#if they have visas of some sort there's no need to hide

[beardedmrbean]

Springfield, Ohio, was thrust into the national spotlight this election cycle due to the vast number of Haitian migrants who had settled in the town over the last few years, but some of those migrants have already packed their bags and left in the wake of President-elect Trump’s sweeping win.

The town, which according to the 2020 census has under 60,000 residents, has struggled to cater to a population boom between 15,000 to 20,000 Haitian migrants following decades of population decline. Residents have complained that the uncontrolled influx has drained resources and services, made the town less safe, driven up rents and caused longer wait times for medical and social services.

Locals have especially expressed frustrations over road safety, arguing that immigrants who have no to little experience driving in their home countries have been allowed to take to the streets with ease, causing a dangerous situation on the roads.

Many of those migrants had settled in the community having attained the ability to live and work in the U.S. for a limited time thanks to temporary protected status (TPS) but President-elect Trump signaled on the campaign trail he would yank such permits, striking fear into the migrants, some of whom have already fled the town ahead of Trump’s return to office. 

"People are leaving," Margery Koveleski, of the Haitian Community Alliance (HCA), tells the Guardian.

"Some folks don’t have credit cards or access to the internet, and they want to buy a bus ticket or a plane ticket, so we help them book a flight."

Jacob Payen, a co-founder of the HCA who also runs a business that includes helping Haitians in Springfield to file tax returns, also told the publication that migrants have been leaving.

"People are fully aware of the election result, and that is why they are leaving; they are afraid of a mass deportation," Payen said. 

"Several of my customers have left. One guy with his family went to New Jersey; others have gone to Boston. I know three families that have gone to Canada."

Some of the Haitian migrants are thought to have moved to nearby cities such as Dayton, where they believe they would be less visible to law enforcement, while others who had temporary asylum in Brazil are considering going back to the South American country, per the Guardian, citing community leaders.

Migrants have been fleeing their home nation since it was plunged into a political crisis in 2018 with protests sweeping the island it shares with the Dominican Republic. Gang violence has exploded in the country and a transitionary council removed Haitian Prime Minister Garry Conille from office earlier this month, replacing him in the role after just six months.

Springfield became a flashpoint in the presidential election when both President-elect Trump and Vice-President elect JD Vance claimed that Haitian migrants were eating pets there.  

"They're eating the dogs, the people that came in, they're eating the cats," Trump said on the debate stage against Vice-President Harris. "They're eating the pets of the people that live there, and this is what's happening in our country, and it's a shame."

Trump has also vowed to carry out the largest deportation operation in the history of the U.S. and has appointed hardliner South Dakota Gov. Kristi Noem to serve as secretary of the Department of Homeland Security (DHS) while Tom Homan will be the new "Border Czar." 

The DHS oversees U.S. Customs and Border Protection, Immigration and Customs Enforcement, the U.S. Secret Service and the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA). Noem will also oversee TPS and has deployed the state National Guard to the southern border several times in recent years.

Payen believes that droves of Haitian migrants leaving the town will have a detrimental impact on the local economy and in other states. 

The Guardian reports that the Haitian migrants filled thousands of jobs at area packaging and auto plants, which have helped rejuvenate the area, while Haitian restaurants regularly source food from other states.

"I pay thousands of dollars in income and property taxes every year," Payen told the outlet. "And – because I work with Haitians to file their taxes – I see their W-2s and so on. If these people leave, that money is gone from the city and the local economy."

[gremlingottoosilly]

in if you need to be mean, would the reader ever try to escape? and if she did, how would konig react? thinking about like, she planned for a few months how would she escape him, and she feels very conflicted bc she loves him, but she wants freedom and thats the only thing konig would never give her. so when hes away she takes the car and just goes. i dont know where, but shes so desperate te be free again to do whatever she likes without him hovering and always by her side trying to control what she does! would he feel sad? would he be devastated? would he go after her? i know that theres like a 1% chance of it happening but im so curious about how he would react and how it would change their relationship.

anyway, love your fanfics gremlin you're a genius!!! 🫶

Konig made everything in his power to prevent her from escaping without locking her up and breaking her legs, but it doesn't mean he won't do it.

He refuses to let her study German because he moved her to this foreign country without her knowing the language, and he specifically chose a distant tiny town in the middle of the Austrian woods, where not a lot of people know English and therefore, it would be hard for her to communicate. She doesn't have his car keys or a driver's license, he didn't leave her a lot of cash, so she forced to use his cards with updates of withdrawal and spending sent to his account, and she also just has a dependant visa that wouldn't allow her to do independent anyway. Her only way would be speaking to the police and hoping that they would start the investigation. It would be really hard because, well, Austria doesn't really care about immigrant's problems unless it's an international scandal, and Konig would know anyway - because he has cameras in the house, which he doesn't even hide, and if the investigation would die down, or his girl wouldn't go to the police, he wouldn't really break the contract and run to her immediately. He has quite a few friends around, especially if Krueger or Klaus are around and not on deployment with him, so he could ask them to go and visit his...wife. She is scared and a bit hysterical because of the foreign country, so she can tell weird things about kidnapping and escaping, they shouldn't listen to her! Konig won't be so nice when he returns. He really wanted to play this fantasy of having cute little housewife, nice house and a girl that is absolutely in love with him. He knows that you like him, at least, that you didn't want to escape, you're just silly! He infantilised you before, mostly because of the age difference, but it would be even harsher now. You are not allowed to leave the house, he often simply locks you in the bedroom so you won't have anything to do besides waiting for him to return with groceries and fuck you into the mattress. He didn't want to break you leg, but if you keep resisting, he might kinda push you a bit further. He would assign you a no-nonsense older caretaker so you would have company and help while your leg is broken! She also thinks that you have some sort of weird mental illness that made you paranoid and afraid of your husband, so you can't even get help from her. You can forget about going out while he is on deployment either. And he is very reluctant to let you out, even with him, the first few months after your attempted escape. The world is too dangerous for you anyway,

[kinnporsche]

hey guys, long time no kinn & porsche fic rec list! i miss these two so much it’s not even remotely funny. as always, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to share the love)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love! god bless y’all for my daily allotment of serotonin.  [part 8/?]

— the empty crown by rainbowcolored7 – explicit / 117.2k words (wip)

Porsche was destined to rule his kingdom, but the throne and his family were taken from him, forcing him and his brother into hiding.

Kinn chose to rule to save his family from the untouchable threat of the Council who strictly guard the power of the Source.

When their worlds collide, everything changes. Hidden plans tumble into motion, enemies become allies and, above all, love conquers.

— you were there, written in my stars by bleakyblues – explicit / 81.5k words (wip)

Kinn is your everyday, ordinary guy. Well, as ordinary as the heir to the country’s underworld can be. But the point still stands. Kinn goes to school, helps his Pa with his work, hangs out with his friends and has a huge crush on his ‘good friend’ whom he is ‘not-dating’ (yet).

Enter Porsche Pachara Kittisawat with all the grace and stubbornness of a class five hurricane. And Kinn is lost, lost, lost... caught up in the winds never to emerge again.

— freedom is a sound/pleasure is a right ‘series by baby_droll – explicit / 31k words

Kinn stares at him, and then up at the ceiling, and then back at Porsche.

“Have you considered being professional even a day in your life,” he says, sitting back down in his desk chair and rolling away enough to get some space, “I mean really and truly, do you know what it looks like, barging into my office,” Porsche cuts him off, mouthing along to his spiel, mainly because he’s heard it before, “sitting on my desk, interrupting meetings, and acting like, Porsche, people are going to think things, things you and your shiny visa can’t afford to have them thinking. things that me and my giant internship program can’t afford for them to think—”

(Or: Kinn and Porsche meet, kiss, fall in love. Only one problem—Kinn is his PhD advisor, and there’s more than a few rules about them being together.)

— the bachelor by blue_grama – mature / 25.9k words

It’s Pete who explains, the next morning over breakfast, because of course the news has spread all over the compound. “Haven’t you ever watched a mob movie?” He asks Porsche, gesticulating with a spoon. “They have all the money they could ever need, but they can never get respectability. The old-money types look down on them. The new-money types take their bribes, but they don’t let them into the inner circle. This is public relations.”

“A kinder, gentler mob?” Porsche laughs. “Come on.”

“They’ll use it to look nonthreatening, highlight the legitimate businesses, that sort of thing,” Pete says. He lowers his voice. “Everyone knows the Theerapanyakuls are dirty, but if they’re on television, how dirty can they be, right? And… I don’t know, but Khun Korn is strange about Khun Kinn’s love life. Maybe he’s trying to keep him in line somehow.”

— i’m not a saint, but i pay like a sinner by haeseolar – explicit / 25.4k words

“I’m not sure how a lowly human like you called me, but here I am,” His voice is deep, but not gruff or harsh like he was expecting. Porsche doesn’t have many preconceptions about demons as a whole, but everything he holds is being completely turned upside down and thrown out the window.

“Who are you?” Porsche croaks out, somehow finding his voice.

The demon’s eyes sharpen as he speaks, the slitted black pupils contracting and opening again like a cat’s. It’s just as fascinating as it is unnerving.

“You’re the one that called my name,” He shrugs, gesturing around the room flippantly.

“Anakinn,” Porsche says, the name rolling off his tongue smoothly. “You’re Anakinn.”

— scale and bone by ahdriking – explicit / 25.2k words (wip)

Fairy tales aren’t real. There are no happy endings. These are the truths Kinn knows.

Ever since stepping into power, Kinn has been suspicious of the Russians—led by Mikhail Alexeyev—operating in Bangkok, suspecting them of stealing from him. He sends Kim to investigate, and the truth turns out to be much worse than his initial fears. He resolves to destroy them, even at the risk of all out war; he can do no less if he wants to avoid appearing weak.

It starts with reconnaissance at Alexeyev’s party, an event promising a ‘grand spectacle.’ Kinn is expecting something appropriately depraved, suitable for the Russian mobster and his tastes, but nothing could have prepared him for the reality of what Alexeyev has been hiding. Nothing could have prepared him for the way it will change his life forever.

Because fairy tales aren’t real.

Until they are.

— moonchild (we’re born in the moonlight) by wicca – explicit / 24.1k words

“Let me walk you home, then,” Kinn offers, recalling the recent accidents and all the superstitions he’d heard about the forest ever since he was a boy. “Even if you live close by, these woods can get dangerous. You should always get home before nightfall.”

“Trust me,” Porsche smiles, teeth sharp and brown eyes glittering an almost golden hue under the late afternoon light. “I’ll be fine.”

He lets Kinn walk him home anyway.

— desire is so different when god bore you hungry ‘series by captainkit – explicit / 20.6k words

“Let’s get out of here,” whispered Kinn. His eyes were so very kind. Porsche wanted to keel over with the hunger gnawing at his bones. The kindness in his eyes made him ache a little more.

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Starvation was an old friend of Porsche’s.

— force of attraction by nuwildcat – explicit / 14.3k words

Gravity (noun): the universal force of attraction acting between all matter.

Porsche never was the best student in school. She’ll be the first to admit that hands on lessons were always the ones that best made things ‘stick’ for her.

Porsche isn’t certain she wants to know whatever lesson Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakul is trying to teach her. The problem is, resisting Kinn is like trying to stop a force of nature: impossible.

— if i go too far by p1n3appl3_p3n – explicit / 13.9k words

Kinn and Porsche are friends that fuck, and it’s totally fine until it isn’t.

— red-handed by martynax – explicit / 12.3k words

“Hello, gentlemen,” Porsche finally manages to find his voice and is proud of himself that he comes off as cool and collected. He doesn’t really feel like it, but as long as no one is pointing a gun at him, he can roll with whatever. He’s good at bullshitting his way out of tough situations. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The corner of the stranger’s mouth ticks up in amusement, eyes taking in Porsche’s silhouette. It’s a slow once-over that makes Porsche’s skin tingle.

The stranger takes a slow sip of the whiskey, tipping the glass elegantly and smacks his lips after he swallows. “It’s not bad.”

“Want a refill?” Porsche proposes, waving his hand at the almost empty tumbler while he slowly starts approaching the couch. He feels awkward just standing there. The two guys in black suits tense up, but make no move to stop him. Not giving his unwelcome guest time to answer, he adds, “I’ll do you one better, I make a mean cocktail. How about I make you one?”

“Such a kind host,” the man muses, titling his head as he observes Porsche. “Do your best, little thief.”

— all of me (is all for you) by kurtstiel – explicit / 10k words

The water has saturated Porsche’s white shirt completely, soaking through the vest beneath. The translucent material clings obscenely to the swell of his pecs. His nipples are clearly visible through the sheer material, hard and pebbled, with the unmistakable shape of the metal barbells pierced either side of them.

Porsche’s head jerks up to check if he can still hide them from Kinn, but it’s already too late. Kinn is standing across the room, staring in Porsche’s direction, entire body coiled tight like a spring.

(Or: While Kinn is away on a business trip, Porsche gets his nipples pierced as a surprise for their anniversary. Kinn comes home earlier than Porsche expected.) 

— whatever else that touches you by technicallyverycowboy – explicit / 9.4k words

“No, it’s fine.” Porsche shifts to be a little less plastered against Kinn’s side, straightens his shoulders and smooths out his jacket with great dignity. “The answer to your question is yes, I have really never been with any other men.”

(Or: Porsche answers questions, asks some of his own, tries new things, and fills in the knowledge gaps of his own sexuality.)

— i’ve been waiting for you, to slip back in bed by dearsidewalk – explicit / 5.5k words

Porsche is sound asleep on their bed, the cityscape casting a soft, warm glow against his skin, dipping and arching with his silhouette. Kinn sags, hands falling to his side, but that itch hasn’t faded—that heaviness in his chest, stomach, and throat multiplies, malignant and spreading, and in a blink of an eye, he’s at Porsche’s side.

— the sweetest thing on this side of hell by butterflylungs – explicit / 3.3k words

Being vulnerable with Kinn is always a dangerous game: she never knows when it’s going to be thrown in her face. After the forest, she thought—well. But Kinn had given her to Vegas, cold and stone-faced from her perch on the couch, still attached to an IV line after taking a fucking bullet for her.

[erinfern0]

I love your writing so much! ❤️ could you write dating arisu ryohei x reader? sfw and nsfw please! continue the great work!

★・・・・★・・・・★

universe: alice in borderland

warnings: nsfw

★・・・・★・・・・★

sfw

☆ your relationship started really slow, he was too shy to talk to you and you just enjoyed his awkwardness,

☆ arisu admired you from far for a while, especially when you talked with other people. he loves the way you smile and laugh, also how your gaze changes depending on who you talk to,

☆ he's not only your boyfriend, but also your best friend. he would spend all time in the world to listen to you talk, complain or vent whenever you want. he's a very good listener and always has some reassuring words for you,

☆ he introduced you to his friends as soon as you started dating, it felt like heaven when he noticed y'all get along pretty well,

☆ arisu makes sure you join group games together, he prefers to keep you close and safe, especially when your visa is about to expire,

☆ he loves physical touch, especially your hugs and cuddles, but won't ever ask for any if he's not sure you'll want the same thing,

☆ he's a good hugger, but gets very awkward when you try to tease him in the meantime,

☆ he also loves when you kiss him first, he always leans to your touch, let's you decide on the pace,

☆ arisu won't tell anyone if you don't want him to, your relationship will be as private as you want. if you don't care or want people to know, he will tell his friends first to show you that he doesn't want to hide either,

☆ sooner or later, you start to go out on dates, holding hands in public or even kiss when there's not too many people around,

☆ i believe he's also a type who loves some good old matching. doesn't matter if it's your shirts, socks or hand-made jewelry - he will proudly show people your together by having matching clothes/accessories with you,

☆ he adores it when you play with his hair, especially late night when you're both in bed and try to fall asleep after such a tough day,

☆ he can get really protective over you, maybe sometimes a bit too much. will make sure you eat, sleep and drink enough. also - if there's anyone bother you he will talk to them, fighting his anxiety into his pocket to protect you,

nsfw

☆ your first time wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be, actually, he was very calm, romantic and collected. he's a really passionate lover, will do anything for you.

☆ let's get this straight - he's a sub prefering switch, especially with you,

☆ he's new to being a dom, which makes him ask you many questions whenever he wants to impress you or just make you feel good,

☆ he won't ever start anything before asking for permission. many people think it's a huge mood killer, but asking for your consent seems to make him even more eager to touch you. he also will as you if it feels good or if you want to take a break every now and then,

☆ as a dom, he tries to learn new things about you, pushing you to the edge and enjoying you squirm under his touch,

☆ he doesn't really have rules for you to follow, he makes them up sometimes, so they meet your needs,

☆ if he has no ideas on what to do next, he will just close his eyes, caress your body and kiss your neck and chest, waiting for you to give him more instructions. he's a fast learner,

☆ when it comes to punishing you - he's not very creative and truly hates to make you upset. mostly he will just threaten you with a sort of punishment but will never actually do it. he punished you just once, which was more of a punishment for him, since he decided you can't touch each other for a whole week after he caught you masturbating without him once,

☆ most of the time when he is your sub, he behaves really well. no matter how much he wants it, he won't break any rules you give him, even will make some up just for you to use,

☆ what surprised you the most is that he loves edging. especially when you watch some movies or listen to music in your room, he will let you slide your hand under his pants and touch him for hours without letting him cum, just so he can take control later,

☆ sometimes he will sneak into your room, close the door and lean against it, giving you that specific, needy look in his eyes, that tells you I'm all yours. in that scenario you usually end up lying in your bed, pressing your bodies against each other while you moan, masturbating and showing each other what you like most,

☆ if you like to experiment, he's your man. he will try anything you throw at him just to find new ways to pleasure each other,

☆ arisu is a sucker for some good aftercare, especially if you can take care of each other. Mostly after sex you end up in a shower together, teasing even more and enjoying every second of the time you two have together.

