out of jail. "You really want me to ruin them clothes for you, don'tcha?" you tease, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. "I do, doll. I'd do anythin' for it," Micah begs. "Alright," you smirk. Micah moans at your response, shifting up onto his knees so you can reach down and begin rubbing your clit. He's watching you like a hawk, eyes half-lidded and mouth falling open, watching the way his cock slides into you as you play with your clit. Micah begins slamming his hips again, gritting his teeth as he takes a hold of your thighs. He shifts his weight and pulls you up onto his lap, holding your hips firmly as the sound of skin against skin can definitely be heard by anyone nearby. It's a good thing Micah dragged you so far from camp. Micah knows you're close when your body begins to shake, your muscles spasming uncontrollably. Finally, it hits you. Micah sighs heavily as he watches you squirt, soaking his shirt and crotch. He looks like he's in love, eventually bringing his hips to a halt so he can push his load deep inside of you. You've never seen him come undone before, moaning louder than you were as he leans down, resting his forehead in the curve of your neck as he rides his high. He remains there for a few minutes, panting heavily whilst his cock slowly softens inside of you. You run your fingers through his hair, pushing the strands off his face as you coo him. "You alright, sweetheart?" you eventually ask, seeing as Micah still hadn't moved, though you quite enjoyed having him cuddle up to you like this. "Yeah," Micah sighs, his eyes still shut. "I ain't done," he tells you as he slowly lifts off you, shuffling down your body. You watch him settle his lips between your legs, lapping away at your cunt, his tongue brushing back and forth over your far-too-sensitive clit. "Micah-" you gasp, your hands finding his hair as your thighs begin to shake again. He places a death grip on them, forcing your legs open as he laps at your clit. Micah's tongue finds its way over every inch of your damp skin from where your orgasm had hit you. He licks along your thighs, planting kisses here and there, before dipping his head back down and attacking your cunt again. Micah clearly isn't bothered about his own cum dripping from your hole. He instead slides his tongue in and fucks you with it, making you roll your head back and moan. It's common for Micah to go down on you, his ego feeding off the number of times he can make you cum from just his tongue and sometimes his fingers, but you never thought he'd be the type to lap his own cum straight out of your cunt. "Sweetheart, are you alright?" you manage to ask him. He still feels more feral than usual, his grips are a little tight, but the way he's manhandling you is sending constant shivers down your spine. "Uh-huh," Micah moans as he moves his mouth up your pussy, his tongue finding your clit again as he licks and sucks at the nub. You can't deny that you're not loving this, already feeling your third orgasm approaching as Micah draws it out from you. The way his facial hair is brushing against your skin is making your body tremble, and you're struggling to lie still as he continues to lap his tongue against you. Micah finally comes up from between your legs, only to lie on his back and swiftly roll you on top of him. He looks a mess, his eyes are hazier than you've ever seen them with a large collection of bruises dotted all over his collar and neck, almost as dark as the one below his eye. It's been there for just over a week, and you question if Micah's done anything to worsen it as it's taking time to heal. You know what Micah wants, so you lift your hips up, reaching down to hold his cock in place as you slide back onto it. He lets out a yelp as you slide down onto him, his cock almost as overly-sensitive as your cunt is. You begin to ride him, watching the way his head rolls back against the earth. His eyes fall shut and his mouth remains parted, his hands gripping onto your thighs as he begins to moan again. He seems so needy and desperate, not as dominating as he was half an hour ago. "Doll?" Micah eventually asks as his eyes fall partially open, looking up at you. "Sweetheart?" you reply, not calming your pace as you continue to ride him. "Would you- ah!" Micah yelps as you roll your hips perfectly, slamming down onto him. You let out a giggle but refrain from doing it again, eager to see what he's after. "Would you... roughen me up?" he asks. "Still desperate for me to ruin you?" you ask. "Yeah," he sighs, nodding his head at the same time. "How could I ever refuse you," you grin as you lean over him, placing one hand beside his head as the other takes its place around his throat, squeezing tightly, maybe a little bit too tightly. Micah scrunches his eyes shut, his mouth parting as he lets out a gasp for air. You roll your hips down on his cock, brushing perfectly against that spot inside of you, feeling another orgasm approaching. How you hadn't collapsed from exhaustion was a mystery, probably fueled by this mission to leave your sweetheart completely ruined. Micah peeks his eyes open, meeting yours. You give him a look, moving off his throat so you can plant a harsh slap across his face, accidentally hitting the bruise under his eye in the process. Oops. He doesn't seem to mind as his cock throbs inside of you, bucking his hips up at the same time. His eyes fall shut again when you move your hand back on his throat, barely giving him enough time to breathe. "I'm close," you sigh. "You got another load for me, Micah?" you ask. Micah attempts to speak but can't so he nods his head instead. You tut him, deciding his response wasn't good enough, and move off his throat so you can slap him again. "Speak when you're spoken to, sweetheart," you tell him, softening your voice as you sweetly call him by his pet name. "Yes, Miss," Micah manages to sigh. Oooh. You always get the chills whenever you hear Micah call you that, which was very rare as Micah loved being the dom during your mischievous sessions. You sit upright, leaning back a little so you can reach down and begin rubbing your clit again. Your eyes meet Micahs, both of your faces rosy with bliss and ecstasy. "You want me to squirt again for you?" you flirt, watching his ears perk up at the offer. "Please," Micah nods at the same time, the grip on your thighs tightening as his cock twitches inside of you again. "Please, Miss," Micah repeats, his eyes falling shut as he feels his orgasm approaching. You only need to rub your clit a few more times before you're cumming again, leaving Micah's stomach and crotch in even more of a mess as you soak him. Micah quickly sits upright so he can wrap his arms around your hips and force you down on his cock, burying himself as deep as he can go, drawing another load from himself. Micah buries his face into the curve of your neck, panting and sighing heavily as he rides his high, his body shaking more than you've ever seen. His grip around your waist is tight, and you know he's gritting his teeth together from that hissing sound that comes out as he breaths. You move your hand from your clit, wrapping yourself around his shoulders. The two of you hold each other for a while, bodies still trembling as you come down from your highs. Micah eventually lifts his head up so he can steal a kiss from you, a lot softer than the ones from earlier. He feels needy and desperate, melting into your touches and sighing softly every so often, even more as you part your lips so your tongue can slide against his. The two of you spend some time making out, ignoring your soaked clothes and Micahs slowly softening cock inside of you, though you know if you stay sitting on his lap any longer then it'll perk up again. Finally, the dampness of your clothing begins to irritate you, and despite your weak knees, you manage to stand up, dragging Micah up with you. You quickly slip your undergarments back on and turn to pull Micah's shirt back over his shoulder as he fastens up his pants, though it looks like the man had just jumped into a lake. Thankfully, it's dark enough and the camp seems preoccupied with stories by the campfire, so you sneak through to your tent, dragging Micah with you as your hand loosely holds his. The two of you don't exchange many words, too exhausted from your workout. You put on some light sleeping clothes, but Micah only changes into another pair of briefs, rolling into your cot and waiting for you to join him. You usually cuddle up to him, but for the first time ever, Micah rests his head on your chest as he snuggles up to you, clearly still feeling needy and maybe even a bit vulnerable. You place a kiss to his head, and faintly hear a soft "thank you." Micah falls asleep before you, despite the aching along his skin from the various marks you've left on him. You wrap your hands a little tighter around him then drift off to sleep, enjoying seeing this needy and rare side of him.

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demonfox38 · 3 years

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Okay. Made it through the last season of Netflix's "Castlevania" interpretation. Thoughts are below the cut.

I've often thought of this series as the exploitation version of "Castlevania," and hiring Malcom McDowell confirms that.

Although, I find it hilarious that both Malcolm McDowell and Patrick Stewart have ended up voicing the same character. I'm sure there's a "Star Trek Generations" joke to be made in there, but I'm not Mike Stoklasa.

Also, I was cracking up a bit when Varney's plot twist happened. Mostly, because it came off a bit Skeletor-esque in vocal performance.

Also, also—laughing that the final boss went the "Castlevania: Lament of Innocence" route despite barely touching on that game's plot.

Animation had its ups and downs with this season. It seemed like there were some frame issues (not enough inbetweening.) I do appreciate how they incorporated more of Alucard's SOTN animations into his fights, however.

Additionally, some of the fight scenes' pacing seemed to have issues, particularly regarding weapon recovery.

The whole bit with St. Germain was off. Like, he's a weird asshole in "Castlevania: Curse of Darkness", but he's more of a weird asshole there in the same way that casually encountering "Doctor Who"'s Doctor would also be strange. Not a straight up villainous boob. Kinda makes sense thematically to have another character who is willing to do horrible shit for their lost loved one, but the series honestly did not do a good job establishing her. Like, did she even have a voice actor? Or a name? All I'm saying is it was much easier for outsiders to get the Lisa revenge thing Dracula had going.

Also, how dare you joke about not being deaf and then have a villainous monologue, TV show.

Greta's a good girl. Well, outside of being an occasional homewrecker. Point is, she's competent and trying her best to save people in a bad situation, and anyone having issues with her is not to be trusted in the same way that you don't trust people who don't like Rochelle from "Left 4 Dead 2."

Look at me. Do not trust people who do not like Rochelle from "Left 4 Dead 2." Yes, her writing could have been better, but she's still a viable character. Let people Thunder Child their ships on the rocks of your better self. Got me?

Also, y'all really need to embrace more polyamory. Or understand the fact that Alucard's not going to love just one person in his life. Dude lives to be at least 600 in the game's timeline. For a dude who loves humans, constricting him to just one who may live to be 100 at best is cruel.

There are some interesting philosophical dialogues going on here, but I can see where some people may lose their patience for them. Considering one of Castlevania's most popular memes is a philosophy debate, you're just gonna have to suck that up. My personal favorites included the topic of acting versus reacting, as well as having agency in one's story.

Striga's battle theme was cool, but otherwise, the music was forgettable. Yes, that is a sin. Punishable by Death? In this series, maybe!

The gore's still over the top. Which, okay, fine. There's a bit of that in game. It's just generally a bit more reserved with it or uses it in crucial boss fights.

RIP doggie.

The Targoviste plot's a bit of a wash, but it doesn't feel as useless as Trevor and Sypha's previous plot predicament. It's just nothing of a surprise, considering how many times the writing has played the "authority figures are useless" and "dark secret surprise" tropes in this series. Like, Greta being reliable is actually more surprising than anything with this plot.

I cannot emphasize enough how boring I found Carmilla's interpretation and plot arc. You guys could have had a giant, naked lesbian riding a skull and spewing magic at people while her cat-eared girlfriend jumped them for extra damage. But no. Vanilla lady with a scarlet sword for you. So long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Good night.

Gotta say, as much of a deviation from his source character as he is, Isaac really turned out well in this series. He's definitely evidence that you don't always need to stick to source material.

His Abel is fucking sick, dude. Way to go, king.

Also, I was expecting more violence from Hector this season. Oh, well. At least he got a teeny bit of a spine.

Look. I'm not an alchemist by any means. I'm just a bit baffled by this season's emphasis of obtaining a Rebis. Like, any time the game series has talked about the Magnum Opus of Alchemy, it's more been in pursuit of making a Philosopher's Stone (or at the very least, a Crimson Stone, as seen in "Castlevania: Lament of Innocence.") Pulling a Rebis out of the aether is…well. Could have been more interesting than it was. I mean, it was a bit nightmarish, but it really didn't do much.

Sypha's really never getting back to her family, is she?

Love the idea that the cross subweapon is basically a fancy chakram.

GERGOTH. BUDDY. FRIENDO.

Really appreciating the monster variety in these last two seasons. I mean, that's a big selling point of the "Castlevania" games. Not so much vampires standing around and bickering in dick-waving contests.

Breaking out of the bullet points to hit on the big subject of this season—that is, the ending being surprisingly happy.

There's been a lot of shit that's happened over the last few years. Obviously, a pandemic. Konami's run by pricks. Then, there's the situation with the allegations of sexual coercion with Warren Ellis. Additionally, the terrible ending of "Game of Thrones" likely impacted how this season was developed, considering it seemed to be chasing its progression in construction. (I mean, look at Carmilla and Daenerys.) I don't know how many people were happy with the last season of "Castlevania," but from my POV, it double-tapped itself in the foot with the way it pushed simultaneous sex and violence in its last two episodes. My point is, there was little taste for additional darkness, considering everything that has been happening. Society is drained.

A happy ending was what people really wanted. And man, did this pull through, in that regard. But, there's a conversation to be had in if this swerved too far or if it violates some artistic integrity to give people what they want. So, let's have it.

Look. Man. Have you seen a "Castlevania" ending? When you do it right, it's crumbled castles and rainbow-colored skies. If you do it really right, it results in a pretty girl holding the main character's hand. There is happiness in these games. Hope. Forgiveness and redemption. If this is supposed to be any bit an accurate interpretation of these games, it absolutely should end in such a joyful fashion. (Okay, maybe giving Dracula and Lisa a second honeymoon at the end was a bit much, but I get where people would want that.)

Did some items need to be addressed more? Absolutely. Alucard staking people and Hector getting sexually coerced into servitude are some pretty big topics to just wave away. (Oh, shit. That second part is even worse now with what Ellis was allegedly doing, isn't it?) I suppose I'm just glad the series didn't go full Sephiroth with Alucard. And at least Hector finally took some stand in his situation, even if it wasn't the bombastic, hateful revenge I'm used to seeing from this character in other stories.

I think the creators of this series were trying to save this show from the fate of "Game of Thrones." (To some extent, perhaps the "Voltron" re-interpretation as well.) There's so much media out there anymore that if a production team doesn't nail the ending, their creation gets wiped out of the collective consciousness. To that extent, I think the creators were successful in saving their series. Did it do damage to itself in yanking out of its construction and themes? A bit. But, in doing so, it pivoted back to being more like a proper "Castlevania" product. (And of course, by proper, I mean anything ignoring "Lords of Shadows." God, people need to stop chasing other products when developing "Castlevania" stuff and just let the series be as it is.)

I am very curious as to how much of this season was part of an original draft and how much was revised in backlash to everything that has happened. It doesn't seem like Trevor was intended to survive, but to some extent, Sypha had to. (I mean, until she has a kid, anyway. See "Lords of Shadows" series for dickery regarding that.) I'm also wondering if there was more intended for the Carmilla subplot, as much as the series was banging on about her invading locations. I'm not even sure St. Germain was intended to be a villain all along. Getting into a bitchfight with Death? Sure. Doing what he did here? That's a weird arc, dude.

If you come away from my POV with anything, it should be this: GO PLAY THE GAMES.

Do it. Do it, you ghouls. Go to the Steam store and download the "Castlevania Anniversary Collection." Boot up your PS3 or 4 or 18 or whatever and get "Symphony of the Night." Throttle Nintendo's stores until "Aria of Sorrow" or "Dawn of Sorrow" or "Harmony of Dissonance" or whatever rattles out of their moldy pockets. Find a ROM. Find an ISO. Just play a game. Especially, one of the ones made before 2010.

"Castlevania" as a game series isn't about hordes of vampires dick-waving at each other or edgy swearing or being grim and dark. Some of that stuff's there, sure. But, at its core, it's what game developers created when they looked at Universal Monster Movie creations and went "That's cool. Let's fight that!" It's a series about pushing technology in MMC chips to make rich, vibrant music. It's about flourishing artwork and layers of sprites dripping particles and gore onto players. It's sober and goofy and very pro curry.

The thing is, "Castlevania" players have their own unique connection to the series. We're the weirdos you see clapping their hands when a mutilated dinosaur shows up on screen. It's not because the monster alone is cool. It's that we've fought and struggled and bodied that thing through several floors like a goddamn "X-Men: Children of the Atom" stage. It's kicked our asses. We've kicked its ass. We've got a connection to it that you just don't get from passively watching it barf lasers through a computer monitor or TV screen. Like, you know how people go, "Well, the movie wasn't as good as the book?" It's obnoxious, sure. But, those who read the source materials have to go to the effort of constructing their own sets and people to understand what's happening. In a similar fashion, game players build up their own skill set to reach that next rung.

Maybe you don't always get a payout when you invest your resources into something. But, there is a sense of accomplishment, seeing what you can do.

There's a reason this series got an adaptation. I mean, outside of Konami's head executives wanting easy money. "Castlevania" is a fantastic video game series. Has it got a few problems? Oh yeah. Especially after outsourcing and pachislot machines became all the rage. But, there's a reason Simon and Richter Belmont are playable in "Super Smash Bros. Ultimate." There's a reason I spent a significant amount of time playing these games and writing or drawing fanworks for it. These games are wonderful. Beautiful. Difficult, but inspiring. Reasons I will still bang on about them decades years down the road.

When I get exasperated by layers of angst and edge lord content this Netflix series generated, I want you to know why. The roots of this show are good games held captive under poor management. Some people on staff know this. I wish they had more scenario and writing control. But mostly, I don't want to shit on them or their work. (Well, other than perhaps the obvious target.) I just want you to see what I love in these games.

And also to watch Crashervania. Because that's legit.

#castlevania #netflix castlevania #spoilers #tl;dr play ball or SOTN or a Sorrow game or something

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thirstyforbishiesimagines · 4 years

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First up!! WHOOP! 😁

I’ve never really seen him as angsty but more of a himbo with a heart of gold! Enjoy, Anon! 😘

Dangerous Fellows Christmas Event

Zion x Reader

Fluff / NSFW

💖 🎄 🔥 I Apocalypse

Warning: Smut / Profanity (18+)

Seriously? What is he up to?

Pottering up the stairwell, you gazed down at the piece of paper in your hand, reading the messy writing once more.

“ Meet me on the fourth floor ; ) ”

You chuckled to yourself as your lips curved into a soft smile, curious to see whether Zion had planned something special. After all, it was Christmas Day and you were feeling quite hopeful. As you reached your destination, you noticed a sticky note on the floor. Attached to it was a VERY long stream of red ribbon leading to one of the classrooms further down the corridor.

“ Follow Me! : ) ”

You giggled.

If you say so…

Pushing the door open, your eyes immediately wandered up towards the decorated ceiling. Streams of red and gold crepe ribbon twirled and twined with one another, draping down from the ceiling and then back up again.

The desks and chairs were all pushed to one side of the room, creating a little sleeping area with several blankets lying cosily in the middle.

“Finally! I thought you got lost or somethin’!”

Your attention was soon drawn to the confident man standing before you.

With his chest puffed out proudly, Zion stood beside the blackboard — gesturing both his hands towards his artwork with a vibrant grin on his face.

A large chalk drawing of a Christmas tree was sketched on the board. The tree itself was a bright green with a rainbow of coloured circles representing baubles.

It was like you had stepped into a grade school classroom.

Stunned at the child-like environment, your eyes darted back and forth from the Christmas tree to your chuffed-looking boyfriend before an uncontrollable throaty snort escaped you. Realising that you had chortled, you quickly pursed your lips, suppressing your need to burst out in laughter at how adorable he was.

Zion’s beaming smile instantly disappeared. He folded his arms, grumpily — glaring at you in annoyance.

“I went through ALL this effort and the first thing you do is laugh at me?”

Letting your giggle reverberate through the room, you sprung towards the redhead, throwing your arms around his neck.

“Zion! I love it! It’s so cute!”

You rested your head on his chest as you listened to the comforting thrums of his heartbeat, feeling warmth and gratitude towards the man that you cherished dearly. “This is the nicest and sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” You gazed up at him, happiness gleaming in your bright (e/c) eyes.

Zion smirked and wrapped his arms around your back, returning your embrace.

“I did it because I love you.”

His tone of voice was cool and casual as he kissed your hair gently.

Wide-eyed, you stared at him in disbelief. This was the first time he had EVER used the ‘L’ word and you were completely dumbstruck at how nonchalant he was with his confession.

“What? I do.” Smiling back at you tenderly, Zion tucked the loose strands of hair behind your ear. “I never thought that I would actually fall in love in this shit-storm, but here we are! Together.”

He pressed his forehead upon your own and you closed your eyes, taking in the moment as he continued.

“I’m so happy I met you, (Y/N). I’m happy that I get to call you mine. You’re an incredible person and I’m fucken over the moon that you’re my girlfriend.”

Overwhelmed with joy, you lifted your chin and gave him a tiny peak on his lips, “I love you too, Zion.”

Zion smiled mischievously. Without warning, he cornered you against the blackboard with his hands were on either side of your head. He trailed the tip of his nose along your neck, his hot breath tantalising your skin. You squeezed your thighs together, attempting to calm the ache within your core. He was always good at turning you on.

“How romantic am I? We get to kiss by this awesome ass Christmas tree!” He whispered, licking the contours of your ear — seductively.

“Oh, Zion! Hahahahaha!”

Your sudden outburst was soon silenced by your lover’s lips, capturing them in a way that made you weak at the knees.

Zion nipped and kissed with eagerness and passion, eliciting a sinful sigh from your parted lips. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, salaciously dancing with your own. His hands caressed the supple curves of your body, cupping and kneading at your breasts before gliding down below your navel to loosen your sweat pants.

Shimmying your hips and legs, you allowed the garment to crumple on the floor as you unzipped his pants with urgency. You tugged at his briefs, exposing his rigid cock before wrapping your hand around his shaft — dragging your nails and stroking him aggressively.

