#excuse the clusterfuck that is my shading

[chaosxcrushed]

I’VE BEEN UP FOR THREE DAYS / EVERYTHING IS HAUNTED inspired by a Lavendertowne video !! og image under the cut

Haunted - Laura Les

[romanoffsbish]

The Perfect Muse

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Natasha was your secret muse, and you became her canvas… | WC: 3,309

Smut: Mommy (N) | Spanking (Punishment) | Body Paint (R) | Oral (R) | Thigh-Riding (R) | Choking | Biting / R2: Shower / Fingering (R) | Ass-Riding (N)

18+ | Minors DNI

"Hurry up Rocky," you groaned, shoving your free hand into the pocket of your jeans as you watched your dog smell every bit of grass as he tried to pick the prime spot to relieve himself. It was nearing four in the morning, so there was a steady breeze you didn't expect to affect you, but for some reason you were shivering.

Natasha shook her head amusedly, something you missed as she surveyed you from the shadows of your complex's courtyard. Every night like clockwork she'd return home around two from her surveillance, and on the nights that she didn't have to report back to Maria she'd wait for you to emerge with Rocky.

"How many times are you going to forget a jacket darling? Soon enough you'll freeze."

——

Your heart skipped at the sound of her voice, not only was she undeniably gorgeous, but her tone was the hottest thing you'd ever heard. It was silky smooth, with a gritty rasp that made you forget how to speak for embarrassingly long periods of time. Natasha found your obvious silence amusing, if you would just look up you'd see just how interested she also was.

"Good," you paused trying to think of the proper greeting for such an odd time, "Early morning Natasha?" Natasha chuckled softly, "Good morning works just fine Picasso." It had been two months now of these late night encounters and you were still so awkward.

You hummed shakily, and kept your hazy eyes forward. In the comfortable silence of the early morning you watched your dog finally select a rock while Natasha instinctively observed you. From the first moment she met you she knew you were an artist, the average untrained eye wouldn't have clocked the paint chips beneath your fingernails, but Natasha wasn't average.

The redhead was cursed to notice everything, her job required her to assess everyone as a threat first before she deemed them harmless.

After the first encounter with you she knew you to be harmless to everyone besides yourself. The late night walks with your pooch paired with the bloodshot eyes indicated to her you were an insomniac of sorts. It honestly pained her to see you struggle the way you did, but it wasn't exactly her place to outwardly care for you. Yet she found herself doing so anyways.

"You know, I've still yet to see what you're working on," Natasha teased, "When do you plan to invite me over?" Never was your answer, because you didn't want these late night talks to end, and if she saw her obvious likeness on your canvas you worry she'd bolt.

"Now works," she continued, you finally looked up and nearly choked on the air you gulped down as she was now much closer than before. "I-I, my apartment is a clusterfuck Nat, trust me when I say you'd likely trip and die."

Natasha wanted to roll her eyes at your weak excuse, judging by the shades of red and green on your white coveralls she'd already picked up on your latest pieces influence. Most would find your infatuation weird, but she was once again not like the average populous.

"I am extremely agile sweetheart," she purred as her rough fingers contrastingly brushed against your face softly, her excuse being the eyelash on the apple of your cheek.

"I can bring some pieces up to you later if you really want to see my work Natasha," you tried desperately to deter her interest in your space, but Natasha shook her head, she was not a permanent resident in this complex, and didn't need you to see her apartment full of takeout containers, scattered paperwork, and a duffle.

"My place is likely twice as bad," she excused with ease, "Seriously honey, you're a starving artist, but I'm a talentless, smoking bachelor."

"Are you insinuating I'm ugly and broke?" You gasped, and the woman groaned, "Of all I've said that's what you took from that? I was trying to say that you're more put together."

"Well now we both know you're full of shit."

Natasha smirked, then watched as you tried to hide the way your knees buckled. "Perhaps we should find one another here during the day."

"You want to see me in the daylight?" You asked in shock, the hesitance in your eyes made the redhead question if you were a vampire. It was silly, but she's fought aliens so she never writes off any possibilities. Then she remembered that photo she took of you from her window to send to a nosy Wanda and she let her suspicions go. "Of course I do silly."

"Then I guess I'll need to go get some sleep."

"I'll see you two tomorrow then," Natasha winked then patted Rocky on his head before she settled her red leather jacket onto your shoulders then stepped away just as fast. This time you shivered as her woodsy, husky scent overwhelmed you. "Th-thank you Nat."

"Don't mention it, can't have you getting sick before our date." Natasha teased, adoring the glint in your eyes. It made it hard for her to head back into the shadows, you thought she was headed up to her suite, but she refused to leave you alone. The world wasn't safe for pretty girls like you, and she'd be damned to leave you defenseless. Because against all her training she knew she was likely falling for you.

After the redhead left you began to regain the feeling in your legs, but before the tingling stopped your dog darted forward and your body went tumbling down into the rock bed. "You little fucking shit," you cried out, and it took all of the redhead's willpower not to come running right back to you. She waited just long enough for you to believe she heard you while she waited for the painstakingly slow elevator.

"Y/N?" You rolled your eyes behind your lids, because of course the woman of your dreams would be the one to find you in this position. "Oh no, what happened? Are you okay?"

"Don't worry about me Nat," you chuckled in embarrassment, "My legs are never free of the bruising an excited Rocky is privy to causing."

Natasha shook her head at your dismissal and pulled you back onto your feet with relative ease. "What floor am I taking you up to?"

"Nat—."

"Nope, don't even try," she dismissed in a huff, using the unfortunate misbehavior of your dog as her in to get you all alone. To finally see the talent for herself that she knows you possess.

You sighed through your nose, and snapped your fingers causing Rocky to obediently return to your side with his head hung low. "Okay."

Internally the woman was squealing, but she would never let such a noise leave her lips. With a practiced cool demeanor she led a wobbly you to the elevator while holding onto Rocky's leash with a tighter grip than yours.

The ride up to the third floor was silent, you'd tried to lean against the metal walls, hoping the coolness could temper the heat of your skin but Natasha's hold around your waist was strong.

Once you made it to your door you forcefully spun from her hold as you cracked your door open just enough for your dog to rush inside. "Thanks for escorting me home safely Nat, but I can assure you I got it from here." You softly kissed her cheek in clear thanks, and for the first time you'd witnessed the redhead blush.

Your heart soared at the thought of her liking you back, but you also worried she was just uncomfortable with the gesture, so you tried to rush her off. "Goodnight—early morning?"

Just as the door nearly closed you sighed in premature relief, because it bounced right back open as she slid her boot right into the gap, and slammed her hand into the dulled oak.

Your eyes widened, and the redheads focused right in on the massive canvas behind you. It took up an entire corner of your living room, settled atop a tarp with a fan lowly drying it, and the face staring back at her was her own.

"Natasha, I," you tried to defend yourself, but she merely smirked as she kicked your door shut and walked your pliant form into a wall.

"I don't see any messes detka," she called you out with a husky laugh to follow, her tongue then darted out to moisten her chapped lips and your wide eyes tracked the movement. "I'm incredibly hurt that you'd lie to me like that, but I will forgive you on one condition Y/N."

Your mind was too far gone to call out her hypocrisy, because sure you were a recluse, but you weren't so aloof that you didn't know who she was beyond being your new neighbor. The Avengers were well established, and your crush on her well preceded your eventual meeting.

You knew that she was just a temporary tenant, and maybe that's why you'd refrained from letting her in, but with her hands on your hips and her hot breath fanning over your lips you caved and hesitantly broke the distance.

Natasha tightened her grip on your body, and her teeth nibbled on your lower lip. "There you go, let mommy make a mess of you instead." You whimpered and she grunted affectedly into your mouth, "I'm going to enjoy ruining you."

There was no lie in her words, the honesty was clear as day as she set out to make sure you would never want for another lover again.

The redhead deemed herself an artist too, the one that mastered all things sensual, and knew just how to make someone fall to their knees. If not for her firm grip you'd already be a puddle on the floor from her lips touch alone. The way you whimpered between pants a telltale sign that she was going to get to claim you as hers.

Her hands moved fast as she unclasped your overalls, they dropped to the ground and her clothed knee pressed against your crotch. "You are filthy Y/N, no underwear while outside?" Her vibrato was silky, and her lips tasted of honey, but the crassness of her words gave way to the deviousness that lived within her soul.

Without second guessing herself she pulled away and left you to slip onto the floor as she moved around your place as if she knew it well. Natasha shivered as your skin clapped against the hard floor, and so she moved even faster.

The sound of paper tearing pulled your hazy attention off of the door and over to her, she had laid out a piece of paper from your roll on the hardwood floor of your living room, and beckoned you over with a crook of her finger.

You didn't hesitate to crawl over, and she was beyond turned on by your willful obedience. "Stay on your knees, and let mommy see that pretty pussy of yours, yeah?" You nodded, and she roughly kissed you before letting you do so.

While you positioned yourself on your hands and knees with your ass in the air she moved over to her bag and collected several supplies.

"If you don't want this speak up now, because once I get started I won't have it in me to stop." You wiggled your ass and breathlessly begged her to fuck you, and were rewarded with a wet set of hands slapping against your rear cheeks.

"Not so fast detka," she chuckled tauntingly, "You lied to me, remember?" You whined and she slapped your ass even harder, this time with a different shade of paint on her hands, "For that transgression you must be punished."

The redhead painted your ass black and blue, literally, and you took it with minimal cries. It excited her to know you enjoyed the rougher side as you cried tears of pleasure and moaned her name in a slur as your drool pooled. Her smug grin went unseen by you as she spread your cheeks to see your core mirror your lips.

Once satisfied with the overlaying of her handprints she wiped her hands clean with a wet rag and applied a brilliant shade of red that marked the skin of your hips and back, with a thumbprint smeared against the skin of your soft stomach as she now laid on her back and held you firm as her tongue lavished your cunt, cleaning you dry of your sweetest nectar.

Natasha was nearly brought to tears herself as she felt your release coat her chin, and drip down into the deep crooks of her clavicle. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a second to just breathe you in, feeling your arousal in her nostrils and hoping it remained everlasting.

A grunt left you as the woman used her grip on your hips to suddenly flip you over and slam your body into the ground, smearing the paint against the paper she’d previously placed down while her mouth hungrily continued to lap away at your folds. Your eye’s screwed shut as the coil of pleasure within was building back up in record time, Natasha hummed against you as she felt your walls contract and suck her tongue in ever deeper, and with the stimulation traveling to your sensitive clit you gushed hard.

She had no choice hut to pull back to marvel at the sight of your slick that ran down the swell of your ass and with it took some of the dried paint, darkening the shade of blue that mixed in with the black as it landed on the paper.

“Grebanyy ad,” she cursed in a deeply affected tone that made you feel dizzy. (Fucking hell)

The redhead kissed back up your body, leaving a trail of your slick behind as she reached out for the last bottle of paint, she effortlessly smeared the green onto her hand as her tongue playfully swirled around your pierced nipples, toying around with your extra sensitivity just to elicit those glorious, throaty moans from you.

Her tongue slid up between the valley of your breasts, collecting the salty sweat that gathered there on her way to recapturing your lips. She slammed back into yours so hard that your teeth bit into your tongue, you whimpered, and that sent a wave of need straight to her core.

“You’re driving mommy crazy Y/N,” she grunted against the skin of your clenched jaw, and you moaned the title back against the shell of her ear as she continued to nip at the skin in route to your ear. “I wish you could see the masterpiece we’ve created, it’s breathtaking.”

Your abdomen tensed as she trailed a cold, wet finger up it as her clothed leg quickly slotted itself between your quivering thighs, and you about lost your breath when she pulled away with a lopsided smirk, and eyes that once held forests now could easily rival with the void.

The redhead winked down at you, and you about combusted, tiny traces of that green you adored remained, and kept you in a chokehold.

The redhead left you in painful anticipation, and just as she’d hoped your hips began to mindlessly rut against her thigh, smearing your wetness all over, and giving her the push to wrap her semi-wet hands around your throat.

A short gasp left you before your hands were clawing at her arms as if you weren’t writhing with pleasure, your hips proof, moving faster the tighter she constricted your windpipes.

It wasn’t long before your eyes rolled back into the depths of your skull, and your back arched so far off the ground she was sure your spine would snap as your orgasm tore through you. Her hand relinquished its grip on your neck just in time to stop the black that was slowly ebbing its way into your field of vision.

The redhead gawked at your appearance; as you worked to regain your senses she simply admired the beauty of her hard work. Natasha might be your living muse, the one you'd spent countless hours stroking to life with your brushes and acrylics in secrecy, but your body had now become her open canvas and she'd eagerly marked it in a chaotic, lust driven way.

When your eyes lost their distanced haze, and instead glossed over with exhaustion she was quick to cup your cheek and kiss you tenderly. "Thank you for trusting me with your body."

You smiled against her lips, and wrapped your hands around her neck as she pulled back so she couldn't retreat far. "Can I see you now?" Natasha smiled softly, and nodded as she got up and removed her clothing rather quickly.