[justenjoythegossip]

Immigration questions, truths, lies and speculation: a few random thoughts…

Use of her immigration status to discredit the wedding…

Abba’s legal status is a topic that has been brought up so much by Team PR blogs, especially to discredit the fact there was any marriage at all, that it’s interesting to ask ourselves why. Although I won’t pretend to answer any of those questions. I know absolutely nothing about her legal status but I am pretty sure that neither do those mods that pretend to. Unless they have a source or informant at the immigration bureau, but I seriously doubt it. 

Truths, lies and speculation…

I’ll do my best to sum up what have been said on the subject. Allegedly Abba has used a tourist Visa to enter the US, that’s why she goes back to Portugal very often and is never seen in the USA. She couldn’t have a work visa because she is not shooting any movie or TV show on US domestic soil. She couldn't have an Einstein Visa because she has no talent. She couldn’t have petitioned for a fiancée visa neither because she would have had to stay put and wait a few years for her citizenship and so traveling abroad for her second kinda wedding would have been out of the question. Also they added that this information was on the public record.

There’s some truths (like always), some wild speculation and some clear lies. 

First of all, someone’s immigration status is not really public information. Sure there is a number you can call to check an immigration status but you do need some personal information like name, date and place of birth which are easy to find for sure but also… a 13-character receipt number from your application or petition. She did share a shower porn with the world, but I don’t think she ever volunteered information regarding her travel documents or petition. So how would people know anything regarding her legal situation? 

Where has she been?

An important topic of discussion has been about her whereabouts. Interesting enough, that girl has been mostly MIA for the last couple of years. Has she been hiding in a basement or is she a ghost? We know she sort of pops out for certain events used for PR purposes (papwalks, a fashion show, the ghosted premiere, the GQ event) but she was not even seen for their alleged first wedding, nor for their alleged second wedding.  

Also interesting, she deactivated her location on Instagram a while ago so that no one could actually know where she is. The last time it was active was when she was shooting a movie with Anne Hathaway in Germany. It’s safe to assume that she doesn’t want people to know where she is because this way, she can be placed anywhere… anywhere where Chris is of course. 

What could her legal status be?

A dual citizenship is unlikely, for sure. She wasn’t born in the US and although we know she has a sister who lives there (and maybe she even has other family relatives who knows), she would have had to reside in the states for years to get it. 

But is a work visa out of the question? Of course, she hasn’t and is not shooting anything on US soil. But if there is a PR contract, doesn’t PR work qualify as… work? There are the papwalks of course, but also all the trips she had to take in order for them to shoot the material they needed (pictures and videos used for ridiculous cringy photo montages that were posted on Instagram stories). CAA (or another entity) could have very well sponsored her for a work visa and have her do all kind of stuff. We know how powerful this company is, how shady it is and how much pull it has. It is out of the realm of possibilities? 

And guess what, you can travel abroad under a work visa for business purposes (to shoot a movie in Germany for ex) or for a vacation (to the Bermuda for ex), you just need to have your travel permit approved. 

I am not saying she has a work visa btw, just that it’s possible and that there is no actual proof to say otherwise. It’s pure speculation. Like those mods are doing and passing for actual truth. 

I will add that I once asked one of those so-called Team PR blog for some precisions about this topic. It was someone I had very cordial talks with (I even provided them with material they used for their blog). They never answered those questions of course. Sidenote they blocked me after my pinned post defining who those blogs are and what they were doing without ever naming anyone and when they had never followed me in the first place. Make of that what you will. 

The (apparent) absence of marriage license and the fiancée visa?

A marriage license is actually a lot easier to find though because the public records are a lot simpler to access. Of course, there are a few exceptions, if you filed in California for example (but not realistic in their case) or if you filed a special request in front of a judge to have the records sealed. Up until now, no one has found their marriage license. 

No publication (no TMZ, not anyone) published it when we had trillion articles about their wedding but no confirmation from either of their teams for more than a month… until Chris’ appearance at the NY con. Also we can assume that a license would have probably popped out on one Team Real blog if such proof existed (faking a yoga certificate is one thing but faking such documents would be a federal offense).

By the way, Chris told us that he and Abba are NOT legally married. The words he used at that Con were so very specific: "kinda ceremonies". KINDA... Go Portugal! So he definitely put an asterisk to the marriage narrative. And I should add that no rep confirmed their marriage, another confirmation of their non-marriage.

But then again you could speculate that they had a kinda sorta spiritual Buddhist non-binding ceremony. I think team real blogs have supported this theory at some point if anyone wants to believe it. But in that case, if she wouldn’t petition for a dual citizenship and stay in the USA with her work visa, she wouldn’t face legal issues and she could pop in and out of the country with her approved travel permit. 

Again I am not saying it’s the truth, just that those immigration questions are very complex and are very unlikely to shed any light on that shitshow. 

Why use speculation (or even a blatant lie) to discredit another lie?

The question remains. Why would you need to bring up this topic to discredit a wedding when actual facts don’t add up? Some mods have done a fantastic job pointing them out. 

What purpose do those alleged immigration issues serve? Do they discredit Team PR blogs? Do they serve as an actual diversion? Because one thing is certain we don’t need those to question their kinda ceremonies, do we? 

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

🎵 La Revacholiere

2. Of all the creatures I've met you are the kindest.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - Thank you. I also have one more thing to say to you: that woman -- turn from the ruin. Turn and go forward. Do it for the working class.

I can't.

I will try.

I will.

What woman?

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - You cannot lie to me. Behind you it smells of fires. So awfully far you were prepared to go in her presence. End it.

2. I will try.

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - She was middle class. It doesn't take a three-metre stick insect to tell you that.

+5 XP

5. Disengage slowly. [Leave.]

INSULINDIAN PHASMID - As you're turning away, the phasmid mirrors your movements, stepping on the water -- the long limbs carry its feather weight without breaking its surface.

And just like that it's gone -- skating away across the sea's calm mirror like a skipping stone, leaving nothing but circles on the water...

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Easy: Success] - ...and something under it! In the place it stood, bobbing there, among the reeds. A collection of items.

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's gone..." The lieutenant looks north, with his hand raised to his brow.

"It can walk on water?"

"What's that -- in the reeds?"

"What now?" [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Apparently, yes -- like a water strider, only..." He shakes his head with amazement. "I've never seen *anything* like that in my life."

2. "What's that -- in the reeds?"

KIM KITSURAGI - He squints. "Looks like a nest of some sort? We should have a look."

3. "What now?" [Leave.]

THE DESERTER - "What now..." the old man behind you repeats suddenly. He's put his hand into the ash -- it's dirty and black.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - In some kind of strange, semi-catatonic state.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Our suspect is not looking so good. We need to check on him."

🎵 None

ITEM GAINED: (EVIDENCE) KLAASJE'S PASSPORT

ITEM GAINED: T-9/32 RIFLE SCOPE

ITEM GAINED: FAIRWEATHER T-500 HELMET

ENDURANCE - Brother, you've managed to collect all the armour pieces. Too bad it's too late for the big showdown.

Task complete: Find all armour pieces

+70 XP

Level up!

Don't think this helmet would have helped me anyway. (Look down at your wound.)

At least my collector's impulse has been satisfied.

I'm sure I'll have a use for this armour in the future.

PHYSICAL INSTRUMENT - It would have looked very impressive... Still. You found it all. Now your mortal coil is *completely* protected. Few cops are this futuristic.

At least now I am truly invincible. [Leave.]

FAIRWEATHER T-500 HELMET

+1 Half-Light: Head as a battering ram -1 Suggestion: A fighter, not a lover

This monstrous looking, bug-eyed ceramic helmet was in the phasmid's nest. It still has some reeds sticking out of it -- and it smells of seawater -- but it's otherwise wearable, if not exactly comfortable. Putting it on feels scary somehow...

T-9/32 RIFLE SCOPE

A common 30mm sniper scope attachable to almost any bolt-action 4.46 caliber. It uses an older-style non-dotted rangefinding reticle. Seaweed is still stuck on the lens and it's suffered water damage from its time in the phasmid's dowry.

(EVIDENCE) KLAASJE'S PASSPORT

This well travelled passport, with visas stamped in it, is issued by the Republic of Oranje. You found it in the phasmid's nest on the island. You can open it for more details.

>INTERACT

ORANJESE PASSPORT - This passport, issued by the Sovereign Republic of Oranje -- is issued to a black haired woman called Katarzine Alasije.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Klaasje's hidden documents..." The lieutenant looks at it in your hands. "From the empty buoy."

Look at the photo.

"What was this doing in the phasmid's nest?"

"It says -- Katarzine Alasije."

[Put the passport away.]

ORANJESE PASSPORT - It's Klaasje. With short, black hair and glasses. She looks boyish, younger somehow.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - An old photo. Before life came and did what it does.

2. "What was this doing in the phasmid's nest?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Maybe our man, Mr. Dros, took it from Klaasje's -- or whatever her name was -- hiding place? Or..."

"Perhaps -- for some blackmailing plan?"

"I think the *phasmid* took it."

"The phasmid took it -- and I *sensed* it do so. I saw something open up the buoy with spindly legs." (Point to your head.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Perhaps... But that still doesn't explain how it got into the nest."

2. "The phasmid took it -- and I *sensed* it do so. I saw something open up the buoy with spindly legs." (Point to your head.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "Like a magpie?" He looks around. "What a coincidence. Then it would also have *collected* the other objects, which would be highly unusual..."

RHETORIC [Easy: Success] - By now, the lieutenant has accepted your unusual methods.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I can see how the helmet could wash up on the island. And the scope -- maybe Mr. Dros lost it? But to seek this out would be *very* unusual behaviour for an arthropod."

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - Would it? Maybe it was simply curious.

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Challenging: Success] - A curious octopus would do something similar. Or even a cuttlefish.

"Perhaps it was curious? Like an octopus?"

"Perhaps it had a vendetta against our Miss Oranje?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "An octopus belongs to a very different Class. It's not even an insect, it's a mollusc. But, yes -- I see your point."

3. "It says -- Katarzine Alasije."

KIM KITSURAGI - He opens his notes. "She said it would be for *Annouk Meijer-Smit*. Annouk -- Meijer -- Smit."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - Katarzine Alasije was supposed to be her *real* name. Where *Klaasje* comes from, remember? God dammit!

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - I told you she kept lying to you. She's probably lying to someone else right now. In another city.

"Katarzine Alasije was supposed to be her real name. She lied to us."

"Maybe this is her real passport? Not a fake? Because this is her real name."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes, somehow she managed to lie to us -- *one more time*. In a way she's still lying to us right now." The lieutenant smiles.

+5 XP

4. "What's her *real* name then?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "I don't know. But it's not Katarzine Alasije. Or Klaasje. Or Annouk Meijer-Smit. We didn't even scratch the surface with her, detective."

He looks east. "Perhaps it's better that we didn't arrest her. Who knows what hell she'd be raising in my district by now..."

SHIVERS [Challenging: Success] - The winds are silent. The streets are empty of her. She is no longer in the city of Revachol.

5. [Put the passport away.]

🎵 Hope in Work and Joy in Leisure

THE DESERTER - "What is it?" The old man looks around, confused. "What do you want from me? I can't go..."

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Something is very wrong with him now.

"Sir, how could you not *see* the phasmid?"

"I'll leave you be for now." [Leave.]

THE DESERTER - "S-s-s-see..." He stares at the reeds and falls silent.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Mr. Dros?"

THE DESERTER - The man does not respond -- he keeps staring, black eyes glazed over and bulging from their sockets, his gap toothed mouth shaking.

EMPATHY [Medium: Success] - With fear and longing.

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - Like an addict of some terrible substance.

Snap your fingers under his nose.

Wave your hand in front of his eyes.

Touch his shoulder gently.

THE DESERTER - The plastic cape feels coarse. A light shiver passes the man -- other than that, no reaction. He feels small and frail.

KIM KITSURAGI - "He's going into some kind of... psycho-motor immobility." The lieutenant inspects him gently. "The good news is -- this solves our transportation problem. Doesn't it Mr. Dros?"

THE DESERTER - The trembling mouth appears to sigh.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Between this and the broken tyre he's used for a boat -- I think it's safe to leave him here, while we go and get help. It will need to be medical first, I'm afraid."

Task complete: Inspect the phasmid

+10 XP

"What has happened to this man?"

"We found some things in the phasmid's nest, Mr. Dros."

"Hang tight." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "Old age and shock." He looks at him, then you.

"I think it's the *phasmid*."

"Old age and shock, yes."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Yes. The arrest and the appearance of the phasmid -- the combined stress..." He looks at you. "But you think it's something more than that, don't you?"

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - There's *much* more. Remember what it said, when it spoke.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - Quite a few things about that health check you did on him make sense now.

"He couldn't *see* it, Kim. It's just the reeds for him."

"Before -- when I evaluated his state -- he seemed strangely animated."

"I think he's addicted to that thing."

"It's definitely toxic -- the phasmid. It told me it is."

"He's been here for a long time. Who knows how much of it in its company?" (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "That could be part of the shock. But you're right -- something is off here. Mr. Dros..." He touches the man's shoulder.

THE DESERTER - No response.

"Maybe this is how the phasmid has stayed hidden all these years?"

No. It's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Then how did we see it?" He thinks. "Oh, you mean whatever does this, does it over *time*? Teenagers, kids, drunks -- sightings are brief. And hence not credible. But anyone who spends a long time with it..."

"Yes. You *forget* it's there."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Mhm." The lieutenant inspects the man. "Mr. Dros -- have you *ever* seen a stick insect, pretending to be the reeds?"

THE DESERTER - "Th-the..." The old man stutters.

KIM KITSURAGI - "The doctors will have to look at this. I hope your station has better medical personnel than 57. This is... a little advanced for a nurse."

2. "Before -- when I evaluated his state -- he seemed strangely animated."

KIM KITSURAGI - He nods. "He was energetic and articulate. After all these years alone, with little hygiene or medication I would expect worse."

"Perhaps this *animation* is induced by something in the phasmid?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "He does not seem to be *animated* now it's left..." He looks to the sea. "Honestly, I'm ready to believe anything at this point. Maybe it *is* psychoactive."

"I mean, why not? It's three metres tall…" He takes off his glasses and cleans them -- when he puts them back on he's still staring at the sea.

3. "I think he's addicted to that thing."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Like a drug?"

"He *has* displayed addict behaviour. And not *just* to painkillers."

KIM KITSURAGI - "His pupils appeared to be dilated. They still are..." He examines the catatonic man's eyes.

EMPATHY [Challenging: Success] - It's not just chemical.

"It's… as if he's infatuated with it."

No, it's not that.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Some kind of oxytocin release mechanism? Would go with the pupils. But this is way above me, detective."

+5 XP

4. "It's definitely toxic -- the phasmid. It told me it is."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Told you? Yes. Good. During your *long* staring match. I understand." He looks at the man, then you.

5. "He's been here for a long time. Who knows how much of it in its company?" (Conclude.)

KIM KITSURAGI - "He did seem distressed when it finally came to arresting him. Like he didn't want to leave this place. And the insect maybe..." He looks at his notebook.

"I have absolutely forgotten to take notes. I hope I remember all of this." He shakes his head in disbelief. "This will be one hell of a report -- thank *god* we have the photo."

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - No one would believe you without it.

2. "We found some things in the phasmid's nest, Mr. Dros."

THE DESERTER - He stares into the reeds. Your words don't stir anything in him. Perhaps you should...

Show him the ceramic helmet.

Show him the Oranjese passport.

Show him the detached scope.

"I'm going to let you rest now Mr. Dros." (Conclude.)

THE DESERTER - Nothing. Just dull staring -- not even rage left wherever he is.

HALF LIGHT [Medium: Success] - The last embers have gone out. The war is over.

KIM KITSURAGI - "If Cuno kicked it into the sea, as he said he did -- the ebb would pull it back here. This makes sense. Mr. Dros could have picked it up. Or... the phasmid, even? If it did, this is incredible..."

2. Show him the Oranjese passport.

THE DESERTER - No reaction. His breathing is slow and he appears very old all of a sudden. Around eighty.

COMPOSURE [Challenging: Success] - This is an old man -- at last. No longer a tin soldier, but the broken down remains of a man.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Did you take this passport and other papers from a buoy on the coast?"

THE DESERTER - He blinks and continues to stare at the reeds. "The... spirit."

KIM KITSURAGI - "He hears us... The spirit?"

THE DESERTER - No reply. He's gone again.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Try something else? We got him back for a moment."

3. Show him the detached scope.

THE DESERTER - "I..." He turns his eyes to it. "I lost..."

"You lost it, Mr. Dros?"

THE DESERTER - He turns his eyes to the reeds again -- as he's done so many times. Beige and white stripes...

KIM KITSURAGI - "He lost the scope. Then it somehow made its way over there. With the help of a magpie phasmid?" The lieutenant observes the lens sparkle in your hand.

"This sight is a T-9, Mr. Dros. Was it attached to the rifle, when you made the shot?"

THE DESERTER - Silence. Not even a sigh.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - You've gotten all you will out of this poor being.

4. "I'm going to let you rest now Mr. Dros." (Conclude.)