Zion broke your kiss, growling avidly. He was throbbing within your grasp as you jerked him off. Pulling away from your hold, he knelt down in front of your unclad sex and propped your leg over his shoulder. The wetness of his tongue flickered all over your cunt and you shivered with delight from the pleasurable sensation.

Mewling lustfully, you tangled your fingers through his crimson mane before grinding your pussy over his mouth — fucking his face voraciously.

“Mmm... You taste so good, (Y/N).” Zion groaned, lapping at your swollen clit.

Hooking his arms behind both your knees, he lifted you up, pressing himself into your groin. You held onto his neck and linked your legs around his waist, feeling the tip of his length teasing the entrance of your cunt.

“Baby girl, let me show you how much I love you.”

Zion drove his cock into your aching slit, hitting you at the hilt and you whined lasciviously. He embraced your lips once more, kissing you with sensual passion before snapping his hips — thrusting deeper into your pussy.

At that moment, You knew that tonight was definitely going to be a Christmas to remember.

x mod bambi

#dangerous fellows #dangerous fellows christmas event #dangerous fellows blog #dangerous fellows smut #smut #dfel #dangerous fellows zion #dfel zion #zion x reader #zion #character x reader #reader fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic blog

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likexporcelain · 6 years

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Anatomy of a Shadow (Chapter 1/9) - Jonerys

Summary: While isolating herself at her family's vacation home on the small Pacific Northwestern island of Dragonstone, Daenerys stumbles upon a crime scene which leads her to form an intense bond with a mysterious and possibly dangerous young man who won't speak to her, touch her, or even show her his face. Jon Snow is her shadow on the wall, but is he really protecting her from those who would do her harm, or is he simply leading harm right to her doorstep? Daenerys is the sun in his dark sky, but is she really worth protecting?

Rating: Explicit (for eventual and continual violence and some smut)

First chapter up on Ao3 -- see additional tags/notes/warnings there

DAENERYS

It is raining, which is a good thing. It's much more difficult to follow someone when it's raining, right? Let the water wash away any trace of me – my finger prints, shoe prints, the tire marks from my Jetta as I speed down the highway. No. The rain won't make a difference. I'll have to board the ferry to get to my family's old vacation home. That means buying a ticket, showing my I.D. and – fuck – I'll have to use my credit card because the only cash I have is a couple crumpled up five dollar bills stashed in my glove box. What am I doing? Running away is probably the stupidest thing I could do. Only guilty people run.

Still, I stand in line and buy the ticket to Dragonstone. It's my family's house after all. It would be only natural that after suffering such a traumatic event as finding my roommate with a knife dug into the center of her chest, lying between the beds in our dorm room that I would feel the need to get away, go someplace quiet to clear my head. That is what I'm really doing. I just need to get away from everyone and get these images out of my head. The detectives will soon figure out that I've left school and it will be easy for them to discover where I've gone. But that's okay, because I'm not trying to hide from them, because I did nothing wrong. Nothing they can prove, I hope.

The moon is up and the rain is still falling when I make it to the house. It's large by normal standards – three bedrooms, two bathrooms, an open main living area with floor to ceiling windows that overlook the sea – but my dad is rich and growing richer by the day, so this home was eventually stamped unworthy of a Targaryen vacation. It's been years since anyone has set foot in this house, as evident by all of the dust and the cold, musty smell I'm bombarded with as soon as I walk in. White linens cover expensive furniture and priceless artwork no one cares about anymore.

Thankfully, my dad has still been paying the bills for this place because the lights turn on when I hit the light switches and the water runs when I turn on the bathtub facet in the master bathroom. I make up the king sized bed while the tub fills with scalding water. The basin is large enough to fit three of me, so I have plenty of time to kill. I find candles and a box of matches under the bathroom sink and arranged them around the tub, light them, then turn out the sconce lighting. I prefer darkness. The tub has jets, but I have no use for them. I prefer quiet too.

When the water is high, I turn off the facet and step in. Just standing in the center of the tub, the water reaches my knees, so hot that I think my skin will bubble, but I revel in the pain. I want more. Slowly, I lower myself with closed eyes, teeth digging into my bottom lip so hard I can taste blood.

Blood.

Blood on the floor, spilling from the chest of my roommate, pooling at either side of her, expanding like round red wings ready to fly her up to heaven, or maybe hell. I hadn't known her very well. Maybe she was bad. As bad as me. No. There is no one as bad, as sick, as me.

Blood under my feet, on my knees where I knelt beside her, checking her pulse. When I had raised my hand to my mouth, I could taste it, colder than I'd expected, sweeter.

Blood around me, covering me, filling me. I open my eyes and I see all the red. I'm bathing in my roommates blood. Missandei. That was her name, but then again, I didn't really care about her. She hadn't mattered. All that mattered was the blood.

I submerge myself up to my neck, letting the heat consume me. My hand is between my legs, rubbing the tender, burning flesh, but there's no use. It's not the same. No matter how vivid the memories are, no reverie could recreate the way I felt that night with that taste in my mouth and the sight of the red pools growing in size.

For a half hour, I try, but just can't cum. I can't even get close. It's been too long. Just three days and I'm already suffering withdrawals. I thought the first time was supposed to linger. I thought I could live off of her death for years.

When the water turns cold, I pull the plug on the drain and sob until I am left lying in the middle of the tub, hugging my knees to my chest, wondering how many days I will have to myself before everyone realizes what sort of a girl I really am. Daenerys Targaryen. Beautiful, smart, rich. Possessed, deranged, dangerous.

Evil.

* * * * *

I wake up early the next morning. I'm not usually a morning person, but sleep was hard to come by when I was so convinced that at any moment one of the detectives I'd met the night of Missandei's unfortunate murder would knock on my door and ask me why I had left school, left Seattle, without notifying them. They would be suspicious, and I would eventually crack under their questioning.

But no one knocked.

The sun is rising over the trees, casting a shine over the calm ocean water that I watch from the back deck. There are some old Swiss Miss packets in one of the kitchen cupboards and I make myself a mug, but that is about the extent of the food supply here. I will have to go to the grocery store. Use my credit card again, but I suppose that at this point, it hardly matters. My fate is sealed. All I can do now is live a peaceful life for however many days, or hours, I have left.

I change into one of the few outfits I brought with me – just essentials, stuffed into a small gym bag – and tie my long, Targaryen-silver hair up in a messy pony tail. I don't bother with makeup, because impressing people isn't part of my life anymore. I am different now. No longer an over-achieving college junior. No longer the sweet daughter of one of the state's richest businessmen. My entire life is this empty house now, on this scantily populated island.

There isn't a cloud in the sky as I walk to the market, about a two mile hike, and the air smells fresh from last night's storm. So fresh I wonder for a moment if the rain had worked on me as it had on the air. Am I clean now too? Have all my sins washed away into the sea? Is that why I am walking into town right now and not riding in the back of a police car?

The closest neighbor to my family's house is half a mile down the road. Unless they've moved, it belongs to a retired couple. A retired man and his wife, I should say. She'd never worked a day in her life. He was a finance man. Hedge funds, or investment banking. Maybe both. Is there even a difference? Who knows. Either way, he's a boring old man who has too much money and never smiles despite having everything anyone could ever want. That's probably why he and my father always got along.

Sure enough, as I pass their impressive abode, Mrs. Baratheon is in the front garden. Her eyes widen when they fall to me and I raise my hand in a wave. I am always recognizable from a distance, due to the odd coloring of my hair. Or, I guess I should say, the odd absence of color. Even whiter than my alabaster skin. I stop walking so that she can approach me, smiling wide.

“My, my. Little Daenerys Targaryen? I haven't seen you since you were. . . How old were you? Fifteen?”

I smile sweetly. It's easy to lie to people who don't suspect anything of me. In a way, I'd been doing that my whole life. Any time I would drift into a gruesome daydream and someone asked “What are you thinking about?” I would smile sweetly and lie.

“You're looking well, Mrs. Baratheon,” I tell her, even though she really doesn't. Her hair is stringy and her face is wrinkled. Her gardening clothes are noticeably expensive, though, so there's that.

She brushes away my complement, not buying it, but blushes nonetheless. “Is your father and brother here? Gosh, I haven't seen them in ages either.”

“They don't come here much anymore. Viserys is down in California working on some silly nonsense project with his Silicon Valley friends. We don't exactly keep in touch. Dad's simply grown tired of the fog. He's more of a Hawaii man now. It's good to be back here. This was always my favorite place growing up.”

“Mine too! Well, that's why I insisted on moving here full-time. It does mean that Stannis is away from me quite often, but I manage. He's been working again, though only part-time. It's hard for men like him to sit still.”

“My father is the same way. His job is like a third child – his favorite child.”

Mrs. Baratheon claps her hands in front of her. “Where are my manners? Would you like to come in for some coffee? A bagel? Stannis isn't home. He's out of town until tomorrow, so you won't have to sit through any of his boring economics lectures.”

I take a breath, staring down the road while thinking the proposal over. Today more than any other day should be treated as a stop-and-smell-the-roses day, so I accept. “A bagel sounds lovely, but I'll only stay for a bit. I'm actually on my way to the market now, but it's so far and I'm famished.”

“Better fuel up then!” She exclaims, placing her hand on my shoulder and leading me up the path to her home, so lavish it makes mine feel modest. Marble floors cover every square foot of the main living area and a grand stone fireplace stretches up twenty feet to the ceiling. A staircase with a hand-carved banister curves around a crystal chandelier, leading up to a second floor overhang. A five foot tall portrait bordered by a gold frame hangs on the wall opposite the fireplace. Mr. and Mrs. Baratheon posing with their daughter, Shireen, dressed like they are characters in a Dickens novel and standing in what looks to be a drab library.

While Mrs. Baratheon brings a tray of bagels and coffee into the living room, I ask “How is your daughter? She must be a teenager by now.”

“Oh.” Her nose scrunches as she shakes her head. “Yes, yes. She's well. We have her in a boarder academy in the Northeast. She says she hates it there, but she's always been a complainer. It's good for her. I'm hoping that some time spent around other girls will do her some good. Better than hanging around here all the time, getting under toe, that's for sure.”

Nodding once, I find myself feeling odd about the response. There was no warmth in the woman's voice. I'd liked to imagine that if I'd ever have a daughter, I would speak of her warmly. I've never experienced real love or even simple affection for another human, but a child is different. I think I could love a child. But, that doesn't matter anymore either, because I will never have one of those, unless those news articles about how male prison guards treat female inmates is accurate.

I don't partake in any coffee, but I pick up one half of a toasted sesame seed bagel and smear it with Strawberry jam from a crystal bowl. Mrs. Baratheon takes a seat on the couch, but I remain standing, my eyes catching the shine of something interesting perched on the reclaimed wood mantel above the hearth.

Resting on a stand made of iron, is a knife – a dagger? – with a gold handle, intricately carved in a flourishing design. The blade is curved and at least a foot in length, clean and sharp. I gravitate toward it, my hand raising, fingers erecting to brush the smooth steel. It's beautiful, not just in appearance, but in utility, in how much damage it could do with just one swift thrust, one quick slice.

“Valyrian steel,” Mrs. Baratheon's voice rings from behind me, dripping with indifference like the daggers presence bores her. I feel offended and briefly wonder if she'd let me have it if I asked. Then again, one swift thrust, one quick slice, and I could simply take it. “Stannis brought it home with him a year ago. Some antique ceremonial weapon from one of those Eastern barbarian cultures. Personally, I think it's gaudy and dangerous, but my husband loves the thing, and I'm sure it cost him a pretty penny. I figure I'll sell it once the cigars catch up with him.”

Fingertips sliding down the flat steel surface to the golden handle, I wish to pick it up, just to see how heavy it is. It has to be heavier than the hunting knife I'd thieved from a bedroom in the frat house I'd attended a party at a week before my roommate was murdered. I'd been drawn to it the same way I am drawn to this Valyrian steel dagger, but to compare the two would be like comparing my Jetta to my father's new Maserati.

“Daenerys?”

My eyes close and behind my eyelids, I see red.

“Daenerys?”

Mrs. Baratheon's hand lands on my shoulder and my eyes snap open as I jump, pulling my hand away from the dagger.

“I'm sorry,” I say quickly.

With a smile, she says “No need to apologize. That thing is spooky as heck. Gives me a good fright nearly every day.”

While I finish my bagel, I sit with my back to the dagger and try to focus on Mrs. Baratheon's words rather than the pulsing of her jugular vein, prominent due to her lithe frame, and as soon as I've had my fill, I thank her for her hospitality and leave, but not before agreeing to come over for dinner tomorrow night. “Stannis would love to catch up with you,” Mrs. Baratheon had insisted. I don't want to come over, but I hadn't prepared an excuse to get out of it, and I figure there is a decent chance I'll already be in handcuffs by dinner time tomorrow anyway.

At the market, I optimistically purchase a weeks worth of pre-made salads, stove-top dinners and ingredients for sandwiches, quesadillas and spaghetti, along with a carton of eggs. As the cashier checks me out and bags my groceries – I'd sprung for a couple of one-dollar reusable bags because, fuck it – I turn my eyes up to the TV mounted to the wall. Seattle news. A murder, according to the headline and my heart races for a moment thinking they are talking about Missandei's murder. I half expect my photo to pop up with “Wanted for Questioning” captioned below. However, as I read the subtitles, I learn they are speaking of a different murder, a more important murder, because the man who has died was a politician. One of those conspiracy theorist-types who didn't have a shot at winning, but whose campaign was really just a way to bolster a certain subset of humans who thought they deserved more rights than anyone else simply for being white and stupid.

“The sketch seen on your screen now is that of a man police suspect is connected to the crime. He was seen by a neighbor leaving the home of the victim the night of the murder. If you have any information as to the identity or whereabouts of this man, please contact the Seattle police department immediately.”

I squint my eyes at the sketch, wondering if he is someone I know, but even if I did know him, it's not as if I'm going to contact the police about it. I am trying to avoid a murder investigation, not insert myself into a new one. But, I do not recognize the man at all. His hair is cut short to the scalp without any style, his face is covered in stubble not long enough to be considered an actual beard, his lips are thin and his cheeks look dirty, though that is probably just sloppy shading on the sketch artist's part.

“This incident follows just one day after the suspicious slaying of a nineteen year old King's Landing University student. So far, police say they have found no connection between these two murders, but have yet to rule this out as a possibility.”

“Miss?” asked the young, pimply cashier. “That'll be forty-seven fifty.”

I turned away from the TV, offer her a smile and my credit card.

Another murder. And one that is much higher in profile to mine – I mean, to my roommate's. This could only be good news, right? Scum bag or not, the assassination of a political figure will always take precedent over the stabbing of a marginally popular coed, right?

When my card is returned to me, I take my bags with another smile, but this time it is genuine. Maybe I'll have more time left than I'd thought.

* * * * *

JON

It's cold in this room. Damp. There's a leak somewhere. I hear it drip at night, but I have yet to find it's source. I don't like it here in the North where it's cold and wet and drippy. I feel like it's been years since I've felt the sun on my face. Maybe it has been years. The room is cold and so am I, even in my corduroy pants, sweater, gloves and my mask. Everything black.

“Are you a fucking moron?! Like, an actual fucking moron?!” shouts Theon Greyjoy. He's loud. Always loud. I don't like him because he's loud. It makes it difficult to hear other things, more important things, like if someone is walking up behind me or if a gun is being drawn from a holster. He's yelling at the kid because of something he saw on the news, but I've learned that most of what Theon says isn't worth listening to so I focus on listening through him, to the sound of the kid rubbing his hands anxiously across his jeans.

“I'm sorry! I forgot to put my mask on before going back outside, but it was three in the morning! How was I supposed to know some fat old man would be walking his dog at three in the morning!” the kid replies.

Gendry isn't really a kid. He's around the same age as the rest of us, but he's younger in spirit I guess. It isn't an insult that I think of him as a kid. I wish I could be a kid again. Change something. Go down a different path. One different than my brother's. It's too late now, though. I am who I am now. Only twenty-one but already an old dog unable to learn any new tricks, like being a normal person who goes outside during the day instead of sitting in a cold, damp, drippy basement until the sun is gone.

The sun. What does she look like again?

“You're not! You're supposed to know never to take your fucking mask off!” Theon retorts, clenching his fists in the fabric of Gendry's t-shirt. “Even if that mother fucker hadn't fucking seen you – There's probably fucking hair and skin and your fucking boogers all over that son of a bitch's house now! You're in the fucking system! I swear to God, if they get your finger prints I'm going to fucking --”

“I didn't take off my gloves, man!” The kid's hands are up like he's about to be arrested. “And my mask was only off for a minute! They're not going to find anything!”

Theon releases the kid from his grip, plants one hand on his hip while thrusting his other in my direction, pointing at me. “This fucking psycho doesn't even take his fucking mask off to take a fucking shower and you can't keep yours on long enough to get out of the fucking house of the dude we just fucking killed?!”

Still listening through Theon, I hear the sound of a gun sliding against the leather of a belt. It's coming from behind me. Then footsteps, quick and heavy. In a second, the gun is digging into Theon's temple with Ramsay on the trigger side.

“I think you owe my brother an apology,” he sneers. I can't see his face, but I know that one corner of his mouth is lifted in a smirk. He wants to shoot Theon. He's wanted to for a long time. He would shoot everyone he meets if he could get away with it. Maybe even me.

Eyes wide with fear, Theon takes a hard swallow and says “Put the gun away. I was just pissed, alright? Let's not over react.”

“That didn't sound like an apology.” Ramsay turns his head to me and I was right, he's smirking. “That didn't sound like an apology, did it, Jon?”

I don't respond. No words, no shake or nod of my head. It wouldn't matter anyway. Ramsay does what he wants and I don't try to stop him. That's how it's always been. I wonder if he's actually going to pull the trigger this time. It would be a shame, not because I don't want to see Theon die, but because I've always hated guns. Quick, loud, and uncaring. That's Ramsay, though.

Before I can wonder too long, the scene is interrupted by our leader – our boss, I suppose. A boss who pays us not just in money, but also in warm bodies to kill.

“Put it away,” Roose demands in his dry, bored voice. “We have one more project and then we'll be out of the state. Gendry made a serious error, but it doesn't change our game plan.”

Ramsay complies, sliding the gun back behind him, into the waistband of his pants. He always listens to Roose Bolton. I think he sees the balding, middle-aged man with almost as little personality as me as a father figure. Maybe I should feel happy about that, because Ramsay never had a real father, but I don't feel happy about it because I don't know if I can feel happy about anything anymore.

Sitting in this cold, damp, drippy room of this cold, damp, drippy basement, we go over the mission again. Though he acts like what the kid did is no big deal, Roose doesn't trust him anymore, which makes him not trust any of us anymore, so after we go over the mission, we go over it again, and again. The target is some money man – I don't bother learning names anymore – who helps to launder money for foreign dictators or some such thing. Roose always makes sure to tell us all the reasons why a person is better off dead, but it never really matters. He could tell us the target is a teenage beauty queen with Ivy League ambitions and a spotless record and we would still show up at her house and take care of business.

Any murderer who claims to have a code, is a liar. I surely don't have a code, unless hating guns constitutes a code, but then again, I'm not a murderer. Not in the literal sense of the term anyway. I've never killed anyone. Not one person. Ever. I wouldn't be able to, and sometimes I feel weak because of it. Even the kid can kill, but I can't. I watch. I watch and then, when the job is done, I clean. That's why Roose isn't worried about Gendry's fingerprints or hair being found. It's because I cleaned. It's my job. It's what I'm good at. I listen, I watch, I clean. And I never take off the mask.

Well. . . not never. Theon was wrong. I do take it off to shower, because showers are a safe place when the bathroom door is locked. There's a bathroom in this basement we've been calling home for the past week. It's small and there is mold growing in the corner behind the sink that I still haven't fully eradicated. I wait until everyone else is asleep and then I go in, lock the door, and turn the water in the shower stall on. Until the shower heats up, the bathroom is even colder than the rest of the basement and as I disrobe, my skin tightens and stings and twitches in it's yearning for shelter.

There is a mirror above the sink, rusted on the edges and speckled with toothpaste and whatever else. I look at myself when my clothes are off and in a pile on the floor. I stare at my chest and stomach. My muscles are made more prominent by the fact that I haven't eaten in a day. Food is hard to come by while we are on missions because the need to lay low is even greater. Across my chest and my stomach are long, jagged, discolored scars. Every night I look at them and think back to the day I acquired them. On my knees in a filthy alleyway.

The mask is always last to come off. I have to prepare myself every time. The pain I feel without it's warm cloth covering my head and neck and face is real. I've grown so accustomed to always having my breathing partially compromised by the fabric over my mouth that I can no longer inhale normally without it. I take short, shallow breaths through my teeth. My eyes have grown so used to seeing through the fabric as well that light burns my eyes now without it. I have to unscrew two of the three bulbs mounted in an industrial light fixture above the mirror just to stand it.

When the mask is off, I look at my face, but never for too long. I'm pale, a ghost of a man, and there are scars there too, making me look older than I am, making me look ugly. I've grown a short beard, thinking it would detract from the scars, but I am still hideous. My dark hair is long too, and greasy from always being cocooned.

Steam envelops me now and my image blurs in the fog, relieving me of my own haunting reflection.