Then she pulled you up, and into her without any worry about the transference of paint. It was a small price to pay to have you close, and feel your skin against hers for the first time. A soft whimper left you both as your exploring hands cupped her breasts, and her lips were being pressed back against your swollen ones.

After a moment of just languidly kissing you she blindly guided your body to your room without so much as an issue. Her eyes were shut, and your lips were locked but all your backside ever hit was the bathroom tiled wall.

The shower started, and the redhead washed your skin clean of the colorful paints, but continued to mark you with her teeth, and to make you scream with the thrusts of her deft fingers until you were unable to breathe in anyway other than pained gasps of steamed air.

Then as your forehead leaned against the only chilled tile on the wall Natasha used your wet skin to get off, rutting her needy cunt against the smooth, albeit sore skin of your ass until she slid her fingers, covered in your slick, into her own cunt to reach her overdue climax.

Your name left her lips like a secret prayer and you felt as your overused walls clench again, but fortunately Natasha was done (for now).

As the water temperature lowered so did the lusty aura that filled the room, the smell of sex still lingered, but all that really remained was the marks she etched into your skin, and her desire to ensure you were taken care of.

It didn't take her long to get the both of you ready for bed, she dressed you both in a tee shirt, and made sure you ate before she got the both of you settled onto the mattress for good.

"You lied too you know agent," you hoarsely whispered and she grinned as her lips brushed against your bare shoulders. "Touché detka, we'll talk about that later, for now you sleep."

"Good morning Nat," you yawned out just as a sliver of sun peaked through the slit in your black out curtains as your cat rushed by, likely running away from a rambunctious Rocky, then you were snoring just like a buzzing bee.

Natasha tugged your limp body even closer to hers, and for the first time in years she felt like she could breathe freely as you slept soundly. The redhead knew you expected to wake up alone, she couldn't even be hurt by your lack of faith in her, it was expected in her line of work.

No ties to another meant no risk, it was safest for you after all; but she hasn't feared anyone in a long time, and with you in her arms she would fight an army just to keep it this way.

You were too fine a piece to leave behind, so she'd hold you close and cherish you always.

——

[darknessawaits28]

Get your head in the game Choomba- Cyberpunk 2077 Pt. 1

*Phone ringing*

"V here."

"Hey V, it's River, wanted to ask if you was free?"

"At the moment...yeah I'm free....what's up?" V smiled as she drove her cotton candy colored Caliburn down the freeway at 120 miles per hour.

"Uh...wanted to invite you over for dinner at Joss's....if you can make it?"

"Huh, dinner, that sounds interesting."

"Yeah...we'll be waiting...hope to see you."

"I'll be there River, no need to pout."

River laughed on the other side of the phone call before hanging up and getting himself ready; aka showering, putting on some nice cologne and clothes for V.

As V continued to drive, Johnny magically appeared next to her, glaring daggers at her. "What now Johnny?"

"Nothing, I just am laughing internally because you don't seem to notice what is going to happen next" Johnny gagged a bit, knowing for a fact that V was going to fuck River tonight.

"Excuse me, what happens to my body is my choice Johnny, you're just a passenger" V grumbled as she changed lanes to head to the Red Peaks' Trailer Park.

"You sure about that?" Johnny smirked as he lifted his right hand, forcing V to do the same with her right hand.

"Fuck Johnny, stop it, I'm driving at high speeds, you wanna kill us both!" V shouted worriedly as she held the wheel with her left hand.

"Pull up by Kendall park" Johnny ordered.

V rolled her eyes as she got control back in her right arm and turned into the wrong exit, heading to this so called park. As she pulled into the parking lot, she parked her car, glaring angrily at Johnny. "You could've seriously killed us you fuck head!"

"Relax, you're a good driver, I wouldn't have done that if you weren't" Johnny snickered, pulling off his glasses and putting them on the dashboard.

"Okay...so now what?" V sighed, hoping that this was quick because she had to get to River's place soon.

"V....I just.....ugh....I don't....whatever....".

"Come on, spill" V chuckled, crossing her arms as she waited for the whole pep talk he was going to give her.

"I just...after all this time we've been together V.....I'm starting to fall for you....more and more." "I mean not just because of your clusterfuck of hormones you have...but because you're such a great friend to me" Johnny admitted.

V, taken aback by his response, sat there in silence, trying to figure out what the fuck to say. "Johnny I....-" she gulped. "How would this even work?" "Not trying to be a bitch in this moment but you're just a relic in my brain, how can we be together?"

Johnny nodded, giving her a side smirk, "I used to know a girl that would always brag that she can copy engram's and clone them into a body." "We could see if she's still alive or find someone that can do that."

"Johnny, seriously, now you tell me this, after all this time of you being in my fucking brain!"

"Hey, hey, hey, they're not gonna actually fix you up and take the relic out of your slot, but they can like slice a part of the relic and make a copy of my signature." "I think the copy can last up to two weeks but that's it."

V groaned angrily as she rubbed her temples, trying to figure out what should she do next. "Fuck, let me go to River's at least, have some dinner, and then we bounce; sound good?"

"He's gonna try and fuck you V, I saw it in his eyes" Johnny chuckled, grabbing his shades and putting them back on.

"I mean he is hotter than the Sahara desert" V bite her bottom lip in a sexy manner, causing Johnny to take control of her right hand and make her slap herself.

"What the fuck, Johnny!?" V jumped slightly, Johnny beginning to laugh hysterically.

V simply rolled her eyes and put her car in reverse and headed out of the parking lot to the trailer park where River asked to meet her.

[clusterfuck-misc]

ANON ASKS:

Hey, so I saw you like Tsukishima from Haikyuu. Ngl ever since I watched Haikyuu I've always imagined railing him in the empty gym or a supply closet just before he had to go to practice 👀

You can use whatever pronouns you like but I do have a dick

Sub Kei Tsukishima x Male Dom Reader

Ugh, yes. The tall beanpole shall be railed.

Contains: semi-public sex

ARCHIVED POST. @clusterfuck-dom IS MY NEW BLOG.

PLEASE DO NOT SEND REQUESTS ON THIS BLOG.

He told you to make it quick.

Practice was in about 10 or so minutes, and he didn’t feel like coming up with an excuse for his lateness. He was already running behind schedule, after all, ever since those two other first years on his team pestered him while he was at his locker. You were watching from the end of the locker row as he waved them off, telling them to go bother someone else.

A tut left your mouth at your boyfriend’s rude behavior. Is this how he treats his teammates?

Next thing you knew, you were dragging him off to the nearest secluded area — a supply closet, much to Kei’s displeasure — and slamming him against the wall. It didn’t take long for the blonde to realize where this was going; this isn’t the first time you’ve dragged him off to some empty area and fucked him silly (his dick twitched with interest at just the memory of it). But, once again, it isn’t long before he has to go to practice. What would the team say if he showed up later than he usually did? What if someone came looking for him? What if they happened upon this very supply closet and caught him quite literally with his pants down?

That’s when your hands found their to his waist band.

“Make it quick,” you heard him mumble.

Your lips found his in an instant (a hum of pleasure couldn’t be stopped as his mouth immediately opened for your tongue) and you made quick work with unbuckling his belt. Once it was removed and dropped to the floor, you pulled down his pants and his boxers in own swift movement, allowing his reddened member to spring free from their constraints. The blonde shivered at the cool air hitting his length as he broke the kiss.

“Quick,” he reminded you, his glasses knocked askew on the bridge of his nose.

It didn’t take long before he was turned with his front side pressed against the wall, you fumbling with your pants behind him. Kei have an impatient huff as he through a look back at you. A sheepish smile found its way on your lips, finally freeing your own shaft in the process. The response you got was an eye-roll, followed by him mumbling some sort of sharp complaint. Given the time restraints, you decided to let it slide.

There wasn’t exactly a proper “prep” period. You hastily stroked your member to coat it in precum so there was at least some sort of lubricant to work with. A low noise left your throat and caused Kei’s hair to stand on end. The noise — almost predatory, if he were to describe it — immediately went to his cock as it painfully throbbed. He was now begging in his mind for you to hurry up, not only for practice but for his own pleasure. His legs were already a bit wobbly and you’ve barely done anything yet. A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks, though he didn’t know if it was from arousal or a bit of embarrassment.

After what felt like ages (were you purposely taking your time?), something round prodded his entrance. Kei’s breath hitched and an airy noise left his lips. His fists clenched to prepare for the pain as your hands found his hips.

“Ready?”

Kei could only nod.

Slowly, you pushed inside of him. The blonde clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip, trying to suppress the led noises that were building up in his throat. You were barely even halfway in and he threw his head back with a muffled mewl. It always amazes you how fast you could rile him up. His breathing was ragged, his entire body was shaking, even his member already looked so close to releasing. A small coo escaped your mouth at how adorable you found it.

Finally, the base of your pelvis hit his ass. You were fully sheathed inside of him, hands running up and down his sides while you allowed him to adjust. Precious time was being wasted, but it’s not like you really cared. Kei’s teammates could wait a bit. And, from the small look thrown your way — a look of vulnerability mixed with pure lust — you could tell that the blonde was thinking the same thing.

Huh. That’s weird. Wasn’t he the one who wanted you to “make this quick”?

A few seconds ticked by before Kei gave you a curt nod. He was ready for you to begin. Without hesitation, you thrusted yourself in and out of his warm hole, drawing out gasps and moans from the tall male in front of you. A particularly rough snap of your hips made him practically yelp. It sounded startled mixed with pleasure, making you let out your own noise of satisfaction.

“H… harder,” he moaned, the side of his face squished against the wall.

A chuckle left your throat. “Don’t you have practice soon?”

Kei whined at your words. “Please,” he begged. His eyes were clouded over with lust, tears threatening to fall from them. “God… pl-please…!!”

My, my. How could you say no to that gorgeous face?

And so, heeding your boyfriend’s begging, you began to thrust even harder into his entrance. Your hands had an iron grip on his hips as Kei let out louder lewd noises. You were sure that they were audible from outside the closet, and any passerby could hear your activities, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was Kei’s beautiful moans and agape mouth, his puckering hole greedily accepting the cock that was abusing it. Skin on skin contact caused loud slapping noises and, if one listened closely enough, feint squelching sounds could be heard from the precum filling his insides.

This was going to hurt afterwards. The bruises on his hips from your fingers, the aching of his back from being arched for you, and (most notable) the burning of his hole from your relentless and rough thrusting. He was sure to be limping for a while. His team would probably give him weird — or knowing — looks later on. Dear lord, how was he supposed to attend practice when he’d just get done being absolutely railed?

Well, those were thoughts for later on.

Right now, the focus was how close the two of you were.

“Y… Y/N—” Kei tried to warn you.

“Cum for me,” you said through a grown, hips stuttering a bit.

Teary eyes looked back at you with utter adoration. One tear slipped down his red cheek as strained cries came from his throat. His entire body jostled as you continued to ram yourself inside of him.

Then, with a muffled scream, threads of pearly white came streaming from Kei’s painfully hard member.

His seed coated the wall of the supply closet, some droplets coming back to paint his thighs. You continued to thrust inside of him throughout his orgasm until you came to your own. Milky liquid filled Kei’s burning hole and dribbled out of the sides. Your climax drew a low moan from your chest and caused a needy mewl to come from the blonde. He made small noises similar to that until your entire load filled his entrance.

The two of stood there for a couple of moments, panting heavily and reveling in the pure bliss that filled the supply closet. Once when your mind was clear enough, you slowly pulled yourself out of Kei, eliciting a disappointed whine from the poor blonde. His trembling legs could barely hold himself up at this point and he had to lean against the wall for support.

“Tried to be as quick as possible,” your now gravelly voice said in his ear. “You should get cleaned up before—”

“One more,” he gasped.

You rose a brow at him. “But—”

His face, blotchy with scarlet and painted with tears, contorted with a bit of irritation. “One more,” he huffed.

After processing his words, a knowing grin grew on your face.

It was always “make it quick” until your cock was inside of him.

What a needy little brat.

[whereisten]

Dinner for Two

A Yuta fic that’s part of our Halloween Series!

Summary: A dinner at the high-end Osaka Moon leads you to the head chef and owner, Nakamoto Yuta.

Pairing: Chef! Yuta x female reader

Genre: romance, angst, smut, fluff, mystery, suspense, drama, crime, HORROR

Word Count: 7.8k 

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol/drug abuse, verbal abuse, mention of sexual assault, infidelity mention, deaths, and big, uncomfortable twist (the ending is not for the faint of heart, I’m warning you).

(A/N): Hiya! Well, this is probably the most disturbing thing I’ve ever written. Hope you enjoy! Haha actually, this story was inspired by Yuta’s iconic tweet: “I will eat you”. Well, if that’s not a spoiler...Thank you so much for waiting. I apologize for the delay! Please come back later tonight for another spooky tale...Also, my apologies, I didn’t get a chance to proofread. I appreciate your patience. :D 

_______

Life had dealt you some harsh blows but you found happiness wherever you could. Your management position at the vinyl store Neo Records gave you prime access to the best music in the world. Even if the employee discount was trash. You’d worked at the records store for a few months now. This followed you having moved out of your mom’s place. You’d lived with her and your beloved stepfather while you attended college but you’d had enough.

