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faevi · 6 months

Note

can u do make up sex with saturo

SAPPHIRE LOVE. - (gojo smut)

Scenario: Gojo Satoru is your boyfriend and you were excited to celebrate your fifth year together in a fancy restaurant. It’s a pity that work seems to always come first. Satoru accidentally missed the date and left you feeling insecure. Can he make it up to you?

Word Count: 9,230 words.

Content/Trigger Warnings: female reader (she/her), angst-ish (not too bad imo), sadness, over-thinking, insecurities, fear of losing one another, fluff (does this need to be warned?), cheesiness, romance, love, sex, unprotected sex, consenting sex, make up sex, cum inside, cock-warming, praise, teasing, finger sucking, cunningulous, fingering, handjob, big dick, mentions of bulging (it’s fiction ok, it’s hot), side by side sex position, intimacy, crying, absolutely smitten for one another.

I think that’s it…? I never know what needs to be warned, lmao. Please (kindly) let me know if I missed anything!!

Note: I hope you like it, anon!! Please do let me know if you do (: Or well, that goes for anyone. HAHA, i’m a sucker for praise so I get happy if I hear someone enjoyed it. Personally, don’t think it’s my best work and that I can always do better ; ; . So forgive me. I’ll continue to try hard! Please enjoy <3333 Thank you for the request!

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS, PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!

Your soft hands cup your own cheeks as you continue to sit at the reserved table, customers slowly filtering out of the restaurant around you. Sadness clouds your gaze, staring blankly at the candle that is slowly melting away. It’s already closing time and the staff are looking at you with nothing but pity. It’s embarrassing. You keep your head tilted down, taking the last gulp of wine before you sigh heavily. He’s not coming. How foolish of you to think he would.

You bunch up the tightly fitted red dress that you decided on for this special occasion before you stand up, ignoring the ache in your feet from wearing heels and grab your glittery clutch that matches the shade of your dress. Everything new, bought for this special occasion. Tears burn your eyes but you hold your head high, refusing to let the humiliation overwhelm you. You approach the counter, pulling your wallet out of your clutch.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay, it’s on the house.”

You stare at the waitress, soon glancing around to other staff members who pretend to look busy with cleaning and stacking dirty dishes. Humiliating. “I wasn’t stood up by a first date if that’s what you’re thinking. My boyfriend is just— a busy man. Let me pay, please.” You insist gently, silently wondering why you defend your boyfriend out of instinct. The waitress nods before preparing the machine and gesturing for you to tap your card, smiling. You hold it until you hear the beep before moving towards the door. “Thank you.” You say, ignoring how your voice wavers and finally part from the restaurant. You practically had to run out in hopes of ignoring their hushed whispers. You’re sure you’re their entertainment for the night. The girl who gets stood up for the night.

It’s not the embarrassment of being noticed that gets to you. No. It’s the fact that it happened. Your boyfriend not turning up. The pair of you had this dinner planned for months. It’s one of those restaurants that are just booked out every single night. Hell, both of you were excited to try the food… and to celebrate the fifth year together. You grip your clutch tightly to try and prevent your hands from shaking as tears blur your vision. It’s hard to walk in the heels on the pavement and you debate about taking them off. You should be calling for an Uber. It’s far too dangerous at night and you could practically feel eyes in the alleyways undressing you, but you just struggle to think of anything else. All you can think about is him.

Why? Why did this have to happen? You know that Satoru is a busy person. Incredibly busy and there were times in the past that he ended up accidentally missing, but he insisted that he’d be there for this one. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much. He said he’d be there with you. Still, even with your heart aching and tears down your cheeks, smearing your make-up; you found yourself not feeling angry. It’s more of a disappointment and a reminder that maybe you’re a lonely person despite having a loving boyfriend. He’s barely around, even when he tries. Insecure thoughts start to blossom in your mind. Is he intentionally avoiding you? Did he find someone else? Does he not want you anymore or worse… Does he not love you anymore?

A small hiccup escapes, trembling hands coming up to rub at your eyes frantically, smearing the make-up and teeth gritting. You shouldn’t be looking so vulnerable and easy for the taking on the streets that you continue to walk on. Would he even care if something happened? You start to feel a struggle to even breathe, chest so tight with heartache and worries. Butterflies are dead in your stomach.

“Y/N!”

You whip your head around from hearing a familiar voice. His voice. Satoru is standing there, hunched over with his large hands gripping onto his knees and panting heavily. He’s in his work clothing, tie loose around his neck. Hope briefly sparks at the sight of your boyfriend before it comes crashing down from realisation. He missed the anniversary date. You look away from the white-haired male, avoiding eye contact. You don’t want him to see you in such a mess. “Did you forget about me?” You ask quietly, voice wavering. He’s only able to hear you speak because it’s so late at night and the roads are quiet.

“What? No! Babe, I tried— Work was so busy, they kept asking for me. It’s hard to say no.” Satoru tries to explain, his own heart clenching from witnessing you look so miserable in front of him. He exhales out shakily, standing tall as he approaches, his hand reaching out towards you. You angle yourself away, arms crossing across your body as a way to protect yourself or more of a way to try and contain your insecurities and overthinking thoughts. You don’t want to bother him with them. Work is more important than you, after all.

It’s like a sharp stab to his heart, hand dropping to his side and already looking defeated. You’re angry with him and rightfully so. Satoru won’t try to argue back this time. He fucked up. You went out to buy a new dress for the special night. Even bought a clutch to match and styled your hair. You were clearly looking forward to it. Satoru can’t deny that he was also excited but, when an entire company relies so heavily on him… He forgot momentarily what really mattered to him. You keep your face tilted away, your hand wiping at your clammy face. “I’m really sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to cause you pain. I never want to see you in pain and to be one that caused it— I won’t let it happen again.” Satoru says softly, hastily stuffing his hands into his pockets to restrain himself from touching you.

“Work seems to be more important than me, Satoru. It’s always work. You’re always there. Rarely with me. Is it selfish of me to wish I was prioritised first? I feel like you don’t love me anymore.” You mumble out quickly, feeling defeated. Satoru’s crystal blue eyes widen with absolute horror at those words. He feels outright disgusted. Never by you, but the fact that he’s somehow forced you into a position where you think such nasty things. Awful lies. “Y/N, please. You are the most important to me. Don’t love you? That’s not tru—”

“I’m going to stay at a friend’s place tonight, okay? We can talk about this later… I just— I can’t do it tonight. Not after being left alone… I understand it was work.” You say quickly, pulling your phone out to call for an Uber. Even that feels like an impossible task because of how hard your hands shake. You feel like you’re too deep in your current heartache to be able to process anything he says. The insecurity triumphs over the truth. Satoru’s long fingers push through his hair, turning away for a moment as it’s too painful. Hearing those words and you pulling away from him. Fuck. It’s all his fault.

“Okay, can we talk tomorrow? Please?” Satoru pleads, nails scratching over his scalp and he shivers at the burning sensation. He’d rather have any form of physical pain than this mess at the moment. You look over at him briefly, phone clutched to your chest. His brows are knitted together to form a frown, lips puckering slightly. It’s hard to deny him. Always has been. “Tomorrow.” You confirm quietly, looking down at the screen. Thankfully, an Uber driver accepted that it was just around the corner. You won’t have to stand in awkward silence. The silver vehicle slowly pulls up in front of you and before you can reach for the handle, Satoru is already opening the door, gaze intensely focused on you. “At least text me when you arrive safely, too. I need to know that you’re safe.”

Your heart jumps a little, the gesture reminds you of when you first met him. He accidentally slammed a door in your face before frantically yanking it open. Since then, he always opened doors for you. Your free hand rests over his larger one on the car door, staring down at the touch you give. “I’ll text you.” You promise before pulling away to settle down in the back seat of the car. Satoru’s eyes are filled with sadness; desperately hoping that he’ll be able to fix this. He closes the door gently and watches the car drive off, hands pulling at his white hair in frustration. He severely fucked up.

---------

A day ended up being a few days before you were ready to face the music. It simply took you this long because you found yourself worrying that everything would turn for the worse and you’d end up losing him. Funny how your brain works when he is the one who missed the anniversary date. You should be the one who is angry and making that giant of a man drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. Anger just isn’t who you are, though. Never. If you’re haunted by negativity, it’s always sadness. Insecurities and doubts. Jealousy. You turn into this little monster of overthinking and tears. Why would he want to be with someone like that? Especially when you had to ask just for a few more days.

Satoru eagerly obliged your request and you wonder if it’s because he wanted a break from you. In reality, you wish your mind would just agree that it’s because Satoru is secretly a gentleman and an amazing lover. He would agree with anything you say, even if it pains him. It’s funny how different he is with you compared to when he is with others. That should just be a clue shoved in your sniffling face to know how he really feels.

You sigh out softly, mindlessly rating the Uber driver the typical five stars and a tip, before pushing the door open and stepping out. It’s evening already on a Friday night. You doubt Satoru is home, but you’ll wait for him. The sun is already slowly starting to set, the sky a gorgeous hue of pinks mixed with reds. Thankfully the sun is low enough behind the apartment building that you don’t have to squint. Your hands tighten on your handbag and you enter the apartment complex after typing in the code to the building. Quietly, you entered the elevator that was already on the ground floor and pressed for your floor. You slump against the elevator wall, watching the number increase. Even your heart starts to increase, anxiety pumping through your veins.

You hate feeling so nervous. Your hands start to feel clammy and your knees tremble. What if he really does leave you after realising there’s no point trying? What if work is more important? You exhale out a shaky breath, cursing to yourself and bring a hand up to wipe the tears that threaten to spill. The elevator doors slide open and you’re finally on the floor of the apartment that you share with the white-haired male. He won’t be home yet, even though you messaged him that you were coming home a few hours ago. You’ll have to wait up on the couch, watching each minute tick by until he’s home as well. Sometimes you wish you could choke his workforce.

You slide the key into the slot and twist it around until you hear a click, slowly opening the door. Out of habit, your gaze focuses first on the alarm and is ready to type in the code; except the alarm wasn’t on… You see glimmers of light in the corner of your eye and finally turn your head to look. You choke on your own gasp of shock, hand coming up to cover your mouth. Tiny candles in glasses line up along either side of the hallway, rose petals of red and white scattered across the wooden floor and gentle music filtering through from where the spacious lounge and dining room are.

“What…” You mutter, soon letting out a small laugh of disbelief as you slip out of your shoes at the entryway and begin to walk down the hallway, eyes fixated on the petals and trying not to crush any of them. Does this mean Satoru is home? Surely, he’s not that reckless to leave unattended candles and… does this sweet gesture mean something good? You finally enter the main area of the apartment and Satoru is standing there, looking rather awkward yet hopeful as he gazes at you, hands twisting.

Satoru is beyond nervous. He has been since watching a stupid Uber drive you further away from him. It’s his fault, he knows. He heard you enter and the gentle shuffling of your feet down the hallway and here you are, right in front of him. You look beautiful, even in ordinary clothes. Your gaze is brief on the surroundings. More candles are scattered around the apartment, bouquets of roses in vases and you even notice a small box on the coffee table. You look at Satoru, confusion on your face as you move closer to him, heart swelling at the sight of his nerves. Satoru is never nervous.

“I thought you’d be at work.” You begin, dropping your bag on the couch and standing in front of him, smiling softly. Your insecure thoughts begin to gently wash away and ease your mind. Satoru laughs, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment. ‘Stay calm’, he thinks to himself. He towers above you when he’s closer, coaxing you out of your jacket, smiling. “Took the day off. Actually, took all of next week off, too.” He responds, draping your jacket over the edge of the couch. You stand there, mouth gaping and watching as he casually steps behind you, large hands clasping your shoulders and guiding you over to the dining table. Satoru never takes days off.

That’s when you notice that dinner has been prepared, and displayed so beautifully. It’s spaghetti and garlic bread. Something simple and smells so good. Most friends and co-workers always doubt if Satoru has a romantic side and you’re just thankful that it’s a private side that you get to see. Although, it’s usually just very small gestures. Nothing this grand. You wonder if he thought all of this up by himself. You press your lips together, not daring to ask yet. Satoru is clearly on edge and you start to feel guilt bubbling up inside of you. You made him wait anxiously, which feels so wrong; even if you were drowning in your own doubt and sorrow.

Satoru could practically see the wheels turn in your head, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze before moving to slide your chair out. “C’mon, sit.” He says, nodding towards the chair. You smile softly before you sit down, shifting as he pushes the chair in. “Satoru, honey. You— You didn’t have to do this. I’m sorry—“ You pause when he raises his hand to stop you, settling down across from you. Satoru knows you like the back of his hand and just knew you’d try to apologise when you’re not to blame. Rarely to blame for any conflict. This is his fault and while he can be often clueless to how people feel; it’s like he’s hardwired to be aware of your feelings. Hence his desperation to make up to you.

“I suck at expressing myself, you know that. But, I want to try right now.” Satoru says, crystal blue eyes steady on your face. He reaches out across the table to tenderly take your hand in his. “I shouldn’t have missed our date, Y/N. Simple as that. I shouldn’t ever be so busy that it gets in the way of time with you. You have always been my priority. The most important part of my life. It’s not an excuse when I say that work tends to manipulate my ass into staying busy— Yeah, the strongest being manipulated sounds like a lie.” He chuckles softly when he sees you raise your eyebrow in questioning, thumb caressing lovingly across your knuckles. “Truth is, I let it happen because all I can think about is being able to support us in the future… It just bounced back hard in my face. Again, not an excuse. This is on me entirely.”

You sigh softly, squeezing his hand. “Satoru, it’s okay..” You trail off and Satoru shakes his head. “You forgive too easily, y’know? It’s one of the things I love about you.” He expresses, gaze softening. You feel your cheeks heat up, flustered by the accurate callout, but also that it’s rare to hear him be so serious with his feelings. Satoru is never shy nor backs down from expressing his feelings. It’s just not so often like this. It’s often playful or to reassure you. Naturally, though, it does reassure you now. You always found it nice that he didn’t have some fragile masculinity despite being the charming male you first met him as and other people often assuming he’s a stereotype. A man who isn’t afraid of feelings. You adore it.

“I am sorry, Y/N. That I missed our anniversary and caused you to be in such a humiliating position. I know it probably wasn’t easy sitting there alone. It was a special night and I ruined it. I’m sorry that I caused insecurity— Nah, you don’t even need to tell me. I just know you felt them.” He sighs out softly, letting go of your hand. Satoru reaches for the bottle of wine, already popped and ready. He pours the deep red liquid into each glass. “I want to be a better boyfriend. Really. No more missing dates. More time with you. Fuck work, honestly.”

You let out a laugh, startled by his change of attitude. “You love that job, Satoru. I’m no fool.” You say, taking hold of the glass of wine, and gently swirling the liquid. “Yeah, but I love you more. I told work that no more calling me in on the weekend and that every second Friday was off. They can try and reject it… They won’t, though. They need me too much.” Satoru says rather cockily, grinning against the rim of his glass of wine. You widen your eyes from hearing the news, almost choking on your wine. “Y- You don’t have to do that!” You express hastily and the white-haired male shakes his head, broad shoulders shaking.

“I don’t, but I want to. I care more about you. Simple as that. This may be me trying to make it up to you, I won’t deny that. It’s also that I want more time with the one I love. We won’t live forever. Time is precious.” He says, taking a sip of his wine. “Try the food. I struggled over the stove for this.” Satoru jokes and you roll your eyes. Satoru is good at everything. Including cooking. It’s all a breeze for him. You sit up in your chair and twirl your metal fork in the noodles before leaning down to slurp them up, moaning at the delicious taste of the sauce.