THE DESERTER - The plastic cape flaps around his face, in a gust of wind. His back is slouched and his mouth open.

PERCEPTION (SIGHT) [Challenging: Success] - The blacks of his eyes are receding, his pupils are returning to normal.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] - The strength has all gone out of him -- just frail old bones in a sack of tracksuit trousers and a wind breaker.

3. "Hang tight." [Leave.]

KIM KITSURAGI - "We should think about getting back to the mainland. To get help. He'll be safe here. If we don't take too long..."

+1 Reputation

New task: The Return

Gonna leave it there for today.

[bryn-not-brynn]

Woah. Hold up. I actually wrote a thing. It was stuck in my head, begging to be put on paper or in text, haha. I think my ideas from the older gen are now strongly influenced by the wonderful Full Circle story from @averagejoesolomon, and many other amazing writers here. So thanks everyone for making this fun!

So whatever this thing is, here it is.

Joe is deeply calmed by Rachel's presence. Even as friends, her decisive nature brings his unsure soul to a grounding point. Matt without question was the one that saved Joe. It was Matt who pieced him back together, saved him from himself, and cared enough to ease some of his hurt. After Matt dies, Joe shatters again. Not how he was before; he is now broken knowing the loss of that much needed love. It's only Matt's memory and the promise of protecting Rachel and Cammie that keeps Joe in some sort of half-living state.

After warming up to one another again, Joe realizes how much it was that Rachel played a role in his healing. Unable to hide some of his more overwhelming trauma from her with panic attacks he tells her small things just to get her off of his back.He notices with amusement that Matthew must have stolen words right out of Rachel's mouth to comfort him, or maybe it was visa versa, either way they sound unbelievably similar trying to talk him down.

Once they are together and Rachel knows everything? Oh, man. Joe learns a peace that he never knew was possible. If Matt was like his anchor, then Rachel is like his safety net. He's not entirely sure what it is. He doesn't much care. Aside from some really bad night terrors and panic attacks, they can almost pretend that Joe hasn't been hurt, that Joe isn't scared of anything.

He wonders, awake at night with Rachel aleeep beside him exactly what it is that brings him so much comfort. Maybe it's just all of her, all the time. Maybe if it is just the loving touch of a woman? Sleeping next to someone you love every night, like someone to scare the monsters inside him away? Someone who knows the right things to say, gives the best hugs,wants to hold him, and is willing to drop it all for someone she loves. Someone who allows him to be so weak and simultaneously thinks of him as strong. Maybe it's having someone who knows the worst things you've ever done or seen and still looks at you every day like she's luck to have you? Although he's entirely convinced that he's the lucky one and no one could change his mind. Lucky to have had Matt, to be loved by him. Lucky that Matt was so damn stubborn to get him and Rachel to get along. It's like he knew they'd need each other after he was gone. Lucky that he and Rachel found a way to get back in the same room as one another, to share their grief rather than hide it. Lucky, after everything that he's been through that he gets to have a happy ending with her and Cam. Lucky to get to love Rachel. Lucky that he's so so loved by all the Morgans in his life.

[miercolaes]

howdy friends, fiends and foes! i'm currently having brainrot for alice in borderland and i was wondering if anyone would be down to see how it goes if wednesday and your muse would end up there! i won't spoil the tv show in case you want to watch it, but under read more there's a brief description of what's going on!

PLAYER REGISTERED:// welcome to the borderlands. no one knows how they ended up here nor if there is a way out. all that we know is that people suddenly started disappearing and vegetation has claimed the cities. it's sort of odd how this world looks, there's something uncanny about it. do you see that billboard lit up? it says there's a game arena nearby. you should go and play before your visa runs out. you don't want to find out what happens after the visa runs out.

WELCOME PLAYER! there are a few things you should know.

01. once you enter a game arena, you can't back out. if you do so, a laser will kill you. no one knows where the lasers come from and it seems no one can find a way around them.

02. each game has assigned a particular card. the cards can be as followed [ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8 , 9 , 10 , J , Q , K ], which acts as ranks to the game difficulty. meaning, 1 is the easiest and K is the hardest. you don't know what card the game has until the game commences.

03. the cards also have particular suit. here's what each suit means. CLUB ( ♣ ) - require teamwork. these games force the participants to foster trust and cooperation between themselves in order to win. these games require a bit of strategy, as the players need to come up with a plan together to make it to the end. the venues for the club games tend to be some of the biggest, as they often take place in massive buildings or outdoors somewhere. SPADES ( ♠ ) - require physical endurance, strength, agility and stamina. the games can include all types of physical activity, including running, fighting and climbing. combat based games often allow the use of weapons, which isn't as common in other games. DIAMONS ( ♦ ) - require logic, strategy, wits and intelligence. players participanting in these games must use critical thinking, analytical skills and sound strategy to survive. these games are often in small venues and don't require much physical effort to complete, as they're all about mental capabilities. HEARTS ( ♥ ) - require emotional and psychological intelligence. the games seem to require participants to either trust or betray their teammates in order to survive. they're considered the hardest suit as it often plays with the participants' minds.

if you want a starter based in the borderlands, you may send the number and the suit (i.e. 5♠) or write it out (i.e. five of spades).

the borderlands can be anywhere so no matter the universe, there is a possibility of being one. if you want our muses to be in a specific location, be it real or fictional, add it to your message (i.e. five of spades, jericho)

if you want the starter to be prior, during or after a specific game, add before / during / after (i.e. five of spades, jericho, after).

there are no games set in stone, meaning we can create our own or take examples from children's games (i.e. hide and seek), squid game (i.e. red light, green light) or steal some from aib canon (i.e. four of clubs is called distance). if you want a specific game, add it to your message (i.e. five of spades, jericho, after, hide and seek).

you can either comment on this or send me an ask! i choose violence but i also want to write with you so here we are! thank you for reading this if you got this far and if you have any questions, please do ask anywhere you want, be it comments, ims (those are not yet working properly on desktop but i will check them out on the mobile app), discord, asks (anonymous or otherwise)

[benj-hyun]

BENJAMIN HYUN

Full Name:  Benjamin Hyun Nicknames: Ben, Benj/Benji (close friends), Benny (parents) Pronouns and Gender: He/Him, Cis Male Age and Birthday: 40 years old, June 10th Birth place: Dallas, TX  Sexuality: Biromantic Bisexual Occupation: Microbial Ecologist Education: Masters in Ecology, minor in Environmental Science Residence: Crystal Cove Condominiums Time in Aurora Bay: 15 years Face claim: Steven Yeun

tw: bullying mildly mentioned, infidelity, very brief mention of racism

HISTORY —

Born to immigrant parents, Benjamin came to be three years after they’d moved to the States from South Korea with their work visas. They’d settled down in Dallas, Texas.

His father was a boilermaker, and his mother had started with an easy, secretarial job part time until she ended up pregnant. Once Ben was born, she became a stay-at-home mother.

Ben had been raised with nothing short of care and love and all the support he could ever need. There was an expectation for him to go to college so he wouldn’t have to work like his father, but that was the only pressure he received. For that reason, they were big on him not working through the school months, only summer in between grades, and pinched pennies to save up for his tuition.

He also may have been an only child, but he met Ricardo living in the same complex as him when he was very young. He was very much so like an older brother to Ben.

Ben had been a basketball player through high school, starting on the Varsity in his senior year. Along with his time in after school clubs and encouraged volunteer hours put him on the path to success.

The hardest he had was the occasional comment made about his ethnicity from someone closed-minded as he did grow up in Texas, but bullying hadn’t been a real problem. The nineties into the two-thousands had been more kind to him than what his parents put up with in the early years of their residency in America.

When he graduated high school, he’d done so a year early, and he ended up pursuing a degree in Ecology with a minor in Environmental Science at Berkeley College in California. By twenty-one, he earned his bachelor’s, and then by twenty-three, his Master’s.

Ben had fallen in love with the West Coast. Not only for the dry heat, which had been a relief in comparison to the Texas summers, but the shoreline, palm trees, and the mountains. Added in the open-mindedness of California communities, and the higher pay rates, he sought employment in the Golden State.

He did help to move his parents out to the West Coast, and he’s even used some of his salary to get them settled and comfortable in San Diego. That made it easy for him to decide to settle in Aurora Bay, so he isn’t far away.

TRAITS.

+ Flexible, sociable

+/- Empathetic, tactful

- Inconsistent, moody

HEADCANONS.

⊹ Ben has had a series of relationships, short to long-term, but no matter the length or reason for how they come to an end, he always finds the best course of action following a break-up is to hide in his room listening to Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper on repeat.

⊹ he never learned how to ride a bike. When he was a kid, he always stood on the back of ricardo’s. the training wheels never came off.

⊹ moths scare him. He hates the idea of mothman.

⊹ he can speak Korean, and he also knows beginner level sign language.

⊹ he will 100% eat your leftovers if they’re put in his fridge, but in the same breath be extremely moody if someone eats his.

CONNECTIONS.

Ben has been in Aurora Bay for fifteen years, so he will need any sort of connection that comes to mind. Friends, rivals, frenemies, hook-ups, ex-romantic conquests, etc.

♡ @castellcnos - ben met ricardo down in texas. their parents lived in the same apartment complex, and they swiftly became best friends. ben even followed him out to berkeley college in california. after ricardo's marriage fell apart, ben has invited him to live with him in aurora bay to get back on his feet.

♡ @santiagodeleons - santi is ben's other close friend, and at times, more the voice of reason than ricardo. despite his feelings about what happened with his marriage, ben does stay steadfastly by his side.

♡ @maura-cortes - the niece ben never expected to obtain, he's grown to love her like family. he also has a bit of a soft spot when it comes to her asking for things, like money. (not in game but canon)

♡ @laureljacobs - when ricardo first left for college, ben had no other friends. he saw laurel off to the side by herself, figured it would be the easiest friendship to make. he was wrong. she was extremely stubborn about letting him in, but it did give him something to do every day until he graduated and left..

♡ @bradley-banner - their friendship has long since shifted into an awkward one being she is santiago's ex-wife, but ben respects both sides by talking about neither to the other. (not in game but canon)

♡ @auggievillanueva - his first serious relationship in aurora bay, ben had been all in. but when everything in auggie's life became too much and overwhelming, and he decided to break things off, ben took it too heart that he didn't want to try and extent the extra effort to make things work.

♡ @delilahcarreno - it was some time after auggie ben met delilah, and though he didn't fall into this one as fast he definitely fell harder. she had been 'the one' if asked by anyone, but when she cheated it ripped his heart out.

♡ @esmemaxwcll - an awkward tinder date gone bad, benj feels bad about it but he also knows it's just because they didn't click.

LINKS.

⊹ pinterest

⊹ inspo

⊹ playlist about Ben

@aurorabayaesthetic

[alazyparallelworld]

How did you meet your boyfriend? Is it a LDR??

oh-!! uhm, yes, we are long-distance. overseas, lol. our financial situations n visas n Worldwide Regulations mean we haven't met in-person yet… our plans keep getting pushed back for such-n-such reasons, but we got like. a Specific Goal this year, that'll coincide with other reasons for him to be in the states. etc.

AS FOR THE, 'MEET CUTE,' he was aware of me beforehand. we - my 'best friend,' (one of them) who is also his best friend is… his ex… for a time, when i was in between clusterfucks of relationships whether For Real romantic or fp(s) on unrequited (@ me- i was not, interested in either of them. flips hair) crushes or whatever - i referred to them, as, my 'wife' in a tongue-in-cheek way

THIS CERTAINLY. MADE HIM REACT. he knew me prior, still, but calling his ex - 'my wife!' got his eye. and his ire. i, oblivious, of this one-sided enemy (jokes) … anyway, our mutual Best Friend at some? point? hosted a stream. quiet, not too busy, as it was a friends-only affair. i was either lonely, or bored, maybe some mix of the two, or felt as thought i was Neglecting my best friend due to my then-chaotic IRL life and housing situation. so, i, watched. i think only me n my bf were there, perhaps a third person dipped our during, etc.

he was polite enough. both of our schedules were free, he was unemployed, yada yada, i was in desperate need of Companionship, so we exchanged discords. and i remember. keenly. my first, guttural, Reaction was

"oh, i'm gonna trap his ass"

despite everything he has never been my. FP. favorite person. no, this was sort of… Pure, obsession, head-over-heels. to this day i cannot pinpoint what was the. Attractive feature? Why he 'stole my heart' [ouma JPN voice] or swept me off my feet. myb he had small, but numerous, Allures. or i was that needy, that any kind of - 'relatively normal' attention, that was not Unadulterated Delusional Infatuations as i was receiving on the side - caught my full attention. IDK.

later on, in an idle convo between us 3 (me, bf, aforementioned best friend) best friend was like… I had a feeling - you two would - essentially, played, matchmaker. Cupid. and i was ready to fall in love.

but he was. Is. different. he was very cautious about me, wary, as thru secondhand talkings he knew my life and my Personality was. unstable. Fluxing… that, to me, lol - i've always liked, puzzles, challenges, and whereas for anyone else i would [smash whatever dumb barrier separates] i played along. I didn't want to scare him away. I didn't 'hide' my - uh, insanity, rlly - or my poor mental n physical health, the latter of which was. RAPIDLY deteriorating. but i didn't unveil the, "I WANT TO HAVE A QUIET, INDOOR WEDDING, AND THEN WE LIVE BEHIND A WHITE-PICKET FENCE-" which is mandatory for my "i am deeply Enraptured/Obsessed/In Love with you." lmfao

REALLY… IK THIS SOUNDS, MELODRAMATIC BUT. i think in a month-or-two of us. Crossing the friendship line [n we were well beyond that line, the Too-Far-4-Friendship Event was a daily occurrence] he asked, tentative, for clarification. You don't… like me, right? Bc I don't feel the same way. I don't think I can, ever will, etc.

me, lying thru my teeth: Of course not. This is just for fun. :) We're friends!

TO BE CLEAR I WAS NOT HURT BY HIS. "I don't wanna date you! Ever! Sorry!!!" as i said he was wary! i knew not to push. give him time… and then another month-or-two later, he backtracked. "I think.. I'm in love with you…" and i, went, oh same. Have been.

he asked, if i already was, back during his establishing, "i don't like you That Way," and i said. Yeah! Really, from the moment I met you. THIS SHOCKED HIM AT THE TIME altho he had, Suspicions abt my actual feelings, thruout our pre-dating… he agrees that if i had been honest - "I do like you! A lot, actually! Since our first exchanging of sentences -!!" he would've bolted. Ran for the hills. he's quite 'tsun' or 'kwaa' about it, so don't tell him i told you that… /light-hearted

all this to say. I succeeded. I trapped his ass. [Shows off our interlinked chain] but, if you think about it, it's the vice versa… so often I'm mistaken for Amy Dunne to his Nick, in reality it's the op- [dragged off screen]

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (01)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn't want an Alpha; you didn't need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

AO3 Link      Masterlist   

You can't do it anymore.

You collapse on the ground as you turn a corner, legs giving up on you. Whatever breath you have left leaves your lungs as you hit the floor with a hard 'thud'.

You can hear them behind you, running and howling like a pack of wolves on a hunt.

You happen to be the prey.

You had been careful until now; walking mostly at night, making sure no one was around when you went scavenging for food, keeping distance from others during games, masking your natural scent with all sorts of perfumes. Just avoiding people altogether. 

You had no idea how you got there, but you knew that, as an unclaimed Omega, you would be more at risk than anyone else. Alphas were rare, but if one happened to find you, you couldn’t imagine it ending well for you. Even Betas were a risk, as most could also distinguish you from a regular Beta.

And here you are, proving yourself right. Running from him.

You had been careless. You were tired, always on edge, always hiding. So you ate your portion of stale cornflakes after another sleepless night and headed out from your hiding spot. Completely forgetting about masking your scent. 

Your visa was almost over. You needed to find a new game. And so you did.

You are regretting that now.

A loud laugh from not that far behind you gives you the encouragement you need to stand up and run. Just run. If he catches you, you're done for. If he catches you, you're his.

You can smell him. That strong, masculine, unrecognizable Alpha scent. His is so strong that it almost overwhelmed you when it first hit your nostrils, back at the game.

Six of Spades. That was the game you had gotten yourself into; kill the predator or be killed by the predator. In a zoo. 

How fitting, you had thought to yourself as you climbed a tree to escape an actual wolf. You had seen at least four different species of predators. All animals that you were completely unprepared to defend yourself against, never mind killing. Your hunting knife could only do so much. Fortunately for you, wolves couldn't climb trees.

But tigers could.

You had felt the big cat's eyes on you before you could even see him. All you had managed to do was let out a gasp and close your eyes as the huge orange beast pounced in your direction.

Gunshots. A heavy body falling to the ground. A wolf whimpering; that might have been you.

And then it hit you; that overwhelming, strong, musky scent.

You had opened your eyes and, no more than twenty meters from you stood a tall man, dressed in black. Eyes locked on you. You felt a shiver run down your back, and the hairs on the back of your neck rose; you weren't sure if in fear or something else.

The tiger was dead. The wolf had run away. But there was a new predator. And he was looking straight at you.

An Alpha.

You had no doubt about it. Betas didn’t smell anything like that, but Alphas...Alphas were made to lure you in. To let you know who they were. Alphas and Omegas were biologically connected. It was almost impossible to fight the urge to possess and be possessed.

And you no doubt had the same effect on him.