Your mom was a drug addict and her husband Scott only enabled her to continue her abuse. You couldn’t say anything to them because you were the child and they were the adults.

And, as they had always thrown in your face, they paid for a good amount of your tuition because financial aid and scholarships could only do so much for you.

Well, you’re twenty four now and still a child in their eyes. You couldn’t take your mother’s mood swings and Scott’s goading for her to thrash around and party all the time. If your mother wasn’t going to get therapy and refused your help, then you decided to leave.

You had a really good relationship with your dad. You’d wished you had gone to live with him but during your college years, he’d only made enough to send you some funds for your tuition. You appreciated what he could do for you.

However, now he was more financially stable and he wanted to support you so you could move out of your mother’s house. You’d live in an apartment not too far from your dad’s place so you could visit him as much as you’d like. It drove your mom crazy. She always tried to contact you and convince you that she was going to get help. It was a tale as old as time. She said she would get help but never did anything about it. Once she had you under her finger, she reverted back to her ways: skipping work shifts, neglecting household chores, and verbally abusing you. You simply texted her you were busy with work.

Your boyfriend Johnny has been a source of comfort for you over the past year. You’d met him at a club one night with your friends. You told him you didn’t want to go home that night and asked him if you could stay over. Looking back on it, you had been too trusting but Johnny had treated you kindly: he let you take his bed while he slept on the couch. He made you breakfast in the morning: banana pancakes and scrambled eggs. You had sex with him the morning after and you’d been inseparable ever since.

These past few weeks, Johnny had been busier at his new job at a marketing firm. You two were supposed to have a date night tonight but he cancelled two hours before you were to meet at Hal’s Pizzeria for dinner. After that, you were supposed to go to the movies together. You were always a big fan of the dinner and movie date.

You sat on the couch in your living room, feeling a little blue that Johnny was working overtime. So you scrolled through your phone while you watched episodes of an English-dubbed anime about volleyball.

You texted your best friend Carla about how Johnny cancelled at the last minute and she replied: Since you don’t have plans, then I have an opportunity for you.

You texted back, What’s up?

She replied, I had a reservation at Osaka Moon for tonight but I got called in for work. Wanna go? The owner is supposed to be hot as fuck.

You replied, Okay, want me to get his number for you?

She texted, Unnecessary. Thanks, y/n. We’ll go together next time.

_______

Osaka Moon was a high-end restaurant all your friends told you about. You decided to go on your own to the restaurant and have a date night with yourself. Being alone could be tranquil, you assured yourself. And you didn’t have to worry about looking so graceful as you ate so this could be great.

You dolled yourself up in a pale pink dress and some white wedges. It was an understated but elegant look. It was an expensive restaurant so you decided to go all out. You entered the Japanese restaurant and gave the hostess your friend’s name. She immediately sat you down at a table that overlooked the bay. It was a spectacular view. No wonder Carla didn’t want this reservation to go to waste.

It was a shame Johnny couldn’t be here with you right now. This place was so romantic. There were indoor fountains with koi fish swimming around. The ceiling was painted in shades of the sunset with birds flying through the clouds. The aroma of grilled meat and vegetables made you salivate.

A waiter took your order and you took out your phone to take pictures of the restaurant and the view. You wondered if you would catch a glimpse of the chef your friend had mentioned.

As you move your camera around the restaurant to get a wider shot of the place, you recognize someone through your phone. Johnny’s hair was slicked back and he was wearing your favorite suit of his: navy blue with a ruby red colored tie. His height made him stick out like a sore thumb. The sight before you made you wish he’d be a little taller so his head could hit the ceiling. For the sight left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Johnny had arrived at Osaka Moon with another woman. She was generically pretty and you hated her even more. She looked like the mean blonde girl of every early 2000s romantic comedy. She wore a revealing dress that exposed her cleavage very nicely. Why were you paying so much attention to her cleavage? Because of the necklace around her neck: a necklace that looked identical to the one Johnny gifted you last year. It was a rose gold pendant with a rose at the center. Johnny kissed the woman’s lips as he sat her down at the table. She placed her hands against his slimy face.

Son of a-

Hot tears started rushing down your face. You were sure your mascara was running. You gripped your glass of wine tightly. You were surprised you didn’t break the glass then and there.

First off, you went to the restroom and checked your makeup. A little mascara had run down your cheeks. You fixed your makeup and took a few deep breaths. You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were red. What were you going to do now? There was a chance he’d see you and you didn’t want to see the stupid look on his face when he realized he’d been found out.

And you didn’t want to imagine what other reaction he could have. All of this happening in such an extravagant place made you seethe.

Johnny made a fool out of you and his infidelity carved a hole so deeply into your heart, you wanted to scream. So you took a few more minutes to collect yourself. You imagined your entree would be out soon enough anyway. You quickly realized what you needed to do.

You made a beeline for the entrance of the restaurant and approached the first staff member you saw. He was a slender and striking young man. His long brown hair was tied up in a bun. His chiseled face made everyone’s heads turn. His heart shaped lips were perfect. And…

Why were you thinking all of these things when you’d just been cheated on?

Wait a second…

Why couldn’t you think this way? As of ten minutes ago, your relationship with Johnny was over.

The handsome man was talking to one of the hostesses. The hostess was biting her lips and making googly eyes at him. This was awkward but you were resolved to ask him for help.

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Excuse me.”

He turned around and eye contact with him nearly sent you into the stratosphere. His eyes were the deepest brown and when he looked at you, you felt like you were his world.

His eyes were that intense.

“How can I help you?” He smiled, his perfect set of teeth greeted you.

“Hi...Um, what’s your name?” You start, awkward at the start.

He smiled even wider, “Yuta, miss. And yours?”

“I’m y/n. Can I make a special request?”

You didn’t know it then but Yuta watched you enter the restaurant earlier. He was stunned by your beauty and your smile. You looked like a princess as you entered his castle. He saw the wonderstruck look on your face as you were led to your table. He’d never seen someone so happy to enter his restaurant. The young man before you was the owner of Osaka Moon: Nakamoto Yuta.

So for you to come up to him and ask him for a favor? He was more than happy to oblige.

Yuta noticed how red your eyes looked and was concerned. He wondered what transpired when he had to go check on the kitchen staff and couldn’t keep admiring you.

Although your eyes had been red, there was determination in them, he noted.

“Of course,” he said as you moved closer to him and whispered in his ear, making you both a little hot and bothered instantly. You both felt a spark from the moment you met eyes.

Snap out of it, you told yourself. He was very attractive, yes, but your heart had been ripped out of your chest. You wanted revenge. You had to remember why you were talking to this fine man in the first place.

_______

You sat back at your table, undetected by the clusterfuck of a man you used to call your boyfriend. You made sure to focus on your meal, which had been orgasmic. The dish was called Okonomiyaki, a pancake with sliced pork belly and cabbage. The okonomiyaki sauce, Japanese mayonnaise, and dried bonito shavings sealed this dish as one of the best meals you’d ever had. Your compliments to the chef, whoever they were.

You realized it was go-time when the handsome staff member brought the food out for Johnny and his date. All eyes were on the young man who said he would help you. You wondered why. Has your plan been found out?

The young man deposited the dishes to Johnny’s table. His radiant smile never slipped from his face. Incredible, you thought. After what you told him about Johnny, he looked like he was about to pounce on him right then. Even so, he looked attentively at you and accepted your request.

“Here you are,” Yuta said as he put down the plates of sushi in front of Johnny and Blondie. “And a special treat from our chef…”

Johnny and his date oohed and ahhed over their plates. Until the young man deposited a plate that had sauce spelling “Cheater, Liar, Bastard” on it.

“This dish is for you, sir. Have a pleasant evening with Girlfriend Number Two, you son of a bitch.” Yuta gritted his teeth at Johnny. The expression on Yuta’s face then both terrified and aroused you.

Humiliating your cheating boyfriend and standing up for you...It brought a smile to your face.

Even if you still wanted to cry.

Johnny glared up at Yuta, “What the hell is-” He then does what he never does and THINKS. He panics and scans the restaurant, looking for you. He finds you seated at your table. You raise your glass at him as you take a sip of your wine. You flip the bird at him in the process.

He stands up from his table and runs over to your table. “Y/n…”

The other woman is right behind Johnny and  simply laughs. “This is her? From the way you talked about her, I expected a real threat...but it’s nice to see that I have nothing to worry about.”

So she knew? She was in on this? You mimicked the blonde’s laugh. “Oh, fuck off...both of you…How long have been together?”

“Three months,” the blonde smirked.

That hurt. A lot. Johnny must’ve started seeing Blondie around the time you’d celebrated your one year anniversary with him.

You guessed one year was his expiration date for relationships.

“Go…” You started. “Have a nice blissful year together. In nine months or so, he’ll find someone shiny and new..”

Johnny was at a loss for words. “Y/n, I am so-”

“Are you sorry?” You rolled your eyes. “Go to hell, Johnny!” You couldn’t hold back anymore as the tears came out.

Yuta came up behind Johnny and his date. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“How dare you?” Blondie asked. “I want to speak to your manager-”

Yuta crossed his arms as his lips quirked up. “You’re looking at him.”

The three of you stared at him with your jaws to the floor. This was news to you. You’d ask the restaurant owner for a favor? The audacity you had…

Your face heated up in embarrassment.

Yuta called over a few security guards to escort Johnny and his date out. Johnny couldn’t even look at you. A fucking coward. His other girl had more balls than he did.

Yuta put a hand on your shoulder and leaned down to speak to you. “Are you okay?” His anger dissipated at the sight of your tears.

You sniffled. “Yeah...Thank you...I-I’m so sorry for bothering you...I didn’t know you were the owner of this place…”

He squeezed your shoulder. “I was happy to help…”

You laughed. “You scared the crap out of me when you called him a son of a bitch.”

He played around with you. “Ah, you liked that? I’ve been working on my crime lord act...How do you think it’s coming along?”

You wiped your tears with your napkin. “Pretty good.”

You both laughed.

“Well, y/n...I hope you have a wonderful rest of the night.” He tipped his imaginary hat and walked away.

As you finished your meal, your waiter brought you a bowl of green tea mochi ice cream.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you started.

The waiter replied, “Courtesy of the boss, miss. Please let us know if there is anything else you would like. Your meal is on the house.”

“I’m sorry, what?” You asked in shock.

The waiter smiled. “Just following the boss’ orders.”

This night may have begun on a sour note but at least you could end it at this incredible place. And you were pretty sure you’d met a real life knight in shining armor tonight...

Before you left the restaurant, the hostess, annoyed, handed you an envelope. “Here.”

“What is it?” You furrowed your brows in confusion.

The hostess sighed. “The golden ticket. Have a good night, miss.” She returned to her stand with her coworkers.

You walked out the door and left Osaka Moon. You opened the envelope and found a handwritten letter.

y/n,

I’ll be upfront with you. I wanted to ask you out the minute you walked into Osaka Moon. But then I found out you had a boyfriend. And right after that, I found out he was a cheating piece of shit...So I’m at a crossroads here...Can I see you again? If yes, please call me at 555-127-1026.

Yours,

Yuta

P.S. The green tea mochi was good, wasn’t it?

_______

A week had passed. You and Yuta have been texting non-stop. He invited you to his restaurant to have dinner. The beef tenderloin he’d served you was out of this world. He made you laugh and shamelessly flirted with you the whole time. You told Yuta you weren’t ready to date so soon. You didn’t want him to be a rebound. You knew that once your heart mended a little more, you’d want to ask Yuta out. He was more than willing to wait for you.

You two had a lot in common: same taste in food, same taste in music, same sense of humor, and you both believed in astrology. No one was as unapologetic about being a Scorpio as Yuta was.

You and Yuta would share meals together frequently. Sometimes outside of his restaurant. And right after, you two would go to the movies like you wanted.

Two months have passed. Finally a couple, you and Yuta have just left the cinema. You’d just watched a midnight showing of Paranormal Activity 7.

“That was amazing,” you started.

Yuta snorted. “You are too easy to please, y/n. That movie was terrible.”

You slapped him in the chest. “You’re so full of it.”

Yuta chuckled. “Nothing beats horror movies from Japan. Just you wait…” He wrapped his arm around you.

You looked up at him. “Is that a promise?”

He kissed the crown of your head. “You bet it is.”

_______

“It is week nine into the investigation of Johnny Suh’s disappearance. Johnny Suh is a twenty four year old marketing consultant. He hails from Chicago, Illinois…” The news anchor says on the television screen.

You and Yuta are cuddled on his couch in his penthouse suite, watching the news. You were shocked when you first heard that Johnny had gone missing over two months ago. Even though you’d hated him with every fiber of your being, your heart ached for his family. You hoped he would be okay.

Yuta drove to you to work that morning and told you he would pick you up when your shift ended. He planned to surprise you with a backyard screening of “Ring”, one of the most popular Japanese horror films of all time. He’d set up a projector in his backyard so you two could watch the movie under the stars.

When Yuta arrived to pick you up, he saw you run out of the record shop and run away in tears. He ran out of his car to meet you.

“Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” Yuta asked as he cupped your face in his hands and wiped tears away.

You sniffled. “Let’s go...Pl-please.”