Satoru shifts in his seat from hearing you, taking a gulp of wine before setting the glass down. “Good to know it was a success.” He snorts quietly and you kick him lightly under the dining table. You smile towards him before looking down. You should be honest. You quietly eat, trying to gather your thoughts before you speak. “You know me too well, Satoru. Sometimes it’s like you can see right through me. I did end up being insecure. Instead of being angry, like most would be… It’s like my mind instantly just goes down the other route. I worried that I was too much, I expect too much and want too much. When you didn’t show up, I blamed myself. I even worried that you found someone else… I panicked that you were going to leave me tonight. That our relationship was too much of a hassle.” You distract yourself by twirling your fork through the spaghetti noodles, unable to meet his sad gaze. “I could never be angry at you, but I’m selfish. I do want more time and I find myself hating your work.” You confess quietly, tearing off a piece of garlic bread to nibble on.

Satoru’s long fingers stroke down along your forearm before taking hold of your free hand. “Work won’t get in the way anymore, I promise. No more fuck ups, unless it’s together.” He jokes lightly, prompting you to snort with amusement. It’s even the little things that he says that make you feel better. “I could never be out of love when it comes to you. It’s like you produce an infinite amount inside of me.” Satoru continues, not expecting you to toss your garlic bread at him, feeling flustered. “What’s with the cheesiness? Come on, eat this delicious meal you cooked.” You whine and Satoru chuckles, wiping crumbs off of his shirt. Deep down, you love the cheesiness and maybe that’s why it’s easy for him to say it.

You both continue to eat the dinner he prepped, not afraid of the silence that falls between you both. It’s comforting, really. You feel as if the weight is lifted off of your shoulders, worries wiped away from not only his promises but also for the evening he prepared. Eventually, you set your fork down in the empty bowl and lean back, hands rubbing your stomach which now feels full. “Did you plan this all by yourself?” You ask, watching Satoru awkwardly puff his cheeks out and look off to the side. “Partly. I may have googled for ideas on how to make my girl happy, after causing her unnecessary sadness... Though, I think I could have easily come up with this on my own.” Satoru grumbles lightly, toned chest puffing out.

Your smile is soft, endeared by his childish behaviour sometimes. It’s cute that he wants all the credit. “Google isn’t taking any of this away from you, baby.” You say, voice laced with sweetness. “I love it, really. It’s sweet of you to do this. Better than a dinner in a fancy restaurant.” You continue and Satoru rubs his hands along his toned thighs. Still, he regrets immensely for missing such an important night. “Google didn’t help me with one idea, at least. It was all mine.” The white-haired male stands up, shuffling over. He didn’t bother with pulling your chair outright. Instead, his arms loop under your armpits to easily hoist you up, coaxing out a few giggles. “What are you doing?” You laugh, feet dragging along the wooden floor as he moves towards the couch, dropping you onto it.

Satoru, pleased by your adorable giggles; leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Wait there for a moment. I know if we leave the dishes out, it will drive you crazy.” He teases, moving to the dining table to stack up the empty dishes before bringing them to the kitchen. Satoru finds himself quite frantic as he stacks them into the dishwasher, not wanting to be away from you. He already had to suffer a few days without you. You stretch your limbs out across the couch as you wait for your boyfriend to return to you, thinking that you shouldn’t have left for a few days. Why did you do that? Especially when it feels like you can’t breathe when he isn’t around to provide you with life itself.

Satoru sets the dishwasher before eagerly returning to yourself, nearly slipping on a few of the rose petals. “Fuck—” He blurts out, laughing along with you. The tall male sits next to you, large hands reaching to pull you in close by your waist, refusing to leave a gap. The knees had to at least be touching. Butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach when you notice the way Satoru is gazing at you. With all of the warmth in the world. Everywhere out of this room must be so cold. “You’re the prettiest, you know that? When I first met you, everything just clicked and I knew you had to be mine.” He says, voice low and soothing. You glance down out of shyness, nudging the tall male. “You slammed a door in my face.” You remind him and he grimaces, large hands cupping your cheeks. “Forgive me for that. For everything.”

You lean forward, nose nudging against his before pecking his lips. “Always. That’s what love is about.” You whisper against his lips. Satoru pulls away for a moment, grinning. “Love, right.” Satoru pauses before he reaches for the small box on the coffee table. “Before you go freaking out, it’s not what it looks like. I wouldn’t want to do that after we had a moment of falling apart.” Satoru says, opening the box to reveal a simple silver ring. It has two dainty flowers wrapped around one another, sapphire stones sparkling gently in the middle. “Satoru..” You breathe out in complete awe from such a pretty ring. You couldn’t even process the fact that he’s already starting to slide it onto your finger. “A promise ring. Eternity ring? It’s whatever. It’s me saying that I promise to love and be with you for eternity. To never leave, yeah? A promise to spend more time with you, because I want to.” Satoru says softly, thumb gently gliding across the ring on your finger. One day, he really will marry you properly. Not just some promise ring.

You feel your bottom lip start to tremble, eyes fixated on the sapphire ring before you launch forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his bigger frame. Satoru arches an eyebrow, soon grinning towards you. “I love you. I’m going to find my own ring for you. I want to promise that I won’t ever leave you either. You’re mine.” You whisper, fingers tangling into his silky hair before you press your lips against his, pouring every bit of love you feel for the male and hoping he can feel it all.

He can. Satoru, a man who is an absolute sucker for your kisses; slowly melts into the couch, hands on your waist as he returns the loving kiss. His soft tiers move slowly against your pair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. He could taste the red wine that lingers on your lips, but it was not the alcohol that left him feeling intoxicated. It’s you. You both seem to kiss for a long time, tongue sliding into your willing mouth, exploring every inch of it and happily tasting more. He finally manages to part from the kiss, now swollen lips dragging along the length of your jawline as he whispers. “Let me make it up to you further, Y/N. Let me show you how deeply I love you.”

You whine softly, fingers curling into the fabric of his dress shirt to pull him against you, lips forming a natural pout. “You don’t need to make it up to me anymore… I’m not against you showing that, though.” You purr softly, nipping at his sharp jawline, nose nuzzling against his cheek. Satoru chuckles, hands sliding down to firmly cup just beneath your ass and lifts you up with ease. He blindly carries you to the shared bedroom and you can’t stop the giggles from escaping when he accidentally bumps into the walls several times. “Hush, hush.” Satoru groans dramatically, smiling against the side of your neck. He adores your giggles.

Your arms are draped over his broad shoulders, leaning into every kiss that he plants against your lips, sighing out softly. He’s always been an amazing kisser. It reminds you of your first date with him and how you couldn’t get off his lap because you just wanted to spend those hours lost in a kiss with the white-haired male. Satoru lowers you onto the bed you share together, one arm wrapping around your waist to hoist you up further until your head meets the pillows. His long fingers dip beneath your shirt to soothingly stroke, free hand planted against the pillows near your head.

“You’re going to be my pillow princess tonight, understood? Your pleasure is mine.” He mutters, eyelids feeling heavy as he glances along the length of your body beneath him. Fuck, he’s missed you. You huff, fingers already twitching with the need to touch but if there’s someone who is more stubborn than you; it’s definitely Gojo Satoru. He won’t even let you near his cock until he says so and it just feels so unfair that you can’t provide him with pleasure in return. Even if he claims that he finds it through blessing you with pleasure. It’s also not fair simply because you’re obsessed with his pretty cock. If it’s not stuffed inside of you and filling you up to the brim? You want at least some sort of body part touching it.

A grin lingers on his visage when he witnesses your mental struggle, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “You’re too cute,” Satoru says before he begins to leave a trail of wet kisses along your jawline, teeth scraping against the sensitive flesh. You squirm a little as he travels down further, lips refusing to leave your neck. Instead, he sucks gently on your skin, tongue gliding across the warm surface and pulls back slightly to blow against the wet saliva that he left behind. You whine from the cold sensation, fingers curling into the front of his dress shirt. Satoru murmurs his praise and you’re barely able to process it. You just feel all floaty and good when he touches you.

Satoru’s cheeks hurt from smiling too much. Relief tends to wash over him in soft waves when he realises that you still belong to him and that you didn’t leave after his mistake. Final mistake. He doesn’t want to hurt you anymore. Not that he wanted to hurt you in the first place. He shakes his head to snap out of his thoughts, strands of hair tickling you. It’s over now. What’s important is to show you how much you mean to him. His lips latch onto the side of your neck once more, this time to suck harshly enough for a hickey to appear, repeating the action a few more times.

“Feeling possessive?” You pant out, toes curling as a pitiful way to contain yourself through his loving abuse. “Mm, always.” Satoru purrs, utterly oblivious to your hand skillfully unbuttoning his shirt until he feels the fabric drape against you. He pulls away to kneel above you, looking down at his now exposed upper body. You hungrily take in the beautiful sight of his chiselled abs and unblemished skin. So soft and begging to be touched. Your index finger playfully drags along the v-line that leads down towards…

He snatches your hand up, fingers curling around your wrist and pulling away. “You sneaky minx.” Satoru laughs, endeared by your cheeky behaviour. “Can you wait your turn like a good girl?” He asks, waiting for you to huff and nod your head. Satoru lets go of your hand before deciding to shrug out of his shirt, tossing it to the side to forget about it completely. Large hands caress along your sides. “I’m not wearing a bra.” You comment ever so casually and soon met with your shirt being peeled off of your body, lifting your arms to help with taking it off. “Fucking hell, you’re not.” Satoru groans, cock twitching in his slacks from just gazing down at your pretty breasts.

His hands were quick to cup them, eager to squeeze the squishy mounds and watch as they filled up the gaps between his fingers. Satoru’s hold is firm and his massaging is a mixture of gentle and rough, wanting to coax out your needy, filthy sounds. They slip from your couplets easily. You arch up into his touch, brows furrowing when he pinches the sensitive buds and twists until you cry out from the aching pain. He continues to tease your nipples, sliding his body down until he’s half laying on top of you, tongue flicking against the bud. A numbing sensation spreads from your nipples and pleasure straight to your core. You’ve been the sensitive kind since you could breathe and despite that, you always chase for more. Especially by your boyfriend’s hands.

“Is teasing making up to me, ah…” You moan out breathlessly, one hand fisting the blankets beneath and Satoru laughs, the sound muffled as his tongue continues to sweetly drag and swirl around each of your nipples. “In a way, yeah. ‘Cause you’re a little masochistic princess who enjoys being riled up and teased.” He says as he presses your breasts together to bury his face against your soft mounds. Flustered, you nudge your knee against his crotch, causing him to grunt out loud. You could be just as ‘evil’ with your teasing.

Satoru’s hands continue to tenderly squeeze and massage your breasts as he presses kisses down the length of your body, lips parted to allow saliva to seep out, each kiss left against your skin wetter than the one before. You giggle softly, feeling a light ticklish feeling spread across your stomach. Blindly, fingers thread through his silky hair to pull on, nails scraping along his scalp. Satoru has many addictions and each one involves you. Always you. Even when he continues to kiss up and down your midriff, silently worshipping your beautiful body with his touch. His tongue danced along your warm skin and teeth latching onto the softness so he was able to suck harshly, craving to mark you all over.

“Baby, come on..” You whine out quietly, feet kicking against the mattress. “What is it? Want more? Mm…” Satoru trails off, fingers hooking beneath your pants and begins to tug them down. “Bet you’re already soaked,” Satoru whispers, excitement pumping through his veins at just the thought. Fuck, he wants to see. You manage to help him tug your pants off until you’re only left in a pair of cotton panties in a soft red. His grip on your inner thighs forces your legs to spread and he lets out a low whistle of approval, lustful gazes fixating on the dump patch across your panties. You seem so needy just from how it nearly covers the expanse of your panties.

“Barely touched you and you’re soaking. Way to boost my ego, baby girl.” Satoru chuckles, shifting himself low enough so his face is directly in front of your covered pussy. He tilts his head to pepper kisses along your inner thighs, edging closer towards your womanhood. Of course, being an impatient girlfriend; you try to angle yourself so he’s already touching you where you deeply crave him. An utter failure as he easily pins you down with a hand against your hip, not needing to use much strength. You’re just so weak compared to him. You love it.

“You’re so pretty, Y/N. How did I get so lucky..” His voice is low and hushed, nose pressing against the damp patch and inhaling deeply. You smell delectable. The flat of his tongue drags across the covered pussy several times, eyes on your body to watch as you squirm, clearly chasing for more. Too cute… The tip of his tongue presses against the fabric until you gasp from the scratchy feeling of the panties making contact with your throbbing clit. His palms stroke along your thighs as he’s relentless with his teasing, refusing to move the panties.

Needy whines spill from your lips frustrated that you’ve yet to feel his actual mouth on your dripping cunt. It seems he finally takes pity on you, lifting his head. “Do you value these panties?” He asks, finger running along the edge of them. “Nn, no…” You answer, almost sounding like a question. One rough tug and you process the sound fabric ripping before you realise what just happened. Satoru rips the panties with ease, thinking it is far easier than having to move you around just to slide them off delicately. “That was hot.” You blurted out, watching him toss them to where the other discarded clothing lay.

Lips twist to form a smirk from your words, though he’s distracted. Completely. All he can focus on is the gorgeous sight of your bare pussy, dripping with your juices. “Fucking perfect and all mine to devour.” Satoru groans and wastes no time to dive in. He’s a pussy eater through and through. The world would have to try and take him down to stop him from eating you out. Sometimes, he thinks he’s made for exactly this. He refuses sex if there’s no chance to eat you out. This is a need. Your high-pitched moan laces with his breathless one, head tilting back on the pillow as his tongue eagerly laps up your juices, dragging between your slick-covered folds.

Already, your sweetness coats his lower face as he keeps his face buried between your quivering legs. Long fingers part your folds, tongue breaking the strings of slick before his wet muscle swirls around your bundle of nerves. You feel sharp shocks of pleasure spread from your core, whimpering loudly. Your fingers grip hopelessly onto his white hair to try and ground yourself as Satoru’s lips move against your sopping pussy. He always eats you out like he’s a man who’s been starved for weeks, refusing to pull away, even as he feels the painful tug on his hair. You taste so sweet, filling up his mouth as his tongue easily gathers enough of your juice to swallow. Always happy to consume.

Satoru’s nose rubs light against your clit now, moving his mouth until his tongue could drag along your hole, swirling around the tight rim of it. You feel too blissed out to even be flustered by the sounds of him slurping, the tip of his tongue pressing against your entrance and sending vibrations as he moans. Two hands come up to cover your face momentarily, unable to truly contain the pleasure you feel as it washes over you in constant waves. “Satoru…” You moan out sweetly and it encourages him to grind nice and slow against the mattress to feel some sort of ease for his raging erection.

The friction of the fabric rubbing against his cock leaves him moaning your name, already feeling the eagerness to be buried inside of you grow. No. He must take his time making love to you. His thumb presses against your clit to rub in a circular motion, soaking in the sight of you squirming against the bed and unable to escape. Not that you’d ever truly want to. It’s just when your body feels so sensitive to the pleasure; you need Satoru to pin you down. His tongue continues to lick nice and slow, only flicking quickly against your clit between movements of his thumb rubbing it.

“P-Please, just let me touch you somehow..” You beg through a whimpering moan, eyes threatening to roll back from the ecstasy. Satoru hums, deliberately slowing himself down before pressing a loving kiss to the bundle of nerves and pulling himself off. Your body that’s been sent through a high slows down, feeling sad that you couldn’t orgasm. Still, maybe this means he is obliging your needs. You smile, eyes full of love swirled with hope and doing the grabby hand gesture towards him.

Satoru melts at the sight. How could he say no to his girl? “Alright, alright. Miss needy. We’re doing it my way, though.” He warns lightly before his hands roll you onto your side and you raise an eyebrow in questioning. Satoru simply flashes his signature grin, unbuckling his pants before swiftly kicking them off, along with his underwear. He sighs with relief from his length finally being free. Instantly, you look down towards it hungrily, already wishing to wrap your fingers around the fatness of it, fingers tracing along the protruding veins. He says nothing as he lays down next to you, facing you. Your face heats up when you realise his lower face is still wet from being busy between your legs. You feel your pussy clench from it. “What? Getting shy on me?” Satoru says rather teasingly, guiding your leg upwards slightly.