#jonerys #jon x dany #jon x daenerys #jonerys fanficiton #game of thrones fanfiction #jonerys fic #anatomy of a shadow: chapter one #anatomy of a shadow #my fic #my fanfiction #mine

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nahmooste · 6 years

Text

Why We Lose, pt. 5

pairing: Tetsuya Naito / Female OC / Hiromu Takahashi warnings: smut, gagging, v nsfw a/n: yeah, look... i thought this was gonna be the last part but it turns out i need one more. sorry? tags: @wrestlingismyfavourite @devittsbalor @fireangel1978 @laziestgirlintheworld @ghostofviper @onewingedgloria @littleblueghostspoon @narwhalneglect @princesstoniii @keltic-goddess

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, masterlist

There are rose petals scattered across the floor when she returns home from work one evening, her husband sitting at the table with champagne on ice and two flutes with strawberries impaled on the side of the glasses. He’s dressed in a dark red suit and holds a rose in one hand.

Hena regards Naito for a long moment before letting her bag slide of her shoulder and kicking off her shoes. “Are we celebrating something, Tetsuya?”

“Nothing in particular,” he replies. Standing from his chair, Naito approaches her with the flower extended, an offering he wants her to accept. “Tonight is just… closure, you could say.”

While Hena does accept the rose from him, her confusion is still evident. It’s been weeks since everything had exploded and their marriage has returned to some kind of normalcy, but something shifts uneasy in Hena when she looks at her husband now. “What do you mean ‘closure’?”

“Nothing bad, I promise. Just the end to this mess, maybe a start to something else.”

He’s talking in riddles. It’s nothing that Hena hasn’t dealt with before when he’s tried surprising her with something, but he’s also never worn the suit that he’s wearing under this roof.

She lets him guide her to the dining table, pour her a glass of the champagne, and she drink it carefully as she watches Naito. Soft music plays in the background and, had she not gone through that night all those weeks ago, she may have relaxed into the atmosphere. A scented candle burns in the space between them and very quickly Hena’s glass is finished.

“Nervous, my love?”

“Should I be?”

Naito smirks at her, his eyes unreadable. “Not at all.”

Is he lying?

After her third glass of champagne, where the bubbles are starting to float through her bloodstream and make her head giddy, Tetsuya takes her hand and directs her into their bedroom. There are more candles in here— one on either side of the bed, and more rose petals scattered around the floor. But her eyes remain firmly on the bed, anxiety beginning to build in her body.

“Tetsuya—“

“Shhh,” he hushes her, hand smoothing curled hair away from her neck. He stands behind her with heavy hands on her shoulders, teases a kiss on her exposed skin like he isn’t about to introduce something sinister to their sex life.

Hena lets him undress her. He slides his hands under her shirt and slowly lifts it over her head. Each newly exposed inch of her spine is subject to his mouth as he kisses his way up her back, and he does the same with her thighs when he pulls the pencil skirt from her waist. Naito is so soft with her that goosebumps raise over her skin, her lips parted, and then Naito is in front of her with his hands either side of her neck, kisses her so slow and sensually that Hena’s toes are curling in want.

When he pulls away from her, she’s staring up at him with wide eyes and red cheeks and glistening mouth and Naito pauses for a second, runs a thumb across her bottom lip. “Trust me,” he says lowly.

She nods at him.

Reaching behind him and towards the bed, Tetsuya grabs one of the contraptions and looks at it for a moment before staring back at her. “Open your mouth.” Hena opens her mouth obediently and without hesitation, Naito pushes a gag between her teeth and lips, fastens the strap at the back of her head. The way Naito stares at her… how his hand lifts to curl around her neck threateningly without squeezing… she’s completely at his mercy, and her panties are already soaked.

He grabs something else resting on the bed, feels the material between his fingers before turning back to her. “Wrists,” he says, and she offers them already pressing together. He wraps the cloth around her wrists and gives it a tug for good measure, lets her fall into his body when the strength of it sends her off balance. “Good,” he murmurs, more to himself than her.

But with what he says next, Hena’s heart plunges into her stomach, makes her take a step back from him. “Hiromu, you can come in.”

She stares at her husband with wide eyes and her breathing picks up when she realises how helpless she’s just become. She has no hands to hit with, not mouth to spit words with, and it’s exactly what her husband wanted. She’s fallen right into his trap like a moth to a flame.

Footsteps echo through their apartment. “Amazing, Naito-san! You did all of this for me?!”

Naito grins. His stormy eyes don’t once leave hers. “Do you like it?”

“Of course!” Hiromu replies, rounding the corner of their room. She sees him stop short from the corner of her eye. “Naito-san… this is the present you were talking about?”

Heat settles into her cheeks and for what feels like the hundredth time already, Hena tests the restraints. Her glare only makes Naito smile.

“Beautiful, no?”

Hiromu hums in appreciation and closes the distance between them, ghosts his mouth over her shoulder and arm until she flinches away from him, and then from under his lashes, Hiromu grins up at her. His hands are clasped behind his back like he’s inspecting a piece of artwork. “She seems nervous, Naito-san… always so nervous around me. Do I make you uncomfortable, Hena-chan?”

His grin only widens at her silence. He trails his hand up the inside of her thigh and hooks his finger around the material of her underwear, and instead of pushing them down, he pulls them up so they’re taut through her folds. His teeth are there a second later, softly biting at her skin, and Hena’s body jolts with the feeling of it.

“Should we move to the bed, Naito-san?” He asks, eyes dark as he stares up at her through his bangs.

Tetsuya smirks and together they move her onto the bed so that she’s on her back, legs spread wide. She doesn’t notice that Naito’s moved to stand by the door until it’s too late, and she wants to call out her husband’s name, but the sound is muffled around the gag.

And then the only thing that she can see is Hiromu. His childlike grin is a contradiction to the sin in the eyes. He kisses the gag and shifts his way down her body until he’s buried his face between her thighs. Shifting the material out of the way, Hiromu presses his tongue flat against her clit, huffs out a laugh at the way Hena arches into the movement. His tongue trails the line of her folds and he pushes it beneath, plunges it into her so quickly that Hena moans with how it feels. Her hands grab at the mess of his hair, twist through the messy curls until her nails are at his scalp.

Hiromu licks and sucks at her until she’s almost yelling, begging for something more, and Hiromu’s grip on her waist tightens as he flips her over, knees and elbows pressing into the bed. She hears the sound of a belt coming undone and then Hiromu is positioning himself against her.

“Naito-san… can I? Can I please?”

“Of course, Hiromu.”

He pushes into her slowly, and Hena moans in bliss at something finally being inside her. He moves gently at first and draws his sharp fingernails down her back, scratches her skin so that red welts stare back at him. And then he picks up his speed, goes so quick that her hair is bouncing to and fro with each thrust.

A weight dips on the bed and when Hena opens her eyes, Tetsuya is laying down on the bed in front of her, fist under his chin, and he watches the way her eyebrows pull in a mix of pleasure and pain, the way her entire body is jerked forward with each of Hiromu’s thrusts. “He feels good, doesn’t he?” Naito asks, smirk on his mouth. “Thick in all the right places… does he feel anything like me?”

Hena shakes her head as much as she can, cries out when Hiromu slaps a hand down on her ass.

“I’m going to take the gag off. The only thing you’re going to do is beg Hiromu to make you come. Do you understand?”

She nods at him and in seconds, the gag is hanging around her throat. And she begs— “please, please, please” until Hiromu drops one of his hands to her clit, presses down and circles until Hena’s body is tensing around him, and she comes biting into the skin of her arm to stop from screaming.

Above her, Hiromu hisses and pulls out, comes over her ass and the back of her thighs with a grunt and a swear.

Silence surrounds the three of them, even though both she and Hiromu are gasping for breath. “Naito-san… may I?”

She doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but her husband nods and then the smaller man is pulling her up until she’s in his arms. He stares at her with that same dark expression, but his face is blissful, and then he kisses her with lips so soft it’s almost unreal. His tongue presses against hers and she can taste herself on him, and then as quick as he’s there he’s gone, standing up and redoing his pants. Though she’s close to naked and completely ruined, Hiromu looks like he’s stepped from an ad.

“Thank you, Naito-san.”

He turns around and walks out just like that, and she doesn’t feel the bed move until Naito wraps his arms around her body, one squeezing her breast and the other sinking between her thighs, and Hena jerks in shock.

“This is not punishment, Hena… think of it as a gift,” Tetsuya whispers into her ear. “And now you can give me something, too.”

Hena doesn’t protest as Naito takes her body for his own, retaking his claim on her even though she was never anyone else’s. He fucks her gentle, caresses each part of her body until she’s writing under him for release, and he denies it until he’s ready to come.

In the morning when Hena wakes up, Naito isn’t there. A note on the bed from him is the only trace he ever slept beside her.

Watch me wrestle tonight it says, and there’s a backstage pass on the bedside table. Even more to her shock, he tells her to wear red. Hena finds a smirk curling her face, and she knows exactly what it is her husband wants to achieve. She should feel like she’s being paraded around, but instead… instead she feels pride swell in her chest.

This is the reason she married Tetsuya. Tonight? Tonight they were going to have some fun.

#tetsuya naito #asshole tetsuya #tetsuya naito fanfiction #hiromu takahashi #hiromu takahashi fanfiction #current writing #njpw fanfiction #look i'd say i'm sorry but at this stage i'm kind of enjoying it

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theredpendulum · 4 years

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Chapter 1: Welcome

“Alright, that’ll be thirty-four eighty-one. Go ahead and insert your card.” My smile is getting tired. I hate this town.

The middle aged white woman at my register has already snapped at me twice in the last two minutes, and I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m having violent thoughts.

She swipes her card, and I repeat to her that it has to be inserted since it’s a chip. While she reads the LCD screen she opens and closes her lips like a sixth grader, mocking me for speaking. Once the transaction processes, I wish her a good day, and she leaves the store in a flurry of leopard print leggings and Barbie-pink cowgirl boots.

“I hope your car’s heater is broken, you smooth-brained troglodyte.” I whisper through my grinning teeth quiet enough that she can’t hear me.

“I hate customers.” Jeb pulls his pocket knife out to open a fresh box of plastic bags to reload his station. It’s chipped here and there along the blade, and the handle has a long thin crack going down the left side. I hate that I’ve worked here long enough to be familiar with that stupid knife.

“Me too. At least we’re getting paid.” I shrug.

Jeb nods while distractedly cutting small notches in the edge of the now empty cardboard box, and his eyes look unstable. Distant, and turbulent.

“You should put your knife away before Aubrey sees you have it out.” His eyes roll back into his skull.

“Whatever.” He mutters and stabs the box. Lifting the box like a slab of ham on a carving fork, he begins to carry it to the back. I watch him go for a moment to make sure he actually closes his blade. He does.

Working with Jeb is like… well he’s a 16 year old boy. That should be sufficient information. He can be funny, and friendly, and bizarrely entertaining, and just the worst sometimes. Today feels like an off day for him. I wonder what went wrong in his morning. Maybe Henry dumped him. They’ve been having drama lately. I should ask. There’s only about five customers in the store right now, and they’re all still milling around aimlessly so we probably have a minute or two to chat. I can see him coming back over. His eyebrows look like they weigh a hundred pounds each.

“Hey.” I tap my fingers on the counter.

“Hey.” He’s got a rubber band in his fingers. He’s twisting it and squishing it into a wiggly blob of dusty red rubber.

“So… How’s Henry?” I bite the inside of my cheek. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

Jeb looks up at me like I just gave him socks for Christmas.

“He’s fine.”

He sucks his teeth, and stretches the rubber band across his hand, and aims at me. I flinch, and he pulls a half-dead smile. He switches his aim to the ceiling, and lets go sending the rubber band into the brightly colored foil snow man above our heads. I catch it, and toss it in my drawer.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“I’m taking self-protective measures.” I wink and aim finger guns at him. “Pew pew.”

The rest of the day goes by just as boring and frustrating as usual. A man asks me if my hair is a wig, a woman tells me that her apples are apples, and a child asks me if I am pregnant. I’m...definitely not. When 10pm finally makes it’s blessed arrival, Jeb and I wish our last customer a good night, and then play Mother Mother from my phone while we wipe down the registers and sweep the floor. My feet feel like ground beef. My shoes are coming off.

“It’s a sin that these stupid Christmas decorations are up already. We literally just had Halloween. The Spook Gods are gonna be displeased by Craig’s heinous actions.” I enter my employee code, and take my till out of the drawer.

“Yeah he’s gonna get hexed or something for sure. We have witches in this town, you know. Henry told me.” Jeb sticks his broom between his legs, squats, and cackles.

This makes me crack up. I’m glad today hasn’t completely beat the immaturity out of him.

“You look like Discount Harry Potter. And they’re not that kind of witch. They just like collecting crystals and wearing black.” I walk past him into the manager’s office to count up my till. Jeb makes fart sounds to himself to the rhythm of the music and resumes sweeping.

“Hey Aubrey.” I sit down at the desk, and start punching numbers. “It’s all wiped down out there.”

“Cool. Thanks.” My Manager has drifted off to another universe. The sounds of some kind of puzzle game beep and boop from her phone.

*fwAHP*

“OW. WH?!”

Jeb cackles at the doorway at having successfully hit his target. I look down at the desk in front of me and see the rubber band.

“I should’ve put that in my pocket, you wiener.” I rub my forehead, and wish Aubrey a good night.

Jeb waves to me as he walks out the door. “G’night, Marlo!” he crows.

“Night, Jeb!” I half heartedly salute him, and sit down to put my sneakers back on. I would just carry them, but I remember seeing broken glass outside when I got here.

By the time I have finished tying my laces Jeb has driven away, and Aubrey has made her way to the door.

“Let’s go.” She motions for me to follow.

I flop my bag onto my shoulder, and step out the door. She turns the key, and gives the door a test tug to make sure it’s secured.

“Hey have a good night.”

She gives me a tired smile, and a wave before climbing into her car and pulling away. I throw up a peace sign and head to the back of the lot towards my beat up 2001 Honda prelude. There’s duct tape on the back bumper from a hit and run that happened four years ago. I still haven’t gotten around to replacing that yet… I should do that at some point… I’m so tired. I open my door and climb in. I want nothing more than a hot drink, and some me time. My legs are numb from standing up all day.

Suddenly, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Warm air is being blown onto my skin from behind. I’m not alone. Horror injects itself into every cell in my body in a single millisecond.

“Welcome.”

A voice like a creaking floorboard rasps behind me. My keys fly out of my hand, and I lurch out the door. I leave it hanging open and run towards the store front. “HELP!!! HELP ME!!!” I scream as loud as my panicking heart and lungs can muster. I don’t slow down. I slam into the front door, and grab the handle. I desperately tug, but the dread is only getting stronger within my body. I know it’s locked. I watched Aubrey lock it.

I turn too look behind me to see if anyone is chasing me. No one. Nothing there. There isn’t a living thing in sight. There are tears running down my nose. I can’t breathe right. My lungs are twitching and lurching like beetles turned onto their backs. I stand still clutching my sleeves for a moment. It’s completely quiet. The moon lights up the lot with a cold distant glow. The moon is usually comforting to me, but right now it feels menacing.

What do I do??? ….911! I’ll call the cops!

I scramble to get my phone, but I quickly realize that it is sitting hostile in my bag on the front seat. Whoever is in my car has everything. My phone, my wallet, my keys, …I’m dead. I’m so dead. My eyes shiver and start to squeeze out sharp cold tears.

“Crap.” My voice cracks as it shudders back and forth. I can feel my knees wobbling, my back muscles twitching. I have to decide on something to do. My feet sting. I can’t stand here at the shop door all night. I step slowly towards my car. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it’s just exhaustion. I know I can have an elaborate imagination. I might be freaking out over nothing.

“Hello?” I call out.

Nothing.

“HELLO?!” Louder.

Nothing.

I walk closer and closer to the dangling door. It looks like a dislocated jaw. I hate this.

I hate this.

I hate this!

I HATE THIS!

“If there’s anyone there, I’ll beat the- the SHIT out of you!” I yell at my car. I ball my fists up, and raise them to my chest.

Nothing. Not even a rustling.

“I’m serious! I’ll end you!” I say with a little less conviction.

“This is your last chance! h-Here I come!” I step slowly towards my car and look into the back window. I don’t see anyone. My car is completely empty except for my bag which lies undisturbed on the seat. My keys are still on the floor. Frick. I’m not okay.

“Get home. Get in, get home, get in. Just get home.”

I get into my car as fast as I can, and shut and lock the door in one motion. My head on a swivel, I stick my key in and turn. The engine makes a wheezing warbling sound and then sputters into a steady hum. That’s not normal. I don’t have time to worry about that right now. I speed out of the parking lot like a squirrel on caffeine. My leg won’t stop bouncing as I drive. It still feels like someone is in the backseat. I check the rear view mirror a thousand times in the fifteen minutes it takes me to drive home. At the first stop sign I reach I stand on the break, and crane my neck back to check the floor in the back in case someone is crouching down back there. There’s nothing. I’m still scared. What if I’m being followed?... I can’t think about that. That’s too scary right now.

I pull into my driveway, and sprint to my front door. Feeling paranoid now I jiggle the knob to make sure it’s still locked since I left it this morning. It is. I unlock it, go inside, and slam the door behind me. I lock the knob and the bolt. I can’t stop shaking. Everything hurts. I might vomit. I turn on the lights to my living room and kitchen, and grab a chef’s knife from the block. I carry it with me to the pantry and retrieve the kettle and a box of red raspberry leaf tea. I need to calm down. This is the part of living alone that seriously sucks sometimes. I have no one here to watch my back if something happens. I need a dog or something. A really big dog.

I make my tea, and sit down at my computer. I load up Pitchfork, Cottage Simulator. The wholesome artwork and cute villagers in my little pixelated mountain town will hopefully at least bring my heartrate down. I work on my little carrot garden, trade some wool for a fish at the little market, and get started on decorating a new room in my cottage. The next several hours melt away into the night. Eight-bit guitars and hot herbal tea are really great for anxiety attacks.

Lying in bed, my room feels crooked. The energy is bad. My body is a lot more calmed down, but my brain won’t settle into place. I really wish I had a dog…

#horror #creative writing #fiction #mac omer #the red pendulum

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csstorybook · 7 years

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4x13 Unforgiven The Best in You

A collaborative story written by @allofthismatters @flslp87 @ilovemesomekillianjones @ohmakemeahercules and artwork by @hopeandbeans

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An introspective look at both Emma and Killian’s thoughts from the time he leaves after not telling her anything about Ursula to the time her parents catch them. Rating - K

After leaving Pinocchio with Marco, Emma planned to make her way back to the station to continue looking through the ATM videos, but somehow her thoughts took her a different direction and she found herself at the docks. They had become a place that she gravitated toward whenever her thoughts were muddled and she needed to sort through something. Today, it seemed there were multiple situations that needed her attention, but none more so than her conversation. or lack thereof with one close-mouthed pirate. When he arrived at the station with her lunch, and she had immediately tested him about whether he was bringing her french fries or onion rings, she had wanted to kick her behind for continuing to put him through hoops; but when he had grinned and rubbed her shoulder, she had relaxed and silently promised herself to behave. Why then had she immediately put him on the spot about Ursula? Was she jealous? No, that didn’t feel right, but something about his reticence to talk about Ursula immediately brought all her insecurities to the surface.

As she watched the birds fly over the water she thought about how free they looked and wished she could be as free with the giving of her trust and of her feelings. Her past still had a hold on her and those walls, while she knew they were falling down a piece at a time, and much of it was due to Killian’s persistence, she also knew that there were some instances when it appeared to be one step down and two steps back up. Today’s conversation with him left her feeling very unsettled as it was so different than most of their conversations had been recently. He was usually the one trying to get her to open up and this time, he had shut her down with, “I don’t know what else to say.” Why had she crossed her arms over her chest, her body position exuding mistrust and not shown patience with him like he has always shown with her?

~♥~

It was times like this that Killian longed for the familiarity of his ship most. He needed refuge from the onslaught of shame over the most current disaster he'd brought upon Emma, in the form of a sea witch who was only a danger because of what he did to her.

He sat on the beach and dug his nails into his scalp. He should be used to past misdeeds seeping into his present by now, but somehow, he was not.

He’d never get used to the way she shrank back into herself when she knew he was hiding something, how she stopped looking at him like he was safe, like she was preparing to be hurt beyond measure again. It undid him and made him want to hold her face and beg her to understand that he loved her so much his bones ache with it, that he’d spend his life proving he could be counted on, if only she’d be patient while he processed all this himself first.

But how could he think he was deserving of anyone’s trust or patience, after what he did to Ursula?

He's committed horrors of all kinds, but his wrongdoings against the young mermaid made him feel especially unworthy of Emma's confidence. He'd made Ursula a promise, looked her in the eye and vowed that she could rely on him. And instead, he'd stolen her voice like it was nothing. He'd felt genuine respect and affection for her... her fire and ambition had reminded him of Milah a bit, and he’d turned her into nothing but a pawn in his own depraved agenda. Hardly better than the Dark One himself.

He needed to tell Emma, and he hated it. Hated that in his most recent conversation with her he'd been so evasive because she'd caught him off guard, and he simply had no excuse for what a monster he'd been in his long life. He was fairly certain she would forgive him, because she was so fiercely good, but whether he deserved it is another story. He wanted to be more for her than a constant parade of old sins needing absolution.

Sighing deeply, he stood and headed back to the station.