Yuta was hesitant but he accepted as you definitely wanted to get the hell out of there.

The question on Yuta’s mind was...Why?

As he drove away from Neo Records, he asked, more softly, “What happened, y/n?”

“I quit,” you said.

Yuta nearly stopped the car so he could look at you. However, he couldn’t because the traffic was quite unpredictable so he couldn’t turn to face you. “What? Why?”

“I...I don’t...He...Uh…” You hiccuped between your tears.

Yuta gripped the steering wheel at the sound of “he”. “Who? Y/n, did someone do something to you?”

You were worried about how Yuta might react when you told him about how your boss, Mr. Fox, groped you during your lunch break. Mr. Fox had always been too friendly with female staff but you never thought he would cross the line. Until today.

“Mr. Fox touched...me…” You managed to say. You shut your eyes, awaiting the wrath of the Scorpio beside you.

Yuta was about to rip the steering wheel out of the car. “He did what?”

“He touched me, Yuta...And I...I didn’t know what to do...I don’t have proof...So I quit. I can’t be in the same room as him anymore…”

Yuta was furious. To see the woman he loved broken and helpless. You were his everything and you deserve nothing but the best the world had to offer. And to see you get treated like this? He wanted to beat the shit out of Mr. Fox. He wanted to see him cry and beg for mercy.

He didn’t want to frighten you with his anger because you were already shaken up as is so he turned into a store plaza parking lot and put the car in park. He turned to you and asked you, “Can I hold you?”

You nodded, “Y-yes…”

Yuta backed the driver seat up so you could crawl into his arms. He held you as you cried. His heart ached for you and he wondered what he could do to get you justice.

You were so thankful to Yuta. You knew he would be so upset once you told him. Your heart felt so reassured to see how passionate he was about you. He made you feel like you were his world. And you felt much better knowing that you had him by your side.

_______

A week had passed by after you quit your job at Neo Records. You couldn’t afford to pay your half of the rent so Yuta offered for you to move in. You were thrilled at the idea. You and Yuta were living like blissful newlyweds.

You were washing the dishes after you two had eaten some imported steak that Yuta had wanted to try out. It was incredible. Everything Yuta prepared for you was literal sex in your mouth.

As you stretched your neck to the left, Yuta wrapped his arms around you and nibbled on your neck. “y/n, you smell like raspberries…”

You froze and dropped the dish you’d been scrubbing into the soapy water.

Yuta turned you around quickly and pulled your cleaning gloves off of your hands and tossed them aside. He picked you up and sat you on the kitchen island.

“I love that you’re here with me…” He whispered.

The hooded look in his eyes made your panties soak. He lifted the skirt of your dress up like nothing. He sunk his teeth into the fabric of your panties and pulled them down, never losing eye contact with you. You loved how primal he got with you. He always left you with love bites. He always seemed to find new places to leave them so you can find them during a random part of your day and think of him.

“I wonder if your pussy tastes like raspberries, y/n...Shall we find out?” Yuta asks as he looks up at you. He was on his knees, looking like he was praying to his goddess.

You nodded fervently as you pulled your dress off over your head, only in your bra now. “Yes…”

He unclasped your bra so your breasts were exposed to the cold air in the kitchen. Your nipples were already hard at Yuta’s initial touch. He got up off his knees and began sucking at one nipple and rubbing the others. He bit your nipple and you cried out.

You grabbed at his growing member and he grunted. You unbuttoned his pants so his aching member could be free. You squeezed it harder and began rubbing up and down. Traces of precum coated your fingers. You worked harder to get him riled up. When he felt himself build up, you stopped and he looked up at you through needy eyes.

You kept going until he climaxed onto your arm. You licked his cum off of your arm slowly and it made his cock harder. He met you halfway and lathered up his juices. He loved the taste of his seed on you.

Yuta catered to your pussy which ached for his touch. His hot breath greeted your entrance before he inserted two fingers inside you. He coated his fingers in your growing essence. You adorned him with kisses and love bites. You bit behind his ear and he moaned at your velvet touch.

He laid you down on top of the kitchen island, throwing everything off of the table with a quick swipe of his arm. He straddled himself on top of you. He proceeded to give your entrance some kitten licks, enjoying when he teased you most of all. You got all bratty and needy and it always drove him up a wall.

“Yuta...please hurry,” you begged.

He tsked. “Good things come to those who wait, darling.”

At the sound of “darling”, you got even wetter.

He chuckled as he licked your folds and played around with your sweet spot. Never quite making contact and making you delirious with need. You gripped his hair, trying to maneuver him to hit your sweet spot already.

“You better not cum until I say so, y/n...Or else I’m going to get very angry…” Yuta said with a mischievous smile on his face.

Yuta underestimated his touch, you thought. The man was literal sex on two feet. You came quickly at the contact he’d made with your pussy.

He frowned at you, “My dear little slut, you’ve disobeyed me.”

You sighed blissfully. “You make me want to break the rules, Yuta.”

He laughed. “So I’m to blame for your disobedience, huh?”

You grabbed his face and kissed him, your tongue playing around with his. You kissed his neck and left marks against his collarbone as he teased his cock against your entrance.

He entered you now and you felt close to completion. He thrusted against you and you joined him. The slapping of skin against skin and your moans echoed throughout the penthouse. You were thankful there were no next door neighbors. You liked the feeling of this floor being just the two of you.

Alone with Yuta, you felt like the center of his universe. You felt like a queen. That no one else mattered quite like you did. Yuta always made you feel like the most important person in the world.

You felt the need to climax come back quickly but just as you wished for your release against Yuta’s member, he removed himself and pecked your lips.

Between your thighs, he gave you a dark stare. “I don’t know if you should cum again, sweets.”

You drooled. “Please…”

Yuta teased. “What was that?”

“Please,” you full on begged as you started to touch yourself. “I need you or else I’m going to finish the job.”

He gasped and laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”

You coated your fingers in your essence and popped your index finger into Yuta’s mouth. He sucked hard.

“How do I taste?” You asked.

Yuta didn’t let go of your finger and bit lightly against it to tease you further.

You sighed. “Well, if you don’t want to fuck me properly, then I can’t force you. I’ll finish off in the shower.” You got up off the kitchen counter and nearly lost your balance. You were already weak in the knees.

Yuta fought back a laugh. “I’d like to see you make it to the shower, jello legs.”

You gave up and laid on the floor, giving him a nice angle of your naked body. You stretched out and started teasing your own entrance, imagining Yuta was building you up again. And having him watch from above on the kitchen counter, you felt yourself grow even hotter.

Yuta got up off of the counter and straddled you again. Without warning, he entered you and went hard. Tears streamed from your eyes as you climaxed quickly. Yuta continued you to thrust against your pelvis until he came quickly after.

Yuta took you into the shower where you would continue to fuck and he gave you new love bites. This time, they were on your ankles.

_______

A month had passed and you’d taken over as manager of Neo Records. Mr. Fox had fallen off the face of the earth and was reported missing. It was odd. Another man who attempted to ruin your life had disappeared. You thought it was karmic justice but deep down, it bothered you.

Your mother once again resurfaced after months of radio silence. She wanted to invite you and your new boyfriend (who she was very upset not to have heard about before) over for dinner. Scott and his kids from his previous marriage would be there. You hated them, too. They were a bunch of enabling brats that were after their daddy’s money.

You couldn’t say no to your mother, especially after she found out about Yuta from your dad. It wounded her pride that your dad knew something she didn’t. Your dad felt horrible for letting it slip in conversation with her. He couldn’t dodge her phone calls. He always tried to pacify her and talk to her when she called. So he couldn’t help but mention Yuta.

You didn’t want Yuta to know about your mother and her side of the family, for it brought about deep shame, regret, and painful memories.

But this time, you couldn’t run away.

You and Yuta went over to your mother’s lavish home, your old home for seven years. Scott married your mom when you were a senior in high school. Scott came from old money but he never worked a day in his life. The undeserving ass wipe, he was.

Your mother pretended to be the picture of domesticity as she cooked her once-in-a-decade dish of lasagna. You loved it, you hated to admit it now. You begged her to make it so many times when you were a kid. She always said she would but would always get distracted. Distracted with her new boyfriends or paying a debt. Sometimes you were truly on your own even if your mom had been physically beside you.

You and Yuta sat at the table with Scott and his kids. They prodded Yuta with questions about his ethnicity, his restaurant, his political beliefs, basically everything you can think of that would make anyone’s significant other runs for the hills.

Yuta took it like a champ. He answered them as politely as possible and whenever the question was too offensive to get an answer, Yuta masterfully deflected.

Your mom brought out the lasagna and served everyone. She gave an extra helping for Yuta. “I hope you like it, Yuta.”

Yuta nodded. “Thank you, Ms. y/l/n.” He took a bite of it. “It’s delicious.”

Your mom smiled brightly and gave you a look of encouragement.

You forced a smile.

Your mom could tell you were faking it and her smile faded. “You still hate me, don’t you, y/n?”

Oh no, you thought, not here…

“I make this nice dinner for you and your perfect boyfriend...Who is clearly way out of your league...And you’re moping around like a sad, pathetic little bitch.”

“Mom, please stop-”

“You don’t tell me what to do! I am the parent. You are the child. Get that through your thick head. God knows what poison your father has been feeding you about me but he’s wrong. I’ve never been better,” she says as she downs her third glass of beer in the past thirty minute.  

She was already this inebriated so you imagined she drank before you arrived and drank more while she was cooking the lasagna.

You looked down at your lap and Yuta grabbed your hand. He squeezed it.

“Your mother has been coming with me to church, y/n,” Scott began, “She’s been conversing with the Lord and she’s been on the mend. Why can’t you see that?”

Your other hand that wasn’t holding Yuta’s had balled up into a fist.

Scott’s oldest daughter added, “Your mom’s amazing, y/n. She’s more of a mother to me than my actual mother is.”

That’s rich….Your mom always acted so sweetly with Scott’s kids to get on his good side. It was sickening. And to hear this bullshit come out of their mouth...You were about to reach your breaking point.

“Yuta, let’s go,” you said.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Scott asked.

“Anywhere but here,” you said, “Excuse us.”

“Y/n, if you leave, I will never talk to you again!” Your mom wailed as she gripped her glass tightly.

You snapped, “Well, mom, that just might be the nicest thing would ever do for me.”

Yuta started. “Y/n-”

“Go to hell!” Your mom yelled.

“I’ll meet you there!” You yelled back as you stormed with Yuta right behind you.

Back at your place, you hid in your bedroom while Yuta ordered some takeout. You laid your face down on Yuta’s pillow and smelled the scent of his shampoo mixed with his cologne on it. It gave you great comfort.

Yuta joined you and sat beside you on the bed. “The food will be here in half an hour.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled against the pillow.

Yuta sighed as he laid down next to you. “How are you?”

“Humiliated,” you answered.

“Y/n...I am so sorry…”

“Are you kidding? I’m sorry I took you with me in the first place...I...I could’ve kept you from all of that…”

“Your mother insisted, y/n. We had no choice.”

“Yup, that’s how it always is with her and fucking Scott. I fucking hate him. If it weren’t for his money and her obsession with him, she wouldn’t have gotten to this point, Yuta…”

Yuta rubbed your arm. “I know, y/n…”

You sighed. “I know there’s nothing I can do...It just sucks. I try not to let it get to me...Since it’s something I can’t control...But seeing my mom like that...It’s really fucking unfair.” You sob into your pillow.

In between your sobs, you said, “I wish Scott would go away...Somehow…”

Yuta hugged you as you cried. He wanted nothing more than to take your pain and suffering away.

_______

A month had passed since the disastrous dinner. Your mom was good with her word. She hadn’t contacted you or your dad. You’d told him about the falling out and he consoled you. He understood your pain more than anyone. He encouraged you to keep living your life and being happy with Yuta and so you did.

Yuta’s birthday was coming up so you wanted to surprise him. He told you he was meeting a client downtown so you got to work.

You wanted to take Yuta to all of his favorite places over town and you wanted to make scavenger hunt out of it. The clues would take Yuta to places that had to do with your relationship. It was a way of celebrating how much of an amazing boyfriend he’d been to you. The ultimate prize of the hunt would be a key...a hotel room key to the Lotus Hotel.

As you shopped for art supplies for your scavenger hunt one night, you’d noticed Yuta on his way somewhere. He had a couple of shopping bags with him.

You decided to follow him and catch him by surprise. However, Yuta was headed to a more abandoned part of town, where there were only warehouses.

You got behind a bunch of abandoned cars and watched Yuta make his way into a warehouse, where his car had already been parked. Half an hour passes and Yuta comes out of the door with bags stained red with blood.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. What the hell were those?

You noticed the shifty look in Yuta’s eyes and quickly, you grew scared. Terrified of being caught.

Calm down, you told yourself, it was probably meat for his restaurant. What else could it be? You felt incredibly stupid for spying on him like this. In fact, you felt ashamed.

You waited for Yuta to leave in his car. You crept into the warehouse and tried looking through the windows. You saw nothing but butchers’ paper and a basket of random items.

Except one thing stuck out to you. A gold Rolex. It was obnoxiously large that you could never forget about it.