You noticed when he took some steps towards you and then stopped. You saw how his eyes had sparkled, his body language shifting to that of a predator. You hadn’t dared to move, waiting for his next move. You doubted he was going to shoot you, but the man did have a gun. Before the stranger could give another step, a lion had appeared right behind him, taking his focus from you and allowing you to escape.

That’s how you got into the position you are in right now; running from the man with the sniper rifle. You had managed to keep yourself hidden until the end of the game, but he had somehow found your scent and was tracking you down, together with his crew.

You stop again, taking labored breaths as you hide yourself the best you can in an alley. If life taught you anything about Alphas, is that they don’t give up until they get what they want. You would know; you managed to be unclaimed through all these years out of sheer spite for your biology, and determination. And a lot of pepper spray. 

You try to think of a plan, a way to get them to lose track, but you can’t think of anything. If he got your scent, he will find you eventually. That doesn’t mean that you will just get on all fours and wait for him to take you. If it depends on you he can hunt you till he’s dead. You won’t be some Alpha’s bitch.

You hear footsteps getting louder, together with the voices of the people pursuing you. You can smell him, getting closer and closer. You have to act fast. You spot a ladder on the side of a building and try to get it down, climbing on top of some trashcans for easier access. He won’t be able to track you as easily if you go up. The ladder is rusty and doesn’t budge, even when you desperately pull it with everything you got. With a last angry pull, the ladder finally releases, and you start climbing as fast as your tired legs allow you.

“Gotcha!” exclaims an excited male voice as you feel a hand grab your calf. Your heart almost stops. “Niragi, over here!”

You glance down at the man grabbing you before kicking him right in the face with your free foot. The man falls back, holding his now bleeding nose in his hands, and you take that moment to continue climbing. You want the most distance from that Niragi guy as you can.

You don’t look back even when you feel someone climbing after you. You have to keep going. It's only four stories high. You’re almost at the top.

A loud gunshot. Pain sparks in your leg and you scream, almost releasing your grip on the ladder.

“You fucking idiot, who told you to shoot her?!” a voice growls, followed by another gunshot. “I want her alive and unharmed! Whoever touches her dies!”

You dare to glance down, and you see the body of the man you had kicked just moments prior, now with a bullet hole in his forehead. Then you lock eyes with him; your predator.

He's looking at you with fire in his eyes; like he wants to eat you alive. Your body feels his glare more than your mind ever could, and a warm sensation pools at your center. You can't look away.

He can smell it; of course he can. You're now much closer than at the zoo, and you can see his face clearly. How pretty he is. How his nostrils flare and his eyes go dark; scenting you. You’re glad that at least you’re not in heat; it would have been game over for you before the game even started. 

"You know I'm gonna get you, right?" he says with a malicious grin, voice low.  "I'm gonna catch you, and I'm gonna make you mine."

His words bring you back to reality, and you take the last steps up into the roof, ignoring the laugh of the man below you.

"Run little wolf, run!"

You pull yourself up and run as fast as you can. You're pretty sure the bullet only grazed the skin, so you ignore the pain in your leg as you jump to the next building. You are lucky houses here are all so close to each other. You keep running, not daring to look back.

You can hear him running behind you, catching up to you, and your eyes start tearing up. Your lungs feel like fire and your legs are cramping; you can't go on for much longer. You prepare to jump when a hand grabs you by the wrist. His touch feels like electricity against your skin. You both gasp and his grip soften. The sensation is so surprisingly new that you lose your balance and trip, falling. For a second, you wonder if this is how you die; falling from a building while in that hellish place.

The next you’re wondering how can someone smell so unbelievably good. 

He smells like spices; it’s delicious. You are pressed firmly against his chest, his arms around your waist. You’re sniffing his shirt before you can control yourself. Never in your life had an Alpha’s scent been so strong and so alluring. You want to lick him; to feel his skin against your lips and his taste on your tongue. You feel his face on your hair like he’s burning your scent in his memory. You let out a needy whimper when one of his hands slid up your body to grab a boob, squeezing the soft globe in his large palm. His hands feel so good on you. Warm and big and pleasurable

“I said I was going to catch you, little wolf,” he whispers in your ear, hot breath making a chill go down your body. His tongue licks a long strip of your neck and you let out a moan. He chuckles. “Now you’re mine.”

No.

Those words make you gasp like you have been burned, and you push him away from you. You belong to no one. And it will stay that way; you rather be dead than be bonded to some random man. 

“D-Don’t touch me,” you say, a slight tremble in your voice. “Stay away from me.”

His eyes darken and you gulp, looking around. You’re trapped; no way you’re able to run more. But you can fight; you have your hunting knife, while he seems to have let go of the sniper he was carrying earlier. You still have a chance.

“Now, why the fuck would I do that?” he asks with a lopsided smirk. “I can smell how much you want me. How much you need an Alpha to fill you up and mark you.” he gives a step in your direction; waiting.

Waiting for you to fight back.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint. You reach for the knife strapped to your hip, but...it’s not there. You freeze, eyes wide.

“Looking for this?” he chuckles in your direction, your knife in hand. He’s taunting you; playing games. You take a deep breath and lock eyes with him. How did you not feel him steal your weapon? You can feel your anger building up. You’re tired, you’re hungry...you’re furious.

“Give it back!” you command, fists closed, “And I don’t want anything to do with you so fuck off!”

The smile on his face falls, substituted by a scowl. You can feel the anger radiating from him. That only makes you angrier; he has no right in feeling that way. You’re the one about to be taken against your will. You jump and try to grab the knife, but he’s faster than you, trapping you against his chest. 

His skin touching yours makes a wave of heat spread through your core once again, but this time you ignore it as best as you can. You feel him press himself against your backside; hard and warm. Your mind fogs and you release the grip you have on his forearm.

Maybe you could...just for a moment. Your wolf mind keeps screaming at you to accept what you were born to do; be a baby-making factory to some random man with high testosterone levels and ego issues.

The back of your head hits his face with a loud crack; you hope that was his nose breaking. You crouch to grab your knife, now on the floor, but he’s on top of you before you can even touch the handle. You both fall on the hard roof, struggling to get a hold of the damn knife first.

“Stop!” he has you pinned down on the cement, one hand holding your wrists down. You’re trapped; now without a chance of escaping. His other hand has your knife, now pressed to your throat. His eyes burn like coals and half of his face is covered in blood. You feel a little pride at the sight, even if the blood has stopped falling due to his Alpha healing. He presses the blade against your skin. “What the fuck are you trying to do?” there’s a hint of confusion in his question. “Do you know who I am?”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask.” You reply, struggling against his grip. The blade on your neck nibs your skin and you stop. “Do it. Kill me.” You know he will never hurt you to that degree. He was biologically programmed to protect you; he has to be fighting every instinct in his body to even be able to hold that knife against your neck. You notice how his hands are slightly trembling. “I dare you. Slit my throat; it’s the only way I’m leaving this roof with you.”

His eyes go wide for a second before he lets out a sudden laugh. He buries his face against your neck, and you feel the sticky blood get on your skin. You don’t dare to move or take more than a shallow breath; you’re too scared of losing control of yourself again. He continues laughing against your neck, and you have to control the urge to moan at the proximity.

“I knew you would be fun when you just kept running, but this-?” he presses himself against you, firm and warm. You shudder; you can feel your control slipping away. “Refusing me even when I’m this close? Touching you?” his tongue is on your pulse. “Kissing you?” 

“Please stop-”

“-Biting you?” his teeth graze the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. You cry out, instinctively pushing against him, neck at his disposal. The marking spot; if he bites you there while knotting in you, you’re bonded. Your wolf is screaming at you to let go and let him take you. You need him. You want him.

The wolf is out.

Your legs are around his waist before you can control yourself. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and you can feel the wetness growing in between your legs. You grind your core against his crotch, groaning in displeasure at the lack of skin contact. His lips take yours in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing against yours as he kisses you senseless. He lets go of your wrists to handle your body, one hand on your breast as the other slithers down to your shorts.

You whine when his fingers finally manage to reach your throbbing cunt. He smiles in the kiss as he starts playing with your clit. You moan and your hands fly to his hair, pulling on the soft strands; you want more of him. He bites your lip and you pull his face further against yours. He chuckles when his fingers enter you without warning, swallowing your cries with a kiss. You move your hips against his hand, wishing it was his cock instead.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“More,” you whine against his lips. “Please- Alpha, please.” 

He doesn’t answer. His hand leaves your pussy with a wet sound, and you cry at the void he left with only his fingers. He doesn’t break the kiss as he gets rid of your shorts, throwing them somewhere. Your panties soon follow, and you moan when the cold air hits your swollen clit. His fingers go back to your pussy, now playing with the slickness that sticks to your thighs, spreading it up and down your slit. His lips move to your neck, where he sucks the skin right above your pulse. You whine and he chuckles, teeth nibbling your skin.

The hand on your pussy rises, fingers glistening with your slick. His eyes glint when he sticks his tongue out, licking his fingers clean of you. You gasp at the sight. He moans like it’s the best thing he has ever tasted. 

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he says, lust-filled gaze locked on you. “So beautiful.” You blush at the praise, wanting more. You want whatever he has to offer you. His fingers go back to fucking your wet entrance, and you feel your eyes filling with tears; you want more, more, more.

“Alpha, I need you-” 

“Now this is more like an Omega,” you can hear his belt as he fumbles with his pants. You open your legs wider; hoping. “All wet and ready for me to take.”

You scream when he slides inside you, thick cock replacing long fingers. The feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. The Betas you fucked during your exasperating heats can’t compare. Nothing can. You feel so full. So deliciously filled to the brim. You never felt pleasure like this.

You moan as he roughly thrusts into you, moving your hips in time with his shoves. His cock touches all the right spots, and he feels even deeper every time he penetrates you. You can feel the pain as the cement floor grazes against your back and bottom, but that doesn’t matter; you have something more important to focus on right now.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunts against your mouth. You clench around him at the praise and he moans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, do that again- oh shit yes! Good girl. So good, all ready to be filled to the brim with my cum.”

“Yes, yes, I- I want you.”

“Say my name, Omega,” his tongue starts licking your neck. “Niragi,” he gives a particularly hard thrust, and you yelp. “Say it!”

“Ni-Niragi!” You feel the name on your tongue. You’ll say that name until your throat turns raw. “Niragi, fuck me harder,” you beg. “Knot in me- please, please.” He does as you say, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You arch your back as his cock abuses your g-spot with every shove. You see stars behind your eyelids; if you knew how this felt earlier, you would’ve let him take you right there at the zoo where he saved you. 

Niragi, Niragi, Niragi. Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“It’s such a shame you’re not in heat,” he grunts with a hard slap to your ass. You shudder and slid your hand in between your bodies, wanting to touch more of his skin. “I would love to knot and mark you right here.” He practically rips your t-shirt in a rush to take it off, exposing your hard nipples to the cold air. He buries his head in between your breasts, latching onto a nipple like a starved man.” Fill you up till I was sure you’re pregnant with my pups,” he continues with a lick to your nipple. You moan and clench around him again. “Make sure that everyone knows who your Alpha is, who you belong to. And I will. This is a promise”

Yes, yes, yes. You want that. All of it. All of him.

You can feel your orgasm growing, pulling at your core like it’s about to explode. He feels it too, and the hand previously pinching your nipple goes to press on your clit, taking you closer to the edge. You can feel how close he is too, thrusts getting sporadic and breath getting heavier. You stare at his face, actually looking at him; his eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a moan. You notice the glint of the piercing on his tongue, as you do the ones on his face. You take in the detail of his pretty nose, the shape of his eyes, his plush lips. Half of his face is still dirty with blood. He’s beautiful.

You feel a weird emotion go through you; something your rational brain knows is strictly biological, not real. But the wolf one is howling in happiness, absolutely delighted. You pull his face to yours and kiss him hard, wondering if he feels the same. Part of you is scared he does; the other is terrified he doesn’t.

“Come for me, Omega,” he moans against your lips. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. You lay there as it flows over you in waves, legs shaking and mouth open in a silent scream of euphoria. It’s like fireworks inside you, consuming you. You wonder if you lost your consciousness when you feel him come inside you, filling you with his cum. You had never let anyone come in you before. But, as the warm sensation spreads inside you, you realize you love it. You want more. You feel like you will die if he doesn’t do it again.

Most of his weight is on top of you as you both regain your breath. He’s still inside, and part of you doesn’t want him to ever leave. But your wolf had what she wanted, so you’re able to regain full control of your mind again, fog dissipating to be replaced by shame and anger. How could you have been so weak? Now it would be almost impossible for you to escape; you weren’t bonded ('yet', your wolf happily adds) but now you had a connection. If bonding was like a marriage, what you had done definitely counted as engagement.

He feels when your body tenses up, raising his head from your chest. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, waiting for your next move. 

“Was it that bad?” he asks after a moment. With a sigh, he kisses your breast before raising himself on his hands, one on each side of your head. He looks you straight in the eye for a beat, before sliding off of you with a hiss. You moan at the loss, especially when he stands up; you feel so cold without his warm body on you.

You don’t answer; he doesn’t look like he expects you to. Sitting up, you wince as you feel every pain your body has been ignoring until now. Part of your back and backside are covered in scratches from the cement floor; your cunt burns like it’s on fire, but now for a completely different reason, and your chest and neck are covered in fresh hickeys and small bites. Part of you feels like dying of shame, while the other is overwhelmed with joy by finally being marked by an Alpha. An uncomfortable feeling sits in the pit of your stomach.

You look around for your clothes, being surprised by your Alpha, no, Niragi, extending them in your direction. You take them with a mumbled 'thanks', doing your best not to wince as you get dressed. You feel his eyes on you, so you pretend he’s not there. You gather the courage to finally stand up, and his hands are supporting you before you can make a move.

His skin on yours feels again like a spark of electricity; only that now is familiar and, dare you say, wanted. You keep your eyes down as you stand up on wobbly legs, trying to ignore everything about him. But you can’t; not really. His scent is on your skin and hair; his cum is inside you and on your inner thighs. Even his blood is on your skin. 

After a moment of hesitation, you pick your knife from the floor; he doesn’t stop you. You feel like crying; this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You’re just trying to do your best to survive while being completely alone. And now this. 

A sob erupts from you with such strength that you feel him jump next to you. You hide your face in your hands as you sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face. Your mind is a mess, everything hurts and you’re so, so tired. You miss home, you miss your family, you miss your bed. You need a nap.

“Oh fuck, did I hurt you?” you hear the slight panic in his voice as he gets closer. “Tell me, what did I do?”

You shake your head and take several steps back; you need as much distance from him as possible. You turn to leave, a still defiant part of you daring him to stop you. As you expect, he’s on you before you can take more than a couple of steps.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” his tone is angry and confused. “You’re coming with me.”

“N-no.” you manage to say, sobbing. “I’m not go-going with you anywhere.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he grabs your hands, forcing them down so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine down, don’t you feel it in you?”

“We- we are not bonded,” you remind him. Remind yourself, “I- I can still leave.”

His eyes wide in an incredulous expression, like your words are the stupidest, most ludicrous thing he has ever heard. “Are you out of your mind?” he asks in a raised tone, “Do you actually think I’m gonna let you go?

“We don’t know each other!” you scream in his face. “I never- I never wanted this to happen,” your last words are barely audible as you keep crying. “We’re just two strangers forced together by something beyond our control.” 

You whimper when you feel him hesitantly touch your shoulder, before pulling you against his chest. You mumble a 'no' in-between crying gasps and lightly struggle against his grip; you have to get away from him. He ignores you, one arm going around your waist while the other awkwardly pats your head. You finally give up when you feel his lips on your temple, whispering something you can’t quite understand. Whatever he’s doing, it calms you down. 

You stay in his arms for some time. You hate how much you enjoy it; how safe he makes you feel. He killed one of his own, for goodness sake. You know nothing about him.

“Let me tell you something,” he says against your forehead. “I am not...a good person. I’ve done a lot of bad shit, and I will keep doing so. But if you come with me, I promise I will keep you safe.”

“I-.”

“Be mine,” he says. It sounds like a command until he adds a 'please', almost as an afterthought. “I don’t understand why you keep fighting, but I know you want me, even if part of you doesn’t know it yet.”

You let out a loud sigh; you’re tired of fighting with yourself. You review your options; go willingly or go by force. If you know one thing is that he won’t let you go. Quite possibly never. If you’re honest with yourself, a part of you doesn’t want him to. You don’t even know which one of you is talking; the human or the beast? Does it even make a difference?

You don’t think it does. Not anymore.

You raise your head to lock eyes with him. You can see hope in his gaze, but you also see determination and desire. You’re his now. And he’s yours.

“Okay,” you finally say. His eyes spark with something akin to satisfaction. “I’ll go with you. But I have some rules.”

He smirks, teeth spotted with blood, and you wonder for a moment if you made the right choice. “Sure,” he says. As long as you’re mine.” 

Next Chapter

[more-than-a-princess]

@dis--parity​ asked:  [ dog ] one muse approaches the other’s dog at a park // let's have Sonia meeting Theo's dog in public again!!

Second First meetings meme - No Longer Accepting!

It was a potential hazard, Sonia knew, to be out and about in a public park without her security's knowledge. But one wasn't a princess without experiencing two things: not balls and exquisite jewelry (though she had an abundance of both), but a day of meetings gone wrong and the subsequent ability to slip away from her staff undetected. Side-stepping about a dozen elementary school children, she pulled her hat further down over her blonde hair before tugging her coat tighter around her shoulders: between her coloring and her elegant clothes, it was easy for even a child to put two and two together and gawk (if she was lucky. If she wasn't, someone would actually recognize her and ask for a photo).