With the way Satoru positions himself, his throbbing cock is now pressing against your stomach and his hand has complete access to your pussy, despite your thighs clenched around his wrist. “Come on, baby girl... You’ve been wanting to touch me.” He urges, long fingers gliding up between your dripping folds once more before he begins to gently rub your clit. You tremble, mind wiped blank momentarily from the tiny jolts of pleasure. Soon, you manage to wrap your fingers around the base of his length, always admiring how the tips of your fingers were barely able to touch. Your boyfriend has not only a pretty cock, but a big one, too. All yours to have.

Your hand strokes upwards, noticing the pre-cum beading at the tip and rubs the head lightly with your palm, watching the way Satoru’s brows already begin to furrow and biting down on his lip. The head of his cock is your favourite to tease. “You’re so big, Satoru..” You whisper, pressing your body up against his cock, slowly grinding down against his fingers that tease your entrance. If there’s one thing that really gets Satoru going, it’s praise. Whether for his bedroom skills or just how obsessed you are with his cock. His heart jumps from hearing your words, grinning a little. “Mm, yeah? Bet you can’t wait for me to fill you to the brim then. You always get so needy, even when I’m already fucking you.” Satoru mocks, sounding like someone knocks the wind out of him just from you spreading the leaking pre-cum along his cock as you stroke him, nice and slow. The white-haired male looks down towards your hand, finding it looking so cute wrapped around his cock. Barely. Even cuter with the glittering ring on your finger. All his. Forever.

You gasp softly, feeling two of his long fingers finally press against your entrance until they sink in slowly, velvety walls stretching around the new invasion and you squeeze around him. Satoru curses beneath his breath, already desiring to be inside of you with something much bigger. He can’t, though. He wants to take his time with making love to you tonight. You lean forward to press a loving kiss to his bare shoulder, nose lightly nuzzling against the warm skin. You close your eyes, focusing on how heavenly it is to feel his fingers pump in and out of you slowly, slightly restricted by your clenched thighs. Clearly, he refuses to let that stop him entirely.

His loving gaze refuses to leave your visage, taking in everything. The way your eyebrow twitches when he pushes his fingers in deeper or how your eyes widen in awe from the way he seems to finger you so perfectly compared to previous shitty partners. It’s like he knows everything about your body without question. What leaves you breathless and your mind spinning. Quietly, he angles his wrist, fingers searching for— Ah, there it is. You cry out suddenly, walls clenching around his fingers that are relentless with rubbing against your sweet spot. Thighs quiver and stroking hand stutters along his thick cock. It’s so hard for you to focus, your hand movements becoming sloppy as you curl forward, grinding down against his digits.

Satoru didn’t care about the sloppy handjob. Hell, it still feels good. The warm and snug feeling wrapped around his length leaves him craving for something more. He wants you. He wants to make love to you until all you can see is him amongst the stars. To feel nothing but sweet ecstasy. He stretches his fingers out slightly against your snug tight walls that are coated with your own excitement. You rub your palm weakly against the head of his cock, face tilting to bury into the pillows, muffling your filthy moans. The white-haired male is gritting his teeth, feeling his cock throb more than ever before. “Now…” You manage to moan out, looking towards him in a daze.

Usually not one to take orders, Satoru obliges. He slides his fingers out, rubbing them together to feel your slippery juices coating the length of them. Quietly, he leads them up to your face, tapping against your lower lip. Your face feels hot and never one to disobey, even his silent commands; you wrap your lips obediently around his two digits, moaning at the taste of your own sweetness. You eagerly suck on them, tongue dragging between and along each finger. Satoru watches with complete fascination, lips parting slightly in admiration. Fuck, even prettier when you suck on his fingers like some needy creature. Your lips are snug around his fingers, sliding off until there’s an audible pop and all you can taste is yourself, a string of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingers.

“Fucking hell… No condom, right?” Satoru hastily asks, eager to get going. Usually, neither of you wants the use of a condom, but it’s sweet that he still asks you. “Nn, make love to me and breed me, handsome.” You whisper, arms snaking around his neck. A string of curses falls from his lips, adjusting himself against the mattress. He guides your leg further up and around his waist, giving him access to position the tip of his throbbing erection against your pussy. Unable to resist, he grinds slowly to feel his length rub between your folds, enjoying the sensation. “Satoru.” You whine, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

A low chuckle escapes. “Impatient.” He scoffs lightly, though soon positioning himself properly; the head of his cock pressing against your tight entrance. One hand rests against your bare thigh, holding your leg against his waist and he leans in to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes meet yours, coaxing your heart into beating faster. You keep your body relaxed as much as you can, knowing that it’s always going to be a stretch with him. “I love you..” Satoru says quietly and before you could respond, he presses his hips forward and you feel the head of his length push in until finally, his cock sinks into you, stretching your snug tight walls out completely. A silent cry is ripped out of you, hopelessly clinging onto his muscular body, nails digging into his back.

No matter how many times you both sleep together. The stretch of your walls always feels so new, the pleasurable feeling becoming addicting. He groans quietly, forehead still pressed against yours as your slick-covered walls clench around his throbbing cock. Your breath mixes with his as you both pant. His hand on your thigh caresses soothingly to ease your body back into relaxing, cause fuck sometimes he swears if it wasn’t for his amazing stamina; he might come like some virgin feeling pussy for the first time. You’re so tight. Amazingly tight. Warm, too. He wants to keep himself buried inside of you at all times, if he could.

You keep your arms wrapped around him, leg hooked around his waist and a breathless moan of his name leaves your tiers when you feel him start to move, his cock thrusting slowly. The white-haired male’s fingertips dig into the flesh of your thigh, the other arm wrapped around your middle, between your body and the mattress. He groans, feeling your tight walls drag around his cock as if your body alone is refusing the mere idea of not being able to feel his throbbing thickness. Satoru keeps his thrusts slow and deep, refusing to go too rough. Maybe it’s silly but, he genuinely wants to show his love for you and if it means not doing the usual eagerness to break you in; he’ll do the opposite. Besides, his heart feels elated to just exist along with you. To connect with you.

You both embrace each other lovingly, your hand rubbing along his back and enjoying the gentle waves of pleasure that leave you all tingly, toes curling. His cock refuses to go halfway. No, he slides all the way out, hips pushed back before slowly pushing in until you feel full to the brim, hand against your lower stomach to feel it bulge from his thickness. No one’s ever reached so far. He grunts when you push down, feeling your walls wrap tight around his slick-covered cock, prompting him to tighten his hold on you as a pitiful way to contain himself. “You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He pants out, leaning forward to scatter light yet loving kisses all over your face, smiling when you giggle between your needy whines.

“You’re— ah.. more beautiful… love you so much..” You manage to mewl out, eyes rolling when you feel the head of his cock meeting that sweet spot every time he thrusts into you deeply. Drunk off of the pleasure, all you can do is cling to him, babbling out your love for him between moans. Your sweet reactions, along with your tight womanhood; make it so difficult for him to keep it slow, hips stuttering as you squeeze around him. “Fucking hell..” Satoru moans out, letting go of your thigh to take hold of your hand. His eyes fixated on the sapphire ring, pressing a tender kiss to it. You witness the sweet gesture and your heart just melts for this man. For Gojo Satoru.

You should never have doubted him. Why would he ever leave you when he makes love to you so sweetly? When his kisses leave you breathless and positively dizzy? When he goes out of his way to make a romantic dinner. You forgave him that night. The second you saw him holding onto his knees and panting heavily. He tried to make it in time. Even if it did hurt you. At least, he promised work won’t ever get in the way of your love journey anymore. You love him. You’re so in love with this man that you’d die for him. Not that he’d ever let that happen. With the overwhelming love and pleasure, the tears that made your eyes sting, spill down your cheeks.

“Pretty girl.” Satoru laughs, letting go of your hand to tenderly cup your cheek, thumb wiping away the tears. It didn’t stop him from fucking you deep. Utterly endeared by you, Satoru leans in to capture your lips with his own, kissing you sweetly. He didn’t care about the saltiness of your tears mixing with the lingering taste of your juices as he kissed you, lips moving against yours and tongue easily sliding into your mouth. Your moans are muffled, responding to the kiss with eagerness as you begin to roll your hips, meeting each of his heavy thrusts and squeezing so tightly around him. It’s like constant jolts of ecstasy that leave you tingling and crying into the kiss, loving the feeling of his length stretching you out.

“F-Faster, ‘Toru, wan’ feel you pump me full.” You whine against his lips, tongue rubbing against his in a lewd manner. It didn’t take much begging, really. You have him wrapped around your pinky and he’s eager to do whatever you crave. He loves you deeply and is even driven by relief that everything worked out between you both. He shouldn’t have worried, knowing you were made for him and he was made for you. Soulmates. His hips begin to snap forward, both arms wrapped around your middle now as he fucks into you, his throbbing cock sliding in and out of you steadily, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the bedroom, laced with heavy panting and loud moans.

Your breasts are unable to bounce from the hard thrusts, pressed against his chest as you both continue to cling, refusing any form of gap. Sweat coats both of your bodies, head tilting back and eyes rolling from feeling his cock pounding into your velvety tightness. You’re so wet because of the white-haired male, that the sounds of squelching are unavoidable. He’s panting heavily, swollen lips dragging along your bare shoulder. You don’t know how much more you could take, desperately trying to hold your orgasm back. “Don’t hold back, Y/N—” Satoru pants out, crystal blue eyes focused on your face and you whimper, face scrunching up.

With his thickness steadily pounding into you, it only takes one more deep thrust to send you swiftly over the edge. You choke on your gasp, nails clawing down his broad back as you desperately try to hold onto him through your orgasm. It crashes into you hard, leaving you breathless and your body feeling electrifying as you tremble hard. Your walls around his thrusting cock clench repeatedly, causing him to grit his teeth and fuck you hard just a bit further, his stomach feeling tight. “Good girl, fuck— so good. Love you— fuck.” He groans loudly before a final thrust has him spilling into you, thighs tensing up and shaking. Satoru holds you against his body, keeping his cock buried deep inside of your hole as ropes of sticky cum shoot from the tip of his cock and fill you up.

You feel even more full, not thinking it could be possible. You moan out sweetly, feeling a complete daze as you slump against the tall male. His hands are gentle as they caress along your bare back, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder between his heavy pants. Slowly, he continues to thrust into you, riding out his orgasm. His cum now paints your inner walls white and sticky, dragging along his length. Your leg manages to stay hooked around his waist, head dropping onto the pillow as you sigh happily. Quietly, Satoru makes movement to slide out of you. You refuse it by squeezing around his length in warning. You love the feeling of being so full of him.

“Stay inside of me..” You mumble out shyly, refusing to meet his stunning blue eyes. His gaze softens with the love he holds for you and naturally, he stops. Cock-warming? He wouldn't refuse staying inside of your tight pussy. He lays down properly next to you, head sharing the same pillow. Blindly, he finds hold of your hand, thumb caressing the ring momentarily before he laces his long fingers with yours to give a squeeze. Your eyes meet his and you smile, leaning in to peck his lips. Satoru leans in, craving to kiss you further and you giggle softly. Everything feels good between you both now. Comforting to know, that you both made up to each other and no insecure thoughts linger in your mind. You love each other; that is definitely proven.

You couldn’t wait to spend eternity with this man, Gojo Satoru.

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daisies-daydreams · 5 months

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Hii live for your ao3 series it gives me life.. could I request a Köing x reader - where the reader spends a while making dinner for her and Köing, when they finally sit down to eat, she gets insecure about eating. you can pick the food. Thank you!! Xx (This is my first time requesting so sorry if it doesn’t make sense)

Always (König x F!Reader)

Image by 661ave

Pairing: König x F!Reader Category: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Depictions of Anorexia/Body Insecurity, Slightly (like barely) Suggestive Comments, Emotionally Vulnerable Moment Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: Hello there! Thank you so much for your request. I hope it's alright that I based the story off of my personal experience with body insecurity and trouble with eating. Regardless, I hope you're able to find comfort in König's sweet actions. 🫶

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI

You hummed and swayed side to side as you stirred the thick beef stew bubbling in the pot. You've been in the kitchen for quite some time, having made the stew and biscuits from scratch. Flour and bits of miscellaneous ingredients were scattered along the floor and countertops, some even caked on your cheeks. Your mouth watered at the savory scent wafting up from the soup below.

"It's too many calories-you don't want to have to weigh yourself again, do you?" the voice inside your head hissed. You shook your head and tried to refocus on the task at hand. Snowflakes danced just outside your kitchen window as you tapped the spoon on the side of the silver pot a few times.

The oven timer beeped several times, its screech echoing inside the kitchen. You smiled as you wiped your hands on your blue apron and grabbed the oven mitts.

"You put too much butter on those biscuits-better only eat half of one tonight," the voice advised. You bit the inside of your cheek as you pulled the pan out, the biscuits fluffy and finished with a crispy, golden top. You sighed as you set it down on a mat resting on the marble counter.

You perked your head up as you heard the sound of keys jingling outside the front door. You quickly flicked the burner off and straightened your clothes and hair. A gust of frigid wind rushed into the foyer as your hulking husband stomped his snowy boots on the mat.

“Maus?” he called in as he slammed the large oak door behind him.

“In the kitchen!” you called as you tucked your apron into the wooden cabinet nearby. König grunted as he unwrapped his thick scarf from around his neck and hung his coat on his hook. He shucked his boots off and set them aside before strolling towards you.

“How was work today?” you asked as he lumbered into the kitchen, his heavy footsteps echoing against the hardwood floor. Your smile grew as his ivory face came into view; his bright blue eyes gazing into yours as his ginger hair remained tousled from his thick winter hat.

“It was alright. Mostly paperwork,” König shrugged as he slipped his hands into yours. You giggled as he spun you around and pulled you against his broad chest. You sighed and rested your chin on his pecs while swaying with him for a bit. “Hi,” he said softly. You pulled back and beamed as you craned your neck up.

“Hi,” you replied. The two of you held each other close as you reached up on your tiptoes. König grunted as you caught his chilly lips in a sweet kiss, your mouth lingering for what felt like hours before he tilted his head up.

“I missed you today, Mein schöner Hase,” your husband sighed as he brushed his thumb over your cheek [My beautiful rabbit]. Your eyes sparkled as he kissed your forehead, his massive hand splayed against the small of your back. König inhaled deeply before his stomach gurgled. He chuckled and patted his toned belly.

“You’re in for a treat tonight,” you winked as you led him over to the stove. König’s sapphire eyes lit up when he looked at the stew simmering in the pot.

“Ah, biscuits and beef stew,” he said as he excitedly rubbed his hands together. "You really do know how to spoil me, Maus," your beloved beamed. You giggled as he pecked your temple before eagerly grabbing two bowls.

"Go ahead and grab your seat. I'll bring you a bowl," he said as he began to scoop some of the steaming food into the ladle. Your smile tensed as you clenched your jaw. There was no way you'd be able to measure out your portion sizes if he brought it to you. You took a deep breath.

"Okay," you murmured in slight defeat. You held onto your stomach as you shuffled over to the table. You pinched and squished whatever flesh was there as you nervously bit your lip.

"Not enough," the voice spat. König cleared his throat.

"Ah, the Baumgartner's invited us to their place for dinner on Saturday. Would you like to go?" he asked as he plucked a fresh biscuit from the pan. You smiled nervously as you thought about all the food your neighbor's would make.

"Sure," you replied. "I can make my chocolate cake," you added. Your husband groaned as he turned around with the two bowls in his hands.