It was Scott’s. It was one of a kind. He had it custom-made to be the only one in existence. And now it was just sitting there in a random warehouse…

But why? What was it doing in this warehouse that Yuta came out of?

Your stomach lurched at the uncertainty of it all. You needed to get the hell out of here so you ran off.

Not realizing you’d forgotten something.

_______

Yuta made you spaghetti and meatballs after work the next day. You’d been awfully quiet and he wanted to know why.

“Something bothering you, sweets?” He asked.

You played with your food and took a bite of one of the meatballs. Damn, it tasted good, you thought. It was savory and not like any other kind of beef you’ve tasted. You had to ask Yuta where he imported his meat from because there was nothing quite like it.

Still, you couldn’t look Yuta in the eyes.

“Y/n, look at me, please…” He started.

You forced yourself to look at him and just as you were about to speak, your phone rang.

You were shocked to see that it was your mom. You dreaded answering it but if it could deflect from the confrontation you were about to have with Yuta…

You answered, “Hello?”

“Y/n!” Your mom sobbed. “Scott is missing!”

Your heart nearly jumped out of your chest. “What?”

Your mom wailed. “I don’t know what to do, y/n! Have you seen him at all since you came to visit?”

Your mind immediately went to the gold Rolex at the warehouse. “No, mom, I haven’t seen him.”

Yuta watched you with curious eyes. You averted your gaze and got up from the table. “Mom, please calm down...The police will find him. That’s what they’re supposed to do.”

Your mom laughed. “When has the police ever done what they’re supposed to do?”

You sighed. “Mom, I’m so sorry...If there’s anything I can do…” You felt awkward for saying this because you absolutely hated Scott and part of you wanted to say good riddance...But you couldn’t. You couldn’t add salt to your mother’s wound.

You mom replied, “If you see or hear anything about Scott, call me. Please.”

“Okay,” you said, “Bye mom.”

Your mother hung up.

You turned back to Yuta, who watched you carefully from the table.

“Your food’s getting cold, y/n…” Yuta mused aloud.

“Right…” You said as you sat back down. You took another bite of the spaghetti and meatballs.

“What was that about?” Yuta asked, concerned.

“My mom called. Scott is missing…” You said as you looked down at your food.

“Oh? Well, that’s terrible,” Yuta said. He looked upset enough.

But you knew him. You sighed, “Yuta, you’re hiding something from me.”

His eyes widened. “Finally, I was waiting for you to say something. It’s been driving me crazy.”

“What?” You asked.

He pulled something out of his pants pocket and it was your charm bracelet. His birthday gift to you from last month...You’d completely forgotten about it. “You dropped this on the way home.”

Your mouth opened in shock.

“How long were you watching me for, y/n? It must’ve been troublesome to be hiding in the rubble across the street…”

You lost your appetite completely. “You knew?”

“I knew you were tailing me yesterday…” He said as he picked at your plate and took a bite of your food.

You started pathetically, “I wanted to surprise you…”

Yuta nodded. “But instead I surprised you…”

“Yuta, what was in those bags?” You asked. “And what were you doing with Scott’s watch?”

Yuta bit his lip and rubbed the back of his head. “Well...Since we’re this deep into the relationship, I think I should be completely honest with you, y/n.”

The look in Yuta’s eyes was something you didn’t recognize. It wasn’t playful. It was more...evil.

“Do you remember our first meal together, y/n? How savory it was? How it was unlike anything you’d ever tasted?”

You didn’t know where this was going but you responded anyway, “Y-yeah…”

“Did you ever stop to think if it was really beef tenderloin?” Yuta asked.

Your eyes widened. “N-no…”

“Come on, y/n. It’s me...You can be honest…”

“Was it veal?” You asked, grasping at straws.

Yuta shook his head and a smile was fighting to come onto his face. “Nope...I grounded him up real nicely for our first meal together…” He muttered that last part.

“Him?” You asked.

“But who else, y/n? Think.”

You and Yuta ate together for the first time after...Your breakup with Johnny.

“Yuta...What are you…” You began.

“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear.”

You laughed skeptically. “Yuta, I know you love to tease but be serious for a second…”

Yuta’s face darkened. “I am serious, y/n.”

You shook your head. “You mean to tell me...Y-you killed Johnny?”

Yuta nodded. “Why, yes...Slit the bastard’s tire before he left the restaurant. Followed him home. Made sure Girlfriend Number Two was going up to her apartment and I got him right where I wanted him…”

“Yuta…” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. This had to be some cruel joke. And the fact that he was being so specific with these details meant that he wasn’t lying.

“So, yes, y/n, I killed Johnny and I ground him up. No evidence of that bastard’s existence is left now…And do you want to know why?”

You cried. “Yuta, stop it.”

Yuta wiped the tears from your eyes. “Because we ate him. You and me, y/n…”

You gasped in horror. You sobbed as you backed away from Yuta. “You’re a fucking liar, Yuta. Stop it!”

Yuta sighed. “Why should I stop there? That scumbag, Mr. Fox? Remember the day we made the sweetest love in the kitchen? And we had ‘steak’?”

“Yuta, no!” You fell to the floor. “Stop it! I am begging you.”

“You need to know the truth, y/n…”

You shook your head. “You killed them...And you killed Scott.”

“Ding ding! We have a winner!” Yuta rejoiced.

“You’re crazy…” You cried out.

Yuta’s smile faded as quickly as it came. “Y/n, you don’t mean that. You love me. Just as I love you. I’ve loved you since the moment we met…”

You cried harder. “Yuta…”

Yuta got onto the floor with you. “I did it all for you, y/n. So you could be free from them all.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yuta was a murderer and...you couldn’t even think the word...

And you...you ate their remains...Johnny’s...Mr. Fox’s...and…

You looked up at the plate of spaghetti and meatballs and came to another realization. You ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet.

You gagged and coughed as you held your hair back.

You’d just eaten Scott’s remains.

Your world was crashing down on you. Yuta, the love of your life, killed three people. And that was only accounting for the people you knew. You had no idea what his past was really like. Yuta cut them up, ground them up, did everything a butcher would do with their body parts. Yuta fed them to you. He ate them knowingly and unapologetically.

And the worst part?

You enjoyed every morsel…

And you craved more.

Yuta entered the bathroom and held your hair back for you as he caressed your back. “There, there…”

Tears from vomiting ran down your cheeks. “Yuta...You really shouldn’t have done those things…”

“Do you really mean that, y/n? Johnny made a fool out of you and lied to you. He humiliated you and he didn’t stop his new girlfriend from insulting you. He was scum. Mr. Fox was the most vile of them all. He touched you without consent. Rapists should perish from the moment they think of touching someone...At least, give me that much, sweets…”

As disturbing as everything Yuta had said sounded, you couldn’t help but agree with him.

“And Scott...You wished to make him go away...And your wish is my command, my angel.”

You got up from the toilet and flushed the contents down. You went to the sink and brushed your teeth. All the while, Yuta watched you.

“Y/n...The consumption of human flesh has been a custom in my family for generations...These days, we can’t just pick and choose our victims. We must have an honorable reason to kill them. You gave me three victims. A feast. It’s what sustains me, y/n…”

You spat the toothpaste out of your mouth and swished your mouth with some mouthwash. “You...you’re serious?”

“I need to consume human flesh at least once a year or I will die, y/n...Why do you think my parents died so young?”

You thought about it. “They gave up on human flesh?”

Yuta nodded somberly. “I don’t want to die, y/n. Now that I’ve met you, I can’t afford to…”

“But why did you feed them to me?” You asked.

“To absorb their power. To move on,” he said, “It’s my family’s belief that once you ingest the meat of your enemy that you will overcome the barrier that they’ve created for you.”

You stood there, silent. You were afraid of what he would probably bring up next.

“You enjoyed it, didn’t you?” He asked, finally.

You averted your gaze and stared at the sink. “I...did.”

Yuta met your eyes through the mirror. “I know, y/n...And there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me.”

Tears escaped your eyes. Yuta was right. It’d felt...amazing. Empowering. And each of them were the best meals you’d ever had…

“Yuta?” You started.

“Yes, darling?”

“Never keep anything from me again,” you commanded.

_______

It had been a year since the news broke out over Scott’s disappearance. Johnny and Mr. Fox’s missing person cases had gone cold.

Since Scott was out of the picture, your mom had a mental break and was admitted into a rehabilitation facility. She is continually seeking treatment and is turning away visitors. She wrote you a letter, reflecting on her past mistakes and how she’d failed you as a mother. She apologized profusely and promised you that she would try to be sober.

And that’s all you’d ever hoped for from her. You knew that it would be a difficult journey. But the desire for change was the first step in the right direction. And you had a feeling your mom was going to succeed.

You married Yuta. Your father gave you away at the wedding. You were happy. You and Yuta traveled the world together. You had adopted two rescue dogs. To your friends and family, you and Yuta were the dream.

When you’d returned from your honeymoon, Yuta had bought a house for you two to start a family together. The first night in your new house, Yuta bred you.

You two laid in bed together. Yuta hugged you and asked, “So, has anyone screwed you over recently?”

You laughed. “Nope. Sucks for you, doesn’t it?”

He rolled his eyes and nipped at your ear. “A Nakamoto man’s gotta eat, y/n...Any ideas?”

You nuzzled into his neck. “You can always eat me.”

Yuta got a hard on at those words. “You’re too sweet for me to eat. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, y/n…”

You traced your fingers down his happy trail and asked. “Well, we can go hunting this week. I’m sure there’s some privileged college fuckboy that is beyond redemption…”

“You know what, y/n? There’s so many things I love about you but it’s your optimism that gets me hot.”

“Oh yeah?” You teased as you kissed him.

“I love you,” Yuta said between kisses.

“I love you, too,” you replied.

[Fin]

[nochiquinn]

campaign 2 episode 128:

continue to not chat on twich

marisha has been given an excuse to tie-dye

I'm already vibrating with anxiety, I'm not gonna make it through the episode

now polymorph him

he can't counterspell you if he's a turtle

caleb's a simple man, he sees trent, he does fire

liam already doesn't know how to do math, this is good

mala: you know what, they should take Trent to fight Lucien

stop magicking at hiiiim veth you have a guuuuun

throw sprinkle at him

"I think we broke dungeons and dragons"

"you have to say counterspell so I can counterspell you"

oh thank god

"holy buttholes"

marisha is just literally sitting on the back of her chair

if anybody remembers when the crowd chant for Adam Page was "cowboy shit", now you know how I say "dope monk shit" in my head

POODLE-'PALERS

hugs :(

trent eat shit and die challenge

go FUCK yourself you manipulative fucking cocksmear

"all you had to do was ask" fall off a cliff and dieeeeee

I want to draw for adhd reasons but also my hands are shaking so bad

trent making new accounts to get around an IP ban

ugHHHH I was worried about thiiiiis

"caleb's not having a good time" LIAM is not having a good time, he's about to pass out

someone make liam hydrate

fjord can feel the cosmos

v e t h

if any one of them gets even a little bit hurt caleb's gonna throw himself off a cliff

mala: Caleb's PTSD: this is why we didnt want friends

jester

one for kima. when they go get her. to come with them.

(I know kima's not coming, let me dream)

yezaaaa

travis doing the very slow dice roll to give laura time to do guidance

baptist ptsd flashbacks

I need this art

caleb's not having a good time

would caleb have bothered trying to appeal to anyone about it before the cobalt soul did right by beau?

caduceus's brain is my brain at all times

oh gross. I hate that. I hate everything about that.

did he make that name up on the spot or does he have a whole Chateau staff rolled up

mala: respectfully (deragatory)

butt facetime

"I miss people. I miss hugs." liam I don't need this

that sounds cozy as fuck

I'm a simple person, laura bailey cries, I cry

yeza speaks, I cry

veth you are selling this very poorly

caleb can't get more than ten feet from his emotional support halfling

"he's dead"

if that child learns magic yeza is going to have a coronary

caleb working to create a generation of wizards without intense emotional trauma

"I don't have a hat"

the SHADE

cad: if we can get down there without using the stairs

beau: am I a joke to you

"to bren" [kill bill sirens]

OH! IT THEY!

themmmmm

I'm gonna be so sad if they're actually evil

I don't want any of this

I mean I'm loving it but also I don't want it

mala: all of Luc's training was for this moment

aaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAA

marion :(

caduceus casts xanax

"information gathering expedition to the astral plane" he's so pretentious, it's a fucking nap

is beau's thing only spoken languages?

caleb's decision-making rights revoked

nobody is allowed to have ideas anymore

this is such a clusterfuck

my giiiiirl

you could see matt choosing violence in real time

Fish Date....2!!

[theliterarywolf]

So... Let's talk about Hetalia. Controversies, Specifically.

Tagging @apply-force-too-begin since they’re the one who was interested.

Hetalia was one of my first big fandoms outside of 'The Big Three' anime (Naruto, Bleach, One Piece) and outside of video games (mostly whatever wee babby weeaboo me could get on the Gamecube).

And, you know what? It's a dumb, silly anime about stereotypes, poking fun at the absurdities of History, and one's relationships with clashing cultures. It's dumb... But, remember, we all need our daily thirty minutes of dumb. And some of the characters are cute.