She grimaced, pausing to take a seat on an unoccupied bench. In the distance, she could hear some sort of enthusiastic, cheerful shouting, the sort that often accompanied an adrenaline rush and she rather wished she could join the revelry, whatever it happened to be. Instead, she'd spent an entire day in a series of meeting rooms with government officials as the various representatives from Novoselic to Japan defended her family's stance on visa and immigration policies, the princess allowed only to interject if they'd forgotten a key detail or anecdote. Mostly, she was present to be beautifully intimidating, the hope that a sweet smile from a young royal combined with an unrelenting drive to decimate lingering feelings of intolerance.

She exhaled heavily. Despite her fatigue, her manners did not allow for her to lean against the back of the bench. Nearly twenty-five years old and she needed to solve problems centuries in the making...it hardly seemed fair, but a royal life wasn't exactly a charmed one. If she trusted someone, she'd be the first to tell them as such. But at present, she had the very rare chance for solitude, and thus she kept her concerns to herself.

Or so she thought: it hadn't been five minutes when she felt something...firm, yet furry, brush against her knee through her coat. Having closed her eyes just for a moment, she opened them to find a familiar square head, almond-shaped eyes, and a rapidly wagging tail. This dog...she'd seen it before: its friendliness went beyond the normal welcoming attitude that most well-raised and adapted canines had, or so she'd learned in high school. This dog recognized her, though it was hardly for the title she bore. Instead, it sniffed at her empty hand, seeking out a pet, or a treat, or possibly both.

"You are...that dog from the bakery, are you not?" She greeted it brightly. It was, for now, the brightest spot in her day. Sonia obliged the furry acquaintance, reaching up to give it a few friendly pets and scratches, the dog's floppy ears swaying in delight as her fingers moved behind them to reach all of the itchy spots it could not. "I hope you are not here alone! It can be frightening to be on one's own, even if it is a desired change of pace. It is much better to spend your time in the company of friends."

Getting to her feet once again, she moved to check its neck for a collar or any other identifying information, just in case the owner wasn't near. If it really was lost, a trip to a police station was in order...but that would result in a royal mess of trouble. For her, not the dog, Sonia realized as she gave the canine a reassuring smile. She couldn't remember the exact hours, but she guessed the bakery where they'd originally met had long since closed for the day. The station would have to be the best bet: even the Princess of Novoselic couldn't hide a dog that size in her condo.

[ddarker-dreams]

Pandora’s Box. Yan Chrollo x Reader

Warnings: Medicine mention, descriptions of anxiety, and implied minor character death. Word count: 2.7k.

A simple plan is the best kind to have. 

The less variables at play, the higher your rates of success are. You’ve anticipated some margin of error, a safety net of sorts, to be used if necessary. Everything within your realm of influence has been taken into account. Your friend in a car meeting you at a dead spot, a train ticket purchased with a prepaid visa card on a VPN, and a few precious pieces of jewelry to be pawned off at a later time. Scraping these assets together is a commendable feat, having to skulk around to make it this far.

Nothing feels out of the ordinary, you think. Your preparations are almost complete. All that’s left is to wait to ensure the beast in hiding cannot come for you.

Prayer doesn’t traditionally feel worth the effort -- any god that’d allow you to be subjugated to a hell such as this is no god worth pleading to -- but tonight is different. Tonight you pray to any deity that may spare you some pity, that this plan may succeed without a hitch. The time signals the beginning of the next phase, the most vital aspect. 

Tonight’s soup had an additional ingredient, a generous helping of sleep inducing pills. To avoid suspicion, you partook in the meal as usual, hoping to cancel out the effects later by ingesting a gratuitous amount of energy drinks. It served the original purpose of fending off fatigue, but not without presenting a unique set of problems of its own. The caffeine has served to heighten your anxiety, upping what was already a nerve-wracking experience to a new level. 

Your guts feeling like they’re rearranging themselves, your body not capable of forgoing fidgeting a single moment. No longer can you tell if it’s nausea, stomach pain, or hyperventilation. Maybe it’s everything at once. All you know is that you’ve never had your body working against you more than now. Every nerve is frayed, your senses on high alert to any shadow or noise.

Deep breaths no longer bring you reprieve. Each raggedy breath you manage to squeeze out is an accomplishment, overshadowed by the fear that he might hear you. How irrational a thought, that Chrollo would be capable of picking up on the differences in your breathing from afar. It doesn’t matter how illogical the worry may be. With Chrollo, you’ve learned that nothing is impossible. To expect the unexpected has been the mantra of your mind these past few months. 

Just a bit longer... I need to know he’s asleep for sure. Or else it’s over.

Your foot taps against the ground in a frantic rhythm, ears ringing like funeral tolls. The last time you dared peak into your shared room with Chrollo, he was supposedly fast asleep, out like a light. What should’ve been a cause for victory brought nothing but a fresh wave of dread. A guessing game ensues. Trying to decipher his body language from earlier for hints only serves to make you feel worse. You’ve been so cautious, walking on sheets of thin ice at every move. Chrollo hadn’t acted out of the ordinary to your knowledge. Not that he has a way of acting ‘ordinary’ anyways, your limited understanding of his person having to suffice. 

Should everything be going according to your design, your friend will be in position to pick you up. There’s no more stalling, the point of return ahead of you.

It’s time.

You do a final check over your mental checklist. Your backpack is stocked with the necessities: toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a filtered hydro flask, non perishable foods and your train ticket. To any onlooker it might look like you’re going hiking. Sporting worn sneakers, loose-fitting clothes, and having your hair pulled away from your face. This is really it. The culmination of sneaking around behind Chrollo’s back for months, unfolding before your very eyes. Everything is falling into place as it’s meant to.

You walk to the door. 

Each step you take is quiet as can be. Every shuffle of clothes, or the slightest of creaks from the floorboards, causes you to wince and pause. This penthouse has served as your personal circle of hell for months on end, the walls absorbing your cries and screams. You despise this place with every fiber of your being. The antique décor, the ancient texts that lay strewn about, the scent of sandalwood that you find nauseating. 

Ghosts of the past return to haunt you as you walk through different areas. Swirling around your head, they threaten to consume you, chipping away at your resolve. His hypnotic voice resonates in your mind like whispers of the serpent in the garden, tempting you. Weighing you down. Not even your own mind is a safe haven from his speech that disguises itself as flowery, when the reality is far more sinister. Chrollo’s words are constricting vines, lined with thorns, embedding themselves deeper into your flesh the harder you try to pry them out. 

“Don’t you remember how difficult your life was before me?” 

Another step.

“All those people who left you, who took advantage of you?” 

Your hands shake around your small, homemade EMP. It’s made from spare parts you managed to find around the penthouse, clumsily assembled through trial and error. The pulse it emits is next to nothing. Copper coils threaten to fall loose at any second when you raise it to the security system by the door. Holding your breath, you press down on the trigger. The device lets out rapid clicking sounds, the security monitor flickering before going blank. 

“I know you’ll come around.” 

Finally, come the excessive locks on the door. The compressed air you said you needed for cleaning is next up. The can is cool against your trembling fingers, white specs decorating the locks as you spray them over. With some persistence, they come undone, one after the other. Unshackling you from the depths. You open the door that’s mocked you relentlessly for months, withholding your prized freedom. 

“But even in the event that you don’t...” 

The surrounding world is a blur of colors. Your eyes don’t focus on any object for too long, scanning your surroundings for potential threats. It feels as if your stomach is in your throat when the elevator starts its descent. He had you up on the fiftieth floor? 

You fixate on the screen, numbers not flashing by fast enough for your liking.

40. 

20.

5. 

1.

“Well. There are always ways of overcoming inconveniences such as that.” 

It’s an extravagant lobby. Far more luxurious than you could ever have hoped to afford, this building being one of the most exclusive in Yorknew. The person at the front desk calls out and you ignore it. You must look mighty suspicious, not that you care. The priority now is escape. Running out the revolving door, crisp autumn air greets you. You’ve never felt more grateful for the bustling streets of the city. Even at night the city remains awake, making it easier to blend in. No one out here spares you a second glance as you weave in and out of fast paced crowds. 

23rd street. That’s where you’ll meet up with your friend, who will then transport you to the subway. Glancing up at the signposts, you realize you’ll be in for some walking. There’s no letting your guard down. Constantly looking over your shoulder, all you see are the faces of strangers. You’ve never felt so grateful to be a part of a crowd. 

Finally, after walking for what feels like an eternity, you spot your beacon of hope. A clothing store’s bright neon sign, which your friend sits parked in front of. Since these stores are closed this time of day, the crowd that once surrounded you have thinned out, yet you try not to fixate on the lack of cover. Jay walking across the street doesn’t prove to be an issue. The pollution from the city hides the stars behind a layer of smog, streetlamps your lone source of light.

Heart hammering in your chest, you tap on the window of her car with urgency. “Amelia, it’s me. [First].” 

You hear the doors unlock. 

Taking it as a sign she heard you, you waste no time swinging into the passenger seat of the car. Amelia immediately turns the keys, car humming to life. Your chest heaves with exhaustion from the draining events. This is it. The second to last step before you reclaim your freedom. It’s almost like a dream, the light at the end of a long tunnel. Amelia’s appearance is just as you recalled it. Hazel eyes, tan skin, long black hair, and an average build. Your heart leaps at the sight of her.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” your friend confesses in a hushed whisper. “[First], what... what happened? You completely fell off the face of the Earth for months. Then you contact me out of nowhere? What’s going on?” 

It isn’t easy meeting her eyes, so you don’t. “I... I don’t know if it’s safe to talk about it. The less you know, the better.”

She takes a moment to assess you before sighing. “Alright, I can tell this is serious. Just... I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Amelia begins driving without another word. Silence hangs in the air, offering a time to reflect. Your plan, Chrollo, what you’ll do next... it whirls around your head like a vortex. A gut feeling refuses to leave you alone whenever you picture his face. A dreadful thought that this entire escapade was too easy. Is it just your paranoia? It could very well be. Hugging your backpack closer to you for comfort, you’re startled by Amelia suddenly speaking up.

“The subway station, huh,” she reminiscences aloud, eyes flickering from the road to you. “So you’re leaving Yorknew?” 

There’s no way to continue dodging her questions. “... Yeah, I am.” 

“Where are you going?” 

It’s natural she’d have lots of questions. Had the situation been reversed, you’d have plenty of your own. For her wellbeing you don’t want to indulge more than necessary. Lying to someone who is helping you lives a sour taste in your mouth. It’s for her sake, you remind yourself. Having to involve Amelia in this at all was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“I’m going to Zaban City. I have some extended family there.” 

Amelia hums in confirmation to your story. “Your cousin, right?” 

“Right.” 

She stops pressing that particular subject, likely sensing your apprehension. You take advantage of the peaceful atmosphere and close your eyes. The sleeping pills from earlier are starting to grow more prominent. Losing consciousness is the last thing you need right now, but indulging in some much needed rest sounds too inviting. 

“There was something else I was wondering about.” Amelia starts, earning your attention. Looks like sleep will have to wait for later. You yawn, stretching your weary limbs, and wait for her to continue. She smiles, dark eyelashes fluttering shut in deep thought.

“Oh, sweet [First],” she whispers your name in the gentlest of tones, and looks over at you. “Why are you so selfish?” 

You blink, the words not settling in immediately. “What...?” 

She continues without missing a beat. “You used to be so envious of me. Always pretending to play nice, because you were too passive to say how you really felt. How you hated me.” 

“Amelia? What are you talking about? I... I never hated you, what--” 

“Even now you can’t bring yourself to admit the truth,” she sighs. “Not that I’m surprised. You’ve always cared way too much about what people think. Why would now be any different?” 

Her unexpected attack on your character has you shifting in your seat. Every word that leaves her lips is in her voice, yet feels so different than her normal character. Did something happen in the time Chrollo took you away? Anxiety rears its ugly head at the line of questioning. You take a sudden interest in your fingers, playing with them on your lap. 

“I don’t understand where any of this is coming from.” You admit, eyebrows furrowing together. The shift in atmosphere is tangible. What was once a warm reunion under stressful times has corrupted into a frosty confrontation. These insecurities of hers that laid dormant in your heart... why is she bringing this up now? In your most vulnerable hour? Nothing is making sense. These ugly feelings of yours were only ever confided in one person. 

“You knew it’d be a danger to my life to contact me. You knew that, and still you did it all the same. I wonder why that is. Could it be... that you wouldn’t care if I died? If I was tortured for aiding your escape?” 

Your heart drops. This knowledge... how can she know any of this? Amelia used the word escape, clear as day. Is that a coincidence? You look over at the car door, seeing it’s locked. Something’s not right here, you deduce. I don’t know what it is exactly, but something is very wrong...! 

She continues on. “I really do want to know what your justification for this is. Out of everyone you could’ve picked for help, you specifically chose me, knowing the danger it’d bring. Did you think I’d be spared in some sort of miracle?” 

The spare moonlight streaming in illuminates Amelia’s face, highlighting how pale her skin looks. Veins that would normally not have been so prominent have a blue tint, her lips a similar shade. Your eyes drop to the unnaturally large scarf that surrounds her neck. It’s not that cold out yet, why is she wearing something so cumbersome? Reaching out with unsteady hands, you pull the fabric back. Your gut feels like it’s been punched at the sight, eyes widening in horror. 

On the back of her neck is an antenna, with bat wings on the end. 

Shit! Shit, shit, shit-- 

In a frenzy, you stretch forward, searching for the button to unlock the car door. The second you find it, it’s pressed, and you unbuckle your seatbelt. You hear her speaking up again. Your heart feels like it’s about to burst from your chest as you jump out the car, grateful it isn’t going too fast. Skin meeting asphalt, you hiss at the pain, rolling onto your side. None of that matters now. How did he do it? He has to be nearby, maybe you can still make it to the station in time. Your head hurts from the impact, legs wobbling like jelly. 

It’s difficult to focus. You grit your teeth, utilizing the remnants of your strength to get to your knees. Why did the caffeine have to wear off so soon...? It was going so well. You finally had your chance, your time to take back your life. To go back to how things were. Struggling to get to your feet, you throw your backpack off, praying the lost weight will help you get up. 

“You never answered my questions,” calls a deeper voice. You gulp back acidic bile as a hand is extended in front of you. “I was hoping you would.” 

Your head hangs down. It’s over. For a transgression such as this, you imagine you’re in for quite the punishment. How funny a thing fate is. Similar to streams of rushing water, there are many twists and turns, leading you down paths you never wanted to go. Fingernails dig into the sensitive flesh of your palms, the pain anchoring your wandering mind to reality. All other parts of your body have lost feeling. Numbness is what you’ve come to know. 

The devil incarnate bends over, taking your tearstained face into his fingers, and lifting it to meet his eyes. An abyss of grey stares back at you, devoid of humanity. Taking pleasure in besting you yet again. Disappointment is mixed within an interest to see what you’ll do next. There’s no smile on his face as you’ve come to expect. You see an empty shell of a man glowering down at you, from a place just out of reach. 

“I can’t say I’m too pleased about this, [First]. We’ll need to have a long discussion, don’t you think?” 

[winter-fox-queen]

Albatross

Summary:  Frankie wants to give you your dream vacation, but he’s not sure if it is worth the price.  

Warnings:  Female reader.  (He calls her his girl, and she wears a skirt in one scene.)  Angst.  No smut.  I thought I would finally write smut, this was going to be a very different story where they were AT the place already, but.  No.  Angst with a nice ending because I can't leave Frankie to suffer too long.

Thanks to @autumnleaves1991-blog -- you are awesome and this picture is lovely.  

1,870 words.

Frankie didn’t lie to you.  Not about this, at least.

Well.

Not really.  He was working extra, taking extra shifts.  Except for right now.  Right now, he was in a cabin in the middle of a state forest, one of the very few things he’d bought with the money.  A place to hide.  To be at peace.

It was not working. The money felt like a weight. Half of each share had gone to Redfly’s family.  Half had gone to each man.  He’d hoped for freedom.  This was anything but.

I shouldn’t have hidden it in the cabin.  He once watched a TV show about Escobar, seen that one of the caches of money he’d hidden outside had gotten moldy.  So Frankie had gone into the cellar.  Dug up a section of the dirt floor.  Made a proper hiding place, kneeling in the dirt, mixing up quickcrete and placing stones until the cellar was paved in with stone pavers.  Three were loose.  Only one had a reinforced box with another box and a bunch of money that could change his life but he can’t even look you in the eye and explain that he has it.

So here he was, sitting on the weathered wood bench in front of the cabin you did not even know he owned, resting his cheek on his fist, looking at the cabin of his damned dreams like it was a haunted death trap from a B horror movie.

He signed, grabbed the magazine he’d dropped on the ground earlier, flipping it to an article you’d been sighing over when you thought he wasn’t looking.  The ultimate romantic getaway, with tiled pools and greenery and luxurious accommodations and candlelight dinners.  

“That’s pretty,” he’d said over your shoulder as you looked at the main picture of the article, a swimming pool tiled and beautiful – all Middle East and mysterious looking, making you think of romance and beauty.  

“I love it,”  you admit.  “I’d never get to go…but it is beautiful.  Have to win the lottery.”  She grinned at him.

He looked it up online, curious.  Frankie the pilot/mechanic couldn’t afford it.  Not even with extra shifts and only one beer on Fridays and watching every penny.

The other Frankie could.