"Ah, I can taste it already," he licked his lips. You giggled at his antics while he took his seat across from you. “Something wrong, mein Schatz?” he asked as you shifted in your chair. You clenched your clammy hands and swallowed thickly.

“No. Everything's fine,” you replied. König kept his eyes trained on you before setting one of the bowls on your mat. You curled your hands in your lap as he said thanks before diving in. You stirred your spoon in the thick stew, pushing the different vegetables and chunks of meat side to side.

"I was thinking that maybe after we eat and clean up, we could do a little...catching up in front of the fireplace?" König lilted as he gently brushed his foot over yours. You blushed and squeaked at his suggestion.

"G-Großer Bär," you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear [Big Bear]. Your husband laughed heartily.

"We don't have to. I just missed seeing you all flustered," he winked playfully. You smiled politely before your thoughts were quickly pulled back to the piping hot meal in front of you. You squinted your eyes in concentration.

Alright, it looks like he poured in two cups of beef stew into my bowl. The average calorie amount of one cup is around 235, so two cups would be 470 calories. The whole biscuit (with extra butter) is potentially 150 to 160 calories. That would total to about...630 calories.

You nearly gagged at the amount of calories despite the fact your stomach was painfully clenching on barely anything inside of it.

No matter, there has to be "safe" foods in here. Let's see...celery. Four stalks is 30, so that'll be good. Potatoes? No, too much starch. Starch includes sugar and sugar is dangerous. But then again, starch is a complex carbohydrate, so-

“The stew is wonderful, Liebling,” König cleared his throat [darling]. You snapped your head up to see a gentle smile on his face.

"Huh? Oh, thank you," you said before going back to pensively staring at your meal. Your husband’s spoon clanked against the side of his nearly empty bowl as he wiped his mouth with a napkin.

“(Y/N)...are you feeling alright? You haven't touched your stew at all,” he asked with knitted brows. You glanced up, letting your gaze fall on his mouth instead of his eyes. You frowned, eyes stinging with tears as a lump swelled in your throat.

“I…” you paused and bit your lip. König waited patiently as you fought for the right words to say. You took a deep breath as you gazed at the surface of your wooden table, fear gnawing at your heart. “I…I can’t eat it,” you muttered. Your love leaned forward and furrowed his brows even more.

“Can’t eat what?” he asked, a sense of urgency laced in his raspy voice. You felt your throat tighten. You were so hungry it ached you to the core, your body wracked with an unbearable urge from only eating a few crackers and a protein shake today. You felt your stomach flip as you shivered beneath your husband's gaze.

“I can’t eat the stew,” you said a bit louder, the tips of your ears burning as you felt like a child about to be scorned. König blinked.

“Why-“

“I just can’t,” you interrupted. König’s face hardened as you stiffened in your seat. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt you," you said.

“It's okay," he assured you. There was a brief pause between the two of you, the only sound in the room coming from the crackling fireplace nearby. "Hase, please tell me what’s going on. I've seen the way you push your food around many times,” he said. "I don't think I've even seen you finish a meal in a while," König frowned. A blade pierced your heart as you sucked in a sharp breath, your heartbeat pounding inside your ears while your hand shook in his grasp. You sighed and hung your head.

“I just…I can’t. I’m sorry,” you said. König waited, the fire popping in the background as you clenched your jaw. “You wouldn’t understand,” you muttered. You flinched as your beloved slowly stood up from his seat. He lumbered over to the chair next to you and gently wrapped his arm around you.

“Maybe not, but it won't stop me from wanting to help you,” he said with a firm nod. You tilted your head up, eyes wide and lips parted.

“What?” you whispered. König squeezed your shoulder as he patted his lap with his other hand. You frowned as you climbed onto his thick thighs, your smaller frame fitting snugly in his lap.

“We've been through a lot together, (Y/N). Whatever you have to say won’t scare me or make me love you any less,” he reassured you before kissing your temple. Large tears spilled down your cheeks as your bottom lip trembled. You sniffed and wiped your eyes as your chest tightened. You flung your arms around your husband's torso and pulled him closer. He cooed and rubbed your upper back as you soaked his navy blue shirt with your hot tears.

“I-I’ve been struggling with making sure I eat enough,” you confessed. König continued to caress your back as he leaned in closer. You just barely glanced up before a bitter taste coated your tongue. “It started a few months ago. There really wasn’t anything specific that set it off, just a bunch of little things that snowballed. It...It all seems like a blur now,” you muttered, your body feeling unbearably heavy under your beloved’s gaze. You released a long sigh. “I’m so, so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I understand if you’re angry since I kept this from you. I-“ you gasped as König squeezed you in his hulking arms, pressing your cold form against his warm, massive body.

“Oh, mein Schatz. I could never be angry with you,” he whispered before wiping a hot tear that trailed down your flushed cheek. You sniffed he cradled his hand against your face. "You are so, so precious, (Y/N). It breaks my heart to see you go through this, but I'm not angry or disappointed in you at all," your husband affirmed. His icy blue eyes were filled with such warmth, you thought your heart would melt right then and there. You kept your arms wrapped around your husband’s large form as you continued to sob into the soft fabric of his long-sleeved shirt. König brushed his fingers through your hair as he rocked you in his arms.

“Shh, it’ll be alright, (Y/N). Mein Liebling,” he whispered as you cried into his chest [my darling]. He kissed the crown of your head, the sound of his steady heartbeat bringing a little comfort to your aching mind and body.

“I’ll be right here for you. Always,” König murmured softly.

————

Thank you for reading! ❤️

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sysakiddo · 8 months

Text

I am so insane about this AU I made a moodboard for it. If anyone knows how to make the quality unfucked, hit me up please. Èze bit is already halfway cooked. first part second part

"Do you usually take all of your interns here?" Daniel asks doubtfully. He is wearing a silk shirt under the blazer. On his hands, he is not only wearing the usual wedding band but four other diamond rings. The Harry Winston one, sapphire set in diamonds on his right ring finger, is his favourite. A gift from Max for their third anniversary. He wears it only for special occasions.

Max furrows his eyebrows when he sees it shining brightly in the restaurant's lights. A dinner with an intern is not a special occasion.

"Marais is the place for youngsters." Max shrugs. Daniel's answering laugh is too loud. It makes him cringe a little.

"Youngsters, oh my god, Maxy," he shakes his head disapprovingly. "You're too young to talk like this."

"Not again with the age talk." Max snaps, can't help but remember how Daniel looked in the dim light of their bedroom when he said China might be his last chance. "Besides, what's wrong with Marais? I thought you liked it."

Daniel looks like he belongs here, anyway, with his tanned skin and designer clothes.

Before he can answer, Max's phone beeps, and he stands up to find their guest in front of the restaurant. When they arrive at the table, she is shocked to see Daniel already sitting there.

"Your excellency," she says, her voice rough with nervousness. "I did not know you would be here."

Daniel smiles broadly, shaking her hand. "Please call me Daniel. I hope I won't be interrupting."

She blushes a bit, amazed. "No, of course not, your exce- Daniel, I mean." She sits down when Max pulls the chair for her. "I am Anne; it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Let's switch to English," Max proposes, even though Anne's French is immaculate. He doesn't like talking to Daniel in French, only connects it to work in his head.

Daniel knows this, but it doesn't stop him from smirking at Anne. "It's because he thinks my French sucks," he tells her, this time in English.

Max flips a page of the menu, not taking his eyes off it. "Don't take him too seriously," he tells Anne in Dutch. She keeps looking at them with wide eyes like she can't believe she had the luck to see this. She has heard many stories about them in the office and back home at uni, the rockstars of Parisian diplomatic life. Now, a bantering couple having dinner on a busy Friday night.

Daniel knows enough Dutch by now not to be sidetracked. "Oh, yes, Anne, please do not take me seriously at all! I am here only for the oysters and gossip."

Anne laughs lightly, closing the menu. "I fear I won't be very helpful in the gossip area."

"Oh no, I'd like to hear everything! Is he quite dreadful? Does he make you triple-check the daily update for the ministry? Do you still have to send him the media digest every morning? Did you know he subscribes to four different types of newspaper and refuses to go to bed without finishing the crossword in each of them?"

Max scoffs while Anne shakes her head. "No - I enjoy my tasks," she says, sneaking a look at Max. She doesn't want to seem like she is trying to kiss his ass. "I like that we actually get to do the real work. I mean, it's great to see that someone thinks I am able to do more than just take the minutes."

Daniel sees the soft blush coating her cheeks and looks at Max, who is smiling at her. He is shocked to see it's his genuine smile, not the one he uses at work.

"I heard those stories, yeah." he nods. Daniel doesn't like managing his interns, makes the chef of the protocol do it. Max, however, likes being close to his staff. Daniel privately thinks it's just a way to control them better.

"It's even worse as a woman, I think," she continues, more confidently now that they seem interested in what she has to say. "In Cairo, they wouldn't let us do anything else than make coffee and filter the mail. The ambassador told us only the men had access to the conference rooms."

Max furrows his brows, leaning closer to her subconsciously. "What?" he barks out.

The unexpected reaction makes her freeze. Daniel sees the moment when it dawns on her, a shadow setting on her face. She has never connected the dots, and it got away. She did not realize that the ambassador in Egypt shares a surname with her current boss.

Daniel clears his throat. "I wouldn't let my interns make me coffee, Anne, that's for sure. Nobody knows how to make it properly for me, not even my husband," he says with a big smile, kicking Max's foot under the table.

Max blinks, still waiting for more words to come out of Anne's mouth. The distraction doesn't work; both of them awkwardly quiet. The waiter comes out of nowhere as if he felt they needed something to save them from the sticky situation.

Daniel orders twelve oysters and only then Max snaps out of it. "You can't be fucking serious-" he mutters, kicking him back.

"I bet Anne will split with me, right?" he winks at her and she smiles thankfully, nodding. Thank you, she mouths while Max is ordering for himself.

Max can feel Daniel's phone vibrating in his pocket, the constant buzz audible even over the loud chatter in the background. Daniel makes no move to answer it. Instead, he moves to top up their glasses with more wine, smiling broadly at Anne. When he sits back down, he squeezes Max's knee, waiting until Max squeezes his hand back before moving it away.

Max insists they walk home after dinner. They are quiet for a while, the sounds of the streets distracting enough.

"You really like the kid," Daniel says eventually.

Max nods. "She asked me to be her mentor, actually." Daniel hums. The request is nothing extraordinary. Everyone wants to get mentored by the best. "I think I'm going to say yes."

Daniel raises an eyebrow at him, tonight full of surprises. He has never agreed to do that before.

"I also thought I would invite her to Èze with us. What do you think?"

"Èze?" he stutters, shocked. Èze is for the closest friends. And Charles, Max would always add begrudgingly. He would rather eat an oyster than count Charles into his 'closest friends circle'.

Max furrows his brows in confusion. "You don't like her?"

Daniel shakes his head. "You've never done this, that's all."

Max is walking a bit faster now, shrugging his shoulders. "I thought it would give me something to do, y'know. In Beijing or whatever. I was thinking about it and - yeah, I could mentor the kids and write a memoir. That way, I wouldn't be so bored."

This is not the first time Max has mentioned wanting to write a biography. Daniel tried to persuade him that writing a memoir at 25 is a bit too cocky, even for someone like Max.

This is, however, the first time Max mentioned Beijing since Daniel's big revelation.

He is not ready to have that conversation yet, so instead, he asks him what's been bothering him throughout the night.

"Your father-"

"Don't." Max stops him before he can breathe in, holding his palm up. Max's father has been a taboo in their household since The Catastrophe. And because The Catastrophe was the reason why Max moved out of their flat for two months, the only time when Daniel used the word 'divorce' and Max couldn't stop talking about jealousy and holding grudges, he lets it go.

Daniel rolls his eyes but takes Max's hand in his. "Invite her to Èze. Pierre is also bringing an intern, so she won't be alone."

Max hums, squeezing his palm as a silent thank you.

At home, Max is brushing his teeth when the DHoM calls. He spits out the foam and rolls his eyes. A call on a Friday night has never been a good sign.

"The President cancelled the visit of the Netherlands, I am afraid," she says, straight to the subject, just as Max has urged her to do every time.

"What? Why?" He spent weeks trying to negotiate the visit. The preparations started five weeks ago.

"They did not give me an official reason. But David told me, in confidence, of course, that they've added Australia to his Pacific tour. The submarines are long forgotten."

Max paces in the bathroom for a few minutes after hanging up.

When he finally enters the bedroom, Daniel doesn't even have the decency to look guilty.

"You've seen the dates of the visit in my diary." he accuses him, a thunderstorm in his eyes.

Daniel knows what he is talking about. Of course he does. He is just glad Max did not get the call while they were still in the restaurant. "How was I supposed to know they would cancel instead of postponing?" Max is breathing fire by now, but Daniel isn’t wearing his glasses so all he sees is a figure that could be his husband but also could be a very handsome burglar.

Max waves a finger in his face, looking menacing, even when wearing nothing but his sleeping shorts. He knows Daniel is full of shit. "You should have had the decency to inform my office."

Daniel has the nerve to roll away from him. "No work talk in the bedroom."

Max grinds his teeth together and grabs the duvet, rolling it up into a ball and throwing it at shocked Daniel. "Then get the fuck out." He also throws the pillow, his finger pointing to the living room. Daniel huffs but stands up and gets out of the bedroom nevertheless.

In the morning, Daniel's back is fucked from sleeping on the couch, and he spits a few harsh words in the general direction of Max's still-sleeping figure. When he returns from the market, Max is sitting at the kitchen table with a tea in his hands. He blinks a few times to make the morning fog disappear and is only partly successful. Daniel is sheepishly holding ten teddy bear sunflowers in his hands.

Max lets Daniel kiss him with a soft apology, standing up to get the vase. "Your coffee is next to the toaster!" he says before turning around. He misses how Daniel's face glows up, smile small and real and only for Max.

fourth part

#maxiel #daniel ricciardo #max verstappen #max/daniel #diplomacy au #f1 rpf #f1 fic #my ficlets

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mallardmonster · 1 year

Text

Ok so I think Crystal is haunted. Or something. Um.

I got the N64 set up and working, I booted it on and both the console and Stadium 2 worked all fine, everything’s gucci, so I slapped Crystal into the controller to see if it worked anymore. My save was gone, nbd I was expecting that anyway, and I went into the Gameboy Tower and booted up the game, got through the intro etc

And then it starts me in the fucking Goldenrod Department Store

Like idk my first thought was omg it’s a romhack but I’m. On a cartridge. The fucking cartridge I’ve had since I was a kid?? That’s a perfectly legit copy????? So maybe the rom is like fucked somehow and the map connections are fucked or something I don’t know, maybe I spilled water on it at some point and now it’s gonna do the same shit as that rom of Sapphire that had too much water. I kept playing tho like I wanted to see what else I could break if the cartridge is bricked anyway or whatever

Here’s a list of things that are fucked up

All NPCs speak gibberish

There's no music just sound effects

The menu is missing options including the save menu

Goldenrod loops horizontally now???

The gate up north warps me back to the daycare route when entering it, and the gate to Ilex forest warps me into the Goldenrod gate

I can’t enter the underground tunnels, the doors just don’t warp me there

There’s a guy blocking off the radio tower who I can't talk to

No trainers on the daycare route

I have a weird amount of badges??