And, you know what? Most of the most engaging aspects of the fandom were those who used the initial shallow splash of history that the anime gave them to actually research and make engaging, well-written, culturally-sensitive content.

Of course, I'm not going to ignore how... Over-the-top some members of the fandom have been. We've seen how, whenever recent political conflict or natural disaster have occurred, we have to remind younger members of the Hetalia fandom to not cutsiefy it with the Hetalia characters. Examples that come to mind are: when the conflict between Russia and Ukraine was surging up, kids kept trying to draw art of 'Russia just wants his big sister back~!', and the last major earthquake that hit Japan that had people making fanart of the Japan character which, while some was tasteful and was meant to bring awareness and donations for Disaster Relief, not... all of it was...

Hell, that’s not even bringing into account the last time I went to Anime Expo (way back during Hetalia’s hayday), I was walking around and saw a bunch of Russia and Baltic State cosplayers being interviewed by the news and the one dressed up in a USSR uniform was holding up a Communist flag and shouting ‘Whoo! SOVIET TAKEOVER!!’

However, one thing that I have noticed, while researching for this write-up, was this:

Most of the controversies and pieces of fandom-wank that have surrounded Hetalia and its fandom... Aside from one instance... Are the results of the Western-fandom and Western-localization of the anime  via Funimation.

Aside from one... Most of the issues surrounding Hetalia are due to the West and not even the source media in of itself.

So, with that in mind, let's talk about the main controversies of both Hetalia and its fanbase.

Controversy 1 – The South Korea Controversy/Protests

As I recently answered a question about this, so I'll just pull that answer for this segment:

'To summarize it: there’s a Hetalia character meant to represent South Korea. As every Hetalia character has a gag related to them (America gorges himself on fast food and constantly proclaims himself to be the Hero, Italy is cowardly, Germany is constantly angry, China constantly builds Chinatowns wherever he goes and sells bootleg merchandise, etc), so did S. Korea.

His gag was calling all the other Asian countries ‘big brother’ as well as groping the chests of male characters (China and Japan mostly), proclaiming ‘these mountains belong to South Korea, da ze!’

Of course, people would draw pictures of S. Korea doing his thing but one day during a meeting between a bunch of South Korean politicians and representatives, someone brought out a piece of fanart that depicted S. Korea groping Japan’s chest with the latter looking embarrassed and what not.

They interpreted the character as being an offensive, lecherous stereotype that was somehow belittling S. Korea’s worth as a country.

There were a bunch of small protests until, finally, Himaruya Hidekazu (the creator of Hetalia) just decided to say “you know what? Fine! I’m not getting rid of the character but he’ll never appear in the anime adaptation, okay?!’

So… Yeah! Fun times…'

Magnitude of Controversy – MAJOR

Like... In what universe is 'this meme hurt my feewings, we need to take VALUABLE TIME DURING GOVERNMENT FORUMS to talk about it RATHER THAN OTHER PRESSING ISSUES' a good response? And the fact that people took to the streets to protest? Come on, guys! There's so much more to worry about in this world...

Controversy 2 – Emperor Heliogabalus and Himaruya's 'Transgender Erasure'

There was a section of time where Himaruya Hidekazu, rather than focusing on the nation characters of the series, made chapters and updates about certain historical figures. They were all done for laughs while interspersing various bits of trivia and facts about them.

One of these updates centered around the Roman emperor Heliogabalus (or 'Elagabalus'). And this is where certain portions of this hellsite got soooooo upset...

You see, Himaruya titled the update centered on Heliogabalus as 'The Emperor Who Tried to Live as a Woman... Even Though He Was Really a Guy'.

Almost immediately people were typing up callout posts about how 'transphobic' Himaruya was for the title and 'how dare he misgender my precious trans baby~!' or 'this just goes to show how ignorant Japanese people are to Western history' and so many more, all because Himaruya didn't use out-and-out female pronouns for Heliogabalus.

Now. Mm, two things!

One! This was during the time when Himaruya had an open blog where, not only did he post pictures and updates about where in the world he was traveling and what he was researching, but it also had an inbox that was open for people to send insight to him.

So, if people were really incensed by this, you would think that they would use such a means to let a creator know 'hey, this is kind of problematic; can you edit it to show this information', right?

Right?

NO ONE tried to inform Himaruya of their upset; they literally didn't want an answer, they just wanted to be upset!

But, here's the kicker: the guy that all of these people were stanning for? Emperor Heliogabalus?

WASN'T FUCKING TRANS!!

The real Heliogabalus was a sadistic little shit who was connivingly put on the throne by his mother via a bunch of espionage and assassinations... Who, as thanks, had his own mother murdered once he was emperor. Other wonderful exploits of this 'icon' that tumblr kids decided to stan was:

Getting politicians and countrymen drunk and then, while they were passed out, brought in lions to kill and eat them

Deciding 'fuck Jupiter, Helios is my husbando – We're all going to worship him now!'

Completely wrecking Rome's monetary system

Promising favors to his lovers (whom he called his 'husbands' despite not making anything official) that strictly contradicted favors to his other lovers

And just generally being a hot mess

So... why were tumblr children so insistent on him being a transgender woman?

You ready for this?

Okay.

Because he occaisionally dressed in women's clothing and called his male lovers his 'husbands'.

Yeah.

One of the earliest case of tumblr children trying to ruin someone's life because they didn't follow their headcanons.

Magnitude of Controversy – Honestly, this was just fandom-wank. But it was one of the earlier instances of fandom brats using serious terms (transphobia) to justify being upset at a creator not following their headcanons.

Controversy 3 – The Passover Photoshoot

…

…

I'm sorry, just...

Everytime I remember or have to go over this one, I have to stop and reflect; maybe grab a drink.

…

Okay.

So, pretty early into the Western reaches of the Hetalia fandom, a group of friends and Hetalia fans decided to meet up together at a mall for a cosplay photoshoot.

Okay. Cool. Fine.

They were all dressed up as their favorite characters from the series! Germany, Austria, Hungary, P-Prussia, Holy... Roman Empire...

Ahem. Okay. Cool. Fine.

So, they get to the mall and start taking pictures. But then someone in the group gets the amazing idea for everyone to do certain poses.

I... You know, why did I start this, I could have just not done thi--

Nazi salutes. You had a bunch of dumb kids dressed up as Germanic nations. Performing Nazi salutes and shouting 'Heil Hitler'.

Now, as bad as this was... you could have just drawn it out as shitty edgelord humor; we still have plenty of that going on today.

H-however. There were two factors that made this photoshoot 50 Shades of Tasteless.

Number one. This photoshoot took place during Passover.

And number two. The mall that this photoshoot took place at...

WAS JUST A HOP, SKIP, AND A JUMP FROM THE UNITED STATES HOLOCAUST MUSEUM!!!

This is the one, THE ONE, instance where, anytime someone talks about 'lol, young Hetalia fans are so cringey', this is what pops into my head.

Those of us older members of the fandom can never fucking forget this. Yeah, the perpetrators were called out; yeah, they learned their lessons, yeah it opened up a conversation about appropriate behavior in fandom. But this one event will always remain as the big 'Ooh, baby, nooooo! What are you doing?!' moment in the fandom.

Even moreso than what the current batch of hatedum is about.

Magnitude of Controversy – Huge. The South Korea controversy was discussed on a governmental scale, but the Passover Photoshoot is what remains as the biggest mark on the fandom.

Controversy 4 - FUCKING FUNIMATION!!

Okay, I... 

This one is so infuriating because it’s the result of Funimation just not giving a DAMN.

So, Hetalia got popular enough to be localized! Yay... And it was going to be handled by Funimation. Yay... They do quality work... Sometimes.

*kicks the Black Butler dub into the sun*

So, they dubbed Hetalia. And, you know what? So many questionable decisions went into this fucking dub. 

You have Vic Mignogna! You! *clap* Have! *clap* Vic! *clap* Mignogna! You could have easily put him as one of the Axis characters or the Allied characters and you...

Don’t use him...

Until three seasons down the line...

And then you have him as Greece. 

A character who barely says anything.

... And this was WAY before the clusterfuck of KickVic, so they really had no excuse. 

Oh, also! For China, who is a main character, maybe we should have an actual voice-actor?

Pssh! Fuck that shit, let’s just have some random chick from accounting voice him. 

... They literally had some random-chick from accounting do an overly stereotypical Chinese accent and said ‘yeah, that’s fine; print!’

And she gave us such... wonderful line-reads as: during the Hetalia movie Paint It, White! --

“SUCK BALLS! I knew za fortune cookie today was bad ruck~!”

But as bad as the dub got sometimes (Oh God, I’m having war flashbacks of Russia...), the exchange from the dub that people constantly point to as ‘see! This show was antisemitic all along!’ were these: 

Exchange 1 - 

S. Italy/Romano - ‘Hey asshole, I have a surprise for you~!’

Germany - ‘What is it? Another Jew?’

And, you know what? As asinine and idiotic as that brief exchange was... 

IT WASN’T IN THE ORIGINAL MATERIAL!

Funimation, in their infinite wisdom, wrote that in and thought ‘yeah, that’s fine; print!’

So, there goes another issue of ‘problem that only existed because of the idiocy of a Western presence’.

Magnitude of Controversy - Well, people are still talking about it, despite it literally being because of Funimation’s laziness, so...

'Controversy' 5 – The Civil War fanart

So, this segment will be short because it doesn't even need to exist. But, you may have noticed an upsurge in people hating on the series again; even going so far as to raid Discord servers for fans of the series with gore.

Hell, I even scrolled past one person doing a 'call to arms' for people to spam any server that has to do with Hetalia as a big 'gotcha'.

And you wanna know where this fandom-wank started?

Someone on tumblr re-posted an old piece of... questionable chibi fanart of Confederate!America and Union!America. Union!America is hiding a slave woman behind him while shouting at Confederate!America to 'Pick your own damn cotton!'

(deep breath... okay)

And, while the art in of itself is... not great, the fact that it is an old piece of fanart and that someone posted it onto tumblr for the 'lol, look at this cringe' lolz, is what rallied some people to start shitting on fans of the show and raiding servers.

There also may have been some drama over on picrew by some teenage LGBT user lashing out at the whole 'stop spamming Picrew with gay shit' sentiment and then some edgelord over on this hellsite screencapping their game and talking about 'lol, of course it would be a cringey Hetalian to post some dumb shit like this; get off the site, queer' but, honestly, this last one, while being the reason why people are acting dumber than usual, is the most inconsequential.

Magnitude of the Controversy – It would be minimal at best, especially compared to the other ones in this write-up, but like I said, it does have some trickling into the current hatedumb.

So, yeah, here was my little write-up/mini-dive into the madness. You guys can let me know if you want more insight or if you have any questions, and I love you and buh-bye!

[cjayshadesc]

My Summer & My Future

My summer has been a compilation of great strides and great disappointment.

Every summer, everyone tells themselves something along the lines of "I'm gonna get a job" or "I'm gonna get my driver's license".

Some type of goal or milestone. Maybe you try to reconnect with family, or distance yourself from negative vibes and toxicity.

Well me...

I didn't set any specific goals. With me going in and out of depression, job searching, managing/producing/engineering & recording music. As well as some issues at home, and recently taking up the responsibility of a relationship, my time has been virtually limited.

That's not an excuse, even if those do sound as such. Like I had mentioned before, this summer has had it's ups and downs.

For example, I've come into contact with loads of talent from all over. Vocalists, rappers, producers, graphic designers & photographers.

Though I come home to double standards and stale gimmics.

I guess you can't have good without some bad to balance it out🤷‍♂️

But I've got some good news for you guys, my supporters and fans.

Since I finally made it to senior year of high school... And overbook is a clusterfuck of madness and confusion that leads to 8 hours of wasted time, I finally have time to fix my social media the way I want.

That means YouTube updates, genius updates, (yes I've been saying I'll update my genius but I'm for real this time 😭🤦‍♂️) more posts on here, (Tumblr) Google posts, proper use of my Instagram, and of course more music projects with names you may be familiar with in the distant future🙏

If you've been with me from the start I appreciate how much you care. That gives me inspiration and I seriously couldn't even begin to consider where I'd be without you guys💯

With that said... Stay tuned for greatness

-Shades

[pertinax--loculos]

Character Study “Intro”: Moran

My name is…

Ah, what does it matter.

Call me Ishmael. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. The clocks are striking thirteen.

Whatever.

I’ve lost everything.

It was worth it.

I’m sure there are people who would disagree with me. There always are. But what the fuck are you supposed to do in a situation like that? People can sit up in their high towers and wax lyrical about black and white morality, but for fuck’s sake, the world is fashioned in shades of grey.

Guess it just took me a little too long to figure that out.

I can’t ever go back, at this point. What I did, what I was forced to do, I mean— that in itself is bad enough, sure. But in the clusterfuck that followed, the bridges I burned, the excuses I made, the decision to flee; none of them will ever look at me the same again.

I wish that didn’t hurt as much as it did.

Fuck, I even wish it hurt in the right way.