So that was why he found himself in the cellar.  If you knew which paver it was to start from, and which direction to go, it was just a knight chess move, probably obvious and stupid, but he did not trust himself to remember any other way.  He pried it up carefully so not to scratch the stone and give away the hiding place.

He stared at the hole. The carefully wrapped money.  He fumbled for his phone, and by some miracle the call went through.

“Hey Frankie.”  Pope’s voice sounded tired, but warm.  Not quite there.

“If you really, really love someone, is it OK to lie to them?”

Pope didn’t think before he replied.  “Of course not.”

“If you really, really love someone and want to do something to make them happy, is it OK to lie about where you got the money for it?”

That stopped Pope. Pope, instead of being split focused was now, 100%, listening.  “Frankie…”

Frankie, waiting, crouching by the hidden safe, phone to one ear, other hand relaxed on his knee. Waiting.  Frankie was very good at waiting.

Pope sputtered a little, tried to think of what to say.  Finally. “Yeah, Frankie.  It’s OK.”

It’s what he wanted to hear but it wasn’t the truth and he knew it.  “I’ve never loved anyone like I love her.  I’ve never wanted anything in my life like I want her, want her happiness. But there’s this whole chunk of my life that she doesn’t even know about.  I look at this damned cabin and I think, she’d love it up here.  Her car broke down and she needed to buy a new one, and I could have bought her a fucking car so she wouldn’t have to worry about payments.”

“I know,”  Pope muttered, but Frankie is on a roll.  

“And the one damned thing I’ve ever seen her really, really want and it’s this damned vacation and I can give it to her.  I can fucking pay for it, but if she finds out how it’ll ruin everything.  She won’t be able to enjoy it.  The memory will be ruined.  I can’t fucking win.  What good is it, if I have this, and I can’t even use a little of it to make my girl happy?”

Pope, picking words, both because he’s not sure what to tell Franlie and because he is paranoid about anyone (doubtful) listening in.  “Maybe…maybe that is the good.  You can’t…make it better, right?  But you can…clean it.  Make good memories for your girl.  Do good things for the people you love.”  Pope sighed. “I can’t…I can’t bear it, either, you know?  I save it for a rainy day, but…”

“I didn’t think the guilt would last so long,”  Frankie said.

“No.”

“Maybe I should tell her.”

A pause.  “I can’t think of any way to tell that story without things going to shit.”

“I don’t like lying to her.”

“No.”  Another pause.  “Please don’t tell her unless you know you can trust her.”

“She won’t blab.” Frankie glared at the phone.

“Don’t get insulted on her behalf.  Everyone you love could get hurt…including her.”

Guilt seized his heart so hard he wondered if he was going to have a heart attack, right there.

“You OK, man?”

“Yeah.  Yeah.”  He said through numb feeling lips.  “I’m ok.”

He slipped his phone in his pocket, reached in, and took what he thought he could use, and carefully hid everything again.

Then he got very devious.

You can put up to 15,000 on a prepaid Visa gift card.  He went to a place where people were smart enough not to ask questions, or even care. One of those places where you want to wash your clothes after you leave.

Then he called the resort. “Look, I have these friends…” he said, “I want to treat them, but they can’t know who I am…”  The prepaid card was as good as a credit card.

And then he went home, and waited for you to check your email.  Sweating.  

And, obscurely, jealous of himself.  Super fucking jealous of himself, the more he thought about it.  Like, he hated the mysterious benefactor who was about to make the love of his life so happy.

He wanted to be the one. Wanted your eyes to light up and know it was because he’d been able to provide for you, he’d been able to make this happen.  He closed his eyes and swallowed it.  It was stupid and selfish…what did it matter, who got the credit as long as you got this? As long as it made you happy? Frankie would be there, seeing your smile when you stood next to that glorious tiled pool, watch you dabble your toes shyly in the water, as if to ask, can I really have this?

And it did.

“Frankie!”  You came in, sat on his lap.  Your arms were warm around him, you made a soft and perfect armful as he wrapped himself around you, let your lips peck happy kisses all over his face.

“What is it, baby?”  

You pull back.  “You know.  The trip.”

Frankie raises his eyebrows, all innocence, starts to protest, but you silence him with another kiss.

“I know, baby, who loves me enough to put so much effort into planning things like this.  The surprise is nice, but you know I’m not dumb.” You toss aside his cap and run your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp gently, and Frankie sighs softly, his eyes shutting a little.  He opens them again when your hands cup his cheeks.  

You look very serious. And a little sad.  Which hits his Oh Shit button, hard.

“You didn’t have to go to all this effort, baby.  You really didn’t.”

“Well, I…”  he tried to think of something to say, but settled for, “I love you.  I love you so much, you don’t even…”

This earns him a kiss on the forehead.  Then you say, “I know how you got the money.” And his blood runs cold.  Before he could marshal some sort of reply, you continue, “Come on, Cat.  Long hours. Extra shifts?  I know that the people down at the field are not the most upstanding of people.  But…baby, it’s so dangerous.”

It doesn’t take him much to put the pieces together.  “You think I’m running drugs?”  It comes out as an incredulous squeak.

You nod.  “It makes sense.  This dream – literally a dream vacation – is not cheap.  And I never expected it.  You know that?  I enjoyed day dreaming about going with you because I love you and I want to take you all over the world…”  You sigh. “I just want to see the beautiful things of this world through your eyes.”

This time, Frankie does the silencing, with a gently thumb over your lips.  “Sweetheart, I didn’t…”

You kiss the pad of his thumb.  “You gonna try and tell me this money came on the up and up?  Baby, I know how much you make.”

You look at each other for a long moment.  You, work skirt hiked up so you can straddle his thighs, sitting closer to his knees,  Frankie, his hands gentle on your hips so you don’t fall.

“I could tell you,” he says, softly.  The words running underneath But I don’t want to and you might not like it.

You are sharp.  That’s one of the things he likes about you, how much you see.  It’s also one of the things that scares him the most.  Finally, “Are you in danger?”

Frankie shakes his head, once.  

“Is it…is it the reason why sometimes you get so sad?”

One nod.  A little smile.  He watches you digest this.  Make a decision.  

The delicate hands come up to frame his face again.  You look him right in the eyes.  “You are a good man.  I don’t know what happened, and maybe, someday, you can tell me.  But you are good and kind and I love you.”  And you kiss him again, this time so fiercely that his thinks it’s going to bruise, and he’s fine with that.

You lean back again.  “Humph.  Well. If you’d not already paid for it, I’d probably save the money to pay on the car.”

“No take backs.”  He grins despite himself.  

“Rats.”  You grin back.  Slide off his lap.  “Now to call Darla and see when I can take off, and then we are buying you a new swim suit.”  You bounce on your feet, then turn to go for your phone.

Frankie leans back against the cushions with a groan.  “I do not need…”

You peek around the doorframe.  “You are not going to a five star resort in purple swim trunks with catfish on them!”

“They were a present!” he calls after your retreating form, and grins at the ceiling.

It’s going to be alright, he thinks, feeling lighter.  It’s going to be alright.

[palbabor-writes]

Look Upon the Light

(Chapter 8: Terrify)

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, general melancholy 

Word Count: 7765

“I know who you are.”

Shigaraki lifts your console up, turning it this way and that, ignoring your declaration. “The facing got knocked off,” he states, his four fingered grasp lifting it up for you to see. His eyes catch yours, the crimson ensnaring you. “I don’t think it’s going to fit back on. Lucky you, you don’t really need it to operate the machine.”

His pinky comes down against the plastic, joining the rest of his finger pads. The plating is gone in an instant, dissolving into a fine dust and drifting to the mats beneath Shigaraki’s feet.

Moving to Japan has been an absolutely terrible life choice.

Notes: Not beta edited, so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. 

Chapter 1: Encounter || Chapter 2: Observe || Chapter 3: Hello || Chapter 4: Intoxicate || Chapter 5: Taste || Chapter 6: Teeth || Chapter 7: Polaroid ||

Terrify  ter·ri·fy /ˈterəˌfī/ verb cause to feel extreme fear.

In hindsight, you should have known. It was too quiet. 

The moments that stretched between Tomura’s visits narrowed and shrank. You’d come to expect him whenever you walked into your living room, your bedroom, your kitchen. He stuck to your ribs, pulled at you, wordlessly asking you to stay close. You’d wake to his warmth, his touch, the reds and whites blurring together. 

Despite these moments of tranquility, he was tense. Thrumming with an energy that made you shake. 

It was dangerous. 

But, you’d always known that, even if you pretended that the tiger at your door was as gentle as a kitten. Something was closing in. It felt like the calm before a storm, the air pulling back and pushing forward, misting over the pliant ground. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

Like the best ghost, it only made its presence known in the chill of pre-dawn. Slipping over your sleeping bodies and seeping into your skin, slowly tarnishing, rusting out. 

You wake one morning to see Tomura leaning over you. He isn’t touching and is barely breathing, his exhales coming out in little puffs of air. His eyes rake over you like coals, smoldering as they set you aflame. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice heavy with sleep. He doesn’t answer, just continues his silent introspection. There it is again, that creeping sensation that’s been nagging at you. You don’t question him further. Instead, you roll toward him, pressing your cold hands into his warmth. 

Something unspoken has been drifting above the two of you for weeks. You knew that you could give it a voice. But, you were unsure if he could. You wanted to tell him about it, to make it solid by speaking it into existence, but you didn’t know how he would react to your declaration. And provoking an unknown reaction out of Tomura was never a wise move. 

Did you even need it to be said when you’d already accepted it as fact? You loved him. 

And, he loved you. You knew that, you’d never doubted that. His walls had come crumbling down with yours and Tomura was nothing if not passionate and possessive. He couldn’t help himself. He might disguise it as something else, tell himself that it was another thing he was entitled to, but you knew the truth. You clutched at it, keeping it safe, holding it to you so he could never tear it away. Even if he left, even if you never saw him again, you would keep that small piece of him. 

You could feel that love when he came to you like this. He would soften, his voice and touches lingering, tender. He wouldn’t let you go. Insisting that you hold onto him, that you come to him. He was at his most desperate in these moments. 

Running your hands along his bare legs you look back up at his face. He is leaning closer, practically bent in half as his hair trails against you. 

“Come here,” you whisper, arms lifting to pull against his neck. He doesn’t resist and you tug him back to you, trying to leech some of his warmth. He lays his head against your breasts, his low breathing making you shiver. Your hands tangle in his white hair, cascading the tendrils against your palms. 

His eyes finally drift closed as the sun peeks playfully against your curtains. You should get up, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him alone in the bed. Burrowing against his slackened form, you fall blissfully into sleep, content to let your whirling anxieties still. 

******

It was the little things that tripped the two of you up. 

He’d been careful, and you’d been protective of his presence, keeping your movements to a minimum. But, it had always been a matter of time. He wasn’t infallible and you, well, you couldn’t stop time. 

At first, the extra patrols made you feel at ease, especially when you were returning to your apartment late. There was a new hero in the area and she seemed determined to make a name for herself. Although you had never run into her, the shops and local papers were chock full of her name. She had brought along two sidekicks, kids really, but between the three of them, the crime rates had steadily decreased. 

Then, you remembered what Tomura had told you once, “Guess this prefecture isn’t important enough for any hero to deem it worth their while…I doubt anyone will notice a villain respawning in the vicinity.” Now, the patrols just made you jumpy and you couldn’t help but worry for him each time he stepped out your door.  

Tomura became even more inscrutable as the days wore on. He was practically seething, a deep rage bubbling over him and tipping, spreading. It tainted his voice, his movements. However, he was careful to not take his brittle aggression out on you. 

No, he was never rough with you, at least, unless you wanted him to be. But, that was a different sort of dynamism he would retreat into. And it was one that you welcomed. Often, it could pull him from the brink of his restlessness.  

Even with the distractions, Tomura was still on edge. He’d always worn his emotions in his eyes and body language. You could map every inch of him now and that power never brought reassurance. You didn’t question his anger. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you just knew that it was a part of him. It sat against his heart, beating in tandem with the muscle. But, it wasn’t his budding aggression that set things in motion. 

Instead, something more insidious crept in. 

******

A knock at your door startles you, your pen dragging against the drafting paper, an unseemly line etched across the design. Shit. You look at your phone. Although Tomura didn’t text every time he came by, he usually kept his travels to and from your apartment to odd hours, like pre-dawn, or the dead of night. According to your device, it’s just after noon. No, something isn’t right…

The knocking comes again, louder, insistent. 

You stand, gulping down your shaking nerves. It could be nothing, you tell yourself as you walk to the door, your feet padding against the wood, just calm down, (Y/N). 

Two men stand outside your doorway. They are wearing professional, dark suits and they look like bad fucking news. 

“Miss (L/N)?” the shorter one asks, removing his hat and bowing to you. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your heart beating tightly against your chest. 

“I’m Detective Ito and this is Detective Yamashita,” he gestures briefly to the taller man, who gives you a cursory bow. “Sorry to bother you during the work day, but we have a few questions for you. Do you mind if we come in?” his voice is liquid and you distrust it immediately. 

“Right now? I’m in the middle of a project, is there any way I can get a card and possibly meet with you later?” You try to make yourself stand up straight, projecting a calming lull over your tone. Come on, (Y/N), you’re not bothered by this, if anything you’ve been preparing for this. Handle them and don’t let anything slip, you have nothing to hide. Except for the villain who haunts your bed. No, don’t think that. You’ve got this...  

“I’m sorry Miss (L/N),” the taller gentlemen, Detective Yamashita, presses, stepping toward you. “It can’t. This concerns some delicate information and we need to make sure we can clear you. While you’re not being accused of anything,” he amends, catching sight of your narrowed eyes, “we do need to make sure we’re covering our bases.” 

“And my rights as an American citizen?” you press, holding your ground. You have a feeling it will be a null point, but it’s worth a shot. 

“I’m afraid your visa doesn’t grant you any special privileges. Now, I’ll ask you again, may we come in? Or, do we need to come back with something a little more…stringent?” He lets the final word hang, a warning. Detective Yamashita is clearly playing the role of bad cop in this little interrogation, that’s not an interrogation. Yeah, right.

You pause, biting your lip, thinking. If you push back, then you might find yourself in more hot water, besides, as far as you can tell, you aren’t under arrest. That means they don’t have anything concrete, for the time being.

You bow, “I apologize gentlemen, I don’t mean to be rude, I just don’t understand what two detectives could possibly want to question me about. Please, come in.” 

They seem placated by this response and follow you into your living room. You offer them a seat on your couch and bring your work stool around to sit in front of them, hands folded in your lap. Here’s hoping the demure act will work in your favor…

“It’s no problem Miss (Y/N), I know you haven’t been in Japan long. I’m sure it’s unsettling to see us. Now, before we proceed, would you please show us your U.S. passport, work visa and residence card?” 

You nod, keeping your face neutral as you gather your paperwork, holding them out to Detective Ito, who takes a small flashlight to them, scanning for any forgeries. Satisfied, he hands them back, a small smile on his lips. Still doing that good cop routine, you think irritatedly, tossing the papers on your media stand. 

“We’ve heard that you’ve found a boyfriend while you’ve been here,” detective Yamashita pries, crossing his legs and leaning toward you. “Where is he?” 

“Not sure I’d call him that, he’s more of an acquaintance. He lives in another city,” you lie. Keep things simple and to the point, don’t supply anything you don’t mean to. 

“Which one?” 

“Esuha City,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the detectives. 

“Your landlady said he has very distinctive features,” Detective Yamashita pauses, writing something down. Then, his eyes lift, waiting. He’s not going to let you slip past this query. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, your head tilting questioningly. 

“She said he had white hair.” 

You tap at your chin, pretending to think. “Oh, I believe he did. He dyes it a lot.” 

“What color is it now?” 

“Not sure, I haven’t seen him in a while.” Well, you think snidely, that one is partially true, it had been about a few days since you’d last seen Tomura. 

“A co-worker of yours, Mr. Suzuki, also mentioned something interesting about your, er, friend,” Detective Ito pipes up, and you arch an eyebrow at him, not answering, holding back. 

“He said that he acted strangely when he came by. Apparently, he was very aggressive. Mr. Suzuki said he felt threatened.” 

It’s really shitty luck that interaction has come back to bite you. “Oh,” you feign remembrance, “well, my co-worker, Mr. Suzuki, had decided to walk into my apartment unannounced and without knocking. Naturally, I thought he might have been a burglar. I’m sure my landlady has told you that my unit has been burglarized before?” 

“She did,” Detective Yamashita replies, his eyes finally drifting away from yours. “While this might be a long shot, we would like for you to look at some pictures.” He snaps open his briefcase and pulls a collection of images out, pressing them into your hands. 

You can feel them both eyeing you carefully as you shift through the images. Some of them are Tomura, some are others, and most are blurry. You lift one curiously. It’s the image of a man standing on a train platform in a dark trench coat. Squinting, you try to see the station name. You can just make out the lettering, Musutafu Station. It’s the one that is close to UA. Taking another look over the others you see the same station tiles, your heart feels like it’s floating away. 

Maybe they really are just checking leads, they do seem a bit bumbling, but that could also be an act. Something that makes you drop your guard, something that could put both you and Tomura in danger. 

“No, I’m sorry. Although,” you tug out one of the pictures that is not Tomura, “this one looks a little familiar. I just can’t think where I’ve seen them before…”

“That’s the League of Villain’s leader,” Detective Ito provides, and Detective Yamashita glares at him, his eyes darkening. 