Some pics I took:

I walked around for a while to see if I could fuck around and break shit when I came across this

So you know. He’s obviously not supposed to be here. So of course I talked to it. And then it got weird

I didn’t get a pic because it closed the first box so fast, but at first it asked if anyone was out here. After that it asked what year it was and gave me this screen

Idk what this menu was supposed to do in the mobile menu but it lets me input numbers so I put the year in. This is what it said after that

It said it needed some time alone and that it’d call me, I guess with the Pokegear, it better be with the Pokegear that doesn't even exist in my start menu because if this thing calls my actual phone and starts beeping chiptunes at me I think I’m gonna go fucking balllistic or some shit. Like this is not normal dialogue idk where it’s coming from or why and I’m like lowkey freaking out about it? I talked to it again and it asked me to not turn off the console, I guess because the battery is dead

I kinda wanted to turn it off but. Idk I think I’m morbidly curious about this. So like if I never post again I probably got mauled by a ghost or something lmao fuck

#pokemon crystal #pokemon gsc #I guess I'll tag this??#pokemon #idk maybe this is not my original cartridge and it's like a bootleg or something #but I don't know where I could've got it from in that case?#*cocks gun* Crystal's haunted

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callsignspark · 7 months

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soft-tober | 01 | Javy Machado

soft-tober is about experiencing the joys of October with loved ones. each day is a fall-related one-shot for one of the couples from my Dagger, Sword & Shield universe, plus a few extras! today is Javy and Erin with "Do you want some hot chocolate?" from this prompt list.

If you’d like to be tagged for soft-tober, please send an ask!

word count: 1k

soft-tober masterlist | main masterlist | divider credit here

warnings: extreme fluff, mentions of being naked but nothing nsfw

callsignspark disclaimer: my blog is an 18+ space; minors do not interact - you will be blocked. I do not consent to my work being copied, run through an AI generator, translated, or posted elsewhere. I do have an AO3, where I eventually will be cross-posting my works.

01. “Do you want some hot chocolate?”

The beeping of the alarm clock rouses both of them, as it has every morning since they started sharing a room. And like every morning since then, Javy presses a kiss to whatever part of Erin’s face isn’t smushed into her pillow before silencing the alarm. She’s back asleep before he can get up to go through his pre-run routine. Double-check the weather report. Stretch. Make a post-run smoothie.

Today, he doesn’t even get to the first step.

Instead of sunlight streaming through the windows, rain is pelting the glass, making their room chilly. Javy lays there for a minute, two halves of him arguing whether it’s really necessary to run this morning. He knows he should. It’s his third year being a TOP GUN instructor, and while he’s still in fantastic shape, it’s very slowly getting trickier to keep up with the kids he’s teaching.

Ultimately, with a promise to do half an hour on the treadmill later, the side that’s arguing to stay under the warm covers with his girlfriend wins. He rolls towards her, staring at her freckled face and chuckling to himself at the way her face is mushed against his pillow that she’d somehow stolen during the night, a tiny puddle of drool staining the fabric. Something only he finds adorable.

Erin Messuri is a lot of things - smart, funny, caring - but she is not a pretty sleeper. Javy learned that soon after she became his roommate. That first week, after she moved into the room that had previously been Jake’s, he was stumped as to how someone so beautiful could wake up looking like she fought someone in her sleep and then, within 20 minutes, be completely ready for the day. Then she fell asleep on the couch one night after dinner, and Javy watched in real time as she contorted herself into the most uncomfortable position he’d ever seen and immediately started snoring.

Looking back, he realizes that’s probably the moment he fell in love with her. Though he didn’t realize it for several months.

“You’re still here.” Erin’s voice is soft, and if it wasn’t for the fact that he watched her mouth move, he wouldn’t have known she was awake.

“It’s too chilly to run this morning.” He leans forward, pulling the covers down to kiss her shoulder, still bare from last night's activities. “Wanted to stay with you.”

She hums, shifting to her side so they’re pressed chest to chest. “Well, I’m not complaining. I never get to wake up with you during the week.”

The words have barely left her mouth before her head goes heavy against his arm, asleep again. Javy smiles to himself, brushing a soft hand over her hair and pressing a kiss to his girlfriend’s head.

Soon to be fiancée.

The little voice in his head reminds him, making his eyes dart to the dresser, picturing the black velvet box hidden in the back of the drawer that holds his flight suits. The one drawer Erin never goes in because the lingering jet fuel smell can irritate her asthma.

A tiny irrational fear that something has happened to the simple silver band with a blue sapphire gemstone, the stone representing the month they met, causing him to check on it once or twice a day. He likes to think he’s been relatively normal and calm since purchasing the ring, but he’s not sure how successful he’s been. He knows he’s been better than Jake, who was so twitchy that Flora figured out what was going on two days after the piece of gold jewelry that she now wears every day was purchased.

Javy lets them lay there until Erin’s first alarm - the first of five - goes off, smothering a laugh at how she rolls over and smacks at the alarm clock until it stops beeping without ever fully waking up.

“C’mon, baby; if you get up with me right now, I’ll give you a special treat.”

“No, thank you; you gave me a special treat last night.”

This time, he can’t stop the laughter. Laughing even harder when she rolls over, shooting a grumpy look at him, one that would be more effective if she wasn’t naked with her hair sticking up.

“Well, as special as last night’s treat was, I was thinking more along the sustenance route. Waffles and something a little different. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Coffee.”

“No hot chocolate?” Javy teases. Erin loves chocolate, but as long as they’ve known each other, she’s never started the day without coffee.

“What if you made me a homemade Dunkaccino?”

He blinks at her. “What the fuck is a Dunkaccino? Is this some stupid East Coast thing?”

“First of all, you’re also from the East Coast, Mr. Florida Man.”

“I am from New Orleans! Being born in Florida is an unfortunate circumstance that I could not control!”

“Second!” She continues, talking over him as she climbs into his lap, awake now that he’s got her riled up. “Nothing made by Dunkin’ Donuts is stupid - you’ve just been deprived. Third-”

Erin squeaks as Javy flips them over, the two laughing as he hovers over her and presses slow kisses against her neck and collarbones.

“Third, a Dunkaccino is a delicious combination of coffee and hot chocolate that is the perfect way to warm up on a rainy October day, but they stopped making it years ago.”

“Mmmm… I can probably finagle something like that together for you, ma’am.”

“Really?”

“Of course. No promises if it’ll be good.”

“Well, as long as there’s still regular coffee, that’s a risk I’m willing to take.” Her eyes twinkle at him, making his heart pound after all these years.

“God, I love you.” Javy kisses her, probably a little too passionately considering it’s before seven on a Tuesday, but he can’t help it. Overcome by her and her smile, her laugh, her dependence on caffeine that should probably be concerning but isn’t considering her job.

Erin pulls back, her cheeks a little pink from the intensity of the kiss. “I love you, too.”

He almost breaks, almost asks her to marry him right there and then, ruining the surprise engagement he has planned for next month, but she interrupts him before he can.

“Javy?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“I still need the coffee, no matter how you end up presenting it to me.”

“On it.” Mrs. Machado, he adds silently, pressing one more kiss to her lips before pulling on his shorts and heading to the kitchen, closing out the browser tab he was using to research local photographers in favor of figuring out how to best combine coffee and hot chocolate to make something that actually tastes good.

#elle’s soft october #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #DSS universe #javy coyote machado fic #javy machado fic #javy coyote machado x oc #javy machado x oc #javy machado imagine #coyote imagine #Coffee To Go fic #C2G fic #elle writes

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shmorp-mcdurgen · 8 months

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Home Sweet Home AU: Radio Silence

Thatcher becomes obsessed with a case he was assigned, one relating to the disappearances of two local teens. He has no other choice but to dig deeper.

TWs: Body horror, character death implied, blood/gore/injury

Notes: around 14'500 words long! The third volume for Home Sweet Home is here!!! The horrors!!! Anyway hope you enjoy :)

September 21st, 1992. 12:25 PM

“Hello. No one is available to take your call. Please leave a message after the tone.”

BEEP.

“Hello, uh…this is Arthur Heathcliff, and I’m calling to…report a missing person.” A man’s voice spoke through the speaker; a somewhat gravely yet not too deep voice. “My son, uh, Mark. He hasn’t shown up in a week, and…I would like an investigation to be done to…try and…find him. Please answer as soon as possible…me and my wife are just...worried. We just want him to come home. Thank you.”

BEEP.

Thatcher knocked on the front door of the two story home, waiting a second before he spoke loudly, “Mandela County Police Department.” Thatcher was a thin, and tall man, wearing a dark blue police uniform over his body. He had a scruffy, unkempt beard and tired eyes, the dark circles around them contrasting with his pale beige skin. He looked at the door in front of him before he placed his hands on his hips, waiting for an answer at the door as he looked around the yard. The house he looked up at was a pale grey color, with two windows on the top story and a garage to his left. He sighed, brushing away his bleached blond hair before he heard the sound of the door opening in front of him. He let out a forced, soft smile before speaking. “You must be Leah Heathcliff?”

“That’s correct.” In front of Thatcher was a shorter woman with curly brown hair draped over her shoulders. She wore a beige and white striped sweater over a white shirt, along with a long, black skirt. Her green eyes looked up at Thatcher, her brows furrowed and her expression giving away her concern. She rubbed her necklace, which had a blue sapphire hanging from a silver chain. The silence continued before she swallowed hard. “You’re here…to search, aren’t you?”

“We’re just trying to help find your son, ma’am.” Thatcher stated. “A friend of mine is on her way; she’ll help find anything that can clue us in on where he went. Once we’re done we’ll get out of your hair. May I come in?”

“…I’ll go get my husband.” Leah stated. “You can wait in the living room.”

Leah led Thatcher into the home, closing the door behind them before walking into the living room. “Arthur?” She called. “…The police are here.”

Thatcher walked around, sighing deeply as he looked down, thinking to himself before he heard another person enter the room. “About time.” Thatcher heard Arthur speak quietly to Leah. “They were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

Thatcher looked up to see Arthur himself, seeing that he was wearing a black dress shirt with a gold cross necklace resting on his chest. His short, dark brown hair swept to the side, and his brows seemed lower, making his resting expression seem more upset than he actually was, though Thatcher couldn’t tell if it was natural considering the circumstances. He held out his hand towards Thatcher for him to shake. “Arthur. I’m the one who called.”

“Lieutenant Thatcher Davis.” Thatcher shook Arthurs hand before quickly letting go. “Okay, I’m…gonna have to ask some questions about Mark, if you don’t mind.”

Arthur sighed before gesturing towards the couch. “Go ahead.” Thatcher sat down on the couch, watching as Arthur sat on an arm chair to the side of it and Leah sitting next to Thatcher.

“Has Mark ever…snuck out of the house at any point?” Thatcher asked.

“Maybe once or twice…” Arthur recalled. “But he always came back a day or so later. Often went to his friend’s house.”

“And who was his friend?”

“Cesar.” Leah answered as she fidgeted with her hands. “Cesar Torres.”

“He…also went missing recently.” Arthur stated.

Thatcher let out a soft sigh as he scratched his head. “Alright, any…other friends he could have gone to?”

“No.” Leah stated. “…Cesar was…his only friend.”

“I see.” Thatcher stated.

“He’s been…acting strange for over a month.” Arthur stated. “I think the kid got into drugs or something—”

“Arthur!” Leah stated with a tone of surprise, sadness, and horror. “Mark wasn’t an addict, and you know it.”

“Leah…we don’t know; I’m just saying it’s possible.” Arthur responded.

“Don’t listen to him, please,” Leah’s voice almost sounded like she was begging as she turned towards Thatcher. “He was a good young man…he wouldn’t get into that.”

“We won’t blame his behavior on anything unless we get proof for it.” Thatcher assured. “Have you been in contact with Cesar’s parents?”

“I’ve…tried calling Maria, his mother, but…no answer.” Leah stated.

“Mhm.” Thatcher let out a deep sigh as he tried to think. “We’ll have to try and get in contact with the Torres family in that case,” He whispered. “When was the last time you saw your son?”

“At home. He fell asleep on the couch, and…I didn’t want to wake him up.” Leah stated. “He’s…been unable to sleep for so long so…I figured…he needed it.” Leah hunched over, sniffling slightly. “I-I should’ve asked him what was wrong.” She squeaked as her eyes began to water. “Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if I just…listened.”

“Leah, we couldn’t have predicted this.” Arthur attempted to assure her as he sat up in his chair. “We don’t know what was going through his head…”

“But we could have.” Leah responded. “But we never asked.”

Thatcher looked at the ground, bouncing its leg softly as it attempted to gather its thoughts, all before it heard a knock at the door behind it. Arthur glanced at the door then back at his wife, brows furrowed further before he stood up to greet the person at the door.

“Y-You’ll…find him…won’t you?”

Thatcher looked back towards Leah, seeing the look of desperation in her watering eyes, the stare making a pit form in its gut. It wished it could guarantee that Mark would return safe and sound, though the thought of lying to a woman who’s gone through enough pain to last a life time wasn’t something it wanted to do. “We’ll…try our best, Mrs. Heathcliff.” It stated softly. “Trust me.”

“Thatcher, I brought everything we need.”

Thatcher turned around after hearing a familiar voice, standing up from his seat. “Alright…then I guess we’ll start the search, Weaver.” Thatcher sighed as he looked at Ruth from across the room.

Ruth was a muscular, tall woman wearing the same uniform her coworker wore, without the black tie around her neck and with her sleeves rolled up. She had almond colored skin, and her dark brown, curly hair was pulled back in a ponytail aside from the bangs covering the right side of her forehead. She had facial hair on her chin, and her arms also had hair on their forearms. She looked at Thatcher, her round eyes still showing energy despite the matter at hand, even as she approached Thatcher holding a few plastic, sealable bags labeled “EVIDENCE” along with plastic gloves. She also had a camera in her hands, which she handed to Thatcher as soon as he was in front of her.

“How much are you going to take?” Arthur questioned as he stared at Thatcher.

“Only what can potentially link to the case.” Thatcher stated. “We won’t take anything we don’t need to. Was there a particular room Mark stayed in most of the time?”

“…His bedroom; upstairs, last door in the hallway.” Leah stated softly.

Leah stood beside Arthur before he hugged her, staring at Thatcher as it turned back towards Ruth. “Could you stay with them as I search the room?” Thatcher asked Ruth quietly.

“Of course.” She responded. “I’ll…try and help them through this the best I can.”

“Thank you.”

Thatcher turned towards the stairway, walking up them as Ruth approached the Heathcliffs, standing up straight as she tried her best to conceal her uncertainty. “Could you two take a seat?” She asked.

“We don’t have much else to say.” Arthur stated.

“I’m not going to ask about the case,” Ruth responded. “We can get to that later on.”

Ruth gestured towards the seats before they all sat down on the couch, Ruth sitting to the side with Leah in between her and Arthur. Leah glanced down at Ruth’s leg noticing something; it was a prosthetic. Below her right knee was a blade prosthetic, with her dress pants leg rolled up above it. Ruth caught her gaze, looking down at her leg before a soft smile appeared on her face. “Oh…Don’t worry about it,” Ruth let out a soft, lighthearted chuckle. “Just…accidents happen, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Leah said quietly. “…I guess they do.”

Ruth’s smile faded when she saw that Leah’s worried expression didn’t disappear, all while Arthur wrapped his arm around her in an attempt to comfort her. Ruth looked at them with a somber look in her eyes as she considered her next words, all while Thatcher made it to the upstairs hallway. He looked down the corridor, walking down it, his shoes clacking against the floorboards until he stopped outside of Mark’s room, taking in a breath before opening the door.

“Can…you tell me about yourselves?” Ruth asked. “What do you do for work?”

“I work at the library downtown…” Leah answered. “…Arthur’s a priest.”

“Really? Where, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“St. Gabriel’s Church.” Arthur stated.

“I see.” Ruth said, trying not to remember what she heard on the broadcasts regarding religious practices. “I’ve worked at the Police department for…years now. Me and Thatcher recently got promoted, actually.”

“Oh…congrats!” A soft smile formed on Leah’s face. “I’m…happy for you.”

“Thank you.” Ruth returned the smile. “Now…how is your job at the library?”