~♥~

A feeling of chagrin stole over her as she realized that she had treated him unfairly. He didn’t deserve the brunt of her insecurities, he already had to deal with townsfolk not giving him the benefit of the doubt. She knew there was nothing going on between him and Ursula now. She also knew that no matter what had happened between them it would have no bearing on the man she knows now. It wouldn’t change how she feels for him. In fact, of that she is positive, because no matter what, she’s certain there is a line he wouldn’t cross where a lady is concerned.

Thinking back on the conversation she’d just had with her parents it dawned on her that she needed to take a page out of their book. If they could choose to see the best in everyone, including villains, then it is the least she could do for Killian. Deep down she already saw the very best in him, she just needed him to know that. She’d let her self-doubt and emotions shake her faith in him.

Shit, she thought. She needed to fix this and fast, who knew when the next crisis was going to rear its ugly head. Emma took a deep breath of the fresh ocean air to center herself. Digging her phone out of her pocket she dialed Killian, then held her breath hoping he would answer. By the fourth ring she was losing hope that he’d accept her phone call.

“Hello.”

“Killian!” she exclaimed into the phone.

“Is everything okay, love?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. She’d held her breath a little longer than she’d intended to, and now she was feeling a little dizzy. It wasn’t just the lack of oxygen though. It hit her then that she’d been more worried than she thought. Worried that this would be the time that Killian had finally run out of patience. That he was finally going to decide that her walls weren’t worth scaling. She shook her head, refocusing and shooing away the negativity. “Would you be willing to meet me at the station?”

~♥~

Just as Killian resolved to set the record straight with Emma, his phone buzzed in his jeans pocket. “Bloody hell,” he growled. He'd never get used to the sudden interruptions phone calls caused. Especially when he was in deep thought or concentrating, like now. He survived hundreds of years without being instantaneously accessible and quite frankly could do a hundred more.

Once he'd recovered from the shock, he glanced at the caller i.d., Emma’s name appeared. He sighed. This was too coincidental. How did she know he was about to confess? Could this woman read minds, too? Don't answer it. Give her a taste of her own medicine. No, she deserves to know the truth at all costs. He drew a breath and answered, “Hello?”

“Killian!” she blurted out. She never said his name that way. Something was obviously bothering her.

He frowned. “Is everything okay, love?”

“Yes,” she replied.

No, it's not Swan. You're worried; the anxiety is prevalent in your tone.

She continued, “Would you be willing to meet me at the station?”

“Umm, sure. Any particular reason?”

“I've had a lot on my mind today, and need to talk about it with you.”

Uh oh, the dreaded ‘we need to talk’ line. In all his encounters with women over the years, he'd learned that phrase rarely meant good things, and the subject matter would be serious in nature. “Like what?”

“Certain expectations and being honest about them.”

Now she’s playing the evasive game, huh? “Okay.”

“Just come over here as soon as possible. I’d rather talk in person.”

“As you wish, Swan. I’ll be there shortly.”

“See you then.”

Killian groaned as they hung up. One step forward, five steps back with Emma. Maybe she’d decided he wasn’t worthy anymore. He was too broken, too far gone, too much of a monster to consider loving. Even if this was the end, he wanted to finish on the side of good. Damn, why did he have to be honorable now? Sometimes it was much easier to burn bridges and never think about the issue again. Alas, this was the path he’d chosen. Heroes always tell the truth.

He glanced up at the night sky. I hope you’re proud, Liam. I’m becoming the man you believed I was. Now was the perfect time to prove him right, and Killian didn’t intend to pass it up.

~♥~

After Killian had promised to come by the station, Emma hung up the phone and shoved it in her back pocket. Her palms were sweating and her pulse was racing and just sitting behind her desk made her feel she was going to jump out of her skin. Standing, she paced. Ten steps forward, ten steps back, over and over again until she heard the front door to the station open. Needing to look busy, she hurried to the filing cabinet, grabbed a file and pretended to look through it as she listened to his footsteps coming down the hall.

Taking a deep breath for courage, Killian rounded the corner into the station, “Well, Swan, why did you summon me?”

Here goes nothing, she thought as he posed the question. Making it her motto, she repeated, don’t screw this up several times in quick succession before turning to answer him. “Because I know there’s something about your past with Ursula you’re not telling me...” she began.

She’s right, he thought, and once I tell you what it is, you will no longer wish to have anything to do with me. A possibility that had been eating at his insides since their earlier conversation.

And finished, “And that’s ok.” She noted the hopeful expression on his face and continued, “What’s not ok, is you lying to me about it.” She watched his face, seeing no change in expression except to note that whatever had happened, was not something that he seemed to want to discuss. Which when she thought about it was odd, as he had never been one to shy away from any of his villainous deeds, owning them completely.

His first thought when she said that she didn’t care about this past had been that it was a trick, for that wasn’t what had happened with women in the past. But then again, he should have known that Emma Swan was no ordinary woman and when you are in a relationship with a woman such as her, all rules were new, often being made up as the relationship progresses. Hearing that she is ok with my past as long as I tell her about the past is a new and unique experience. What to say?

“Aye, love, you’re right.”

She wasn't sure if he'd continue, and it almost startled her when he did.

"I haven't been entirely forthright with you."

Her gut churned at the mere words, an automatic response. How many times had she heard words like that only to have her life promptly uprooted and left in tatters because of someone's dishonesty? Enough that it drowned out the part of her that felt safe and sure of his devotion to her.

She fought down the cold panic creeping up her neck and wrestled away the persistent, cruel mocking in the back of her mind. You thought this one was 'different', didn't you? What good have you ever been at picking out the ones that'll stay?

"The truth is, I remember my history with Ursula. It was early." She tried to focus on his voice, but the pounding in her head only grew as he approached her. She steeled her face and threw the question at him without thinking.

"Did you break her heart?"

The question was so quick and direct that it felt like whiplash. He heard her real question: Are you about to break my heart? He hated having her look at him like that; like she was still afraid, after all they'd been through, that he'd turn on her. It left him with a sudden flare of red-hot frustration--what in hell was it going to take to make her understand how much he loved her—that was quickly quelled by compassion. If she was so willing to forgive his unspeakable deeds, he could certainly be patient with her freezing up and shutting down. In a way, yes, he did break Ursula’s heart, but not in the way Emma meant right now, so he gave her the honest, plain truth.

"Worse."

He let the word linger in the air, and forced himself to meet her eyes and study her face. He looked for fear or disgust, but simply found resolve.

“Look, whatever you did, you’re not that person anymore. It’s not gonna change anything between us.”

The enormity of her words didn’t escape him. It was her heart and her blind trust, laid bare for him with a bravery that made his heart ache with pride in her. It was a gift which he both desperately wanted and wasn’t sure he could ever deserve. Killian opened his mouth to speak, then paused, trying to comprehend what he was hearing. “That’s quite a lot of faith you’re putting on me, Swan,” Killian pointed out. He shook his head as though doubting himself on Emma’s behalf. Did he even deserve to hope that she might actually mean it?

“I know,” she answered lightly, “and there’s a reason for it.” Emma took her baffled pirate’s hand and led him to the couch. She hated that she had put that look of self-doubt on his face, that she’d made him question his own worthiness. That’s why she was going to fix this.

“What’s that?” he asked, still quite certain that regardless of what she had to say, there was no way she was forgiving him this misdeed. His stomach churned with the memories of what he’ done to Ursula, all in pursuit of his damned vengeance.

“My parents. I had this moment today where I doubted them… said they were going for a hike, and I actually thought they were lying to me.” Emma thought back to her conversation with her parents. She chastised herself for doubting them, and doubting Killian. She had to stop this pattern.

Killian didn’t miss the look of disbelief in her own actions that passed over her features, and he yearned for her to have the same faith in him. Wished he’d earned the same faith. “Were they?” he asked, already knowing the answer. Their royal highnesses were above lying, they’d have to have something to hide. Now there’s a dubious concept, he thought.

“No, of course not, my parents would never lie to me,” she said, almost like it had been silly to think otherwise. “But the fact that I could think that they would it reminded me that I have this tendency… to expect the worst of people.” Emma couldn’t help but think of just how true this was when it came to Killian. He might be the person who’d bore the brunt of her doubt in others. She’d started their entire relationship on that path when she’d handcuffed him up on the beanstalk. Even though her lie detector had told her he was genuine, she’d still chosen to believe the worst. Shame flooded when she thought about the time she’d wasted since them. Time that they could’ve been together, really together.

Killian heard the dejected tone she took on when she mentioned how she tended to view the world, and the people in it. It broke his heart because he knew exactly where those feelings stemmed from. He knew what it was like to feel as though you couldn’t trust anyone but yourself, and that there was no one out there for you. He continued to listen as she explained herself, still in awe of her turnaround, and hopeful for what it could mean for them.

“My childhood, people were always letting me down, and I-“

“Hey,” he interrupted, needing to tell her that she couldn’t categorize him with those who’d broken her heart throughout her entire life. Anger coursed through him, directed at all who’d hurt this tough lass. He wasn’t that man, if he did nothing else right in his long life, he’d do right by Emma Swan. It only took looking into her eyes to calm the quelling emotions. “I don’t intend to let you down,” he vowed.

Warmth flowed through Emma’s veins. No one had told her that before; life had merely handed her one hardship after another. Killian had proved himself worthy several times over, even when she didn’t give him credit. "I know. And I know whatever happened with that sea witch, you can tell me on your own time. Because no matter what, I’m gonna do what my parents always do. I am going to choose to see the best in you."

I don’t deserve this amount of trust. But I’ll spend my life assuring your faith in me was correctly placed. He bowed his head and said, “And I with you.”

The couple smiled at each other and leaned in for a kiss-

CRASH! Moment lost, Emma turned toward the station front. Her bemused parents stood in the doorway. Of all times to interrupt…. we were having a relationship developing moment. Could you have arrived five minutes later?

What the…? Perplexed her lips weren't on his, Killian opened his eyes and glanced at the intruders. Snow and David. While he respected the queen and king, they were the last individuals he wanted to see at the moment. Blimey, what's a bloke have to sacrifice for some privacy around here? Their firstborn child?

Emma smiled apologetically and mouthed, “Later.”

Killian nodded. I'd like to have a word. No, this relationship is too new. I don't want to cast myself in a worse light than I already am or seem demanding. He bit his lips as Emma stood up and her parents walked in the room. David blatantly cleared his throat and Snow’s cheeks flushed fresh pink.

“Sorry… we didn't mean to… interrupt,” Snow stammered.

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “So, you stood there awkwardly and stared at us the whole time?”

David sighed. “Sorry, but we have bad news. Cruella and Ursula were up to something. They've resurrected Maleficent.”

“Wait. You mean that dragon I killed and took True Love potion from?”

The conversation shifted to Storybrooke’s latest villain filled emergency.

Twenty minutes later, the couple was alone again. Emma noticed Killian was filled with tension. He wasn't the only one with unresolved business. To Hell with being the Savior, I want to kiss my pirate. “You okay?”

“Sorry Swan, I'm still vexed from earlier.”

“I'm really sorry about that. I didn't know they were there.”

“Not your fault. You don't control other people’s actions. However, I worry it'll set a precedent.”

Emma stepped forward, inches from his face. “What do you mean?”

“Say things continue to go well between us, it could escalate into more intimate activities. If caught, your father would give me a fate worse than death.”

Emma nodded. She pictured her and Killian naked in her bed at the loft when David opened the door with a horrified expression. “Don't worry, I’ll talk to them about boundaries. I'm sure magic has spells that soundproof rooms. Now, kiss me pirate.”

“If the lady insists,” he replied with a devilish grin. The kiss sealed the vows previously exchanged.

Afterwards, they pushed their foreheads together. “May I come back to your room with you?” she asked.

That can’t be right. She’s asking me. I should be asking her. “Are you sure, lass?”

Emma smiled. “I’ve never wanted anything else more.”

#cssb vol 2 #ouat 4x13

37 notes · View notes

museinspo · 7 years

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*.:｡♦ ⋅ ⋆ — MUSING TAGS - QUOTE EDITION

i recently hit a huge milestone & reached the 2nd birthday for this blog, so i wanted to do something cute to give back & say thank you !!! with that being said, under the cut you’ll find 828 quotes that can be used for character musing tags ! they’ve been categorised into different labels ( eg. the baby doll, the lothario, the vixen, the cataclysmic, etc ) so some quotes may appear under more than one category. i do, however, recommend checking out all the categories !! they were just listed by my own interpretation and definitely aren’t limited to a certain label in the slightest. the pronouns used are simply what was used in the original line but can obviously be changed to fit your character. depending on personal preference, some may be a little too long but can be shortened down pretty easily. a general trigger warning is to be placed for these as they do reference some sensitive topics ( drugs, alcohol, sex, etc ), as the tags on my blog do. i believe that covers it all !! if you find this useful, please do like and/or reblog ! also, please let me know if you’d like to see a part two of this ! you can find the lyric version of this right here for more suggestions !!

general (31)

better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie.

he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t lived yet.

she drew silver linings of her own.

like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.

my mother looks at me and sees my father’s mistakes.

desire is the kind of thing that eats you and leaves you starving.

she was brave and strong and broken all at once.

i am the sea and nobody owns me.

your sweetness is more cruel than your hurt.

she looks like royalty ; so fine and distinctive.

compare me not to stars but to storms and hurricanes.

fuck your soft words because i am not soft.

love breaks my bones and i laugh.

sipping cool red wine out of a long-stemmed glass.

chain smoking tastes like 50′s perfume if you try hard enough.

she crunches diamonds between her teeth.

in this world that kills beauty ; even gods cannot survive the fall.

it inspires a keen nostalgia in her for the simpler times before.

friends and family filled with envy when they should be filled with pride.

my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.

he flew darling. he may have fallen ; but first he dared to soar.

take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.

you have your fathers mouth and dreams of ripping it off your face.

you lie to erase the memories from your naked body.

i’ve kept my feelings to myself for i’ve never found a language to express them.

you drink a little too much and go home alone.

the most beautiful of angels are destined to fall.

his biggest fear is ending up like his father.

she was restless in a way that seemed permanent.

i am mine before i am ever anyone else’s.

she isn’t human ; she is art with a heart.

the addictive (9)

i used to smoke to get high ; now i smoke to stay sane.

you drink like you have something to forget.

his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.

he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.

i’ve got whisky with white lies and smoke in my lungs.

i’ll find comfort in my pain eraser.

oh baby you’ve made mistakes and drained the bottles.

the addictions that were killing me faster are the ones i loved the most.

you drink a little too much and go home alone.

the aesthete (21)

she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.

he craves the balm of beautiful and soft things.

there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.

he was vulnerable ; to art and to the sky.

her aura is made of poetry, roses and galaxies.

to be written in ink is to be immortal.

seduce me ; ravish me with your words and poems.

he’s made up of silk and rose water.

everything has beauty but not everyone can see it.

let me tell you about the birds and the bees ; the moon and the stars.

like artwork i could admire you forever.

getting drunk on honeyed water with berry stained lips.

she’s dreaming of lace trimmed dresses and warm pink cheeks.

he wanted to be extraordinary to possess a savage glitter.

his trouble is that he falls in love with every pretty thing.

one day he realised he was made of light.

she wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes.

he falls in love with details.

he’s always had a terrible weakness for beautiful things.

the anthomaniac (16)

she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.

i need the empty field around me and my legs pounding along roads.

she longed to go far into the fields and listen to the birds.

he sits before flowers hoping they’ll teach him the art of opening up.

barefoot in grass and drinking fresh lemonade.

she was made of sunlight.

the earth laughs in flowers as does he.

she wore flowers in her hair and carried magic secrets in her eyes.

she spent hours on the riverbank and had midnight swims.

i need the empty fields around me and my legs pounding along roads.

sensitive souls don’t have it easy ; that’s why their eyes light up when they breathe in the scent of a flower.

nature is not a place to visit ; it is home.

i have nature and art ; is that not enough?

he has a garden and a library ; that’s everything he needs.

for me ; beauty is first and foremost in nature.

there’s a girl out there with love in her eyes and flowers in her hair.

the artisan (28)

seduce me ; ravish me with your words and poems.

underestimate me so i can embarrass you.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

rule #1 never be #2.

there is a loneliness only poetry knows.

painting is poetry than is seen rather than felt.

poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.

be my muse and you can have my soul.

gather the constellations in your mind ; press them to paper & call it art.

writers make love to whatever they need.

her eyes are classic novels and poetry.

to write is to hold the power of a thousand universes between paper and pen.

i write as if it can heal my broken heart.

i write what i could never say.

artists are prisoners of their own creations.

write to settle the rage within you.

when she dances she looks like a poem about loss.

in writing you must kill all your darlings.

it’s funny how artistic we become when our hearts are broken.

he left pieces of himself in his art.

there is a chaos in my mind that can only be quelled by my hand on a pen.

i want music that makes holes in the sky.

with my beaten small guitar wearing the same old jeans.

i am writing to disappear.

to be written in ink is to be immortal.

show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy.

heartbreak makes poets of us all.

she had literature inside her heart that she couldn’t sometimes write.

the astrophile (20)

i would drink the sky and inhale the stars if i could.

i want to exhale stardust and create my own constellations.

moonlit princess in the night.

the stars in her eyes are far more beautiful than those in the sky.

and the stars whispered ‘come home’

i look up at the moon and wonder who else is looking too.

let me tell you about the birds and the bees ; the moon and the stars.

you are a cosmic child ; a celestial wonder.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

she’s beauty she’s grace she’s in love with aliens and space.

people hope to touch the sky ; i dream of kissing it.

i would drink the sky and inhale stars if i could.

i want to exhale stardust and create my own constellations.

i saw galaxies in your eyes ; your love put stars in my evening skies.

you will give meaning to the evening skies.

now we’re lost somewhere in outerspace.

her aura is made of poetry roses and galaxies.

when you dream ; do you dream of the stars?

i can see the stars from the window of my bedroom and i think i’m in love.

she dreams under the midnight sun of colour and melodic heartbeats.

the baby doll (21)

she’s in the window in her pink dress ; radiant & transparent.

she had lavender in her hair and roses on her cheek.

she has the moon in her mind ; that’s why stars spill off her lips.

there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.

she tastes like fairytales.

their soul is baby pink and very expensive.

her idea of love was gentle and silent like a whisper of a touch.

she was like cherry wine and what a lovely headache she left behind.

to be soft is to be powerful.

she’s made of silk rose water and glitter.

she spritzes her face with rose water and moves on.

his voice is honey.

his affection comes fast or not at all.

she falls in love with the attention you give rather than the person.

he’s gentle and soft.

everything about her is so captivating ; like the aftermath of a storm.

she possesses an innocence so destructive she puts angels to shame.

he’s a glimpse of bliss ; a little taste of heaven.

she doesn’t love ; she quickly falls and ever so slowly picks herself back up and walks away.

there’s something godly yet sinful about loving her.

she wasn’t afraid of being left ; she was afraid of being forgotten.

the bellwether (11)

she’s in the window in her pink dress ; radiant & transparent.

there she was ; bathed in moonlight and silhouetted by stars.

she wore her dress almost as well as she wore the universe.

she uses stardust as a highlighter.

stay until enough people have had time to admire your attire.

my mascara’s too expensive to cry over this.

fashion is the most powerful art there is.

he doesn’t wear outfits ; he creates looks.

she wishes she could make decisions the way she picked her clothes ; from a catalogue.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

the benevolent (26)

you blossom under kindness like a rose.

you managed to have a soft heart and peaceful mind despite the cruelty of the world.

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.

she would have swallowed the sun to make you warm enough.

to love and lose and to still be kind.

her hands are soft and her eyes shine in the sun.

she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.

he’s got a heart so pure ; i bet he has flowers growing between his ribs.

she was not a girl of ice and glass but of sunshine and stardust.

she emits warmth and injects laughter into the people she encounters.

isn’t it ironic that you take care of everyone but yourself?

she dismissed those who stopped her from being able to see the world’s good.

she tastes like hope.

kind people are forged in fire and darkness and imploding stars.

he was made of sunlight.

to be soft is to be powerful.

optimism can save the world.

she cares ; its kind of her thing.

all he wanted was to receive the love he gave.

you’re soft like spring flowers and the white feathers inside your pillow.

there’s bravery in being soft.

it takes grace to remain kind in cruel situations.

the world gave him so much pain and here he was turning it to gold.

he takes care of everyone but himself.

her voice is honey.

you are not weak just because your heart is so heavy.

the bibliomaniac (15)

i grew up in the shadow of a big bookcase ; where verses and novels all mingled and murmured.

books became her friends and there was one for every mood.

she made a vow to read one book a day as long as she lived.

novels aren’t just happy escapes ; they are slivers of peoples souls.

books were cold but safe friends ; he adored them.

walking the stacks in a library ; feeling the presence of sleeping spirits.

books gave him a comforting message ; you are not alone.

he finds himself turning to books and films for comfort.

a library is like an island in a vast sea of ignorance.

he dreams of old books and french cafes.

he loves fictional characters because he has a habit of loving people who can’t love him back.

novels aren’t just happy escapes ; they are slivers of people’s souls.

her eyes are classic novels and poetry.

he always imagined paradise as being some kind of library.

she wants to be the kind of woman people read books about.

the cataclysmic (20)

you will learn why storms are named after people.

i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride.

there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.

you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.

the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.

girls like her were born in a storm.

how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?

she sins to forget she has a heart.