Jesus fucking Christ, now even I’m doing it. The world tells us we’re supposed to feel a particular way about particular people. I never really could get the hang of that. Though even that could be chalked up to another misunderstanding about the world, when you get down to it. Or an assumption, more accurately. An expectation.

I’m so fucking sick of fulfilling people’s expectations.

Almost as sick as I am of failing to live up to them.

I should’ve told Gracie something. Jesus, she’s gonna latch onto that fucking bastard even more now, with me gone. I wish I’d taken the time to explain to her why it is that I never wanted to know him. I wish I’d told her more than the dismissive bullshit I peddled every time she brought it up. She deserves to know the truth. And god knows he’s not gonna tell her. Nah, he’ll just do what he did to our mother; ingratiate himself into her life until she feels like she can’t live without him, and then take her for everything she’s got.

Yeah, so if I had one regret? That’d be it.

That and Alicia.

And Mandy.

And Rush.

Jesus Christ.

I’ve just gotta narrow my focus. Only think about what would’ve happened if I didn’t do what I did. That— that really doesn’t bear thinking about. And that’s why I know — even with all those regrets, even with the loss of my job and my friends and my life, that I did the right thing. That it was fucking worth it.

I’ve just gotta hold onto that.

Throughout whatever the fuck it is that comes next.

[qqueenofhades]

i know you [i walked with you once upon a dream]: five

Post-1x16 canon divergence. When Lucy Preston, a history professor at Stanford University, is visited by a strange man who tells her that her entire world is a lie, she is drawn into a mystery more dangerous than she could have dreamed, and a hunt for a past she can’t remember. But who, or what, is she going to find – or lose – along the way?

chapter four/AO3

Wyatt Logan’s first impression of the place is that it looks like a huge blue aquarium with the water drained out, walls of glass for the crowds to press in and gawk, the trained whales doing tricks for their captors and everyone hoping you don’t spend too long thinking about whether this is, strictly speaking, entirely ethical. He’s been rousted out of bed (well, the couch, with the TV still on and droning SportsCenter) and driven here, while the person on the other end of the phone had that harried sound to their voice that usually means a VIP was shot or a building blown up. They said they needed him, and they said they needed him ASAP. He might be on leave, but he’s still Delta Force. No choice but to pull on his pants, grab a Red Bull, and go.

Now, as Wyatt’s shown into the conference room and shakes hands with a lot of identity-badged government types, surreptitiously checking his breath to make sure it doesn’t smell too much like alcohol and biting his tongue on the questions that he knows won’t get an answer. Yet, at any rate. This has all the hallmarks of a rapid-response mission debrief, and while it might be good to get his head back in the game, Wyatt can’t help but wonder why they picked him. His last review with the Pendleton brass ended with the gentle but pointed recommendation that he could use some time away from the service. They know the thing with Jessica has been hard. (Hah. They know it’s been hard.) So he’s been doing – not a whole hell of a lot. Sports talk shows. Cheap beer. Sitting on the couch. Staring at the wall. Maybe a mission is just what he needs.

The rest of the government types make their entrance, along with Connor Mason, the smarmy British CEO of the company whose premises Homeland Security seems to have swiped. Wyatt’s heard of these guys. They were just in the paper for some big cutting-edge engineering project. He glances at Mason’s assistant or techie or whatever he is, who he vaguely remembers in the haze of hurried introductions as Rufus, Rufus Carlin. Wyatt has a momentarily impulse to wave to him. He clenches his fist until it goes away.

The security shades are lowered, and the briefing starts. As Wyatt guessed, it’s indeed a mission, and moreover, they are quite insistent on it being him who does it. He charitably holds back from the obvious objections this raises, but when they get to the main problem, he can’t. “What? Are you serious? You’re trying to apprehend a terrorist suspect, and your big plan is to send an untrained woman, an unarmed civilian, in with just a GPS tracker by herself? No wonder she got kidnapped! I’m shocked she didn’t get killed!”

“Mr. Logan, given the intelligence available, and the particularity of the situation, we considered the options and decided it was the best available.”

Wyatt whistles. “Wow. I really don’t want to know what the others were then, do I? Chickens on fire? A big sign telling any terrorists to stand with their hands up until the cops got there?”

“We realize that on face value, this was a risk.” The agent looks cool, as if they’re not going to sit here and be questioned by him. “However – ”

“I’m not asking all of you to think like special ops – and for that matter, I would have been raked over the coals and booted out on the spot if I’d suggested that plan to a superior with a straight face. I am not even asking you to be highly trained risk managers. I’m asking whether it ever occurred to you for one fucking second that this was like giving an angry baboon a Tommy gun: that the outcome was both terrible and idiotically avoidable.”

“Mr. Logan, we made a decision – ”

“Stupid,” Wyatt says. “Let’s be clear. You made a stupid decision.”

Rufus Carlin coughs. It sounds as if it might be intended to conceal a laugh. Whatever, Wyatt didn’t come here to be the Jon Stewart of late-night security crises, but he’s really not in the mood for this. It almost sounds like a bad joke, since surely no credible intelligence agency would have made that decision with a straight face. It would only remotely have a chance of working if there was a personal connection of some sort between the suspect and the victim, if they could set it up as a sting. But if this woman knows terrorists on enough of a familiar basis to make her an option to catch one, why haven’t they –

“Do I even get to know who she is?” Wyatt asks. “This woman that you clowns decided to dangle out for bait?”

Glances are exchanged. They seem to be debating it. Then one says, “Her name is Dr. Lucy Preston. She’s a history professor at Stanford.”

Wyatt’s heart inexplicably skips a beat. They click a photo up onto the screen, and yes, it’s her, the brunette he met the other night, being hassled by more of these award-winning geniuses. Or at least, he thinks it might have been them, since all the sunglasses-and-suits types look alike. He did flash them his Army ID card, so that might be backfiring on him now, if they are having their revenge by making him clean up their messes. Damned if he knows how that works, but still. For some reason he wasn’t prepared for and doesn’t understand, this catches him off guard. If it’s Lucy – Dr. Preston – who’s been snatched by this weirdo, Wyatt isn’t quite as disinterested in the whole clusterfuck as he was a moment ago. Hell if he knows why.

“Ah,” he says, doing his best to sound neutral. “And who has her?”

“His name,” says the lead agent, the beefy, bearded one who Wyatt recalls as Neville, Jake Neville, “is Flynn.”

Wyatt, for an even more baffling instant, is convinced he knows exactly who that is. Has an odd memory of sitting in an apartment, talking to a woman, telling her that the man was a Russian spy – only for him to see Flynn (was it Flynn?) outside, jabbing something into a boy’s arm. He thought it was poison, some kind of drug or other malicious substance, but it turned out to be epinephrine. Saved the kid from dying of an allergic reaction to the bee sting, said something to the woman, and jumped off the balcony. Wyatt got a few shots off at him, but he managed to drive away. Car. Black car. Kind of vintage-looking. Why does this memory feel – not quite present? Aside from the fact that it’s not even a memory, seeing as it never happened, and it’s strong enough to make Wyatt rub his eyes and briefly wonder if he fell asleep, had some kind of intense and localized dream. What the hell.

“And,” he says after a moment, realizing they’re looking at him, “you want me to go after him. Again. By myself. Because either you don’t have enough of a budget to pay for more than one operative on your exfil missions, or there’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Would you say you’re familiar with Mr. Flynn? Or Dr. Preston?”

Wyatt opens his mouth to say no, of course he isn’t, but something stops him. It’s at the least unfair to Lucy (Dr. Preston, he reminds himself again, he doesn’t know the woman) to let her suffer for the total incompetence of the feds, and he’d kind of like to have a clear shot at this jackoff himself, even if he doesn’t know why. And while they’d again be sending only one person to deal with a clearly dangerous man, a trained Delta Force operative is not the same as an unarmed academic when it comes to such things. Wyatt can’t believe he’s considering it, when thirty minutes ago this sounded like the worst idea he’d ever heard, but. . .

“So what?” he says abruptly. “I get on the plane to Paris, you drop me in, I find these two, I rescue her – what are my orders in regard to him?”

More glances. Then Agent Neville says, “Frankly, Mr. Logan, we would normally issue kill-on-sight instructions for this man. What he has done, and what he will do – there’s no room for any wishy-washy hand-wringing about it. He deserves to die. But as it happens, we need him alive.”

“Questioning?” That one’s pretty obvious. “You really think you’re gonna make him talk?”

Neville smiles, a bit unpleasantly. “Oh, I think we could, if we put our minds to it.”

Wyatt looks away. He has captured suspects before with the implicit knowledge that they’ll be submitted to “extraordinary rendition” or “enhanced interrogation” or whatever Orwellian gobbledygook they’re calling it these days, and he also knows that as a soldier, you don’t enlist because you think you’ll always have the luxury of accepting missions that you are personally morally comfortable with. Flynn is clearly dangerous, he’s on the run in Paris with Lucy (Wyatt gives up trying to call her Dr. Preston in his head) and frankly, right now, if the brass says jump, Wyatt has to ask how high. He can tell this is a test. They’re sending him, and only him, because if he fails, they’ll have all the excuse they need to chuck him out permanently. Dishonorable discharge, no pension. Good luck getting a civilian job after over fifteen years in the service, training for classified missions and serving in conflict zones. And something more. Something else. Whatever is happening when he had those bizarre flashes of non-memory, and his conviction that he knows these people – knows both of them – better than he understands.

Wyatt takes a moment to consider all this. He’s not in a huge rush to accept, but he also can tell that it’s going to get finicky for him, fast, if he refuses. What exactly does he have to go back to? A sagging sofa crumbled with corn chips and more bad dreams about Jessica? At least this way he’s doing something. At least this way he doesn’t feel completely and irredeemably useless.

They look at him. They seem to be waiting on his answer.

Wyatt blows out a breath. There are still any number of sardonic comments to be made about him saving their asses from their own breathtaking stupidity, but he also senses that they aren’t going to help him very much. Lucy is probably tied up in some squalid basement with a lunatic. He gets her safe. Then he worries about Flynn.

“Fine,” he says. Shrugs. “Bonjour, Paris.”

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

Lucy is, in fact, sitting on a narrow bed in a garret that looks like a poet or three definitely died of consumption here in the nineteenth century, waiting for Flynn to get back with dinner – she ordered him that if he was going to haul her off, he was at least going to feed her. He gave her a black look, but complied, and has been gone for the last thirty minutes in search of takeout. She wonders if he’s been captured; they have to have put out an alert for him across the city. She isn’t sure if she wants that to have happened or not.

She wanders to the grimy window, judging the possibility of opening it and escaping across the rooftops, but it’s three stories down to the alley below, she doesn’t want to take chances climbing out as she is known to not be the most graceful or coordinated person in the world, and she isn’t sure where she’d go even if she did. Besides, she hasn’t endured this much hassle, most of it caused by him, to just turn and leave when potential answers might finally be in her grasp. It’s possible he is in fact going to hurt her, but for better or worse, she doesn’t get that sense. Hurt everyone else, yes, and gladly. Not her. This doesn’t make him a good man, or a safe one. But at the moment, he is the best, and possibly the only, choice she has.

Just to be sure, she checks the door. It is assuredly still locked. She isn’t planning on hanging around if he turns rabid, but she’ll have to think of a good plan later. Instead she stands by the window, affecting casualness, as the city gets dark outside and the lights come on. It’d be beautiful, if she wasn’t, you know. Where she was.

At last, the key finally rattles, the door bumps and creaks open with a shower of dust, and Flynn ducks through, slamming it behind him. When he’s ensured it’s locked, he throws a bag at her, which Lucy just manages to catch. “There,” he says, sounding put-upon. “Dinner.”

“Can’t just kidnap a woman in peace, can you?” Lucy says coldly. It smells delicious, but she doesn’t want to tear into it too quickly, even though she’s starving. “This is such an inconvenience for you, isn’t it?”

He actually looks surprised, and for a moment, slightly ashamed. Then he shrugs. “You aren’t a prisoner, Lucy. As I told you ninety years ago in this same city. You’re welcome to leave if you want. But I don’t think you will.”

“Ninety years ago – ?”

He shrugs again, jimmying the ancient light switch until it pops on. “1927. We were here. You talked me into letting Charles Lindbergh live, see if he could change. He still ended up being a dick. So in case you were wondering, you were wrong about that.”

Lucy stares at him. Any possible response to this statement – well, there really isn’t any possible response to that statement. “Yeah,” she says at last. “I spent a lot of time wondering if I talked you out of murdering Charles Lindbergh in 1927.”

Flynn sits down on the creaky chair across from her. He’s so tall that they’re still almost eye to eye, and she folds her arms involuntarily, wanting some air of authority, however feigned. “You really didn’t read the file?”

“Was I supposed to have time while you were stealing a scooter, breaking into a bakery, and shooting at government agents?” Lucy finally sits as well, back on the bed, opening the bag and pulling out whatever savory-smelling item is inside. “Or didn’t that come until later?”

Flynn has the grace to look slightly chagrined, though that isn’t very much. “Have you figured it out?” he says instead. “Smart woman like you?”

“Maybe.” Lucy looks at him stonily. “You not only think we know each other, you think we’re some sort of – I don’t know what.  A bit like. . . time travelers.”