The first thing Thatcher noticed when he looked into the room was the state of disarray it was in. Snack wrappers and dirty clothes littered the floor, and the bed was unmade and messy. A few drawers in the dresser resting next to the wall were cracked open, jammed by lazily shoved in socks and clothes. Thatcher stepped over the garbage the best he could as his eyes grazed around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary aside from the mess.

He looked towards the dresser, seeing something resting on top of it that grabbed his attention; an analog television. He stared at it as he approached it, looking down to see its cord dangling off of the side of the dresser, unplugged. Two objects rested on top of the television, being a camcorder and tape recorder, both of which he gently picked up and placed in two separate evidence bags. He turned around, looking towards the bed until he noticed something wrong with the posters on the wall behind it. One of them seemed crooked and lazily put on, and Thatcher squinted when he saw black markings just barely peeking out from behind it.

“I just…wish I had more time to…you know…spend time with my own children.” Leah continued as Ruth listened carefully. “It’s hard to make money nowadays and…I guess I was too focused on that rather than focusing on the things that matter…”

“We’re…better than we were a few years ago,” Arthur said. “Luckily we were able to avoid selling our belongings just to put food on the table.”

Ruth looked at the ground with a worried look on her face. “I get it, trust me.” She said quietly. “With multiple businesses closing down, it seems like getting a job is becoming harder to do.”

“Definitely.” Arthur sighed. “All I can do is thank God himself for the place we’re in. A safe home, food on the table, two healthy kids; I mean…it’s a miracle.”

Ruth nodded as Leah began to speak. “They’re…so important to me.” She stated, seemingly trying her best not to cry. “I just wish I realized it sooner.”

Thatcher carefully removed the poster from the wall, lowering it before staring at what was behind it with furrowed brows and a look of confusion. It was scribbled drawings on the wall itself, seemingly drawn with a black marker of some kind. It seemed to depict what looked like nerves and veins; organs and eyes. In the middle of the drawing was what seemed like a clock with scribbled wings protruding from it. Thatcher backed away from the drawing, all before he grabbed his camera and pointed it towards the wall, taking a picture with a white flash and a click. He looked at the picture as it developed before he looked back at the drawing, confused as to what it meant or why it was there. As he stared at the strange, organic drawing, something from the hallway stared, watching him as he moved around the bedroom and continued his search, unnoticed by the lieutenant.

“You moved here…how long ago?” Ruth asked.

“Oh…around…16 years ago, if I remember correctly.” Arthur sighed. “Mark was just a year old at that point…moved down here from Yonder.”

“Mandela seemed like a more…quaint place to live at the time.” Leah stated. “Smaller, more…homey, I guess.”

“Yonder’s just…a buncha people who have a lot of money.” Arthur said. “Big houses…but not a lot of character.”

“I get it.” Ruth responded. “I used to live in Werksha myself…” She paused as she considered her next words. “I’ve been considering moving back because…I just…don’t know if this is the right place to raise my daughter.”

“You’re a mother?” Leah asked.

“Yeah; I have a little girl at home.” Ruth smiled. “She started kindergarten earlier this month actually.”

“What’s her name?”

“Amelia.”

Thatcher pushed open the slotted closet doors, looking into the messy storage space to see if anything out of the ordinary was there. He saw more of the same; trash and unfolded clothes on shelves. He sighed, preparing to close the doors before his eyes spotted something underneath a shirt. The corner of what appeared to be a yellow notebook was peeking out from underneath the article of clothing, and when Thatcher pulled it out, he saw “REASSURANCES” written on the cover. He looked at it before opening it, flipping through the pages quickly. It seemed to be a personal journal of some sort, with diary entries taking up most of the pages, with small doodles on each one. He closed it, deciding to look through it later as he grabbed another evidence bag.

Ruth continued to listen to the Heathcliffs until she heard footsteps coming down the stairs, turning to see Thatcher entering the room with a few bags in hand. “I found a notebook, Camcorder, and tape recorder so far,” Thatcher said as Ruth approached it. “I’m going back to search for anything else.”

“Alright.” Ruth stated as she was handed the bags.

Thatcher sighed as he looked over to the Heathcliff’s sitting on the couch in anticipation. “Are you aware of the analog TV in Mark’s bedroom?” Thatcher asked.

“Yes, we are.” Leah answered. “It’s unplugged though.”

“No, no, no you…you need to throw it out, unplugging isn’t enough.” Thatcher stated. “You know how many kids have been going missing lately?”

“…Yes.” Leah said softly.

“Yeah…I’d get rid of it as soon as possible, alright?” Thatcher said before turning back towards the stairway to continue his search. He walked up the stairs, passing by a cracked open door to his left, unknowing of the eye peeking at him from behind it. He walked into Mark’s room once again, sighing deeply before he began to rummage through the dresser’s drawers.

Ruth sighed, gently placing the bags on a table before she turned towards the Heathcliffs, who were still sitting on the couch. The look of pure worry and sadness in Leah’s eyes especially made her gut churn, though she wasn’t sure of how to lighten the mood without it feeling mean-spirited. She leaned against a chair, holding herself up with her arms as she thought to herself, hearing the sound of Thatcher’s footsteps overhead.

After finding nothing but more clothes, Thatcher shut the last dresser drawer, moving back towards the bed before lowering himself to his knees, leaning over to look underneath it; nothing, once again. Thatcher thought to himself as he stood up, walking over to the nightstand as he hoped that the little things he found in there would help find the missing teen. He pulled open the drawer, seeing loose papers covering the junk in there, also seeing a sketchbook resting on top. He pulled it out, looking at it for a moment before placing it on the bed next to him. He went back to rustling through the drawer before he paused. He saw something angular and made of metal, with it being a dark grey color. It seemed purposefully buried underneath everything else, and when Thatcher moved everything out of the way he froze, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the object in full.

“Ruth?” Ruth’s radio went off, Thatcher’s voice surprising her slightly before she held it up to her mouth.

“Did you find anything?”

“Come upstairs.”

“…Is something wrong?” Ruth glanced over towards the Heathcliffs, seeing them staring at her with a tinge of confusion and fear in their eyes.

“No, just…I need you to come up and…see something.”

Ruth lowered her radio, pinning it to her chest before quickly walking up the stairs. She stormed down the hallway, seeing Thatcher with his back facing her, seemingly holding something. “What’s going on, you alright?”

“…Ruth, did either of the parents mention owning a firearm?”

“…No?”

Thatcher turned around, revealing what he was holding; a semi-automatic pistol. Ruth stared at it with confusion and concern before looking up at Thatcher’s darkened expression. “Desert Eagle. Mark one.” He stated in a low, quiet voice. “50 caliber.”

“Oh…God, how did someone Mark’s age find a firearm of that power?” Ruth questioned softly.

“I don’t know.” Thatcher responded, carefully placing the firearm in a bag. “I suppose we’ll have to ask around…see if anyone in the family owns one.”

“Does it appear used?”

“Thankfully…no.” Thatcher stated. “Safety’s on…though…it was loaded.”

“Oh God.” Ruth felt a pit form in her gut, lightly holding a hand over her mouth as she thought.

“We’ll have to find out if it’s registered or not and who it was sold by.” Thatcher said. “Maybe then we’ll get an idea of how…Mark…got it.” Thatcher’s voice lowered before he suddenly went silent, looking towards the hallway with an intense, yet troubled gaze. Ruth turned to see what he was looking at before seeing someone standing in the doorway, staring at them.

A young girl, no older than six.

She had long, brown hair, and wore an oversized, faded shirt over her body, along with pajama pants printed with characters from a cartoon. She was holding a blue stuffed bunny in her arms, holding it close to her chest. She stared up at the officers standing in her brother’s room, her expression blank as she remained still, as if not moving meant that she was invisible to them.

Thatcher looked towards Ruth, seeing that she was staring at the child with a look of somberness in her eyes. “…Why don’t I go downstairs and…talk to the parents.” Thatcher stated quietly.

“…Alright.” Ruth responded very quietly as Thatcher quietly left the room, looking down to see the girl staring at him with a distrustful look as he passed by. Ruth carefully approached the child, crouching down before clearing her throat.

“Hey!” She said in a soft voice. “My name’s Ruth, I’m here to help you out. What’s your name?”

The girl didn’t answer right away, instead looking at the ground and hugging the toy in her arms tighter. Ruth looked at the toy, seeing its button eyes and red bowtie before letting out a smile. “What’s his name?” She pointed at the bunny.

The girl looked down at the toy before looking back up at Ruth’s face. “…Mr. Bon.” The girl stated quietly.

Ruth smiled. “That’s a wonderful name.”

“…Where’s Mark?” The girl asked quietly, with her voice seeming more like a squeak.

Ruth’s smile faded as she glanced away, thinking of an answer. “…That’s what we’re trying to find out.” Ruth responded. “We’re here to help, both me and my friend you just saw. It and I are looking for him.”

“…I want my mom.”

Ruth nodded, standing up and holding out a hand towards the girl. “She’s just downstairs; I can take you to her.” She said softly.

“…Okay.” The girl lightly held Ruth’s hand as they walked down the hallway, all while Thatcher paced back and forth downstairs.

“I-I have a pistol in my office, but it’s locked away.” Arthur stated, staring at Thatcher with a dark expression.

“Does anyone in your family own a Desert Eagle?” Thatcher asked.

“No, not that I know of.” Arthur responded. “I mean…his grandfather’s a hunter but…he didn’t own any guns aside from a hunting rifle or two.”

Leah looked over towards the stairway, seeing Ruth walking down into the living room, lightly holding the girl’s hand as they entered the room.

“Sarah!” Leah said, holding out her arms as Sarah ran to her, embracing her the second she was close to her. Thatcher looked at Leah and Sarah before looking back at Arthur.

“…Throw out that TV.”

“What?”

“The TV in Mark’s room is a hazard,” Thatcher stated with a stern tone in his voice. “Especially with a small child in this house.”

“…I don’t think it’s a problem—”

“Yes it is.” Thatcher responded. “There’s a very serious threat going around; children around your daughter’s age are at risk, almost more so than adults.”

“Look, I get it…fear tactics.” Arthur stated.

“…What?”

“You want us to be scared cause of ‘alternates’.” Arthur’s voice seemed accusatory, as if he had something against Thatcher specifically. “My kid will be just fine, and once Mark comes back, I’m sure things will go back to normal around here.”

“…You don’t believe in alternates?” Thatcher questioned out of disbelief.

“Not the way you want me too.” Arthur stated. “I pray every night for protection, and it hasn’t failed yet, and if alternates are as dangerous as the government says they are, then don’t you think something would have happened by now?”

“Mark.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Mark is still missing.” Thatcher reminded, trying his hardest to keep his words professional. “I believe you can call that something happening, don’t you think?”

“His disappearance has nothing to do with alternates.” Arthur claimed. “He’s just…unwell. He needs help…not more paranoia to add to his already poor mental state.”

“Would telling you that the possession of analog technology is a crime change your mind?” Thatcher stated, barely cloaking his pure annoyance.

“…What, you’ll arrest me for having a TV?”

Thatcher’s brows furrowed, staring at Arthur’s face with an intense glare.

“God reigns, Davis.” Arthur said. “And even if alternates really did exist…they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Thatcher paused, maintaining eye contact with the priest. “…I wish I had your ignorance.”

Arthur’s glare turned into an almost appalled expression as Ruth approached them, tapping Thatcher on the shoulder. “It’s time to head out.” Ruth said quietly as Thatcher turned around.

“…Alright.” Thatcher sighed. He glared back at Arthur, him staring back with a tinge of revulsion in his gaze. Thatcher passed by Leah and Sarah, the latter of which looking up at him as he walked by. Ruth followed, though hesitated, stopping in the middle of the room, even as Thatcher made his way to the front door. She looked back, seeing Leah and Sarah’s eyes staring at her, all before she sighed and dug out a notepad from her pocket.

“Mrs. Heathcliff?”

“Yes?” Leah watched as Ruth quickly wrote down something.

“From one mother to another.” Ruth handed her a slip of paper with a phone number on it. “If you need anything or…just want to talk…call me, alright?”

Leah stared at the phone number for a second before looking back up at Ruth’s friendly face.

“…Th…thank you, officer.”

“You can skip the formalities,” Ruth smiled. “Just call me Ruth if you want to.”

“…Thank you, Ruth.”

Ruth stood up, taking one look at Arthur’s sour expression and shooting him a glare, all before turning back and leaving, shutting the front door behind her. Silence fell, Leah holding Sarah close as Sarah hugged both her mother and her toy, staring at the door with a blank expression. Maybe Mark just went on a walk into the woods again and got lost; she remembered he liked to do that during the night. She just hoped he’d find his way back soon.

September 22nd, 3:47 PM

Thatcher sat at his desk, staring at the closed orange folder in front of him, his tired eyes grazing over it as he tried to shake off his ever present exhaustion. He glanced over to his left, seeing a couple VHS tapes stacked neatly next to a small television, which was resting on a small table to the side of the desk. There was also a notebook, along with the tape recorder he had recovered the previous day resting on his desk. He thought of how lucky he was that they were in good condition, considering the time crunch and the fact that he’d rather not bother Dave again to fix them in such a short time frame. He rubbed his eyes, planting his elbows on the desk as he sighed, opening the orange folder to see what he was dealing with.

“MARK HEATHCLIFF

AGE: 17

SEX: MALE

ETHNICITY: CAUCASIAN

EYES: GREEN

HAIR: BROWN”

Thatcher read over Mark’s file, eyes glancing over the paragraphs of information known about him. Words typed out on the page about his diagnoses, his academic history, and even previous incidents and injuries he might’ve had. It was all very detailed, yet as Thatcher grazed over the page, he saw nothing much of use that related to the case aside from what he had already heard the previous day. He sighed, shutting the file before sliding it to the side, instead choosing to focus on the tape recorder, staring at it before gently grasping one of the cassettes, one labeled “Insomnia” and placing it into the player, it clicking shut before he pressed play.

It was silence for a few moments, with only the sound of faint, shaky breathing being heard underneath the static. Thatcher waited for something to happen, wondering if it was a blank cassette before he finally heard a voice; Mark’s voice.

“…Ninety years without slumbering,” Mark tiredly sung, his voice raspy as if he hadn’t used it in a while. “Tick, tock, tick, tock. His…l…life seconds numbering, tick, tock, tick, tock. Then the clock…stopped…never to go again, when the old…man…died.”

Silence fell once again for a little while.

“Fuck…Just…let me fucking sleep.” Mark’s voice sounded muffled, as if he was holding his hand over his mouth. “I don’t know how long I can count sheep before I go insane.”

Thatcher sat back in his seat as he once again listened to the gap of silence, staring intently at the tape recorder before Mark spoke once again.

“…I don’t know what to do.” Mark stated. “…I feel…uncomfortable in my own skin. I don’t…I don…feel…safe.”

Silence once again; longer than the last gap.

“I haven’t slept in a couple days now.” Mark mumbled. “Every time I try, I…have those…fucking nightmares. I don’t…kn…know if I…really do want to sleep…all because of them.”

Another pause.

“…Then th…st…stopped…never to go again when…the old…man…God fucking help me.”

The cassette stopped, leaving Thatcher with a sense of confusion before he ejected it and placed it on the desk, all before grasping the next one, a cassette labeled nothing at all, and placing it inside of the recorder, hesitating before pressing play.

Silence, though he could hear something that sounded somewhat far away; muffled, harsh breathing. It sounded as if someone was hitting something repeatedly, or someone hitting their own head.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,” Was heard over and over, Mark’s voice sounding distressed, like he was sobbing. Thatcher listened intently as Mark continued. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT THE FUCK UP, JUST FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!” Mark took in a shaky breath, sobbing more before shouting, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HEA—”

The tape stopped abruptly, with Thatcher staring at it with furrowed brows and his hands folded in front of him, his fingers clasping his own hands before he ejected the cassette. Thatcher sat still for a moment as it processed what it heard, all before its eyes fixated on the next piece of evidence; the notebook. A part of it dreaded reading through its pages for a reason it didn’t know as it picked it up, looking at its cover first and reading what was written on it.