“Oh! God, is that who you’re looking for?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“We’ve been canvassing the area, asking questions of some of the locals. A girl in downtown Tokyo thought she saw him the other day, like I said, just covering our bases.” Detective Yamashita admits, taking the pictures from you. 

“But, that doesn’t explain how I ended up in your investigation.  Is it because my friend had white hair? I mean, not to be rude, but that feels, vague…”

“Since Shigaraki was seen near the train, we traced other CCTV cameras in the station. We noticed that someone similar to his description was seen exiting at this station, as well as several stops in Tokyo a few months ago. Your, uh, friend, as of now, fits a similar description. We’re just checking the area for anyone who has been in contact with persons similar to Shigaraki.”

“So, no recent sightings?” You opt to ignore that last bit of information, it would make more sense for you to be worried about the bigger picture. 

“It’s terrifying to think that a villain might be lurking around. After the burglary, I really considered moving to another complex. I was hoping that that new hero would turn things around.” You duck your head, trying your best to look flustered and scared. They aren’t hard emotions to reach for, given the circumstances.

“He hasn’t been seen in a while, ma’m, please, don’t worry,” Detective Ito says encouragingly, earning him another glare from Detective Yamashita. 

“I just, I don’t understand something, why talk with my co-worker?” you ask, your voice low. 

They're hiding something. Suzuki could have reported his minor encounter with Tomura to the police, or maybe these men approached him. It was frustrating and frightening. It’s something so small, such a tiny slip in time. You’d honestly forgotten about Suzuki’s visit, so much had happened since then. But now, thanks to Suzuki’s report, there are detectives sitting in your living room. There’s no way you can plausibly deny Tomura’s presence in your apartment. Both Suzuki and the apartment manager had seen him. 

“We have reason to believe that he might have-” Detective Ito is cut off by Detective Yamashita’s throat clearing, a rasping sound that reverberates in your small apartment. You gulp, pulling yourself from your musing, your hands fidgeting in your lap. 

“Ito, please. I’m sorry ma’am, we aren’t able to give that information out at this time. At present, we have no further questions for you Miss (L/N), but, before we go, do you mind if we take a quick look around?”   

“Um, of course,” you smile weakly. What else could you do? The more you resisted, the more suspicious you looked. Your stomach drops as they stand and you feel like you are going to be sick. 

These detectives knew about Tomura, there’s no way they didn’t. They might be checking now, but they’ll be back. And the next time they might not…

No, you can’t think about that right now. Just go along with what they want and get them out of here. You can figure out a plan of action when they’re gone. 

The detectives are already pacing around the rest of the living room when you finally stand from your seat. Thankfully, this part of their investigation should be easy. 

The most Tomura ever kept at your place was the two pairs of sweatpants that you’d bought him and those you can easily explain away. You’d also kept your food purchases to a minimum. Lately, he hadn’t been eating much of anything, so you’d saved on the grocery bill. Thank God for that. 

Overall, your apartment looks like it just housed you. 

The two detectives putter around for a few minutes, opening drawers, examining shelves and closets. They even peek in your bedroom, but Detective Ito had practically closed the door on Detective Yamashita’s nose when he poked into the dark room. The smaller detective shook his head, aghast at the very thought of entering something so feminine and private. And odd reluctance, for a man who called himself a detective. 

Concluding their search, they head back to your front door and you trudge after them, feeling numb.

“Well, Miss (L/N), thank you for your time,” Detective Yamashita bows, followed closely by his compatriot. “If you hear or see anything out of the ordinary, please, don’t hesitate to give us a call. We’d also like to hear from your…friend if he drops by again.” 

“Of course,” you demure, bowing back, praying that this is about to end. 

“Have a pleasant day, we’ll be in touch.” Detective Ito grins and the two men make their way to the next apartment floor, their feet heavy against the carpet. Once your door is shut you fall down into the floor of your genkan, your heart pounding and hands shaking. Oh God, you have to…Wait, should you text him? You’re not using his name on your phone, but what if they’re already tracing it? Can they do that? 

You pull yourself to your feet, your legs wobbly, and drag yourself back to your drafting desk, snatching up your phone. Your fingers tremble as you type in your message. You don’t know if you should put it in some kinda vague, coded wording, or if you should just toss the damn phone out the window and resort to smoke signals. Damn it. 

[You: 1:13 pm]

Hey, some men came over. They were asking questions. 

Well, it certainly doesn’t seem like a vague text, you think, looking over the message and hitting send. No, it looks like it’s screaming that you’re harboring Tomura Shigaraki. You move to your floor, back braced against the wall, waiting. It might be hours before he texts back. But, you didn’t want him coming over and then finding himself immediately captured by the police. 

You bury your face in your hands, a low groan wracking out of your lips. Worst case, he won’t answer at all and all you’d have left of him are memories, not even realizing that they were the last interactions that the two of you would share. 

The sudden vibration of your phone snaps you out of your head, and your hands shake so badly they send the device skittering across your mats. You tumble after it, lifting the screen and breathing a sigh of relief. He answered. 

[Tenko: 1:23 pm]

5-2 Kusunokicho 7-chome

It’s an address. You highlight the text, hit copy, and paste it into the mapping app on your phone. It looks like it’s a tea shop. You stand, legs still trembling, and grab your purse and jacket, heading for your door. You poke your head out, into the hallway, and gather your strength. If you are going to do this, you need to look natural. Besides, if they are following you, hopefully Tomura would know what to do. 

You gulp as you lock your door behind you, a morbid thought jumping into your mind. Well, here’s hoping that knowing what to do didn’t mean killing anyone. 

******

The tea shop is busy. It’s raining, so that might have contributed to the bustle inside the shop. You pull the hood of your jacket higher, trying to shield your face from the freezing droplets. Tomura hadn’t texted again and you didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to ping your location on your phone. 

In fact, you think belatedly, you might as well switch it off. As you power the device down, you hear a low whistle from the alleyway across the narrow street. 

You turn your head slowly, the rain pattering against your face. There is a figure loitering toward the back. It isn’t distinguishable as anything other than dark. Well, fingers crossed you aren’t about to be murdered. 

Splashing across the street you duck down the alleyway, thankful you’d thrown on some heavy boots for this excursion. The figure is stationary and you pause a few feet back, waiting. He lowers his hood, red eyes still focused on the street behind you. You almost run to him. You have to tense your legs to resist the temptation, your nails digging into your palms. 

“Were you followed?” he rasps, watchful, his eyes flashing at you, the street, and finally, back to you. You shake your head. 

You’d taken a route similar to the one you’d transversed when you came to the clinic to drop off the diagram for that prosthetic. Each time you’d switched trains or busses you had discretely studied the faces around you, looking for any repeats, anyone who might be tracking you. You’d even drifted into a few other shops before reaching this street, often ducking out a back door and taking the alleys to the next street over. 

You’d been careful, you just hoped it was enough. 

“This way, stay alert,” Tomura murmurs, his hands still firmly in his pockets. He leads you down another street and into a smaller back alley. He’s doing his own weaving now, taking you over some of the pathways twice, his eyes always peering over his shoulder, observant and sharp. Finally, he pauses in front of a dilapidated door and shoves his way inside. 

“Come on,” he calls back to you, holding the door open, allowing some space for you to slink past him. He follows, yanking the metal closed, sealing you both inside. 

You shrink back against the darkness, your eyes struggling to adjust. You can hear Tomura moving toward you, his breathing a low scratch against the silence. He stops at your side, the warmth of his body close. 

Neither of you move for a time. You’re both listening. The only sounds you can make out is the rain and your own heartbeat. You close your eyes, your head thumping against the door. “God,” you whisper, your voice thick with disuse. 

The sound makes Tomura shift closer, his arms pulling you to him, away from the cold metal. He presses a quick kiss against your temple and tugs you further into the room. 

It looks abjectly barren. 

There’s an old mattress in one corner and a smattering of trash, mostly cans and takeout containers, strewn over the greasy floorboards. It looks like it’s operating as his bedroom and the thought makes your heart squeeze. It’s fucking disgusting. No wonder he used you as a place to crash in the beginning. No human should live like this. 

He flops down to sit on the mattress and pulls you after him. The two of you perch on the uneven surface and you let out a long sigh, overwhelmed. Tomura senses this and doesn’t press you. He lets you catch your breath, welcoming your leaning touch. Once you’ve shaken off your jitters, you begin.

“They were detectives. They said they saw you at a Tokyo station, so they checked CCTV and traced you to the stop by my apartment.” Tomura is silent and you gather your breath to continue. 

“They talked with the landlady and they talked with that idiot coworker of mine, you know, the one who tried to come in the apartment that one night. It was vague shit, I tried my best to ask more than I talked. 

One detective kept trying to get the other to stop telling me details. He finally shut down the whole thing, saying they’d be in touch and for me to give them a call if I saw anything. I…I just hope this doesn’t fuck things up for you, for-for us…I don’t...goddamn it…” You bury your face in your arms, a sob stuttering from you. 

Tomura is quiet, but he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around your quaking shoulders.  

******

He isn’t sure what he wants. 

It’s not a sensation he experiences often and he’s finding it hard to grapple with. If he’s thinking selfishly, he would keep you with him. He’d drag you to hell and back if he could. He doesn’t want to give you up and he isn’t even sure if he can. A deep welling of possessiveness had overtaken him. You were his, just as he was yours. 

It was strange to admit that. 

He wanted to break everything to pieces, to decay it into nothingness, but, over the last few months, he’d come to adjust those goals. Not just with you, no, the same leniency applied to this league of his. They should have what they wanted, too. 

So, he let you cry against him. 

He wants to know what giving is like. To tell you that he could give you something of his. After all, he’d stripped you down to nothingness, taking and taking until you had finally lain bare and open in front of him. You’d started the process naturally, giving coming as easily to you as breathing. 

He knew he didn’t want you around the league. 

You were too different, too removed from that sense of desperation and fanatical idealism. And you didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t like seeing you in a place like this, dilapidated and crushed, sobbing against his chest, your warm tears soaking into his skin. 

No, you deserved to be comfortable. You weren’t a fighter. You would try if he asked, he knew you would. But it wasn’t you. Besides, what did you want? 

He would have to let you go. He’d known it from the first moment he’d felt your lips running across his. Still, it had come too soon. Perhaps that could be his gift to you? Letting you settle back into normality. 

******

“What should I do?” You ask him, lifting your head from his chest, eyes puffy and tired. His gaze is clouded, the red murky, unfocused. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, his voice hollow. 

“Tomura,” you admonish, “I...I just don’t want you falling into some trap. Not because of this stupid…I don’t even know what to call it. I thought we were careful...I-I don’t know. I’m just so fucking mad.” 

He smiles at your outburst, his scar lilting up. “What do you want to do?” He presses his forehead against yours, exhaling heavily, waiting for your answer.

“Move,” you reply, tipping your fingers up to trace along his jaw. 

“Then move, it should be easy for you to get back to the U.S.” 

You sigh, pulling your head back. “No, I don’t want to do that. I just mean, move somewhere that’s safe for-” 

“The league is regrouping soon. We’ve caught wind of some…information. It’s going to take us farther out of the city. I was going to tell you tonight. I don’t know how long it will be. Could be months…” He speaks slowly, his voice lulling, soothing you, even as you take in what he’s actually saying. I’m leaving, get out while you can. 

There is a long silence following his announcement, and you lean against him, burying your face against the rough fabric of his trench coat. So, just go home? Go back to the states? There has to be something that you’re not thinking of…

Tomura tilts your face up, craving contact. He runs his rough lips over yours, carefully letting his hands tap over your neck. 

His kiss is light. The fleeting caress makes you press against him, your fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer. You moan when he tilts his head, sliding wetly across your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth and you open, tangling with him. Tomura grunts at your eagerness and his nose bumps yours, his exhaled breath shaky, wanting. 

You sigh. How were you supposed to just say ok? How could you be ok without having him like this? What if you wanted to try and remain at his side...could you ask that of him? What if…wait…wait…that’s it! 

You pull back from him, gasping and he gives you a disgruntled look, a frown creasing his features. “Oh...that’s it! I know what to do!” 

“Keep your voice down,” he reprimands, as you lean back to reach for your purse. You dig in the scattered contents and emerge with a small business card, a beaming smile across your face. 

“Nico! He said to call him if I wanted to take him up on that job offer. He said I could draft for him. He’s at that clinic, and he said they work in a grey area, but they have some serious connections. It’s perfect. It lets me slip away, I’ve just got to be careful how I do it.” 

Tomura snorts at your enthusiasm. “So, you just get a new job and all your troubles go away?” 

“No, I tell my job I’m transferring back to the states and I pack up my apartment. It won’t be the cheapest thing I’ve ever done, but if I can pull it off, then it’s the perfect solution. I can find some place else to live, and slip into a new life, one where you can still come and go.”

He stares, his eyes wide in that childlike manner, the pupils blown. You smile and fling your arms around him, kissing along his neck. He grunts and presses you back, pinning your arms to your sides. 

“Stop squirming,” he growls and you still obediently, not wanting to agitate him. 

“Come on, don’t be like that, Tomura. It could work. At least let me try.” You plead, watching his face, trying to see if you could get a read on him. 

“You actually are insane,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and turning his head to look away from your stare. 

“No, I love you.” 

It just tumbles out, but it’s too late to unring the bell. Besides, you stand by it. 

He freezes underneath you, his head whipping back to yours. His eyes are sharp and his lips are lifted in a deep scowl. It’s an intense look he’s giving you, almost raw, dangerous. It makes your stomach flip, uncertainty pooling in your gut. You find yourself looking away and biting your lip, “I mean it, I-” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else. 

He’s pulling you against him with bruising force, his hands trembling as they press into your skin. He can’t even seem to focus enough to land his lips on yours. He tries again, then stops himself, his face lifting away, but he won’t let you go. 

His arms are wrapped around you, his grip tightening and relaxing. He tries to look at you, but ends up ducking his head once your eyes catch his, burying his face in your neck, panting against your skin. He can’t stay still. No, he’s groaning, so brokenly against you that you’re worried he’s going to shake himself to bits. 

You lift your arms, belatedly, to wrap around his neck. You try to hold him to you, desperate to seep a little reassurance, fuck, a little sanity into his trembling body. Tomura shakes his head at the confinement and shoves you down, against the mattress. 

You squeak as your back hits the musty sheets, but he’s pinning you under him before you can protest. 

“What did you say to me?” he finally snarls, his lips curled over his teeth. “No. I know you didn’t just fucking tell me that. How could you even- How? I’m a monst- I-I...” He can’t string his words together. His head dips to your neck, his lips rough against your skin. He can’t catch his breath and he won’t keep still.

You’re gasping under him, trying to hold him. But, it’s impossible to control him. You just shut your eyes against the emotions that he’s pulling from you and let him seethe above you. 

“Look at me,” he growls, his voice hoarse and ragged. You try to wince your eyes open, but you’re too overwhelmed, you just can’t, you can’t look. 

Why, you think distantly, why can’t you look? 

You tell him you love him and now you can’t look at him? Are you afraid of what you’ll see? Afraid of the rejection that you know is coming? It doesn’t change anything, you tell yourself, even if he tells you to get out, it doesn’t change what’s happened between the two of you. No. If this is what you want, then tell him that. He has to...he has to hear it. 

“Fucking look at me, (Y/N).” 

“T-Tomura,” you try, a tear of frustration, of fear, slipping down your face. “Tomura, I mean it. I lov-” 

“Stop it,” he moans, his breath hot against your cheek, his lips following the path of your tear, pressing the salty wetness away. He’s straddling your hips and his hands are curled, pressing into the bed. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. You don’t mean it. You can’t-” 

“Stop it, Tomura. Just, stop. You think I don’t mean it? How can you say that? After everything we, no, God, how can you fucking say that I don’t love you? When I’m right here, telling you that I do? You don’t get to dictate how I feel. What gives you the right to say that I don’t?” you ask, your voice an angry whisper. You can feel him shaking, his body wracked with his shivers and the realization gives you the courage to open your eyes. Your anger melts away at the sight that greets you. 

He’s hunched over, his hair draped across his face and his eyes are clenched shut. He looks like he’s ready to fall apart. One of his hands lifts to scratch at his neck, dragging red lines down the scarred skin. 

As if they have a mind all their own, your own hands lift, tugging free of his weight to cup around his face. He tries to yank his way out of your grasp but you just tighten your hold. He’s not getting away that easily.  

“Tomura,” you call, keeping his face captive in your hands, forcing him back to you. “Tomura, I love you.” 

He sags. 

His whole body seems to shrink and his eyes finally meet your steely gaze. The red is bright, wild, gleaming in the darkness. You gulp and furrow your brow, a trembling exhale falling from your lips. You have to say it now. There’s no going back. The world is shattering, splintering to pieces above you, but he has to know. Before you lose him, he’s gotta at least know that one thing in this world that he hates so much, cares about him. Fuck, loves him. 

“Sure,” you begin, still gripping your fingertips into the side of his head, slowly slipping up to tug at his hair. “I’m insane. I’ve fallen in love with someone who wants absolutely nothing to do with what I can offer. 

It’s not going to work Tomura, I know it’s not. But, goddamn it, at least let me try. I know I don’t get to keep you, I don’t even know what you’re fucking planning to do. You could want to burn down the world for all I care. I just...I just want to hold on a little longer.” 

He’s slack jawed and his eyes are wide and unfocused. He’s still panting but he’s not fighting against your hold anymore. Finally, he closes his eyes and lowers his head, his forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“Say it again,” he requests, his voice muted, thick with longing. 

“What? The whole thing?” 