“Actually,” Flynn says, with the air of someone commenting on the weather. “Exactly like time travelers.”

Lucy blinks. “And you just – what? Tell people that?”

“You’re the one interested in preserving your precious past, Lucy. Not me.”

“It’s not my precious past!” Good god, this man is the most confounding and frustrating person she has ever met, which she is swiftly remembering (and regretting) after her decision to try to get information out of him. “It’s just. . . history!”

“History,” Flynn says, “can be changed.”

“How?”

He eyes her, as if wondering how much trouble he is actually going to go to in order to explain this. Then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a few folded sheets of paper – which, when Lucy opens it, proves to be a photocopy of some kind of handwritten book. Some kind of handwritten book that looks like. . . her handwriting.

“The journal itself doesn’t exist any more,” Flynn says, by way of apparent (non)-explanation. “You never had any reason to write it. But I copied some of it before I went, and. . . that’s the basic gist of it. Are you going to tell me that none of it is at all familiar?”

Lucy stares at it. She can’t deny that it does look like her handwriting, and he is watching her impatiently, as if they’ve done this already once before and he wants to just skip to the part where she believes him. Names leap out at her from the page. Mason Industries. Mothership. Lifeboat. Garcia Flynn. Wyatt Logan. Rufus Carlin.

Rittenhouse.

“So,” she says at last, when she’s reasonably confident her voice will be level. “That’s your big story. That Mason Industries invented a time machine – two time machines, actually. You stole one of them – why doesn’t that part surprise me? – and Wyatt Logan, Rufus Carlin, and I used the other one to try to stop you from taking down all of history.”

“Not history,” Flynn says flatly. “Rittenhouse.”

“Right. Creepy secret society. Your mortal enemy.” Lucy looks at him with that same flatness. “I’ll admit,” she says at last, “that if you were going to make up that story, you’d probably put a more favourable spin on it for yourself. But you have to know this sounds utterly deranged.”

“I’m not interested in arguing about whether it’s true, Lucy. It is. You know the part in the stories when magic starts happening, where the token rational character insists that there’s some normal explanation for what’s going on, that there’s nothing out of the ordinary? That everyone else is just making things up? You know how that character is always wrong?” His eyes are dark as two pits, depthless. “How about we just agree that you skip that part?”

“But – ”

“Let me guess,” Flynn says. “You’ve been having strange memories about Houston,1969. About thinking you were there, that you had something to do with the moon landing, even as that scholar’s brain of yours tells you that you hadn’t. And either 1754 or 1934. Maybe, at a stretch, 1972 or 1893.”

Lucy stares at him again. “How did you – ”

“Because that’s where it’s started to split.” He considers her, weighing his words. “In the middle. I destroyed the Mothership, as you said I could. It turns out that this was a bad idea on both our parts. It reset it to the timeline where none of this had technically happened, but it built in so much paradox that it’s starting to happen anyway. The changes we made are bursting back into existence randomly, like cluster bombs. We can’t be sure when or where they’ll hit – or who. And if you care about your sister, you’re going to help me find a way to stop it.”

Lucy’s spine stiffens. “If you’re threatening Amy – ”

“I’m not threatening her!” Flynn looks completely exasperated. “I’m warning you that in the new existence, the one that came about as the result of our meddling, she was gone! She was never born, and my wife and daughter were dead! You already said that Lorena vanished. It could be that she’s already just. . . gone, and there’s no getting her back.” A muscle works in his cheek. He does look genuinely frantic. “If the timeline remembered that she was supposed to be dead – don’t you see? Your sister could be the next to go! Just like that.”

Lucy is thoroughly rattled. She likewise should have a logical answer for this, but she doesn’t. “But my. . .” she says at last, faintly. “My sister exists. She’s a person, she’s real, she’s here. How can she just. . . not?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn stares at the ceiling, bleak and drained. “But it happened before. She was gone. And the only thing you wanted was to get her back, the same way I wanted nothing more than to save my wife and child. If you wait until she’s gone again this time, it’ll be too late.”

Lucy has absolutely nothing to say to that. So this is what he wants: for them to join forces to stop their respective loved ones from vanishing in a puff of unsustainable spatial-temporal paradox, thanks to changes to history that they themselves made with the aid of a time machine. Cracked, of course, does not begin to cover it. And it would be difficult enough if they were ordinary people. Wanted fugitives from God knows how many federal agencies, with the added complication of whoever he thinks these Rittenhouse people are. . . Lucy can’t think of any feasible way to pull it off. As well, she’s a historian, not a quantum physicist. She can advise on the general facts of the past, but for putting up the hood and tinkering with the engine. . . yeah, she’s lost on that. There’s still no scrap of proof for his story, either, and she represses the academic’s urge to ask for it, for a citation, for empirical, verifiable evidence. She’s scrawled it on her students’ papers all the time. Show me where the text supports this argument.

They remain staring at each other for an excruciating moment longer. She again has to concede that she doesn’t know why he would make this up. It does look like her handwriting in the photocopy, and everything he’s known about the unreality of her reality. . . that nagging feeling that something is out of place, that things are out of order and memories can’t be counted on. It does exactly match the version she got from Lorena, about what Flynn told her, so if he is a delusional liar, at least he’s a consistent one. Agent Christopher did use the word “unprecedented” when talking about whatever he wants to do.

What the hell.

Lucy remains irresolute a split second more. Then at last, she looks at him straight. “Fine,” she says quietly. “What do we do?”

Given Flynn’s apparent predilection for kidnapping and grand theft larceny, she shouldn’t be too surprised that the answer involves this, and it also doesn’t, to her ears, sound like much of a plan. He says that one of the rules of time travel (cool, Lucy thinks, good to know there are rules) is that you can’t travel on your own timeline, go back to anywhere you’ve already been, so you have to be indirect about changing things. Can’t just pop back five minutes before and get a do-over on that bad day or anything else. He’s confident, however, that a scientist of sufficient genius, if given a sufficient incentive, could create a one-time loophole to circumvent this. All he needs to do is reverse the decision to destroy the Mothership, so reality is allowed to proceed more or less as it was, with the possibility for the changes to exist harmoniously with the new timeline. That way, they still have their loved ones, but they don’t put so much stress on the space-time continuum that it threatens to snap at any moment and erase them. Everyone wins.

“Really?” Lucy repeats skeptically. “Which scientist?”

“Rufus.” Flynn looks at her as if it’s surprising she needs to ask.

“And what? How do we get him?”

“I grab him, of course!”

“What? No!” Lucy glares at him. “I did not agree to help you hurt people!”

“I wouldn’t hurt him. Just borrow him until he figures it out.”

“Your kind of borrowing is known as kidnapping!” Lucy puts her hands on her hips. “After you caused enough of a mess fiddling around with reality and the Mothership and putting strain on the timeline, as well as kidnapping people, your solution is to – put more strain on the timeline and kidnap more people? No!”

“You agreed to help me, Lucy.” His voice is low, almost a growl. “Help me.”

“Not like this.” Lucy regards him defiantly. “Think of a better plan.”

Flynn is inordinately frustrated by this principled stance, wheeling away with a curse. “It’s going to be dangerous enough if we bring the Mothership back. Or – ”

“Or what?” Lucy flashes back. “You’ll steal it again?”

Flynn looks as if he is very much regretting buying her dinner earlier. Good. She hopes he’s regretting a whole lot. “I am,” he says after a moment, clearly doing his best to keep his voice level, “trying to think of something that will do what we need to, as efficiently as possible. There’s still the Lifeboat, even if it doesn’t currently work. Get Rufus to create enough of a loophole for us to use it to reverse the decision to destroy the Mothership. This time we’ll just blow its controls and CPU, so it’s useless, rather than eradicate it entirely. Nobody even has to die this time. I thought you’d be pleased.”

“Nobody has to die this time?” Lucy repeats. “As opposed to what, all the other times?”

Flynn waves a hand impatiently. “Nobody anyone would miss.”

“I’m not sure you get to make that call.”

“What, and you do?” He paces to the window, peers out, and pulls his gun from his jacket, checking that it’s loaded, which is not the most comforting action for a still-probably-crazy man holding you technically captive to undertake. Even if Lucy doesn’t think he’ll use it on her, that doesn’t rule it out on anyone who might try to interrupt. Someone has to be looking for her. You’d hope so, at least. That after all the fuss and furor and the fact that Flynn snatched her when she was supposed to be the reason they snatched him, there has to be some beating of feet involved to get her back. The question, though, is whether she’s going to let them.

Lucy can’t believe she’s actually, genuinely thinking about helping Flynn, but it’s clear enough that something is going on, Lorena did vanish, and she’d rather not take chances. She thinks wryly that it might be far easier for her to suggest non-murdery alternatives if she knew for a fact that this was actually real and not just his extensive fantasy, but still.

“Tell me,” he says after a moment. “Aren’t you a little bit curious?”

“About what?”

“The past.” His teeth flash in a sardonic grin. “Being there. Seeing it.”

“By the sounds of things, I didn’t have much time to sightsee,” Lucy says coolly. “Not if you were acting like this.”

Flynn absorbs that with an obnoxiously unruffled shrug. It’s true that they seem to have fallen into a kind of familiarity, almost without meaning to, if she’s prodding him about things they’ve done which she can’t, strictly speaking, remember. She returns to the bed and finishes her dinner, which has been somewhat interrupted by all this revelation, and has a moment to wonder if they’re planning to stay here tonight. Flynn isn’t the sort of person who’s going to stay long in one place, with a mission in mind and a manhunt on his tail, and they’ll probably try to sneak out once he’s sure it’s full dark and they’re not being observed. Lucy should likely try to get a few winks while she can, as she hasn’t slept since the plane ride to Dubrovnik and she’s starting to see double with exhaustion. She crawls onto the bed, curling up on her side. World in danger of ending or not, she needs a damn nap.

As she closes her eyes, she catches the quickest glimpse of a strange expression on Flynn’s face, as if it’s caught him off guard that she trusts him at least enough to fall asleep in his presence, to think that he won’t hurt her or otherwise let her come to harm. If she’s wrong, she’s wrong, but so be it. Later.

Lucy must indeed sleep, because she’s jerked out of a strange dream some interminable time later. It’s very dark. Flynn is sitting on the floor next to the bed, which can’t be very comfortable, drowsing with a hand inside his jacket – or at least he was. Whatever has roused her has caught his attention as well, and he gets stealthily to his feet, pulling his gun. Crosses the floorboards without a creak, waiting by the door, as there is another faint thump on the stairs outside. A click, and a clunk. The handle moves quietly. Someone’s trying to get in.

Lucy goes tense, drawing her legs up and tempted to dive behind the bed in case gunfire breaks out, as the latch works and saws back and forth. Flynn remains tense as a diver on the edge of the high board, waiting, waiting. Then the lock gives, the door opens, and he pounces like a jaguar.

There’s a muffled yell, a crash, the sound of something – it doesn’t take an expert to guess that it’s a gun – flying out of someone’s hand, and the further sound of a silent and furious struggle, grunting and huffing and swearing, as Flynn tackles someone on the landing outside. There is the distinct noise of fists hitting flesh, struggling bodies, a thump, a bang, and general semi-silent pandemonium as they roll inside the room, still whaling on each other. Then Lucy jumps up, dives for the light switch, and lays hold of it just in time to discover Flynn busily engaging in beating the daylights out of someone. Someone who is, impossibly, familiar.

The name bursts to her lips before she can stop it.

“Wyatt?”

He twists his head sharply to stare at her, which isn’t a good idea, as Flynn promptly punches it while he’s distracted. He flails back, landing a glancing blow, as Lucy pulls Flynn off and there are several further moments of general confusion until the chaos subsides. Wyatt sits up spitting blood and swearing, seems inclined to reach for his gun, and in the interests of preventing a full-blown firefight from breaking out, Lucy jumps in the middle. “What are you – ” Yes, he was the one who rescued her from the goons the other night, but he’s also supposed to be the one – of two, at any rate – who was her time-traveling teammate. “What are you doing here?”

“Rescuing you.” Wyatt wipes his mouth and grimaces. “Though this wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Yes,” Flynn growls. “I know what you were expecting.”

“You.” Wyatt regards him coldly. “They definitely got the dick part right.”

“Lucy’s fine. You can toddle along. Typical. Always interfering even when you can’t remember.” Flynn is no slacker in the baleful-stare department himself. “Or is it that you – ”

Wyatt completely ignores him. “You all right, ma’ – Lucy?”

She considers for a long moment. She’s not about to stay blindly beholden to Flynn on his insane crusade, but she isn’t going to abandon him flat-out either, and if the story’s true, Wyatt was her ally – her friend. Whatever both of them are supposed to remember, he doesn’t, and before any decisions are made in haste, he should at least be aware of what’s at stake.

She pauses, then reaches for the photocopied pages, ignoring Flynn’s hiss of disapproval. If these belong to some mythical journal she was supposed to have written once upon a time, she gets to decide who sees them, and this feels instinctively right in a way she can’t define or explain, to do this. With that, as Wyatt is still looking utterly baffled, she holds them out to him.

“Here,” she says quietly. “I think there’s something you should know.”