“Reassurances

God bless all!”

Thatcher flipped open the notebook, and saw just that; reassurances. It appeared to be small prayers, with a new one on each page. However, around halfway through the notebook, he paused, seeing a drawing on one of the pages, with it being completely blank aside from it. It was a messily drawn picture of two eyes in the middle of the lined page, their gaze looking oddly crazed. Thatcher flipped the page, and found that the next entry wasn’t a prayer or reassurance of any kind, rather being a journal entry.

“9/02/1992

He’s been ignoring me again.

He’s been doing this for over a month now, acting like whatever I’m saying doesn’t matter. I’m tired of him turning a blind eye to what I’m seeing. He has to hear the breathing too, right? Why would he just brush be aside like this? I am his friend right? Sooner or later, he’s going to have to open his eyes to this. Else it’ll bite him later.”

Thatcher looked towards the bottom of the page, seeing a drawing of what appeared to be a House, with more writing below it, reading: “I keep going back and I don’t even know why. It calls me by name, Cesar.”

Thatcher stared at the picture of the House, his eyes fixated on it before he shook his head and flipped the page, seeing yet another journal entry, this time dated “9/05/1992”.

“I heard my parents talking downstairs today. Dad is suggesting that I’m not ‘faithful enough’. Says how I need to pray more and maybe I’ll feel better. My mom said I just need more time with my therapist, as if he’s helping me any. They think I’m crazy, don’t they. I was already put on multiple different anti-anxiety and depression meds, and they don’t work. They don’t know what I’m actually going through. And I don’t know if I want to tell them.

If this is how they act when they’re clueless, I dread to know what they’d say if they knew.”

The drawing on the page was of a pill bottle. The label was mostly gibberish, with the only recognizable word being “lies” written in bold letters.

Thatcher felt the pit in his gut only growing heavier with every page, flipping it before reaching a journal entry without a drawing. It appeared to be from a few days after the last, seemingly sloppily written, like Mark had just woken up when he wrote it:

“09/8/1992

I had a dream tonight.

I was at the House, yelling at Cesar for a reason I can’t remember. He was so angry at me. I felt a deep hatred towards him, more than I’ve ever felt towards anything. I don’t even remember what was being said, or what had caused us both to be so mad. I remember looking past him and seeing It looking at me.

I feel sick recalling the sound and feeling of his neck cracking under my hands. The rest is fuzzy, and all I remember was that I threw him to the ground in less than a second. His horror filled eyes still haunt me. I remember looking down at his body propped up against the clock, and then I woke up.

I don’t know what this means. I’m not a killer. I wouldn’t do that. Would I?”

A short sentence below it, written in neater handwriting read: “Thinking about it now. I don’t recall who the body actually belonged to.”

Thatcher flipped the page, looking down at the noticeably worse handwriting in the next entry before he read it.

“09/10/1992

I’ve lost another one.

I’ve never seen him that furious. He acted as if I was the worst person he ever met. The nightmares haven’t ended, the halls still calling my name. I can taste iron, though I don’t think its my own blood. My right eye feels like it had been pulled out of socket and shoved back in. Everything feels so alien now, even though nothing has changed. I hate these rooms, the scent of blood still stinging my nose. I feel homesick laying in my own bed.”

The drawings on the bottom of the page were scribbled and hastily done, depicting spirals and what appeared to be some kind of grandfather clock. Thatcher stared at the clock before focusing on the last drawing, one depicting a young man sitting up in bed, staring at something with wide eyes. A simple statement was written below it, reading: “He looked at me like I was not me.”

Thatcher paused, processing the previous entry before he reached for the next page, his hands feeling strangely cold as he flipped the page, being greeted to what was only an empty page. He turned the page, seeing yet another empty page, then another, and another. He sped through the pages, all before reaching one last entry. Thatcher flipped the page only to see black scribbled letters covering the entire page. Dried splotches of red stained the paper, seeping into the pages after it. The writing only said one thing, repeated over and over like a skipping record:

“THE BELLS TOLL FOR ME.”

The chaos of the repeated text continued with every single page until he reached the final one, being nearly completely blank aside from a drawing of a clock, and one last message: “I’m running out of time.” Thatcher shook his head, shutting the notebook shut before thinking hard. He sighed, holding his hands over his mouth with his elbows on the desk. He couldn’t help but begin to connect the dots; the date of the entry was the same date as Cesar Torres’s disappearance. Mark was clearly falling off the deep end at that point, and appeared to have been increasingly angry with Cesar, so what if…he…

“…Jesus.” He muttered under his breath. “…N…No, that…it can’t be right, that doesn’t make any sense—”

Before Thatcher could make anything of what he just read, a knock rang on his office door, Thatcher yelling “come in” before someone walked into the room. It was Ruth, having a look of concern plastered on her face.

“What is it?” Thatcher asked as he rubbed his eyes again.

“Leah Heathcliff’s here for her questioning.” Ruth answered.

“…Ah.” Thatcher coughed, standing up, taking a glance at the VHS tapes before deciding he’d look at them later. He grabbed the notebook and the orange folder, all before approaching Ruth, looking at her face, his brow twitching slightly. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” Ruth said. “Though I suppose you should get going.”

“Okay…alright.” Thatcher brushed past Ruth, leaving her in the doorway as she sighed, looking at the ground before turning towards Thatcher’s desk. It was a complete mess, with documents strewn across it and other pieces of evidence placed on it. She couldn’t help but notice that the chair Thatcher had been using was still the same worn, on the verge of breaking office chair he refused to replace. Ruth sighed, closing the door to the office as she silently reminded herself to talk to Thatcher about keeping a clean workspace.

September 24th, 1992. 7:24 AM

“It was dark out. I couldn’t really see that well in front of me as I stumbled through the woods. I could barely stand up straight, as if my legs were trying to work against me. I was breathing hard, my breath clouding the air in front of me as I continued to walk. I didn’t know my destination, or at least I don’t remember it, but I knew I needed to get there.

Then I saw a house. One that looked familiar. I stopped for a second, staring at a window on one of the outer walls before I began to approach it. I stood in front of the window, placing my hands on the window frame, but when I looked down at them, I saw they weren’t mine. They were a pale grey, with two elongated fingers with broken, long fingernails at the end of them like claws. I looked inside, through the glass before I saw something. It was a bedroom, and on the bed was a sleeping man.

It was me. Sleeping on the bed without a clue. I opened the window, slowly crawling through until I was looming over myself, staring down at my own unconscious body. I was smiling, but it almost hurt to do so. I continued to stare at myself barely moving, still asleep even as I grew closer, saliva dripping from my mouth onto the sheets.

Then I woke up.

The window was locked when I checked it. Though I saw mist on the outside of it, as if someone was breathing on it. Something tells me I was very lucky last night. I’m not telling Ruth about this one. She already worries about me enough. I know now that I’m going to be checking every window before I sleep. I don’t want to know what would’ve happened if I forgot.”

Thatcher closed the notebook before sighing, leaning over towards the nightstand beside his bed before throwing it into one of the drawers. He sighed, grasping the bed sheets under him as he stared at the beige carpet below him. He looked forward from where he sat, seeing the window leading outside, the sun beginning to rise, allowing him to see the small patch of trees outside of his house. It felt a pit forming in its gut as it looked, all before shaking its head and standing up, deciding it needed to get dressed and start its day.

Thatcher stood by his kitchen counter, leaning against it with a cup of coffee in one hand, with his other crossed over his chest. He wore a lazily put on, faded graphic T-shirt, which was a couple sizes too big for him. With his less than professional appearance came worn out jeans, a pair of sneakers, and an overall haggard expression on his face, only complimented by his equally unkempt hair. He stared blankly into his living room, seeing that it too was a mess, with the coffee table being covered in documents and papers, and having no room to actually use it to put coffee cups on. He sighed, placing his cup on the counter before looking towards a landline phone on the wall, walking towards it, dialing a few numbers, and holding the phone up to his head as he waited for a response.

A few moments passed as Thatcher waited, leaning against the wall as he sighed, pushing his free hand into his jean pocket before he finally heard a voice on the line.

“This is Dave from MandelaTECH, how may I help you?”

“Dave, hey, it’s…it’s me.” Thatcher sighed, his voice especially gravely from just waking up.

“Thatcher! How’s it going? We haven’t spoken in a while.”

“It’s…yeah, it’s alright, I guess.” Thatcher stated. “How are you? You feeling better?”

“Ah, I’m…managing.” Dave said with a lighthearted chuckle. “Definitely better than I was. No longer…using that rickety old wooden cane that they gave me. Got a new one; one that’s…less hard on me.”

“That’s…good.” Thatcher said. “Good to hear it.”

“…You alright?” Dave asked. “You sound like you’ve…been through it.”

“I’m fine, alright? Just…” Thatcher paused for a second. “You…hear anything last night?”

“…No?”

“Any…weird…feelings, or did you see anything odd or out of place?”

“No. Can I ask why you’re asking me this?”

“Just wondering.” Thatcher lied. “Just…things have been weird, alright? Was wanting to check in and make sure you’re doing alright anyway.”

“I appreciate that, but…you do know you have to take care of yourself too, right?”

Thatcher paused, looking at the ground for a few seconds. “…You kept your windows and doors locked, right?”

“Yes.” Dave answered. “Thatcher…you…sure you’re alright?”

No.

“Yeah.” Thatcher reassured. “Just a weird…dream I guess. Whatever, I’ll probably talk to you later. I have a couple tapes I need restored for the police department anyway.”

“Alrighty, just…remember to actually take a break.” Dave stated. “It’s your day off, isn’t it?”

“Yep. Supposed to be.”

“Well, call me if you need anything, I’ll be happy to help out.”

“Thanks. See you later. Bye.” Thatcher hung up the phone, placing it back on its hook before sighing deeply, looking up and shutting his eyes for a second. He looked up at the ceiling, hearing nothing more than the sound of cars outside, the faint ticking of the circular clock on the wall, and his own thoughts running through his head. He shook his head, walking towards the couch and grabbing a jacket that was draped across it before pulling it over his arms and walking towards the front door, deciding to go walk around town. Maybe it would get his mind off of things.

Thatcher walked down the sidewalk as the sun rose in the sky, smoke billowing out of the cigarette in his hand. He glanced towards the road, seeing some cars pass by, though not very many people were out on the streets at that point. As he walked further into town however, there were more people seen, though the groups of people he remembered seeing gathering around certain hang out spots a few years back were now more scarce, with people no longer staying in one spot for a while. Did Thatcher blame them? No. It understood why people spoke in hushed tones and stuck together, only doing what they needed to get done before going back into the safety of their home. If Thatcher could, he’d do the same. There’s a comfort in locked doors and covered windows when the outside is full of things that stalk the meek.

Downtown had a haze of uncertainty to it; emptier than usual. The recent broadcast was doing its job, Thatcher supposed, judging by the dumpsters full of old, broken TVs, closed businesses, and people refusing to make eye contact with each other. It felt odd, though Thatcher couldn’t remember the last time Mandela felt more comfortable than not. He wasn’t even sure if it ever had that feeling of hominess. Mandela’s color had been draining for a long time, and he wasn’t sure if he ever noticed it. Seeing how the town was slowly becoming less welcome to its residents made a pit form in his gut. So much for “getting his mind off things.”

Thatcher passed by a few local businesses and stores, some urban homes, and more empty parking lots as he walked, feeling his joints getting sore as he went further. His cigarette was close to snuffed out, Thatcher pausing before flicking it to the ground, stomping it with his foot and pressing it into the concrete. He sighed, looking around before his eyes spotted something on the other side of the road; the park. A large patch of grass with a few trees, gazebos, and a small playground for children to play. To his surprise, there were people there, being parents keeping a close eye on their kids as they went down the slides and sat on the swings. However, he stopped when he spotted someone sitting at one of the benches, looking over her own kid. Ruth.

Thatcher glanced down the road despite knowing no one was coming before jogging across the road, slowing down when he reached the other side before stepping onto the grass, walking through the metal archway leading into the park. It approached the playground, seeing Ruth was fiddling with her prosthetic, presumably because something was loose or out of place in it. Thatcher sighed, silently walking towards the bench and sitting next to her. She glanced up, double-taking before looking at Thatcher, letting out a breath.

“Hey, I…didn’t expect you to be here.” She said as she sat up.

“I didn’t either.” Thatcher stated. “Just figured I’d say hi.”

“Well…hi.” Ruth smiled, crossing her leg and looking at her prosthetic. “…It got loose when I was running around with Amelia. Almost fell off.”

“Hmm.” Thatcher looked around, his tired eyes observing the children playing and the parents joining in with them. It was sweet, though he still couldn’t shake the pressure he felt in his chest.

“…Are you alright?”

“Yeah.” Thatcher answered as if it was second nature to him. “Just…things have been on my mind lately, that’s all.”

“Do you want…to talk about it?” Ruth asked.

“It’s nothing, just…thinking about what Leah said.”

“Thatcher…”

“It just doesn’t make any sense, why would a normal kid like Mark just…break all of a sudden?” Thatcher continued.

“Mommy!”

Ruth looked up to see one of the children on the playground approaching her, walking towards her before grasping the sleeve of Ruth’s jacket; Amelia. “What is it honey?” Ruth asked. Amelia simply pointed towards a bag that was resting next to Ruth, and despite nothing being said, Ruth understood, grabbing something from it. It was a small bag of what appeared to be some kind of snack, which Ruth gave to Amelia before she began to run back to the rest of the kids.

“Be careful, don’t go too far.” Ruth warned before softly sighing.

“Do you think what Arthur said has something to do with it?” Thatcher asked as Ruth looked back towards him. “Maybe he said something that caused Mark to run off—”

“Thatcher.” Ruth interrupted. “I’m sorry, but…you’re not really using your day off wisely.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re stressing yourself out about the case all the time.” Ruth said as she strapped her prosthetic on properly. “I understand, it’s something…I really wish didn’t happen, but you have to understand that worrying about it all day everyday isn’t going to help.”

“Ruth, I just need a lead.” Thatcher said. “What if we find something tomorrow at the Torres house? We could possibly solve what happened to Mark…and Cesar.”

“We’ll have to wait and see—” Ruth flinched when she started to hear crying, turning to see Amelia on the ground with a scraped knee. She quickly stood up, leaving Thatcher behind as she went to go tend to her. Thatcher watched with mild concern as Ruth looked at the minor scratches as he sat in silence, sighing as he tried to think. He had to stress about a case he was working on, otherwise nothing would get done. He had to be close to figuring out something, right? He was snapped out of his thoughts when Ruth approached him again, this time holding her daughters hand. “We’re going home, Thatcher. If you want to talk later, I’ll be there, just call.”

“…I see.” Thatcher watched as they walked away, once again leaving him alone as he wondered. Maybe Ruth had a point; maybe he should go home and try and relax for once.

11 PM

Thatcher had been staring at the files on his desk for the past hour without anything new coming to mind. A few cigarette butts were already in the ashtray as he extinguished the one in his hand in it, all while he stared at the papers with a blank look in his eyes. He scribbled something onto a blank piece of paper, the graphite of the pencil scratching against it until an image came together. Thatcher paused, looking at the drawing, one that depicted the face of a humanoid…thing, one with an elongated “snout” and a far too wide smile. He sighed, placing his pencil on the desk before grabbing the paper and standing up, turning towards the wall and pinning it to a corkboard, allowing it to join the countless photos, journal entries, notes, and drawings that already littered it, making the corkboard itself barely visible from under it.