He lets out a wheezing laugh and you slowly start to breathe again. 

“You know what I want,” he murmurs. You lift his head from you, tilting until you catch his eyes. 

“I love you, Tomura.” A low shudder echoes up his spine and his eyes drift closed again. 

“Fuck,” he rumbles, tugging his head from your hands. He doesn’t go far. Instead, he flops to his side and drags you over, draping you across him, his arms latching around you, keeping you in place. 

You sigh, relieved, dipping your head against him, feeling for his heartbeat. You’re both quiet and the room stills around you. Your fingers are tracing lazy circles over his crossed arms, careful to avoid his clenched fists. He presses his nose against your hair, inhaling deeply. 

“Stay,” he says above you, his breath stirring across the top of your head.     

You smile against his chest and duck into his warmth. His grip on you tightens, lean muscles coiling, holding you to him. You can feel his lips as they run along the top of your head, tapping soft kisses into your hair.  

Ok, so it’s not the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard, but you wouldn’t have wanted him any other way. 

******

Your new apartment is nothing to sneeze at. Nico hadn’t been joking about that pay raise. He also was so much more than you were expecting. Not in a bad way, just in a, hey, I know some shit just went down, are you ok, kinda way. He didn’t pry, but he’d gone out of his way all the same.

The rest of the team at the clinic has also been absolutely stellar at helping you to get set up. Need something moved? On it! It’s like a big family and you can’t wipe the smile off your face most days.  

As for your old job, they had been disappointed, but they understood why you wanted to get back to America. However, the American side of that job hadn't been so thrilled at your resignation, but you had received a glowing review from your old boss stateside. You liked to pull it up on your new laptop, reading over the words of encouragement and shaking your head at just how seriously you’d taken her advice. 

Your Japanese work buddies were heartbroken, Hanabi most of all. But, you promised to keep in touch. You hadn’t quite figured out how you were going to do that, but that was a problem for another day. 

All in all, things were going to plan. You had asked Nico for a little bit of extra help with the paperwork, explaining some of the details to him, and he had been quick to get you set up with a new passport, visa and residency card. It was like the old you was just a blip. You’d just need to keep your head down for a while, check the news, and see where all the extra precautions took you. It wouldn’t be easy, but what part of life was?

Tomura had stopped by after you finished setting up your new tv and console. Appropriately, he’d said he wanted to try it out and had then proceeded to ignore you while you set up the rest of the room. You didn’t mind. 

The two of you were trying to make the most of the next couple of days. That lead he’d mentioned was somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. He’d reminded you of that fact, over and over, until you’d finally told him to shut up and let you enjoy the time that you did have with him. 

“Hey,” you call, unboxing the last of your new dishes, “got you something.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes still glued to his game. Rolling your eyes at his inattention, you wander over, leaning over your new couch to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Pause it,” you demand, dropping a kiss against his temple. He grumbles, but you persist, nibbling on the shell of his ear when he tries to prolong his session. 

“What?” He lifts his head up to look at you, his hair falling back against your arms. 

“I want to give you something,” you reply, pressing your lips to his forehead before unwinding your arms and stepping around the couch. He eyes you suspiciously as you perch on your coffee table. You lift a key up, wagging it beside your face. 

“It’s a key,” you taunt. He smirks and snatches it from you, pocketing it and tugging you forward. 

His kiss is soft, so achingly soft that you melt into his arms immediately, flopping against his lean chest. 

“Stop being so dramatic,” he grumbles, shifting you to a more comfortable position across his lap. Your legs straddle his hips and he holds you against him, his fingers warm against your hips. 

“Can’t say I never got you anything,” you tease, leaning back and grinning down at him. 

“Same,” he huffs, reaching into his pocket again and tossing a small phone at you. You fumble to catch it. He snorts at your scrambling and you pout. 

“It’s not like you’re throwing it at a normal angle or anything.” 

It’s small in your hands, almost obsolete in this modern age. You flip it open and already see a contact programmed in: Tenko Shimura. 

“So you don’t bring any more cops around. It also can’t be traced.” His voice is hushed, almost embarrassed. It makes your heart flutter. 

“Awe, a burner phone. I’ll cherish it always,” you jab and tilt his chin up, so you can keep kissing him. 

******

A low vibrating wakes you. Blearily, you check your phone, only to be greeted with a normal screen, no missed messages or emails. Huh? The vibrating continues and you suddenly realize what it is. Flinging your feet out of bed, you rush to your charger, unhooking the old phone Tomura gave you. 

[Tenko: 2:23 am]

Out of the city. Found a new friend. 

There’s a picture underneath the words and you click the buttons until it lets you highlight and bring up the image. 

It looks like he’s in a forest and you’re shocked he has a signal. But…what the hell is that? 

There’s something nestled between all the greenery and it looks ominously like a man. If it’s real, it’s practically a giant, no, actually hulking would be a better word…

It’s practically a living, hulking mountain. Unsure if your sleepy brain is playing tricks on you, you exit the image, deciding that 2 am is not the time to unpack this particular phenomenon. 

[You: 2:35 am]

Looks, uh, interesting? Be safe & Love you. 

- Fin

Author’s Note:

Ugh, this was such a bittersweet chapter for me. I wrote this fic in its entirety back in the last few weeks of August. I had time before my classes started again and I leapt at the opportunity. In many ways, I identified more and more with the reader insert as I tried to pour out my ideas. I wanted to hold onto this tiny story that I’d outlined, to see if I could make something like this work after such a long break from writing on this scale. 

So, out came Look Upon the Light. 

It was like a fever dream. I couldn’t stop now that I’d started. After I reached the 8th, and final, chapter, I spent the next two months pouring over what I’d written, editing endlessly. I wanted to make things feel just right. 

I went from this bombastic climax to something more subdued. Why not let it be an anticlimactic ending? Life often works that way and sometimes things just, well, end. 

Tomura, in particular, has changed so much over the course of this journey. 

There were days when I felt like he sounded terrible, nothing like the complex character that I loved so much. But, with my sister's wonderful edits and suggestions, main ideas & patience and countless read-reads of the manga, I got a handle on him and I am so proud of how he’s come out.

Canonically, I feel like this gap in the main story is the only time something like this romance could happen to him. Tomura is in a fragile place. For the first time in his life there’s no one looking over his shoulder and he’s become a character who is worlds away from where he started. 

His goals are finally solidifying and he acknowledges that the members of his league deserve to have what they want too. Inside, no matter what has been stripped from him, he’s always been Tenko Shimura: that little boy who wanted to play with the outliers, to make sure that he was letting them feel included too. I indulgently like to think that if someone like the reader existed, their relationship might help him to come to terms with this part of himself. 

Finally, this wouldn’t have been possible without you, dear readers. I have cherished each and every kudo, comment, subscription, like, and reblog. I was so scared to put this out. There are so, so many talented writers for this fandom and I was nervous. It had been so long since I’d written anything on this scale, would it sound ok? You all have been so supportive and welcoming and I love you so much. The response I received from posting this let me feel confident enough to explore some of my other favorite characters. 

So, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I mean it when I say that you all are amazing and I wish each of you so much joy. 

While this won’t be the last time I write for Tomura, there are other facets of his personality that I want to explore, I will wait a bit to do any updates to this story. I want things to catch up and settle within the manga itself before I toss the reader back into Tomura’s life. I do hope that they can come together again, as I have become their biggest fan. 

In the meantime, The Gap in the Door will explore some of their other interactions. Some take place around the time of the chapter Polaroid, but some will look into other parts of the story. If you have a prompt, or want to see another glimpse into anything that happened, let me know. These two are so much fun to write and I enjoy head cannoning how they could fit together. 

In short, thank you again for all you’ve done for me and take care of yourselves.

Tags: @inumorph​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @possum-person​, @akutaguagua​

[backalley-requests]

The Proposal | Chapter One

The Proposal Masterlist

Summary: The Proposal™ au, where Ivar gets swept away in a lie about a fake engagement to stay in the country and needs to convince everyone (including his family) that he’s genuinely engaged to a woman he works with

Warnings: use of the word cripple, mild swearing

Word Count: 1,967

With two cups of coffee in hand and a binder under your left arm, you exited the elevator. It was a delicate balancing act and you already managed to drop the binder once... five blocks from here. Admittedly, the coffees were far more important than that.

“Good morning, Y/N!”

Your head spun around to greet your coworker, a grin on your face. “Well good morning, Paola.” Work was always more pleasant before the boss came in. You walked over and sat upon her desk, enjoying the few minutes of chatter everybody engaged in. It wouldn’t last much longer.

“Did you enjoy your date this weekend,” Paola asked as she looked up on you.

You gave an over dramatic groan and rolled your eyes. “I’d rather not be reminded of it. All he did was talk about his exes. Look, here’s some solid advice, Polly. When a guy says all his exes are crazy he’s probably the problem.”

Granted, you still went out with him to begin with. It was a testament to your own bad taste. “What a shame,” Paola huffed as she leaned back in her seat. “I made a bet earlier with Kara that you’d really hit it off with him.”

“I’ll consider that your karma for making bets about my love life then,” you teased.

The building settled into small talk. You talked more about past relationships and Paola encouraged you to find someone. She was currently engaged, and you figured she wanted someone to relate to her.

“The Tyrant has entered the building!”

A quick warning call from the cubical closest to the elevator. All chatter immediately stopped and people rushed to their desks and pretended to be busy on sight. You hoped off of your friend’s desk and picked your stuff up again. “I’ll talk to you later,” you winked at her.

Right on cue the sound of heavy steps and a cane came from the elevator and out stepped your boss. Ivar Lothbrok. He wore a permanent scowl on his face as he walked by, straight to his office.

When you first got transferred to the department you had been excited to finally get to work with him. The man was handsome as hell. Dark hair, piercing blue eyes, tall. He looked like a dream. His accent didn’t help either. Your dreams had prepared you for some steamy forbidden love office romance, and instead you woke up to the realization that the man was the closest thing to a psychopath you ever met.

As Ivar headed to his office you immediately followed. You knocked twice on the door and entered as usual. “Good morning, Mr. Lothbrok,” you grinned. He didn’t glance up from his desk, his eyes buried in paperwork.

“Set it down on the desk.”

You placed the coffee on his desk and left. There was a routine to things. He stopped being as angry with you even if he was never friendly. You were probably the only person in the office who didn’t get yelled at anymore. Any anger on your end was hidden behind locked lips.

On your way out the door you bumped into Trevor Taylor, the man not bothering to mind his steps as he stormed into the office. You didn’t bother looking back and whistled. It was difficult to hide your amusement. Every so often people came in, screamed obscenities, and got dragged away by security.

—

“You’re firing me!” The voice boomed through the office and every worker immediately stopped. “You can’t fire me, you need me!”

Ivar didn’t glance up, ignoring the postering.

“And you can’t even look at me,” Trevor shook his head. “What are you? Deaf now too? Answer me!” His hands slammed down on the desk.

“Don’t you think an outburst like this is exactly why you’re getting fired?” Ivar’s blue eyed remained frozen. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate to get into a shouting match, say something to make the man cry and watch him leave. The difference today was that Trevor Taylor desired attention so badly that to deny him was more satisfying. Trevor worked himself up to a breaking point. “You should pack your things before we throw them out, Trevor.”

“I’m invaluable to this company. You know that. You’re bluffing.”

“You’re a bad worker. You turn things in late and underperform in everything you do.” The words easily slipped out as Ivar flipped through a file.

“I’m not getting fired from a guy who can’t even chase me down a flight of stairs.”

Those words got to Ivar. The man had had it coming for a while now. “The only reason you lasted this long is that everyone pitied you after your wife slept with your brother. But I didn’t. And I still don’t.” He closed the file and stared up at Trevor.

“You crippled fuck!” Trevor grabbed the coffee and squeezed until it burst open across Ivar’s face and down his suit.

“Get the fuck out of here!” Ivar stood up, grabbing his cane as tightly as he could; thankful the coffee didn’t drip down to his braces. It took everything to avoid throwing something at the man, but he couldn’t deal with another lawsuit like that. “Security,” he called out.

__

Two men came in and Trevor was dragged out kicking and screaming. Everyone in the office watched with great intent. Ivar came out of his office next, drenched in coffee and thankful he preferred cold drinks.

You eyed him and hesitated for a moment before you decided he might need help, even if he didn’t want it. You got up and followed behind him, grabbing the spare coffee.

You found him just inside a private bathroom. The door wasn’t locked and you entered as if you weren’t straight up entering a bathroom.

“I take it that was another successful firing,” you teased to lighten up the mood. He glanced back, his stare shot daggers into your soul. “He had it coming. I don’t think anyone’s taking his side.” You had heard the words being shouted. It hadn’t taken long for Trevor to bring up the man’s legs a few extra times before security arrived times. He had done it in private many times before.

Ivar took off his suit jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. Your eyes couldn’t stop themselves as they stared down his chest. You bit your bottom lip and pried your eyes away. “I don’t care what they think.”

You knew he did. It was your job to know everything about him. You hated him half the time but there was no way Ivar was as evil as he portrayed. “You can have my coffee,” you placed it on the sink counter next to him.

He grabbed it and took a sip. A moment later he eyed you with amusement. “And I’m assuming it’s not a coincidence we have the same taste in coffee.”

“I’m clumsy. Plus, I had a feeling Trevor wasn't about to respond well to being fired,” you admitted sheepishly.

“I should have you fired for ass kissing.”

“What—“, you blinked in surprise.

“Grab my spare from the office.” He didn��t elaborate and sent you on an errand. “And then take these to the cleaners.” He handed you the stained close.

You nodded your head and left.

—

“What do you mean my visa is revoked?” Ivar demanded as he sat before his superiors in his office. “I’m supposed to get my citizenship by Friday?”

“You violated the terms of agreement. You left the country.”

“I went to Quebec! It’s hardly outside the US! And mind you, it was for this company.” Ivar was angry now, this whole thing was ridiculous. “Look— I’ll just reapply again and figure it out all. In the meantime I can relocate back to Europe for a little while.”

“We can’t have you employed here if you aren’t a citizen or have a visa.” The man before Ivar admitted, “and the process is going to take over a year.”

“So what are you saying?”

Ivar already knew the answer, but he needed to hear them say it.

“Unless you can find a way to legally stay here you can’t work for the company.”

Ivar laughed, “you don’t have anyone else even half as qualified as me.”

“Trevor Taylor.”

“I just fired the guy, he doesn’t even work here,” Ivar scoffed. His hands crossed over his chest as he leaned back in the chair. This whole ordeal was ridiculous. Why was he even putting up with this?

“Well I’m sure he’s looking for a new job then.”

Ivar remained silent for a moment, his brain worked fast to find some sort of loophole. He couldn’t just go back home unemployed to his family.

The sound of the office door opening pulled him from his thoughts. He turned his head and saw you there, anger swelling up inside him. You had came to bring back his dry cleaning. Ivar was on edge and anything would set him over expect—

“Actually this won’t be a problem at all,” Ivar stood up and he walked over to you and placed his free arm over your shoulders, confusion clear on your face. “Because we’re getting married.”

“You are?”

You were frozen, unsure of what you walked in on.

“Exactly. We didn’t want to spoil the whole thing, office etiquette and stuff. But it’s true, we’re madly in love. And since we’re getting married I’ll be staying in the US just fine,” Ivar said.

“I get it, we’ve all had an office romance or two. So long as you get it approved I don’t see a problem with it.” The man said. It was clear he was also looking for any plausible excuse to keep Ivar around. Despite the fearsome reputation, Ivar was great for the company.

The two men exchanged goodbyes while you remained dazed, but rather than question things while Ivar’s boss was in the room you waited until the man left.

“I’m not marrying you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“What just happened?”

“That trip to Quebec cost me my visa. If I don’t have one I can’t stay.” Ivar said so simply, moving back behind his desk.

“I’m forgetting the part where this is my problem?” Considering the fact that Ivar was suddenly pairing you off as engaged you figured you deserved to sit in the chair as you argued with him.

Ivar paused for a moment, the gears turning in his head. “Trevor will replace me if I go. He hates you as much as me right now, so unless you don’t want to be out of a job I suggest you agree. It’s only three years. We don’t even have to live together.”

The whole idea sounded ridiculous but in some aspects he was right. You’d lose your job. You spent far too many souless years working here and the idea of starting over was terrifying. “Well— what if I actually wanted to get married?”

“It’ll take a lot longer than three years for you to convince anyone to marry you,” Ivar said simply as he went back to his work. The deal was sealed in his mind.

You struggled to formulate a response. “Fine. But I get a promotion.”

His blue eyes found yours. “And why would I do that, Y/N?”

You blinked in response. It should’ve been obvious why. “I— well I’m the reason you’re keeping your job. You owe me too. That’s three years of my life for your benefit.”

The offer was made and he was forced to think. “Fine.” His hands were tied and he hated it. “Do you want anything else”, annoyance was evident in his tone.

“A proposal.”

“What?”

“A proper one.”

Ivar’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t care for the idea and admittedly a part of him wasn’t sure he could. He couldn’t get down on one knee. “I’m not doing that.”

A moment of silence passed before you gave up. “Fine. But at least say it. Like you mean it.” You were being petty but it was the least this guy could do.

He took a deep breath and stared at you with intent. “Y/N—“ Ivar stopped himself and paused.

“Do you not know my last name?”

There was more silence as you both eyed each other.

“Will you just marry me.” Ivar concealed any embarrassment he felt over the situation. He appeared tense and a little angry. This was a better proposal than you expected from him, all things considered.

“Yes.”