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

her mind is a very dangerous and destructive place.

real darkness was more than just a lack of light.

do monsters make war or does war make monsters?

if i’m anything it is violence.

to you everything tastes like blood.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

he tore the beauty from his face and called it terror.

there is blood in everything you say.

the connard (15)

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

take off your armor and let your skin breathe.

those who are heartless once cared too much.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

she can be so cruel and it comes so quickly that birds fly away.

how to be unapproachable ; a book by me.

i know i’m fucking moody and i know i’m quite unkind.

mood ; not in the mood.

smiling is a sign of weakness.

sorry i’m such an asshole.

on one hand who cares and in the other hand so what.

most likely to not give a fuck.

in memory of when i cared.

being brutally honest is a different shade of mean.

the coquette (20)

there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

she’s like a rose ; she’s beautiful and enchanting but her roots are full of wounds.

she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes.

she kissed demons and slept with ghosts because living with the dead felt more like home.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.

she’s a sweet talker with great legs ; her affections fleeting and wild.

she was sweet like cherry wine ; what a lovely headache she left behind.

her hair was long and her eyes were wild.

how to be a heartbreaker.

she’s no angel.

blow a kiss ; fire a gun.

she could tear you apart with her lips.

her attention comes fast or not at all.

she touches herself with strawberry painted fingers.

call me your baby girl.

boys play with toys and girls play with boys.

she wasn’t actually in love but she felt a tender curiosity.

they hate her because she smells of vanilla and doesn’t pick up her phone.

the credulous (14)

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.

she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.

he’s so busy looking for the good in people he misses the knife they’re holding in their hand.

he’s the definition of starry eyed.

she thinks she’s living in a fairytale ; it’s why she fears the world so much.

she feels too vulnerable and soft for the world.

when someone shows her their true colours ; she tries to paint a different picture.

he was blinded by how people took him for granted.

be gentle with her ; she’s more vulnerable than she appears.

he’s always depended on the kindness of strangers.

she burned too bright for this world.

he knows too much and not enough.

she possesses an innocence so destructive she puts angels to shame.

she will love you unconditionally and that may be the saddest part about her.

the crepehanger (22)

she’s rotting quietly under her skits with a melancholy smile.

the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.

she was a compulsive pessimist ; always looking for the soft brown spot in the fruit ; pressing so hard she created it.

you have such a february face ; so full of frost of storm and cloudiness.

and i’m disgusted with dreams now.

be like snow ; beautiful but cold.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy.

he doesn’t expect sunshine and rainbows to be coming from every aspect of life.

be like snow ; beautiful but cold.

i’m full of poetry now ; rot and poetry.

but his bones knew something wonderful about darkness.

she is rotting quietly under her skirts with a melancholy smile.

a negative mind will never give a positive life.

he became bitter and untouchable.

you know what they say about hope ; it breeds eternal misery.

i overflow like this black night.

she walked with darkness dripping off her shoulders.

i’ve seen ghosts brighter than his soul.

we’re all cynics and romantics ; sometimes simultaneously.

the crestfallen (20)

she’s rotting quietly under her skits with a melancholy smile.

i am made of insecurities.

you are not weak just because your heart feels so heavy.

sadness flirts with my soul and takes that too.

take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.

you may be in pain but you are not weak.

if only her life could be more like the movies.

what hasn’t killed her has made her oversensitive and defensive.

she’s a lions roar ; broken glass and a thousand tiny paper cuts.

when he’s sad he doesn’t say a word.

she’s standing in the window ; transparent and lost.

crying doesn’t mean you’re weak ; it means you’re alive.

she’s strong but she’s exhausted.

silence is not a song you should know all the words too.

some say she’s very poetic others say she’s very sad.

sadness fucks me way too often.

she is broken and she won’t ask for help.

he’s broken apart his insides.

when he moves he looks like a poem about loss.

he believes he’s nothing without his pain.

the crimson (20)

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

she wanted a storm to match her rage.

she slipped her anger into something silky and attractive.

i have the world raging under my skin.

she beats her knuckles into other peoples jawbones ; the fight club is her temple.

to you everything tastes like blood.

she hissed ; her teeth dripping crimson.

he’s never been good at emotional stuff ; except anger.

he’ll argue about anything with anyone.

and the grace of the gods is a grace that comes by violence.

there is blood in all the things you say.

tragedy exists because you are full of rage.

he’s got fire for a heart.

he has the whole world raging beneath his skin.

the world demanded hate from her so hate she gave.

there is so much hate in his heart.

rage is the only emotion he’s good at feeling.

he’s a tiny yet angry force of nature.

make me your enemy and you shall see fury.

he’s made up of black coffee and poorly supressed anger.

the despondent (26)

skin deep damage does not make you unlovable.

i’ve turned people into homes and i ended up homeless.

the feeling of emptiness is incredibly intoxicating.

she’s strong but she’s exhausted.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

if only hell didn’t feel like home.

he became bitter and untouchable.

her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.

she fought best when she was breaking.

there is a beauty in the emptiness of your soul.

he opens his mouth and dust spills out instead of feelings.

sadness flirts with my soul and takes that too.

she walked with darkness dripping off her shoulders.

i’ve seen ghosts brighter than her soul.

i’m a ghost that everyone can see.

be like snow ; beautiful but cold.

take the weight of your insecurities and lay them underneath a gravestone.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

it’s so dark in the room you’ve chosen to store your regrets.

you’ve handled tragedy ; surely you can handle tenderness.

maybe emptiness is a way of listening.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

you may be in pain but you are not weak.

a lot of confidence generates disappointment.

the dirtbag (15)

his motorcycle is the loudest noise in the city that never sleeps.

his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.

he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.

his life is flashing lights and nights in jail for petty theft.

she’s a burden on society.

you were wild once ; don’t let me them tame you.

she spends her day riding motorcycles and smoking cigarettes.

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

mood ; not in the mood.

on one hand who cares and on the other hand so what.

he always finds the energy to sin.

he loves the way being bad feels.

boys who skate are better at grinding.

she doesn’t give a damn about her reputation.

property of no one.

the facade (15)

she’s like a volcano ; cool and calm on the surface with lava running through her veins.

you wear a mask for so long you forget who you were beneath it.

your mouth can lie but your eyes can’t.

you are not her anymore ; always presenting a different facade.

her eyes said more than words can say.

alone in my head ; i am content to pretend.

in a world where everyone wears a mask ; it’s a privilege to see a soul.

everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire ; crashing and burning.

look at her smile and in the corner of her smile you’ll find the smallest hint of sadness.

her eyes are pure stars but her touch will freeze you to the bone.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

take off your armor and let your skin breathe.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

kind faces are a lie.

i’ve met people who have never met me.

the fallen angel (16)

everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be i became.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?

if only hell didn’t feel like home.

i was a goddess and now i ache.

he became bitter and untouchable.

maybe you have to know the darkness before you can appreciate the light.

i’ve lost so many battles but i won’t lose the war.

she was not a girl of ice and glass but of sunshine and stardust.

in this world that kills beauty ; even gods cannot survive the fall.

and i’m disgusted with dreams now.

skin deep damage does not make you unlovable.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

my father looks at me and sees everything i used to be.

you may be in pain but you are not weak.

broken isn’t the same as unfixable.

the fervour (17)

i never learned how to love in small doses.

pick up your heart on the way out.

those who truly love never stop loving.

i would rather die of passion than of boredom.

she felt everything too deeply ; it was like the world was too much for her.

he’s a lover without a lover.

i’m still a sensitive woman just with passion.

she creates entire romances in her dreams.

he’s an incurable romantic.

she falls in love so passionately and out of love so painfully.

i never learned how to love in small doses.

he has no notion of loving people by halves.

god save the romantics who wil destroy themselves for a better story.

it’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply.

he spent his life learning to feel less.

my heart just sang and out poured my soul.

her idea of love was gentle and silent like a whisper of a touch.

the grifter (3)

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.

she’ll look you in the eye as she tears you open.

he’s the best at what he does and what he does isn’t pretty.

the halcyon (20)

he is terribly afraid of dying because he hasn’t lived yet.

love her but leave her wild.

she loved the sea ; it made her feel small but free as well.

i never learned how to love in small doses.

lay underneath the clothes line and listen.

people like you are not meant to stand still.

you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you.

her foot was light and her eyes were wild.

optimism can save the world.

he’s alive with pleasure.

he refuses to die ordinary.

he doesn’t get attached to moments because good or bad ; they all pass.

she didn’t allow life to just happen to her ; she traveled the world and wrote books about it.

once you learn to create your own happiness ; no one can take that away from you.

she likes her hair messy her love wild and her sex aggressive.

she wants to love and radiant light.

home doesn’t exist for girls like her.

a life lived in fear is a life half-lived.

he wants to touch the sun and immerse in the sea.

take your shoes off and dance in the rain.

the impecunious (5)

now your wallet is nothing more than empty space.

the girl of her dreams was herself but with more money.

nothing to steal.

girls just want to have funds.

he wants to work until his bank account looks like a phone number.

the impious (7)

every day that satan tempts me i take it in my stride.

she’s no angel.

he believes in hell and he’s in it.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

he always finds the time to sin.

god is love but satan does that thing with his tongue that you love so much.

he refuses to believe he’s not the god of his own universe.

the intangible concept (16)

she was truly a puzzle but god forgive anyone who mistook her for a game.

her smile screamed ‘you don’t know me and you never will.’

i’ve met people who have never actually met me.

i’m a different person to different people but unknown to a lot.

she rolled into town like a new mystery.

for he had a great variety of selves.

he’s a mystery wrapped up in a pretty body.

she looked pale and mysterious ; like a lily under water.

her eyes reminded me of tinted windows ; she could see out but you couldn’t see in.

you will never know the real him.

accept the mystery.

she was like the moon ; part of her was always hidden away.

he’s as beautiful and mysterious as the night sky.

perhaps she loves mysteries so much that she became one.

trying to understand him is like trying to hold smoke in your hands.

she spoke to no one and carried secrets in her eyes.

the isolato (15)

i need the empty field around me and my legs pounding along roads.

loneliness becomes an acid that eats away at you.

i was quiet but i was not blind.

alone in my head ; i am content to pretend.

loneliness is like a drug ; you know it’s bad for you yet you keep going back.

she’s so transparent ; she could disappear without a trace.

i wasn’t lonely when i was alone.

he doesn’t mind being alone so long as he doesn’t feel lonely.

she doesn’t let anyone in so she doesn’t risk the chance of losing them.

he was born alone and he’ll die alone.

she believes she’s better on her own.

she spoke to no one and carried secrets in her eyes.

he felt alone in a crowded room.

he could disappear forever and no one would notice ; that’s how he liked it.

she has no time for meaningless conversations and friendships.

the lost soul (15)

travel far enough that you meet yourself.

i am a language i am yet to understand.

you will find your place in this lost world and give meaning to the stars.

i mean different things to different people ; but who am i to me?

i was quiet but i was not blind.

how does he know who he even is ?

she’s in the window looking lost and transparent.

he feels homesick for a place that doesn’t exist.

he’s a ghost that everyone can see.

when she moves she looks like a poem about loss.

how can he move forward when he doesn’t know which way he’s facing?

i’m the place between who i want to be and who others have made me out to be.

he’s starting to miss the person he used to be.

his mind is an ever going ocean with dark shades of teal.

two years later and i was gone.

the lothario (15)

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

his mouth is heaven ; his kisses falling over me like stars.

he is lust ; he is sex in the back seat of a car.

he is an angel made of devilish grins and laughter.

he’s a god in human form but he’s got a corrupted soul.

he is the dangerous boy with the wild heart.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

he’s a sweet talker with great legs ; his affections fleeting and wild.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.

how to be a heartbreaker.

don’t give pieces of your heart away that you’re not even sure you have.

he was temptingly beautiful but stung anyone who got too close.

blow a kiss ; fire a gun.

he has persuasive lips but terrible motives.

the magnate (21)

underestimate me so i can embarrass you.

rule #1 never be #2.

he’s a corporate ceo ; making storms in other peoples lives.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.

the lawyer with the briefcase can steal more money than the man with the gun.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

she’s driven by power and profit.

stressed but well dressed.

act like you trust people but don’t.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art form of all.

people like her don’t write books ; she’s written about.

if you’re good at something never do it for free.

she’s a powerful girl.

be ambitious not thirsty.

her favourite position is ceo.

it’s only failure if you don’t learn something.

he doesn’t stop until he’s proud.

we all die ; his goal is to create something that never will.

intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.

find a way ; if there isn’t one make one.

the miscreant (7)

his life is flashing lights and nights in jail for petty theft.

dressed to kill.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

at what point does a man turn into a monster?

he’s the best at what he does and what he does isn’t pretty.

his fingers flash with jeweled rings when he waves them ; dealing drugs out of his pocket.

she’s a burden on society.

the paracosmist (21)

her imagination has made friends with the dark parts of her mind.

people hope to touch the sky ; i dream of kissing it.

i fear my imagination ; i’ve fallen so deeply in love with people and places i’ve only dreamt of.

things rarely happened the way he’d imagined them.

the real world is where the monsters are.

her mind stays up all night telling itself stories.

if only her life could resemble the movies.

go after dreams not people.

only her dreams will keep her from falling apart.

he’s always dreaming ; even when he’s awake.

he has an entire universe inside her mind.

she thinks she’s living in a fairytale ; it’s why she fears the world so much.

he creates entire romances in his dreams.

she fears her imagination for she’s fallen in love with places she’s never been and people she’s never met.

he’s in a world of his own.

why stop dreaming when you wake up?

the world needs fantasy not reality.

a thousand dreams within me softly burn.

life is hard but dreaming is not.

we lead strange lives ; chasing our dreams from place to place.

she tastes like fairytales ; she tastes like hope.

the paradox (17)

fire in her bones ; honey in her soul.

she’s sweet when she has to be & fierce when she needs to be.

i’m part heaven and equal parts hell.

she was the kind of girl who was a chaos of contradictions.

her heart has an argument with her head every time it beats.

we’re all cynics and romantics ; sometimes simultaneously.

she is madness ; she is hell and paradise.

she was truly a puzzle but god forgive anyone who mistook her for a game.

the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

he’s got both light and dark inside of him.

she tastes like nectar and salt.

we all have both light and dark inside of us.

he wears darkness and strength equally well.

the girl has always been half goddess half hell.

fire in his bones honey in his soul.

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

he feels everything so strongly or not at all.

the pastiche (20)

everything my mother prayed i wouldn’t be i became.

you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.

the world demanded hate from her and so hate she gave.

how do i stay tender with this much blood in my mouth?

if only hell didn’t feel like home.

no one has apologised for all that i have lost.

do monsters make war or does war make monsters?

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

skin deep damage does not make you unlovable.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

don’t apologise for the way you chose to survive.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you.

my father looks at me and sees everything i used to be.

he used to be better.

she’s not entirely here ; half of her has disappeared.

we are good people and we’ve suffered enough.

i am sorry for who i had to become to survive.

he wants himself back but he doesn’t remember who that is.

who i was then and who i am now are vastly different.

the philophobe (16)

he told me he was afraid of commitment with thirteen tattoos on his body.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

he’s not afraid to love ; he’s afraid of not being loved back.

silly boy she laughed ; love is for fools.

my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.

name the taste of your last heartbreak and spit it out.

do not fall in love.

i have love inside of me but i don’t know how to use it ; it scratches like barbs.

you were temptingly beautiful but stung when someone got close.

love scares her more than a gun.

she’s afraid of love so she doesn’t love anything.

loving was painfully awful and terrifying for her.

he craves attention but the mere thought of someone caring made his stomach turn.

she’s convinced that to love was to be torn apart.

she’s too busy being scared to realise she’s already in love.

his sin was falling in love and he’s learned his lesson.

the phoenix (20)

you can’t change the past but you can alter the future.

i survived because the fire inside me burned brighter than the fire around me.

you are not her anymore ; always running away from feelings.

you are not her anymore ; not that masked and layered princess.

you are not her anymore ; always presenting a different facade.

my first love was an insignificant boy when it should’ve been myself.

he flew darling. he may have fallen ; but first he dared to soar.

the way you brave your chest to the world is terribly brave.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

don’t apologise for the way you chose to survive.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

admire your reflection as you step out of the haze of what's gone.

do better and move on.

broken isn’t the same as unfixable.

someday the pain will be useful.

if the hurt comes so will happiness.

she forgave and became.

her best revenge was improving herself.

the sun will rise and he will try again.

you have suffered enough ; it’s time that you won.

the polymath / academic (17)

underestimate me so i can embarrass you.

the more he acquires the more certain he is that he knows nothing.

the possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery.

happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing i know.

i can’t live in blissful ignorance like others.

he’s interested in everything and in nothing else.

we are voyagers ; discoverers of the not known.

everything interests me but nothing holds me.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

it’s only failure if you don’t learn something.

he doesn’t stop until he’s proud.

intelligence without ambition is a bird without wings.

keep growing and learning.

his mind is as big as the universe.

true intelligence operates quietly.

it’s only failure if you don’t learn anything.

remind yourself that it’s okay to not be perfect.

the pristine (15)

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; just have too much of a good heart.

her hands are soft and her eyes shine in the sun.

she laughs like she hasn’t a care in the world.

he’s got a heart so pure ; i bet he has flowers growing between his ribs.

she possess an innocence so destructive ; she puts angels to shame.

you’re soft like spring flowers and sunsets and white feathers inside your pillow.

she tastes like fairytales ; she tastes like hope.

to be soft is to be powerful.

he’s soft like spring flowers and sunsets.

his voice is honey.

you don’t have to be a child to be naive ; you just have to have too much of a good heart.

he looked like milk and honey would flow out of him.

be gentle with them ; they’re more delicate than they look.

you’re a glimpse of bliss ; a little taste of heaven.

they’re as pure as a river.

the prosperous (15)

we are beautiful and privileged.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; a thirst to be godly.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

he’s driven by power and profit.

her soul is pink and very expensive.

billionaire boys club.

you can never be overdressed or overeducated.

she wanted to be extraordinary.

she’s a trust fund baby.

people like me don’t write books ; we’re written about.

selfish people live longer.

money makes her romantic.

he’s spoiled and selfish.

the devil does indeed wear prada.

her aesthetic is money and fighting with people.

the reticent (16)

no one will ever be able to totally capture her ; she seemed so evanescent.

nothing haunts you like unexpressed feelings.

silence is not a song you should know all the words to.

your mouth can lie but your eyes can’t.

she kept her thoughts to herself.

her eyes said more than words can say.

the secrets inside her mind are like flowers in a garden at nighttime ; filling the darkness with perfume.

he’s met people who have never truly met him.

you don’t ask ; i don’t tell.

things she can’t say outloud.

he wants to write a novel about silence ; the things people don’t say.

if you don’t get it off your chest you’ll never be able to breathe.

i don’t think anyone will ever truly capture her ; she’s so evanescent.

secrets that i held in my heart are harder to hide than i thought.

he doesn’t care who sees him naked ; he cares who sees him cry.

she was like the moon ; part of her was always hidden away.

the reveller (10)

she sins to forget she has a heart.

you drink like you have something to forget.

he spends his nights drinking jack and smoking weed.

i’ve got whisky with white lies and smoke in my lungs.

you were wild once ; don’t let them tame you.

you drink a little too much and go home alone.

she doesn’t give a damn about her reputation.

good times ; bad friends.

he’d rather be getting high.

dance all night ; sleep all day.

the self destructive (15)

if they can’t find anything to destroy ; they destroy themselves.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

i destroyed myself so you couldn’t hurt me.

you play with fire because you want to be burned.

he has a habit of self destruction.

god save the romantics who wil destroy themselves for a better story.

my hands are full of ash because i burn everything i touch.

he plays with fire because he wants to be burnt.

you will learn why storms are named after people.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

nothing can destroy me like i can destroy myself.

you can’t scare a girl by screaming fire if she wants to be burned.

i desire the things that will destroy me in the end.

my hands are full of ash ; i burn down everything i touch.

the solicitous (12)

she’s drowning in an ocean of thoughts.

he’s tired ; he just wants the world to be quiet for a bit.

she was calm on the outside but thinking all the time.

the voice inside my head speaks louder than the one that comes out vocally.

he just wants to escape one thing ; his head at night.

her thoughts are haunting her.

too busy feeling feelings and overthinking it.

once he learnt to think he couldn’t stop.

i think i worry too much ; i need to take it easy.

maybe i think too much for my own good.

most of the stuff people worry about never happens.

he’s afraid of talking nonsense.

the sovereign (21)

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.

you think i’m not a goddess? try me. touch me and you’ll burn.

i’m learning to sharpen my teeth and rule kingdoms.

oh royal princess ; i love the way you wear your crown.

be careful royal princess ; too much and you will drown.

she was afraid of being forgotten.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

look to your kingdoms ; i am coming for them all.

everyone saw a princess but inside she was on fire ; crashing and burning.

rule #1 never be #2.

she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.

there’s only one queen of the underworld.

queens raise queens.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

who still believes in kings?

the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

she wasn’t afraid of being left ; she was afraid of being forgotten.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

the traveler (15)

no one will ever be able to totally capture her ; she seemed so evanescent.

travel far enough that you meet yourself.

she loved the sea ; it made her feel small but free as well.

home doesn’t exist for girls like me.

we are voyagers ; discoverers of the not known.

she runs until the world is quiet and the smells are peaceful.

people like you are not meant to stand still.

remind yourself of how fast you’re able to run.

no matter where you run ; you always end up running into yourself.

she longed to go far into the fields and listen to the birds.

he’s flirting with life ; teasing each city with his presence before leaving them behind.

be inspired by beauty everywhere ; be a citizen of the world.

i love places that make you realise how tiny you are in the world.

he wants to see every kind of sunset.

be a traveler not a tourist.

the urbanite (10)

his motorcycle is the loudest noise in the city that never sleeps.

if you want to find love than you know where the city is.

she loved the loud cry of the city.

but first ; coffee.

everyone hurts themselves in the city ; then they pick themselves up to not get in anyone elses way.

living in new york city is like dating a comedian ; fun while it last but when it’s over man is it over.

she loves to make coffee for the city that loves to drink it.

he loves the empty streets and 5 am winds of the city.

brooklyn baby.

smells like cold coffee stress and aesthetic in here.

the utopian (5)

she thinks she’s living a fairytale ; that’s why she fears the world so much.

her idea of love was soft and gentle like a whisper of a touch.

he never learned how to love in small doses.

people wait a lifetime for true happiness.

he thinks fate is behind everything.

the vindictive (16)

i’ll swallow my blood before i swallow my pride.

you took a wonder boy and you threw him away to become a monster.

my heart currently resembles the ashes of my cigarettes.

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

she wanted a storm to match her rage.

she fought best when she was breaking.

no one has apologised for all that i have lost.

is it better to out monster the monster or to be quietly devoured?

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

to you everything tastes like blood.

you will learn why storms are named after people.

his chest caves in whenever he thinks about the past.

it’s so dark in the room you’ve chosen to store your regrets.

he tore the beauty from his face and called it terror.

there’s a hunger inside of me ; something vicious.

there is blood in everything you say.

the vixen (25)

there were girls who would tear you apart with their lips.

i’m part heaven and equal parts hell.

girls like her were born in a storm.

love her but leave her wild.

she sins to forget she has a heart.

she’s like a rose ; she’s beautiful and enchanting but her roots are full of wounds.

she wanted to be extraordinary ; to possess a savage glitter.

you’ll understand why storms are named after people.

she tasted like imported sophistication and domestic cigarettes.

she thinks manipulation is the greatest art of them all.

home doesn’t exist for girls like me.

like art she was beautiful but like art she was also complex.

people find her madness charming because she is so beautiful.

a pretty face doesn’t mean a pretty heart.

everything about her is captivating like the aftermath of a storm.

she looked at young men like she could smell their stupidity.

she was taught young to strike first and you’ll always be safe.

she was destruction given form and purpose.

she held an elegant savagery.

not everyone can swallow the parts of you that have sharp edges.

you’re more than the fires you’ve walked through and the storms you’ve caused.

the girl has always been half goddess, half hell.

she wears darkness as a queen wears her crown.

she was sweet like cherry wine ; what a lovely headache she left behind.

the sound of heels on pavement is the ultimate power trip.

#character tags #musings tags #aesthetic tags #character musings tags #rph #mi #ml

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recentanimenews · 5 years

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Fans Give Their Hot Takes On The Anime Awards

More important than the Oscars, the Grammys, and the Havelock, North Carolina Chili Cookoff combined is the Anime Awards. It's that wonderful time when we can look over the past year of anime and bestow honors upon the ones that most touched our hearts. And with them looming ever closer, we asked some of y'all to give us your hot takes on who YOU think should take the trophy in some of the categories. And you didn't disappoint. Your answers ranged from surprising to thoughtful to inspired, so we decided to collect the twelve best of them and post them here for the rest of the internet to love and appreciate and then, as the internet does, nitpick into oblivion.

I'm gonna go down category by category, and what better category to start with than the big one: Best Anime.

BEST ANIME

"Yorimoi for AOTY" by Cameron (A Place Farther Than The Universe)

A Place Further Than The Universe was the best anime of the year. It was the best anime by far and no other show came even close. There were plenty of other shows I loved this year like Laid-back Camp and Revue Starlight but none of those shows compare to the good good Antarctica girls. The show teaches amazing lessons and made me cry many times. The email scene at the end of episode 12 made me cry for hours and I still tear up every time I think about it. It's just genuinely one of the best shows I've ever seen. This is my new go-to recommendation for people who want to get into anime. Their adventure is so inspiring and it deserves anime of the year.

"Devilman: Crybaby" by Manic Stylo (Devilman Crybaby)

It's been almost universally accepted by both formalist and populist anime fans that Devilman Crybaby has the qualities of an instant classic. From its unique visual direction, infectious soundtrack, and unrelenting use of adult content, Devilman Crybaby breathes new life into Go Nagai's classic manga and beautifully streamlines it for a contemporary audience. Remaining mostly faithful to its source material, director Masaaki Yuasa's sensibility for abstract and avant-garde visuals makes for a delightfully nightmarish fever-dream adaptation of Nagai's original concept (it's a match made in heaven...or hell in this case). As far as adult anime go, Crybaby is consistently balanced fare with uncompromisingly violent action for anyone who just wants a fun romp, solid thematic undertones for those who want more bite out of their shows, and tastefully implemented real-world commentary if you want more than just escapism. A hyper-stylized modern gothic masterpiece, whether it worked for you or not, Devilman Crybaby will not leave your subconscious any time soon.

"Zombies But Still Alive" by Jouii-chan (ZOMBIE LAND SAGA)

2018 has been quite the year for anime. It's my first year that I've been watching and keeping up with seasonal anime with Crunchyroll! But one show stood out to me, and that show was Zombie Land Saga. For the first few episodes, I was pretty doubtful about the series. I mean, an idol anime with zombie girls? That was just plain crazy!

But as the show went on, I realized Zombie Land Saga was more than some silly comedy show. It was beauty. All the characters had great chemistry, and the music was great. It got me addicted to it with it's great music too. The best part of the show was how it showed the indomitable human spirit and how even through the toughest of storms, anyone can prevail. Sakura provided a great lead with her past sucking her of all her confidence, yet she overcomes this to lead Franchouchou to a great future. Zombie Land Saga was one of the surprises of 2018, and I was always hyped to watch the new episodes when they came out.

"Violet Evergarden: An Anime for a Lifetime" by James (Violet Evergarden)

Violet Evergarden is an anime that grabs your heart. The loss of a father, mother, daughter, son- the fears of rejection, regret, and failure- Violet Evergarden reaches inside you, and pulls tight on these strings. It's not just a post-war story; Violet Evergarden is a somber filled tale that elicits a strong sense of empathy from the audience. Beautifully rendered and well-paced, the story features a subtle escalation in heart ache and healing. Each episode takes the time to fully immerse the audience in a complex micro-story filled with very human lives. This anime understands the importance of a well developed character, and spends it's time wisely weaving this incredibly vibrant, living world. Story aside, the animation and artwork are absolutely stunning. When paired, the audio and visual cues truly bring the world of Violet Evergarden to life. From start to finish, there is no other animation that delivers a more compelling sense of catharsis and satisfaction, and that is why I believe Violet Evergarden deserves to be Anime of the Year.

Best Boy

"I Would Lay Down My Life For Toono Hiyori" by Nija (Free! -Dive to the Future-)

200 words definitely aren't enough to properly convey my intense love and appreciation for my everything, the light of my life, the absolute blessing that is Toono Hiyori from Free! but I'M STILL GONNA TRY because he deserves everything. Starting out as a fun antagonist, turning into a slightly confusing antagonist, and then ep. 6 hits you with that ABSOLUTE GUT-PUNCH and I weep for him always. He did some things wrong (though I understand why he did them and wouldn't say I necessarily disagree tbh) but in the end he's just a lonely boy giving everything for the person he cares about the most without ever asking anything in return. Less important but still Important things include: he's a jerk sometimes and I love it. His frenemyship with Asahi? The funniest thing. He can and will ruin your life with a smile, he loves reading and coffee and has a really good fashion sense, he's very organised and on top of things, even if he's a social mess lbr... And if he likes you, he'll probably kill for you. All in all he's just the best and you, person who's reading this entry, should know that too. Bless his soul.

"Katsuki Bakugo, A Living, Breathing Explosion" by Mimi Valentine (My Hero Academia)

Katsuki Bakugo is easily one of the most dynamic characters of the year. Starting with his complicated relationship with Izuku, his hidden jealousy for a boy with no quirk, to outright anger at him suddenly having a quirk, to the rejecting the trope of "rival becomes evil for greater power," to confessing his feelings of inferiority towards Izuku, and the intense self blame for what happened to All Might. Katsuki has always shown that he has this heart, from treating Uraraka as his equal in the torunament, to fully acknowledging Izuku's growth ans strength. Seeing his slow dismantle from just a typical bully to a hidden broken boy only to show you that under all that anger, he's truly just a boy who wants to be a hero.

"Why Rimuru Tempest is the bestest boy of not just this year, but of all time" by Kat (That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime)

There were a lot of good boys this year, but who was the goodest? The undoubtedly most delicious smudge-muffin in existence?

My answer is Rimuru Tempest and here's why:

He is the kindest ball of squidge you could ever meet. He would stop and help anyone in need at the drop of a hat. In his previous life he DIED saving his kohai from an attacker and he would do it again.

He is adorable. How could you take one look at his face (or lack there of) and not fall in love instantly with this soft boy? Not only is he soft in his ball form but once he grants the wish of a dear friend, he becomes the ultimate soft boy. One you could probably hug endlessly and both of you would still be comfortable.

He is the definition of epic. One of the first things he does with his new life is befriend and EAT a dragon. He ate him, whole. Then he proceeded to eat everything else in the cave. If you hurt one of friends he'll eat you too! Not before he beats you in a hilariously and awesomely one sided combat sequence though.

BEST FIGHT SCENE

"SSSS. Gridman's True Final Battle" by Donovan Bertch (SSSS. Gridman)

The greatest part about SSSS.Gridman's final battle wasn't the sheer amount of quality animation and editing on display. It wasn't the satisfaction of seeing Gridman finally return to his original form, theme songs blaring, as he finally decked the villainous Alexis Kerib in his smug face. It wasn't even finding out what the hell SSSS actually meant in the end. All of those were wonderful moments that made the fight shine, to be sure. However, the greatest part was that when all was said and done, the fight wasn't Gridman vs. Alexis Kerib. It was the show's antagonist, Akane Shinjo, vs. Herself. Her sins, her insecurities, her self-hatred...it took a lot of effort, and it wasn't a total victory (given that Akane's final scene with Rikka shows her still processing her guilt), but few things are that simple. Even when the heroes came to encourage her, it was Akane who made the final choice that led to Kerib's downfall. Gridman may have landed the final strike and had the big speech about human potential, but Akane Shinjo defeated Alexis Kerib and saved her world. The action-packed duel was just icing on the cake.

BEST VA PERFORMANCE (EN)

"My Hero Academia, Episode 61: Bakugo's Breakdown (Clifford Chapin)" by Masky (My Hero Academia)

In one of the most emotionally stirring episodes of the entire series, we finally see all of Bakugo's pent-up anger come to a boil in this what could be considered a huge turning point for his character development. As a character who is known for his angry outbursts, this episode let us have some insight into Bakugo's inferiority complex and really reminded us just how young and emotionally immature these upcoming heroes are, and yet how much responsibility is weighing on their shoulders. With such an important milestone for a character like Bakugo, the voice acting in this episode was critical. Clifford Chapin gave an extremely raw and powerful performance that truly echoed Bakugo's pain; a performance that exceeded expectations of even those who don't normally give dubs a try. It was real, emotionally-charged, and could be considered a landmark for just how far english dubs have come.

"Clifford Chapin (Katsuki Bakugo)" by Katherine (My Hero Academia)

My Hero Academia fans sure are spoiled with a fantastic same-day English simuldub in addition to everything we already love about the series! With great casting overall by ADR Director Colleen Clinkenbeard, Chapin's take on Bakugo is one of the highlights. He's consistently been such a natural fit for the role that I can't imagine anyone else voicing him, and always seems to give 110%. Season 3 has been no exception with some key moments to really shine, including a fan-favorite emotional confrontation. His vocal cords would probably disagree, but I'm definitely glad he's a part of one of my favorite anime from 2018.

BEST OPENING SEQUENCE

"Fighting Gold - Jojo's Bizarre Adventure" by Loon (JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Golden Wind)

"Fighting Gold" is an intro I was honestly excited for long before it was even announce. I may be slightly biased as a manga fan and long time Jojo fan but in all honesty "Fighting Gold" is really a masterpiece in my opinion. It highlights the series so well with plenty of hidden spoilers as most Jojo intros have had before it telling the story perfectly if you break it down. It is an intro I will honestly never try to skip to get to the anime itself faster.

BEST DIRECTOR

"Akira Amemiya - SSSS.Gridman" BY Katherine (SSSS. Gridman)

I would not be surprised to see SSSS.Gridman represented in quite a few categories this year, but its direction is where the show truly shines as one of the best of 2018. Akira Amemiya and Studio Trigger juxtapose the understated, day-to-day activities of our heroes with glorious, city-destroying kaiju battles without ever being jarring. However, that doesn't mean the former is only viewed though a mundane lens while the latter are just beautiful hype machines. Character moments have just as much flair as any fight with dynamic framing, art, and sound design, while tokusatsu battles are given so much attention to detail with how the kaiju move to pay homage to the live-action shows the team grew up with. Amemiya has a confident sense of visual language, and it shows every episode. SSSS.Gridman is subtle when it needs to be and bombastic when it wants to be, which is not an easy task to pull off.

---

And there you have it, the diverse tastes of anime fans and people that praise the holy name of Bakugo. But even if you didn't find your submission on here, thank you for taking part in this and double thank you for supporting Crunchyroll over the past year. We do our best to give you the greatest anime collection in the universe, so we appreciate y'all taking the time to give us your thoughts in return.

Remember, if you haven't voted in The Anime Awards, there's still time! And if you have, we look forward to sharing the winners with you on February 16th, when the Awards are streamed live on Twitch.

By: [email protected]

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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birdboyofbabylon · 6 years

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TAGGED BY: @blue-pincushion TAGGING: @cloud-the-bluebird ((Gonna keep it short here since I don’t know most people enough to know if they’d be okay with me tagging them in this kinda stuff yet))

— BASICS.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE ? Short. Even by Mobian/Babylonian terms he’s on the short side and relies on his hair/feathers to get the last few inches to be considered on par with the rest of the cast.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT ? For the most part, yes. Jet enjoys taking advantage of his small size for both stealth and agility. He loves outmaneuvering and outwitting larger targets and sees it only as a bonus for riding where his smaller size simply means less weight and less wind resistance.

That being said. There are times he feels intimidated being the shortest member of his team.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE ? A slicked back and spiked mohawk formed of thick clumps of green feathers

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING ? Absolutely. Jet adores the style, both aesthetically and functionally. He’d first tried the style out when he was still a kid and managed to discover upon a few heavy metal CDs in a fellow Rogue’s quarters. He’d been listening for a while, enamored with how fast and angry and exciting it sounded as he was looking through all the CD manuals and saw a drummer packing a more traditional spiked mohawk with the spikes sticking straight up. So of course he tried the style for himself. Of course, after one ride like this, his feathers were soon slicked back and when he saw it in the mirror, all he could think was “WOOOOW, COOL! THAT LOOKS RAD!” and needless to say, the style stuck. The way it’s spiked back, rebellious and out-of-control, he feels expresses him to a tee, and the fin-like nature of it is aerodynamic enough while providing a fair bit of stability at speeds.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK ? AB-SO-LUTE-LY. Sometimes Jet will spend hours in front of a mirror, fine tuning everything about his appearance before any even where he expects cameras to be involved. Most of the effort goes to his hair and the tuft of white feathers on his chest, but he’ll still spend a sizable amount of time making sure every last part of his appearance looks impeccable.

As for what others think? To a degree. Though the hawk lives for praise, he won’t pay too much mind to the jeers and boos of others. Jet can focus on the positive responses he gets far better than most, but if it’s nothing but hate and criticism, then it’ll start to take its toll on his mood...and fairly heavily, for that matter.

That being said, he’s far more sensitive when it comes to those he respects. He sets a high bar for that respect and feels it should be valued greatly, so if someone who falls into that category belittles him, then he’ll take it to heart and have it on mind for days, possibly even weeks at a time.

((PUTTING THE REST BEHIND A READ MORE))

\/ \/ \/ \/ \/

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS ? Outdoors, for sure. Specifically open areas with lots of wind. Being a bird, he needs the feeling of wind flowing through his feathers. Even when he is indoors, he prefers to not be on solid land, opting for the shelter of his airship. If he spends too much time without a nice long ride on his Type-J or returning to his zeppelin, Jet will start to grow antsy, anxious, and jumpy. This usually takes about three or four days to come into effect.

Needless to say, that makes any extended prison stays or other incarceration VERY tough on the hawk. Cramped indoors, no wind and stuffy air, and without the gentle sway of his zeppelin or some other airborne vessel to keep him company? That can be a nasty time.

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE ? Sunshine. Not to say he doesn’t enjoy the rain from time to time, but only when he doesn’t actually have to be in it. Most of the time it’s a burden. It gets in his feathers and leaves him soaking. It disrupts his flight plans and sometimes he’ll have to ground the airship completely when the weather’s bad enough.

That being said, it does make a good veil to escape in, both on foot and for his zeppelin. And he’s found out that a real torrential thunderstorm can make for a very exciting backdrop to ride full speed through. ▸ FOREST OR BEACH ? The beach by far. Just give him a surfboard and he’ll spend all day on the waves. (No not that one get your mind out of the gutter maybe in five years when he’s older JEEZ) Not to mention the sun and coastal winds go hand-in-hand with the hawk.

Not to mention Jet can fit a Hawaiian shirt pretty nicely, as you can see from the Sonic Channel artwork.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS ? Precious metals, simply because they’re more practical. Jet often finds him and his Rogues scavenging around for good scrap to bring in and salvage for supplies. After all, keeping an big, metal airship running can be a tall order sometimes. ▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES ? Neither? If he had to pick one, however, I suppose he’d go with perfume. Mostly because they don’t require any care and won’t just wither up and die. ▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE ? For now, Jet’s pretty vain and goes mostly for appearance. He’d still need a personality that he could live with, but seeing as he’s of the age where he’d only just recently started to go “Oooooh, girls” he’s still indulging in the appearance more than anything.

He also finds himself accidentally starting to stare at Wave sometimes...just sometimes. ▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD ? In a crowd, specifically with all eyes on him. Jet loves being the center of attention, both good and bad. He craves recognition and will hog the spotlight at any chance he can get. ▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY ? Anarchy, hands down. Chaos is Jet’s element. He thrives in the unpredictable. The more maddening he can make any situation, the more he gels with it and can turn the tables on anyone who opposes him. Even in heists, he often finds himself taking the fast and noisy approach, stirring up enough chaos in the process to leave everyone guessing what even happened as he rushes in, takes the goods, and bails. ▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES ? Painful truths. Jet will tell you to your face exactly what he thinks without a moment’s hesitation. No matter how crude, how mean, and how hurtful it is, he’ll say it and he’ll say it with a smile on his face.

In fact, he’s more likely to lie to hurt someone than lie to make them feel better.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC ? There’s a lean towards “science” here, but overall just magic enhanced by science. Jet uses both on a regular basis. By nature, as his title of “Legendary Wind Master” would imply, Jet is aerokinetic. However his powers are still young and budding, and to do anything noteworthy, he needs his Bashosen or Bashyo Fans to amplify the work for him.

Another good example is the Ark of the Cosmos. This is, in a whole, ancient advanced science, but there were some very, very occult arts required to create them.

But that’s something Jet and his team will discover sometime later. (°<°)

However he still has a heavy tech reliance. His Type-J is an example of that, as well as his goggles which contain a comms device, a HUD (wirelessly connected to his Type-J at all times), and the computing power of a decent smartphone. ▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT ? Conflict. Though neither Jet nor his team want to see the world fall apart, they all find a little shake-ups every now and then to really stimulate their profits.

Of course, they merely aim to profit off the strife that already exists, believing that “Well, it’s happening either way. Might as well make a little cash off of it” and would never even think of artificially inciting a war or something similar on their own just to profit off of it.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY ? Night, by far. Jet feels more at home with the sin and vice that a big city’s nightlife can bring and being a thief by nature, just feels more comfortable under the cover of nightfall. Overall, it’s just more chaotic, the people are more lively, more real.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN ? Dusk. This one’s pretty simple as Jet tends to stay up late and sleep in well past noon. He rarely even sees the dawn, but the dusk is like a sign that his day’s about to hit the exciting part.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD ? Warmth. Not that he minds the cold too much, especially when he’s got a snow-topped mountain to play around on, but too much and the sting of the cold gets to his muscles and holds him back.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS ? A few close friends. Jet rarely feels comfortable opening up to anyone, always expecting the worst of them, and that if he ever shared anything personal, they’d merely use it against him. However, those he does trust, he trusts with anything and values them greatly, easily willing to put his life on the line at their defense.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME ? Playing a game, certainly. Preferably something with a lot of action, violence, and a need for quick reaction times.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS ? He’s rude, he’s vulgar, he’s loud, he’s obnoxious, he doesn’t care about most people’s feelings or emotions.

He’s a bit on the specist side and thinks Babylonians and birds in general are simply better than humans or mobians.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM ? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM ? OH BOY HOWDY HE HAS. When Jet was younger, the Babylon Rogues had a member count somewhere in the 20s. They were more or less a large family of loud, disruptive, vulgar sky pirates, led by his father, Ace. They were a carefree bunch, roaming around and taking whatever they could get their hands on. Occasionally, sometimes, one of them just...wouldn’t come back. It was a rare occurrence and at the time, Jet didn’t really understand what had happened, just that he always missed them.

However, one day...none of them came back. It was just Jet, Wave, and Storm on their own. They’d soon found out that the rest of them, Jet’s father included, were set up and slaughtered, no explanation why, and no idea who’d done it.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS ? His first time ever riding an EX gear. He was barely old enough to talk and his father was holding the board steady while he rode along at a snail’s pace. It was all he could do not to crash even then, but that didn’t matter. It was exciting and new and cool! He just wanted to ride again and again and again after that.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL ? Not at all. The very thought of it sickens the Rogues. As Jet often describes it, “There’s no point in taking a life. Treasure, gold, money, and everything else we take from people, it’s all worth something. But what’s there to get from snatching away a life? Just gets their friends to come after you with revenge on their mind. It’s not worth it”

Of course, as tough as he tries to act about it, Jet knows he couldn’t stand to put anyone through what he’s experienced.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN ? One word. Explosive. With how much pressure he has to lead the Babylon Rogues, Jet always feels as if he has to be the strong one, the figurehead that the others can look up to, no matter what the cost to him. Of course, this leads to feelings, emotions, worries all being bottled up. He’ll often have his breakdowns behind closed doors, being reduced to a stuttering, stammering fool, incoherently blaming himself for everything that’s ever went wrong, breaking whatever he can get his hands on, clawing madly at himself.

But if he can’t get that out of his system, or something shakes him severely enough, that’s when he gets violent. If there’s anyone in the area he’d consider a target, the hawk goes out of his way to make an example of them. Concussions, broken bones, and other injuries are common when Jet enters this state of mind.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE ? Rarely, but yes. It’s borderline impossible to earn that kind of trust from him, but if someone has, they’ve likely earned it for life.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE ? Very, very defensive. He’ll always be denying it, sheepishly shying away from the topic and trying to claim that he’s “too tough for that kinda thing” with his face flushing red the entire time. As of right now, he’s not too comfortable with the idea of it. All that kissing and gushy stuff just doesn’t have much interest to him yet.

...Yet.

#Jet Headcanons #((This is a LOOOOOONG one))#((But if anyone wants me to write one up for the other Rogues then let me know))

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funnythingshere0-blog · 6 years

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'I punched him so hard he cried': inside the Street Fighter movie

New Post has been published on https://funnythingshere.xyz/i-punched-him-so-hard-he-cried-inside-the-street-fighter-movie/

'I punched him so hard he cried': inside the Street Fighter movie

It was the early 1990s and every teenager in the world knew about Street Fighter II. Originally released in the arcades and then on the SNES and Mega Drive consoles, the game featured a cast of weird, semi-magical combatants with names like Ryu, Chun-Li and Guile battling it out for victory in the World Fighting Championship. It was colourful, competitive and ridiculous. It sold 15 million copies.

Realising the cinematic potential of the game’s giant brand, publisher Capcom soon dispatched a retinue of execs to Hollywood. Experienced producer Ed Pressman saw the potential immediately and he knew who to call: Steven De Souza, writer of Die Hard and Commando, and before those, TV hits such as The Hardy Boys, The Six Million Dollar Man and Knight Rider. Steven had impeccable action-entertainment experience, and was even working on an animated series, Cadillacs and Dinosaurs, for which Capcom had produced a tie-in video game. There was, in Hollywood business parlance, synergy.

Street Fighter: The Movie was not a critical success. On its release in December 1994 – a year after the calamitous Super Mario Bros film – it was derided as another ludicrous cash-in tossed at impressionable kids by cynical Hollywood execs. Reviewers railed against the cardboard characters and fans of the game derided the lacklustre, frenziedly edited fight scenes. However, unlike Super Mario Bros, Street Fighter: The Movie made money (lots of it), and the story of its troubled development is not one of incompetence but of tragic circumstances and drug-fuelled narcissism. And it began, as these things often do, with a frantic meeting.

Released in arcades in 1991, Street Fighter II was a smash hit when it was ported to SNES the following year. The series has made around $10bn in revenue for publisher Capcom.

“Ed and another producer came to me and said: ‘Capcom is going around – can you come up with a take for a movie? They’ll be here the day after tomorrow,’” recalls De Souza of the pitch. “I said: ‘Yeah, I’m very familiar with it – my son had just put his first year of college into that machine.’ I said I’d come up with a treatment, but I wanted to direct.”

De Souza wasn’t interested in making a tournament movie – he wanted something more like a James Bond adventure, with a proper plot and exotic locations. “Unbeknownst to me, Capcom was thinking in this direction,” he says. “When they came to the meeting they brought some artwork to help me, and one image had Bison as the most wanted criminal in the world, in a James Bond-style underground lair. I could see they were energised during our meeting, and within a week they said: ‘You guys are doing it.’”

Seven characters has always been the magic number through history: seven sins, seven wonders, hell, Seven Samurai.

Steven De Souza, writer and director

De Souza started working on his script, imagining Bison as the corrupt dictator of a fictional south-east Asian state, looking to take over the world with an army of genetically modified super soldiers. Guile would be the special forces hero, teaming up with street fighters Ken and Ryu to foil the dastardly plan.

Meanwhile, the producers set up the logistics. There was a modest $30m budget, with a 10-week shoot – six weeks on location in Thailand, followed by four in Australia at the new Warner Bros studio on the Gold Coast. De Souza’s plan was to funnel a portion of the budget into training the actors in martial arts before filming began, calling in the famed fight choreographer, Benny “The Jet” Urquidez to help out.

But then things started to go awry. Capcom decided it needed a big star for Guile and the producers went for Jean-Claude Van Damme – who, after the success of Timecop, was the biggest action movie actor in the world, with a price tag to match. To add some gravitas on the baddie side, the hugely respected character actor Raul Julia was approached to play Bison. He accepted, thanks in part to his kids, who were huge fans of the game. But like Van Damme, he wasn’t coming cheap.

“Now we had a couple of big stars in the cast but less money to make the movie,” says De Souza. “It meant all the other actors had to be really new names. That was fine, but we no longer had the money to hire them in advance for fight training. I said: ‘OK, we’ll film all the ‘people talking in rooms’ scenes early on, and while we’re doing those, the other characters will be off training.’ I thought, we’ll be filming for 10 weeks, so everyone will have three to six weeks of choreography on these fights. That was the plan.”

Jean-Claude Van Damme was the biggest action movie star in the world when he made Street Fighter: The Movie. But he came with a lot of baggage… Photograph: Allstar/MCA/Universal

It wasn’t the only challenge. De Souza had managed to convince Capcom to let him focus on just seven or eight characters from the Street Fighter roster, rather than all 19. “In the 100-odd minutes of the movie, there wasn’t a lot of screen time to go around – do the math,” he says. “Furthermore, the audience can barely keep track of seven characters, which is why it’s always been the magic number through history: seven sins, seven wonders, hell, Seven Samurai.

Midway through the shoot, somebody said: ‘Wait a minute, why is everyone fighting in the same way?’

Byron Mann (Ryu)

“[But] every time I turned in a draft they kept pressing me to add just more character. I would slide somebody in with a couple of lines. Then they’d say: ‘Can’t so-and-so have another scene, he’s very popular in Japan? And by the way what about this character?’”

Capcom was also attempting to meddle in casting – a situation that came to a head with Ryu. De Souza had already cast young Chinese-American actor Byron Mann in the vital role, but Capcom wanted Japanese actor, Kenya Sawada, who barely spoke English. In the end, De Souza reached a bizarre compromise: Sawada was given a cameo as an entirely new character, Captain Sawada, and Mann was Ryu. “I actually met [Sawada] a couple of times while I was going for casting,” recalls Mann. “He gave me some real dagger looks.”

Finally it seemed all the pieces were in place, but a tragic situation was soon to emerge.

One fight in Bangkok

Unknown to anyone on the production, Raul Julia was extremely unwell. Suffering from stomach cancer and undergoing gruelling treatment, he arrived in Bangkok a shadow of his former self. “I got a phone call from our costume consultant,” recalls De Souza. “She’d gone ahead a day before us to meet Raul and she said: ‘We have a problem. He looks ghastly; he’s like a skeleton.’ We thought: ‘Oh god, what are we going to do? We can’t put him on camera.’ We decided to push all of Raul’s scenes to the end of the movie, so he could gain weight and we’d move other things up front. I was putting people on the camera who’d had virtually no fight practice.”

Andrew Bryniarski as Zangief and Peter ‘Navy’ Tuiasosopo as Honda in Street Fighter: The Movie. Photograph: Moviestore/Rex/Shutterstock

Mann, who’d never starred in a movie before, recalls the ensuing difficulties. “We had our trainer, Benny, but he didn’t know what video game fighting actually was – it was all new to him,” he says. “We only found out midway through the shoot that different characters have different styles. Somebody said: ‘Wait a minute, why is everyone fighting in the same way?’”

There’s a scene where Ryu was to engage in a deadly sword fight with Vega (played by Jay Tavare), and Mann was supposed to have been well-drilled in fighting techniques – but the lessons kept being put off. “Then one day I was having lunch, and an assistant director came over to me and said: ‘Hey, are you ready for your knife fight?’ I said: ‘What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about it.’ I went to one of the Thai extras, a stunt guy, and asked him if he could help. On the spot, he taught me what he knew – and that’s what you see in the movie. And it was a bladed sword, it wasn’t plastic. I could have injured myself and others.”

The effects were only supposed to blow a quarter of the temple up, but it got a bit out of hand.

Keith Heygate, first assistant director

At the same time, Bangkok was throwing up some of its own challenges. “There was extreme heat, extreme humidity. We were supposed to be looking buff, but we were all losing weight,” says Mann. “If you watch the movie, we all look a lot bigger in the scenes shot in Australia. The weather was fine, the food was nice – we had all recovered.”

There were unique logistical challenges in Thailand, too. “There was talk of a possible coup, so the military closed all the roads down,” remembers Keith Heygate, the first assistant director on the second unit. “We needed to get the cast, the crew and all this equipment to different locations, so we had to travel by high-speed boats down the khlongs [canals] at 1am in the morning. This went on for 10 days, and these boats kicked up a lot of water, so, by the time we got to the location, the cast and crew were all sodden. Van Damme hated that.”

Better still, some of the big special effects were running away from them. “There was a scene where we blew up a temple,” says Heygate. “The art department built it,” he hastens to add. “The effects were only supposed to blow a quarter of it up but it got a bit out of hand. We had Jean-Claude, Kylie [Minogue, who played Cammy] and a bunch of other actors right outside it as it blew – and the whole thing went up. There was $240,000 of scaffolding and it just melted. But the sequence looked great.”

Even the interior shots were beset with troubles. Local production staff had sourced an old coast-guard building as a sound stage (it’s the building the Allied Nations take over as their HQ in the film), but the hangar had a tin roof – and it was the rainy season. “The noise was staggering,” says De Souza. “And even when the rain stopped, the walls were riddled with holes. It was like a John Woo gunfight had taken place in there – the sunlight would pour in and you couldn’t film anything. Also, I don’t know if it was the rainy season or defective equipment, but we’d be filming and the lights would just go out.

“After 10 days in Bangkok we were six days behind schedule – it was tortuous. The producers said: ‘You’re running behind!’ So I did an old John Ford trick: I just opened the script and ripped a page out and said, there, we’re back on track.”

Ming-Na Wen as Chun-Li in Street Fighter: The Movie. Photograph: Alamy

With scenes being shot in a bewildering sequence or cut entirely, cast members struggled to make sense of their roles. “I didn’t know the character; I didn’t know the video game; I didn’t know what the hell I was doing,” says the veteran Indian actor Roshan Seth, who played Dhalsim.

“I was supposed to be a mad scientist. I thought: What sort of science am I supposed to be doing and what am I mad about?’ There’s a scene where my character has to pull out his hair in anger – they spent all day fitting me with a skull cap so I could literally pull my hair out. I just stopped thinking – they just told me what to do and I followed instructions.”

The Australian actor Robert Mammone was employed to play spec-ops soldier Carlos Blanka, who is captured by Bison and transformed into the green-skinned Blanka we know from the games. He only discovered that a body double was to play the post-transformation scenes when he met him at a cast party before shooting. Mammone still had to do close-ups, though, which meant spending three hours a day in makeup, getting Blanka’s green skin and wild orange hair. Then he’d have to sit around for hours. “I used to take a book with me on to set all the time. I was reading On The Road and I used to discuss it with Steven. In that scene where I’m strapped into the cubical, in between takes, I was made up as Blanka reading Jack Kerouac.”

I told him it was against health and safety to have alcohol on set. From that point on, he hated me

Amid the chaos and uncertainty, the actors did what they could to cope, hanging out in Bangkok bars at night and the gym during the day. “Between me, Vega, Ken [played by Damian Chapa] and Zangief [Andrew Bryniarski], there was a definitely a lot of machismo going on,” says Mann. “This wasn’t Sleepless in Seattle; it was who has the biggest biceps today.”

Ming-Na Wen, who played Chun-Li, and underwent intense weight training in the lead up to the film, remembers it a little differently. “They were all big wussies,” she says, laughing. “I won’t name names, but I got into one of those brother-sister banter relationships with one of the other actors. I remember one day, I punched him so hard he cried. We were just goofing around!”

Van Damme it all

In a cast full of young newcomers and civilised character actors, Jean-Claude Van Damme stood out as the archetypal movie star, with an ego to match. As he later admitted, he also came into Street Fighter with a major cocaine habit. At one stage in the 1990s, he was hoovering 10g a day; and $10,000 a week.

“I couldn’t talk about it at the time, but I can now: Jean-Claude was coked out of his mind,” says de Souza. “The studio had hired a wrangler to take care of him, but unfortunately the wrangler himself was a bad influence. Jean-Claude was calling in sick so much I had to keep looking through the script to find something else to film; I couldn’t just sit around for hours waiting for him. On two occasions, the producers allowed him to go to Hong Kong, and both occasions he came back late – on Mondays he just wasn’t there at all.”

Calling in sick … Jean-Claude Van Damme as Col Guile in Street FIghter: The Movie. Photograph: Allstar/MCA/Universal

Heygate has similar memories. “He was an interesting man, but he was extremely hard to work with – there are a lot of stories I can’t share,” he says. “There was one time he was in the trailer and he was quite pissed. My assistant couldn’t get him out, I couldn’t get him out, so I had to call the producer, Chad Rosen, to get him out. Then he came out with a bottle of a champagne. I told him it was against health and safety to have alcohol on set. From that point on, he hated me.”

The rest of the actors recall a frustrating and bemusing experience. “He had the presidential suite at the hotel, with a gym put into his room,” recalls Seth. “Sometimes he wouldn’t turn up on set – the message would come through from him saying: ‘I have to pump up my muscles!’ and that was that.”

Mammone managed to strike up a better relationship with him. “Van Damme certainly grandstanded around the set – he let everyone know who the star was,” he recalls. “He’d stay in the trailer until he was ready to come out; he’d take up so much time for a shot; scenes that should have only taken an hour could take half a day. But for some reason, perhaps because we played best mates in the movie, he was fine with me. We went to dinner, we hung out, he gave me my first proper Cuban cigar. One day, we were sitting in the makeup chairs and he said to me: ‘Robert, you have the stink of Tony Curtis.’ I think he meant ‘essence’.”

Van Damme has also since confessed to having an affair with co-star Minogue during the filming. Minogue was brought in late when De Souza found he needed an actor to play Cammy, and saw a photo of her on the cover of People magazine while on his flight over to Australia. Whatever the cast and crew thought of Van Damme, they all loved her. “She was a true professional – she was absolutely wonderful,” says Heygate. “During the filming, she actually hired out a club for the cast and crew to have a good time, because it was a tough shoot. She bought all the drinks and everything.” Wen concurs. “We bonded on set because we were the only two girls. We went out for dinner a lot. She is lovely, such a sweet human being.”

Director Steven de Souza saw Kylie Minogue on the cover of a magazine and cast her as Cammy. Photograph: Channel 5

Julia also drew the admiration and respect of his fellow actors. Terribly ill throughout the production, and accompanied by his wife and children – who may have known their time with him was limited – he gave everything he had to the Bison role.

“It was a joy to be on the same set as him,” says Mammone. “He wasn’t a movie star, he wasn’t a celebrity – he was an actor in the true sense of the word. The focus and concentration he maintained are things that I’ve carried with me for the rest of my career. When he stepped on set, he was that character.” Seth, too, has fond memories. “He used to sneak out at night like a tomcat,” he says. “He would go off gambling with a big Havana cigar clenched between his teeth. I thought that was terrifically romantic.”

Re-shoots, re-edits, reviews

When filming ended in Australia, the challenge wasn’t over. Several pages of the script hadn’t been shot, and when De Souza looked at some of the climactic fight scenes, he realised the choreography was patchy and boring. So he re-called several of the stars, set up an identical bunch of sets at a studio in Vancouver and did days of re-shoots.

People say it’s so dimwitted it’s funny, but we knew it was funny

All along, De Souza had been aiming for a PG-13 certificate, holding back on graphic violence in order to get those pre-teen Street Fighter fans into cinemas. “I was confident I’d shot a PG-13 film,” he says. “I had worked in TV for years and the shows I did – like Knight Rider – were considered family entertainment. I knew my way around ratings. But a week before we turned the movie in to the Motion Picture Association of America, there had been a school shooting. They gave it an R rating.

“I said: ‘Listen, we’ll just have to cut back.’ So we took out any places where you saw blood, we submitted it again and it was still an R. Now we started to take out some of the shots where impact was shown. I’m cutting away, cutting it back, back, back, and finally we hand it in – they give it a G rating. That would have been the kiss of death – no teenager wants to see a G movie! So I had Jean-Claude come in for one day and I added a line: ‘Four years of ROTC for this shit.’ That got us back up to PG-13.”

When the film premiered on 23 December 1994, the reviews were savage. The New York Times called it “a dreary, overstuffed hodgepodge of poorly edited martial arts sequences and often unintelligible dialogue”, which summed up the critical consensus.

[embedded content]

With hindsight, however, Street Fighter: The Movie is a charmingly camp and self-consciously silly action flick, offering a fast-cut, colourful and unmistakably early-90s take on video game culture. Much of that “unintelligible dialogue” has slipped into internet legend. There’s Chun-Li’s escape from AN custody (“what a screw up”, “what a woman”); and Van Damme’s confrontation with Simon Callow’s ambassador (“Colonel, have you lost your mind?”, “No, you’ve lost your balls”). And, of course, every single Raul Julia scene, from the moment he complains: “Why do they call me mad? All I want to do is create the perfect genetic soldier,” to the scene where Chun-Li confronts him about murdering her father, and he responds: “For you, the day Bison graced your village was the most important of your life. But for me … it was Tuesday”.

“I’ll be perfectly honest, I was a little concerned when I saw the film,” says Wen. “I came from Carnegie Mellon university, I studied seriously as an actor, I did Shakespeare in the theatre. I can look back with fond memories now, but there were some cringe-worthy moments. At the time I was shooting ER and I remember saying to George Clooney: ‘Oh gosh, I think my career might be over.’ He said: ‘Oh honey, it takes a lot to kill a career – I should know.’”

And the careers of the Street Fighter graduates did come out intact. Van Damme recovered from his drug problems and made the staggering postmodern confessional JCVD; Minogue is a superstar; Mann has just starred in Skyscraper with The Rock, and Wen has joined the Marvel universe via Agents of SHIELD. For his part, De Souza, who is cheerful, funny and generous while discussing the movie, is un-self-consciously proud of it. “Jean Claude made two films that earned $100m: Timecop and this one,” he says. “It was extremely profitable for the studio – it cost $33m and made $105m, so it was good for everybody. People say it’s so dimwitted it’s funny, but we knew it was funny.

“How can you see that movie and think it’s funny by accident?”

Source: https://www.theguardian.com/games/2018/jul/16/inside-street-fighter-movie-jean-claude-van-damme-kylie-minogue

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anavoliselenu · 7 years

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Manwhore chapter 4

Gina and I are both married to our jobs, and we both mean for it to stay like that. Gina works at a department store and she lives for her employee discount. I live for my column.

“You look nervous,” Gina says as I add some blush to my cheeks. “Relax, Selena. He’s just a man, no matter how godly.”

“Don’t say that, I’m nervous enough as it is. Clubs were not even my scene when we were begging to be let in.”

“Nobody will know it’s not your scene. Just make sure to look the part.”

We both look at the three options I’ve set out.

Considering he’s seen me in my coveralls and then dressed in a suit, I want to give a completely different message with whatever I wear tonight. His parties are known to be decadent—and I don’t want to wear clothes that say I’m a working girl. I want to look like someone who parties with his crowd. I want to look seductive, modern, edgy so the last thing he’ll remember if he sees me tonight is that I’m the same woman interviewing him for an Interface article.

“What do you think?” I ask her. “Option 1: a cute white skirt with a flimsy white top; option 2: red, knee-length, very tight dress; option 3: black bandage dress.”

“Men love women in white,” Gina says. “It’s that devil in them that can’t resist. Justin’s devil is the wildest of them all. They love red too.”

“But black is foolproof,” I say. “I don’t want to scream out, ‘I haven’t had sex in a while.’ I don’t want to say, ‘Come hither.’ I just want to be there and say, ‘Here I am.’ ”

She nods approvingly, so I go into the bathroom, slide on my black lace undergarments and the dress, and come out barefoot to slip on my heels.

Gina drops the magazine she was reading as we take in my appearance in the full-length mirror on the inside of my closet door.

I’m tall and trim, my breasts small but firm and perky. My skin is milky apricot and my hair platinum blonde, from my mom’s Scandinavian heritage. For some reason people compliment the curves of my shoulders and neck, so the low-cut dress shows them off. It emphasizes my slenderness, my slim hips and small waist, the black material heightening the translucence of my face and neck. My hair gleams like silvery gold. My eyes are gray with flecks of blue. The dress hugs me in all the right places.

“Like off a catwalk,” Gina assures from the bed, nodding.

“Definitely better than I looked when I met him in my sneakers,” I counter.

I run a brush over my hair, then blow-dry it for a few minutes. When I’m done, I expel a breath as I meet my stare in the mirror. “Ready or not, Selena.”

“Of course you’re ready!” Gina woots.

I laugh and turn to look at her, wishing she could come. My absolute best friend. She’s my adopted sister in my heart. I held her hand when Paul broke her. I passed the Kleenex. I swore I’d never let anyone break her heart again. I swore I’d be with her to the end, and I wouldn’t let anyone break mine. I promised we’d be happy and single, because who needed a guy? And we both ate ice cream and repeated that mantra all the time. And already I feel that I’m going to the club tonight, an angel without my wing.

“Go get it,” she tells me with that singular excitement of hers.

I swallow and grab my bag and try to tell myself that I can do this. That I want to do this. That when—not if, when—I write this exposé, I will finally silence every doubt in my head of whether I can bring it to the table when it’s most needed.

I look very different from the girl Justin met in his office. But I don’t feel any different. My nerves are frayed to the edges as I give my name to a bouncer at the entrance and I’m allowed into the club, every part of me snug and tight in my dress as my black heels hit the floor.

Whereas M4 was all museum-like, the Ice Box is pure dark decadence. Ice sculptures sit on pedestals around the room. Cages with body-painted dancers hang from the ceiling. A bar with white and blue lights stretches from one wall to another.

Strobe lights flash across the space as I get jostled by the crowd. The bass thumps as the Mr. Probz song “Waves” plays for the dancing crowd. Drinks are flowing on shiny silver trays, and the drinks are so adorned—by fruits, olives, salt glitter, or colorful liquid swirls—they’re like artworks. This isn’t a normal swanky club. It’s the rich boys’ club, and everywhere you look are beautiful people wearing beautiful things.

“I met him! God! When he said hi I thought I’d faint . . . !”

My nerves eat at me as I hear that, because I know for sure they’re talking about him. Trying to breathe, I wind deeper into the club, wishing for Gina so bad I ache. The room is packed with women, some clearly on the hunt, others already paired with someone, a few hanging out with their friends. I breathe slowly, in and out, telling myself I can do this. It’s just a club. I can have some fun. It’s been a while since I’ve gone out to a club, and never to a club like this, but it doesn’t matter. I can interview people, and if I’m lucky, I can do more than that.

After scanning the area and trying to find the best spy spots, I go to the top level, and that’s when I get the best look at what’s happening downstairs in the most crowded corner.

And speak of the devil. My heart stops a beat when I see that dark head of his, and that loathed, burning knot in my stomach squeezes with a vengeance. I swear, no one in my life has ever made me this nervous.

He sits with his arms stretched out behind him, a wineglass and two women vying for his attention as he chats with his friends. His masculine face is illuminated in certain angles when the lights flash—his beauty unprecedented.

Okay. Breathing. Do I want him to know I’m here or not?

A watery sensation seems to spread down my limbs as I force myself to go downstairs. I wend my way to the ladies’ room and worm through the throng of bodies toward a wide mirror above a set of modernist floating sinks. A group of women primp and preen themselves while I look at all of our reflections. To my right, a woman pouts her red lips, and to my left, her friend pouts her pink ones. Me? I’m still me, but I look extravagant, like I was born here. I look very different than the young girl in coveralls he met. Will he even recognize me like this?

“You going to the after-party?” Red Lips asks Pink Lips as they retouch their lipsticks.

“No key yet.”

“Lookie lookie.” Red Lips waves a key card in the air.

There’s squealing in the room, and she tucks the key into her bra. “Mine!”

“So there’s an after-party?” I ask them.

“At Justin’s penthouse,” one says, nodding.

“How do you get invited to this party?”

“A hundred keys are distributed during the evening.”

A sudden thought of stealing the very key she’s just tucked into her bra flickers through my mind. I mean, it’s just a key. It couldn’t possibly be a felony.

“Babe,” she tells me, “stop giving my key the eye! I’ve been waiting three years to get a key like this. Go and work your ass out there if you want one. Only the finest asses make it.”

“Thanks,” I say, turning to look at my ass in the mirror questioningly. Gina says I’ve got a great ass. It’s perky and the perfect handful, some would say. But would Justin say that?

I sigh and lean against the wall, then I spot all the little writings on an open stall door. I narrow my eyes, forcing my focus.

Justin for my baby-daddy

I sucked Justin’s cock

Tahoe rammed me right here

Callan licks cunt like a caveman

I head back into the noise and try to find a good spot for spying when I see him again. The two women won’t leave his side, and now my stomach for some reason feels jumpy, annoying me. One of the blondes takes a shot from the waiter, licks the rim, and then adds salt.

Justin edges back and watches her with an expression of casual boredom, but his lips are curled, as if he’s having some fun.

I’m so engrossed in watching—a little too fascinated and a little bit disgusted—I don’t realize a guard has walked up to me until he’s right in my face. He signals to the back of the room—to where Justin’s best friends are now watching me. Justin isn’t even looking my way. Oh no, he’s too busy being entertained, still wearing that almost-bored smile. Maybe they need to take their tops off to get him excited.

All three men fit in perfectly with the lavish surroundings, but I can’t look at the other two. Only at Justin. Justin’s dark good looks blend with the shadows, like Hades in his own little corner of hell.

Suddenly he laughs at something one of the blondes does and he turns a little, his eyes landing straight on me—and stopping there.

I feel his stare like a hit of adrenaline. I want to look away, but I can’t, I feel trapped. I don’t know if I made this up, but I could’ve sworn his chest jerked as if he sucked in a breath.

Does he recognize me?

Do I want him to?

Suddenly the atmosphere is so heavy I can’t breathe. My lungs feel like rocks and I really can’t breathe. As he rakes me in one fast, complete sweep of his eyes that makes my stomach quiver nervously, he takes me in, from my pumps up to my long blonde hair, and I become aware of my dress hugging the tops of my thighs, my hips, my abdomen, my breasts, and even my ass. Oh god. I force myself to follow the guard in his direction, every step accelerating my heartbeat. In that black suit and without a tie, the top button of his shirt open and his hair a bit rumpled, Justin is the embodiment of luxurious decadence and sin. He is Sin Itself, and I feel like an absolute . . . virgin.

He stretches his long legs out before him, his stare fixed on mine without any seeming inclination to move away.

“Mr. Justin.” The guard clears his throat. “The gentlemen had me summon her.”

Although his smile doesn’t waver, the look on his face is completely remote and unreadable.

“Here she is, gentlemen,” the guard then tells the other two—the blond and the copper-haired man looking at me like I’m lunch.

“Tahoe,” the blond says.

“Callan,” the copper-haired man says.

Justin merely pats the blondes on the butt and sends them on their way, then he reaches out to take my elbow in a somehow instinctive gesture that brings me a strange sense of comfort. I don’t know anybody else here, so when he tugs me to his side, I sit next to him on the edge of the long booth.

And that’s when he leans his dark head over to me and murmurs, “Justin.” His voice is so deep and rumbling I shiver.

“Selena,” I lamely offer.

He raises his eyebrow and stares at me. What are you doing here, Selena? he seems to ask.

I’m wondering what to say, when Tahoe lifts his drink and drains it. “You’re up past your bedtime.” The Texan oil baby. Oozing charm, drawling out the words.

I don’t know why, but I’m acutely aware of the position of Justin’s body in relation to mine. He just straightened fully in the booth and somehow shifted so that his arm is very noticeably stretched out behind me.

“Like they say, no rest for the wicked,” I answer Tahoe with an extra-wide smile, my heart pounding over Justin’s nearness.

Suddenly I can smell him. Just him. Among all the mingled scents in the room, it’s Justin somehow in my lungs, in every breath. He radiates a vitality that draws me like a magnet. It unnerves me but something in his presence, so close to me, soothes me too.

“Apparently there’s a dress code—Justin had to drop his tail and horns at the door,” Callan jokes as a waiter sets a drink before me.

“Oh yes.” I tug the hem of my skirt self-consciously. “I had to drop half my dress.”

“Did you now?” Tahoe asks.

“T.”

One word, one letter, from Justin.

“Yeah, Justin?” Tahoe returns, lifting his eyebrows.

“Dibs.”

I almost spit out the drink. I cough and slam my hand to my chest, and Justin calmly reaches out to take my drink from my hand and sets it aside. “Okay?” he asks, ducking his head and peering into my face.

I give one last cough and squeeze my eyes shut and nod, and when I open my eyes, Justin is the only thing I see. I find him staring at me in such a penetrating way I can feel the stare in my bones.

“Did you just get in to the party, Selena?” he asks.

As he waits for my reply, he reaches for my cocktail and extends the glass out to me. His wrist is thick and looks so strong, so golden, his skin smooth, his arm dusted with a little bit of hair as I cautiously take it from him, our fingers brushing.

Tahoe reaches into his coat pocket and waves whatever he extracts in the air. “Justin! May I?”

Excitement leaps in my chest when I realize it’s a key!

“Not happening, that’s not her scene,” Justin murmurs beside me.

“Aw! Come on, let me give her a key. She’s a dime, man,” Tahoe drawls.

I’m so disbelieving that I’m not even breathing as Justin slowly stands. I follow him up, staring into his face in confusion.

“What do you mean it’s not my scene?” I demand. I feel like there’s no gravity when he stands so close to me. I’m dizzy. Confused. And unexpectedly hurt.

For the first time since we met, he looks at me like he’s actually losing his temper . . . with me. He leans closer and puts his lips against my ear. “Trust me when I tell you, it’s not your scene. Go home,” he whispers. He sends me a look laden with warning and walks away, blending into the crowd.

Tahoe and Callan stare at me, speechless. “That’s a first,” Tahoe mumbles and heads away.

I feel myself burn in humiliation and confusion. Worse is that, when I go outside, the same man who drove us around the day before walks over to me.

“Miss Livingston, a pleasure to drive you,” he says, hanging up his phone as if Justin just called him. He is a huge man with a bald head and no expression. A second later, he’s opening the door of the Rolls for me.

Seriously?

Did Justin call him just now and ask him to escort me home?

Aware of people staring and seeing me being led to Justin’s car, I climb into the back of the Rolls and murmur my thanks simply because it’s not this man’s fault.

The car smells new and expensive and like him. A bottle of wine and water bottles ride with me. There’s music in the background and the temperature is just right. The perfect luxury of it all tempts me to run my hands over my dress and look down at myself in confusion. What is wrong with me?

I feel as if he pulled the rug from under me and reminded me what I’m up against. The top of the species. Somebody ruthless.

I can’t take the heat in the back of my ears and on my cheeks. I sag on the backseat and set my forehead on the window. Focus, Livingston! Exhaling, I grab my phone and try to write down all the details about what I saw, but I can’t right now. I just can’t do anything but ride here, in his car, wondering why I feel so vulnerable.

At about 11:55 p.m. I tiptoe into the apartment, wincing when the door shuts a little louder than I’d planned. I go to the kitchen to get myself some water and Gina pads out, her hair a tangle. “Hey,” I say apologetically. She frowns and squints in the lamplight. “Sorry, G, I didn’t mean to wake you. Get back to bed.”

“How was the party?”

“Okay,” I can only say. “I’ll fill you in tomorrow morning.”

She rubs her eyelids. “Urgh, it’s too late or early. Yeah. We watched Game of Thrones.”

She pads back to her room and I go into mine, take off my makeup, then strip out of my dress. As I look for my Northwestern T-shirt, I spy the vacant spot where his shirt used to be in my closet and I stare at it. I should be glad it’s not here, but instead its absence makes me ache worse, because I can’t even remember if I made up the times he was nice to me. Slamming my closet door shut, I slide into bed in my boy briefs, bringing my notepad with me, forcing myself to write. One word, at least. Just one, because blocking out this evening will not further my goals in any way. I write:

Territorial

And then I Google, simply because I still can’t believe he said . . .

Dibs: A claim / rights

Yes. It means exactly what I thought it did.

Frowning, I settle back in bed and stare at the ceiling. Livingston, so what? He didn’t like seeing you at his club party—you’re a reporter. Did you expect he would? Do you know what this means? All this means is that you need to dig deeper !

DREAM

Deeper. His body’s on top of mine—hard in all places. He thrusts, and I like it so much I cry out and arch my body. “Please,” I whisper. “Deeper, oh please, deeper.”

His lips cover mine in an uncontrolled kiss. Hands squeeze my breasts, palms stroke my nipples. The back of my head is swallowed by the pillow as the weight of his body buries me deeper into the mattress.

I agonize. I agonize because I haven’t had sex in so long and it has never felt like this, and he kisses me again, with raw hunger. He curls his fingers around one breast and suckles the tip. I curve and stretch my body up wantonly, my thighs parting beneath his hips so he can get inside me, as deep as he can. . . . Please pleasepleaseplease . . . I never beg, but I can’t stop saying please.

I nibble hungrily on his full lips and let my fingers trail up the grooves of his back. He feels the way he looks: hard, unyielding. But his body is oh so warm—there’s not an ounce of cold in this body. If I open my eyes, will his eyes be green ice or green fire? Please be fire, please want me. Please, deeper, I think, tossing my head as his next powerful thrust brings him so deep, every inch of his hard flesh buried inside me, every inch of me taken. He starts to move: out, in, out, in—

I wake up sweating and rolling my hips and just a hair away from orgasm, breathing in fast pants. I groan and roll to the side. 1:08 a.m. He must be at his after-party. Having a threesome. A foursome. God.

Seriously, Livingston! I chide. I’m trembling and it won’t stop. I’m already at the edge, just waiting to fall.

Groaning in misery, I slide my hand between my legs, where I’m aching. Don’t do it, Livingston, I warn, but I feel feverish. I squeeze my eyes shut and slide my finger between my thighs and then, because I just can’t stop it, I try to picture a hot actor instead of him. But as the pleasure comes back, icy green eyes look back at me. I bite my lip and want to bite his lips. Feverish, I feel his hand between my legs and it’s still not enough; I want more of his fingers, I want his weight crushing me. I savor what he’s doing to my body and tell myself that I just won’t say his name when I come. I won’t say it. Because he’s not the one doing slow, sweet, sexy things to me right now. Kissing me. Squeezing me. Moving inside me as I—

“Justin.”

After an earth-shattering orgasm, I lie in bed, dazed. Then shocked.

“God, I’m such a slut.” I turn on my lamp and go wash my hands, then wash my face and scowl at myself in the mirror.

Sighing as I pad back into my room, I open my laptop and find myself pulling up more links about him, putting myself to work. It occurs to me that right now he’s probably with one or two or three or four girls, having the kind of toe-curling, sheet-clawing sex he’s known for. I spy his personal social media and tell myself the exposé is the only reason I want to know.

His Instagram page is full of adrenalized pictures:

Justin black-diamond skiing, a black-clad form against a huge white mountain, a clear zigzag dent behind him.

Justin skydiving, flinging himself backward off the plane, hot as ever, the world a tiny blur beneath him.

But there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, from the after-party he didn’t want me to attend.

SUMMONED

“Justin is never up to any good,” Gina declares Sunday afternoon from her spot on the living room window seat. “You can count on trouble following this little after-party of his. Did you hear me?”

“Umm . . .” I’m surfing the internet, trying to glean any info on the after-party.

“Selena Livingston. Hello? Selena Dibs? Can I call you Selena Dibs now?” She snaps her fingers to pull my attention away from my laptop, and boy, has she been ribbing me about the “dibs” part. “Whoa. There’s a car outside. A big-ass car. Outside our humble little apartment. Do you copy? Earth to—”

“What do you mean, ‘a big-ass car’?” I leap up from the couch and hurry to where Gina sits. I pull open the other gauzy living room curtain, and there is the big-ass Rolls-Royce that carried me home this past weekend.

What in the world?

I grab my phone and my heart stops when I see his name on my email.

I’d like to meet with you today. I’ll have a car waiting at your place.

Ohmigod.

Justin himself messaged me?

“Hey, girl, where you going?” Gina hollers as she watches me run to my room.

I’m so nervous I’ve clammed up and can’t talk to her about it. I change into my white jeans that curve around my ass, a tiny top, and silver high-heeled sandals. I spritz myself with a cloud of perfume and shout back to her, “I’ll tell you later. Don’t wait up!”

I tuck a clutch bag under my arm and take the elevator downstairs. When I step out to the sidewalk, I notice people are actually taking pictures of the car.

The driver spots me and quickly opens the door. I slide inside before they can snap a picture of me too, the memory of the last time I was in here making me feel a little bit uncomfortable. But I’m not wearing anything way outside my comfort zone today. My clothes say modern and sexy, but not seduction. More determined than ever, I’m out for information, and no green eyes will distract me.

“Where are we going?” I ask the driver.

“DuSable Harbor,” he tells me.

He drives for a while, and the whole time I can’t possibly imagine what Justin wants from me. I’m still uncomfortable about what happened the last time we saw each other, but I can’t let my personal feelings hurt my story, either.

The car swerves into the parking lot and parks near the most luxurious yacht in the harbor. It’s compact enough to fit in the dock, but big enough to stand apart from the others. It glistens, pristine white under the sun. THE TOY is scrawled in navy-blue letters near the bow.

The car door swings open before I can even close my mouth. As I get out, I see the dark-haired man on deck, and my heart leaps. Slowly, I force my legs to move, a part of me wondering if this is actually me heading to this yacht—to the man waiting above. My world tilts a little and I feel as if someone misplaced me and put me on the wrong shelf as I board.

“Mr. Justin.”

He walks forward in baggy swim trunks and an open dress shirt, and his abs are smooth and so ripped I could trace the indentations with a finger. His legs are absolutely muscled and the wind teases his hair in a playful way.

He wears his suits as if perfection made them for him, but right now, his surprisingly casual, very sexy, very toe-curling, and still imposing good looks only remind me of my dream and make me wish I hadn’t dreamt it. In the sunlight, he’s so much more stunning than I remembered. His tan neck is thick and strong, his Adam’s apple sexy as he speaks in that deep voice: “Selena.”

I blush beet red.

“I’m expecting friends over. I thought you’d like to join me.”

“Why would you think that?”

He steps forward, almost into my personal bubble. I want to cringe, he’s so powerful. But I don’t. “I have a feeling you were pissed off about the way things ended last time.” He watches me with a guarded gaze that misses absolutely no detail.

I don’t want to feel the hurt I did and the confusion over what he did, but it surfaces without effort. “Pissed off that you called dibs like you were twelve? And then had the nerve to dismiss me?”

His expression still doesn’t change.

And neither does my anger.

“Did you want me here just so you could remind me of my place? Or did you think I was going to bow down at your feet and beg forgiveness for annoying you?”

“No, I wanted to ask you a question.” His normally intense green stare accomplishes the impossible and intensifies even more. “What were you doing there Friday?”

“A friend invited me.”

He comes closer.

“The truth,” he warns.

A hot blush creeps up my neck, and he notices. His voice drops. “Tell me you were looking for me, and then let me make it up to you.”

“Oh really? How does Justin Justin make something up to someone? Something tells me a simple coffee isn’t your style.”

“Do you like coffee?”

“Two sugars, actually.”

“Noted.” He studies me as his lips shape a coaxing smile. “Stay and meet my friends tonight.”

His smile is small but so coaxing, my stomach feels hot, as if I swallowed a spoonful of warm honey. I don’t know how those eyes of his can be so disturbing and so comforting at the same time.

“Justin! My man!” A yell carries from nearby.

Callan and Tahoe and a handful of girls hop onto the yacht, and I exhale shakily and edge a few steps away from Justin as they greet him.

“Selena,” he says, calling me back, and he introduces me to his friends.

YACHT

Here’s why I’m sucking at my job today: Justin.

Justin lounging in a chaise.

Justin wakeboarding.

Watching Justin strut around his yacht.

Justin calling out to some other guys on another passing yacht.

“Justin! You heard the Cubs got smashed?”

“That’s so wrong, dude. That’s so fucking wrong.”

Then, Justin chatting with his friends.

We’ve been eyeing each other in quiet puzzlement for a while, Justin and I. There’s a closet full of trunks and bikinis, and I ended up slipping into a tiny white one and watching the other women dip into the lake.

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