Thatcher stared at the board, crossing his arms as his dull eyes grazed over everything on it, his brain working overtime to compute it all. Mark Heathcliff, Cesar Torres, Dave Lee, Ruth Weaver; all people who had experienced oddities in the past few months alone, with even Thatcher itself not being exempt. The pale, inhuman face of the alternate he drew had been one he saw not too long ago, and one that he couldn’t shake off. It looked so vaguely familiar, though morphed and deformed to the point that it was barely on the precipice of recognition. Thatcher hated that some parts of its face were features he shared, albeit heavily distorted. Animalistic, and not even trying to act human. Was it even an alternate at all?

Thatcher blinked, rubbing his eyes when the wave of exhaustion he had been pushing back finally hit him. He looked back towards his messy desk and the corkboard, all before turning back and shutting the light off, closing the door shut behind him as he headed towards his bedroom. He stepped into the room, shutting and locking his bedroom door as he stared at the window on the opposite wall. He stared at it, feeling a strange discomfort before he checked it was locked and shut the curtains. He got into bed, sighing deeply as he lazily pulled the covers over him, staring into the dark as he laid on his side, all before closing his eyes and attempting to get some sleep.

??:?? AM

Thatcher was awoken by the sound of a distant window breaking. His eyes flicked open, staring forward to see that the window in his room was still concealed by the curtain, and still intact judging by the lack of wind coming from it. Thatcher wanted to grab his gun and investigate the noise, though despite how much he tried, his arms remained still. He couldn’t even speak or move anything aside from his eyes, which darted around the small part of the room he could see from his limited view. His breathing quickened slightly, realizing he was paralyzed.

Thatcher could hear something bumping around in the hallway outside of his bedroom, pushing aside furniture and stepping towards the door. Thatcher couldn’t do anything, hearing the footsteps grow silent as he tried not to hyperventilate. He attempted to move, only being able to slightly shift in place, still unable to move anything a meaningful amount. He stared forward, blinking when he heard knocks ring out from his bedroom door behind him. He heard the knocks pause, then come back, even harder that time, all before they ceased. Thatcher heard the door creak, opening despite him locking the door before he slept. He still couldn’t move aside from shaking slightly, hearing something behind him, creeping towards his bed. He couldn’t see it, or hear anything coming from it until he felt warm air hit the nape of his neck. His chest heaved, feeling a deathly cold hand be placed on his shoulder before he could finally move.

Thatcher shot up out of bed, swinging around to see what it was, only to find nothing at all. The door was shut, and nothing else was in the room with him. His breath was heavy as he glanced towards his pillow, reaching under it to grab a pistol before he walked towards his door, throwing it open before pointing the gun into the hallway. He flicked on the light, seeing that it was completely intact, with nothing out of place. He paused, hesitating before lowering his gun, looking at the ground and placing one of his clammy hands on his head. Something about his house felt claustrophobic all of a sudden; was it always that cold?

2:27 AM

Ruth was awoken by the sound of a knock at the front door. She slowly sat up, looking around her room before she heard the knocks ring out yet again, sighing as she turned on her bedside lamp and reached towards her prosthetic. Thatcher knocked on the door for a third time, his body covered by a quickly thrown on, somewhat oversized grey trench coat. He remained silent, preparing to knock again until the door swung open to reveal a tired, somewhat annoyed Ruth Weaver, who was still in her pajamas, being a black tank top and sweatpants.

“Ruth.” Thatcher said quietly.

“…It’s two in the morning.” Ruth stated, blinking sleepily. “What are you doing here?”

“I just…I wanted to talk.”

“About what? What is so important that it can’t wait until morning?”

“I just wanted to talk to you.” Thatcher said. “I won’t be long.”

Ruth paused, staring at him before shaking her head slightly. “Be quiet; Amelia’s in bed and she has school tomorrow.”

Following Ruth into the house, Thatcher closed the door behind him, walking into the dimly lit living room before sitting on the couch, with Ruth sitting in a chair across from him. Thatcher remained silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular before Ruth spoke up.

“Organizing files or something?” Ruth asked. “Or are you just staying up late worrying about the case again?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m…it’s fine.” Thatcher stated, despite not fully believing the statement. “I wasn’t wanting to talk…about just the case with you anyway.”

“Do tell.” Ruth glared at Thatcher, wishing she could go back to bed, but refusing to due to the feeling of worry for her friend.

“Everything happening lately…it feels…connected.” Thatcher said. “Ever since the report at the…Murray household, it seems like everything’s been…off.”

“Really?” Ruth asked. “How do you think it’s all connected?”

Thatcher stayed silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “That alternate. You know the one that attacked Dave a little while back?”

“Yeah, I heard about it, though…I don’t really see what you’re getting at.”

Thatcher paused before speaking again. “I think it’s the same one from the Murray house.”

“…How can you be sure?” Ruth asked.

“I can’t.” Thatcher responded. “But the way it…stared into me. The look in its eyes…it was the same.”

“I don’t know…maybe.” Ruth spoke with a tinge of uncertainty. “But didn’t you say it looked…different?”

“It did.” Thatcher stated. “But that’s what’s getting me; it’s wrong. More so than it was.”

“Thatcher, are you sure?” Ruth asked. “It could be a different one entirely. I mean…why would it do something like that to itself?”

“I don’t think it did.”

Thatcher and Ruth became silent, Thatcher hunched over with his hands clasped together and his elbows resting on his knees, all while one of his legs bounced up and down. He took in a deep breath before speaking again. “Ruth?”

“Yes?”

“I came here to apologize.” Thatcher looked up to see Ruth looking at him with a fraction of confusion. “That’s what this is really about.”

“For what?”

“For…everything.” Thatcher looked down again, his hair draping over his face. “For…what happened back at that fucking house.”

Ruth sat up from her relaxed position as her brows furrowed slightly.

“If I…if…if I kept an eye on you…if I kept you safe…” Thatcher’s voice shook slightly. “You’d still have both legs.”

Ruth felt her heart sink slightly at that statement, thinking hard as Thatcher continued.

“I didn’t…protect you, I didn’t look after you like a fucking friend should.” Thatcher said. “You got attacked cause I was a fucking idiot and didn’t pay attention—”

“Thatcher—”

“No, listen, I’m sorry that I couldn’t be there for you; for the one fucking person in my life that is there for me—”

“Thatcher.” Ruth said, standing up and approaching the couch before sitting next to her friend. “If you truly weren’t there for me…I’d be dead.”

Thatcher looked up at her face, seeing that she still had a friendly look in her eyes.

“You couldn’t have predicted any of that; I mean…I barely saw it coming myself.” Ruth continued. “If you didn’t come running in to scare it off, or help me get to the hospital…I would’ve lost more than a leg.”

“…I’m sorry.” Thatcher said under his breath, his throat tight. “I’m just…sorry I can’t…be the man this town needs me to be. E-Every time I go into that fucking station, I see more and more missing persons reports, more bodies found, more altercations, more shit that is only getting worse. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t fucking show it cause if I do?” Thatcher paused, trying to hold back its tears. “…I’ll be painted as nothing but a fucking coward…and that’s not what this town needs right now. It needs someone it can count on…and…I’m not that person.”

Ruth remained silent, thinking hard before she wrapped her arm around Thatcher, lightly side-hugging him. Thatcher appeared surprised at the gesture, though after a few moments, he hunched over, covered his face with his hands, and cried.

September 25th, 1992. 5:45 PM

Thatcher had a pit in his gut the entire day.

He wasn’t sure exactly what was causing it as he gathered what he needed to bring to the Torres Residence, though it was beginning to become nauseating. The lack of sleep could’ve also had something to do with it, or maybe even the fact that he hadn’t eaten anything that morning, though he couldn’t be sure. He looked up to see Ruth gearing up, putting her belt on and pinning her radio to her chest. Thatcher sighed, standing up straight before approaching her, lightly pressing a hand on her shoulder.

“Try and stay in sight this time, alright?” Thatcher asked quietly.

“I will. Besides, we have the radio. If necessary I’ll call you from it.”

“…Yeah…yeah, alright.” Thatcher exhaled. “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

“Then we should head out.” Thatcher stated. “Doesn’t seem like anyone else is going to head over there so…suppose we’re going to be the ones to do it.”

“Figures.” Ruth said with a slight chuckle. “Last time we had to do this, the officers pussied out.”

“Let’s get going,” Thatcher grabbed a jacket. “It’s almost sundown, and I’d like to get this done before it’s late.”

It was a completely silent drive to the House, with neither Ruth nor Thatcher speaking a single word. Thatcher felt a sense of unease when he turned down Wisteria Avenue, and when he glanced over at Ruth to see her having a troubled look on her face, Thatcher figured he wasn’t the only one. It clasped the steering wheel, staring forward as he drove by the houses in the neighborhood, seeing that only a few of them had lights on, as if most of them were no longer lived in. Thatcher decided to try and ignore the eerie feeling it had, as when it parked on the side of the road in front of the Torres Home, it realized it was time to get to work.

Thatcher exited the police car, looking towards the House, noticing how dark it appeared to be inside of it. He glanced back at Ruth, checking to make sure she was standing close before he stepped onto the concrete driveway, approaching the front door before reaching towards it and knocking against the dark wood.

“Police Department, open up.” Thatcher called, hoping for an answer but not receiving anything more than silence. He slammed his fist against the door again, harder and louder before calling again; “Police, open the door!”

No response.

Thatcher sighed, preparing to kick open the door before it cracked open slightly, despite Thatcher not touching it. He glanced towards Ruth before pushing open the door further, expecting to see someone, but seeing nothing standing there. Thatcher shook off the strange wave of unease he felt when he stepped inside, convincing himself that it was just the wind that opened the door as he ushered Ruth inside.

Thatcher was greeted with the faint ticking of a clock when he entered the living room, glancing towards the opposite wall to see a tall, red-wood grandfather clock towering over everything else in the room. He looked up at its face, seeing that it was still in perfect working condition considering its hands twitched with every second, without fail. As Thatcher walked into the living room, shining his flashlight along the walls, Ruth looked to her left, seeing a small off-shoot of the living room. A piano was resting next to the wall, with note sheets placed on it. Ruth approached it, seeing the bookshelves beside it and a mirror above it. Ruth looked at her reflection before examining the frame of the mirror itself, brows furrowing when she noticed something around it; water damage.

“Ruth?” Thatcher called from the living room, turning around to look at her.

“I’m here, don’t worry.” Ruth sighed, stepping away from the piano to join the lieutenant, all while a deep red liquid leaked from behind the mirror.

“I don’t really see anything in here, at least nothing abnormal.” Thatcher stated as he looked around the living room.

As Thatcher walked around, Ruth looked towards the clock, staring up at its clock face. Thatcher walked towards a small table resting against the wall, picking up a picture frame that was resting on it before examining the photo. It appeared to be a photo of Maria Torres, along with her son, Cesar. Thatcher sighed, feeling a deep somber feeling looking at the happy faces of the two, knowing, or rather not knowing, the fate of the young man in that very photo.

“Weaver, have you found—” Thatcher paused when he noticed Ruth was still looking at the clock, he slightly shaking flashlight pointed up at its face. “…Ruth?”

“Yes?” Ruth shook her head, turning around towards Thatcher.

“You alright?”

“Yeah…I’m fine.” Ruth answered, though the strange disturbed look on her face made Thatcher believe otherwise.

The two soon passed through the archway leading into the kitchen, pointing their lights into it. There was a square dining table near the corner, with only three chairs accompanying it. The kitchen seemed tidy, with countertops looking as if they were cleaned just the night before. There were some decorations on the walls and some porcelain dishware in an antique shelving unit.

Ruth looked towards a door to the left of the entrance to the kitchen, opening it and looking inside, seeing that it lead to the cluttered garage. She turned to the left, though something felt off, despite nothing being there. She walked back into the main Home, looking into the living room and seeing the piano room. It looked as if it would’ve cut into the garage judging by its location, but when Ruth peeked into the garage again, there was nothing but a straight wall, with no room for the piano room to feasibly fit. She wasn’t sure if it was an optical illusion or simply her mind playing tricks on her, but it made her headache worse just thinking about it.

Thatcher looked to his right, seeing a door on the opposite wall of the kitchen, one that would lead into the living room judging by its placement. He walked towards it, reaching for the doorknob before gagging and backing away, covering his mouth and nose. Ruth looked back towards him, seeing that he was staring at the door with a look of disgust on his face. “Something wrong, Davis?”

“Something behind this door smells…rancid.” Thatcher explained, hesitantly removing the hand covering his face to try and open the door. The doorknob didn’t budge when he attempted to turn it. “…It’s locked.”

“You think it’s a storage closet or something?”

“It’s the only thing that would fit there…hoping it’s just…mildew or something.” Thatcher stated. “Though we’re gonna have to get this open before we leave. Maybe there’s a key around here.”

Thatcher and Ruth passed by the sliding glass doors to the side of the kitchen, staring down the back hallway, seeing that it had three doors; one on the left, one on the right, and one straight forward. The hallway itself bent oddly, with one of the walls feeling like it was placed there abruptly, with its wallpaper being a slightly different shade than the rest. Thatcher and Ruth walked down the oddly built hallway, with Thatcher opening the door straight in front of them, seeing that it led into the bathroom.

He shined his light across the bathrooms walls, soon stopping when he looked into the mirror. Water damage stained the walls around the medicine cabinet, with hundreds of small holes in the wallpaper seemingly oozing a substance Thatcher was unsure of. He stared into the mirror, looking himself in the eye before he attempted to open the medicine cabinet, being unable to for a second until he tore it open. Strands of some sort of red, vine-like substance was torn apart, finally allowing the cabinet to be opened, only to reveal nothing much of use. ADHD medication, bandages, and some miscellaneous items were all that was in there, though as Thatcher stared and pointed his light at the strange “veins” that had held the doors shut, he decided he was done looking in the bathroom.

He closed the cabinet door, turning back towards the hallway without seeing the second pair of eyes looking at him from the mirror. Ruth backed up as Thatcher exited the room, looking at him with a blank look on her face. “Find anything?”

“…I don’t…no.” Thatcher stated, closing the door and covering up the faint sound of tapping he heard from inside there. “I think we should call for reinforcements.”

“Why?”

“Something about this place, man…” Thatcher looked around with a worried look in his eyes. “…Did you find anything?”

“I looked in the bedroom,” Ruth gestured towards the bedroom to the right of the bathroom. “And there wasn’t much of anything in there. Looks like it belonged to Cesar.”

“Then the other one must belong to his mother.” Thatcher sighed. “I’ll look in there real quick, then we’ll…head out.”

“…So soon?”

“We can get a second look later.” Thatcher stated. “For now, let’s just…get this wrapped up.”

Ruth watched as Thatcher approached the other bedroom on the other end of the hallway, sighing deeply before she began to follow him, only pausing after only one step. She could hear something, coming from Cesar’s bedroom. It was faint, and muffled, but as she turned around she could hear it clearer; screams. She glanced back at Thatcher, seeing that he had already entered the other room before she grabbed her pistol and took it out of its holster, holding it by her side as she entered Cesar’s bedroom.

The screams sounded pained, and as she looked around, she saw an opening in the wall, one that she didn’t remember being there when she was last in the room. She swallowed hard, pointing her gun towards the opening, seeing that it led into a short hallway. On the other end of it was an old, wooden door, one that didn’t match the white painted doors that were in every other room in the house. A figure watched from the closet as Ruth stepped towards the door, entering the short hall as she heard the screams become louder. Her heart felt like it was beating heavier than normal, and her hands felt clammy and cold, unsure of what was causing it aside from a deep feeling of dread. “Hello?” She called. “Whoever’s there, please answer!”

No response, though the screams seemed to wane, becoming more like pained, muffled whimpers and groans. Ruth hesitantly put her flashlight onto her belt, reaching for the doorknob and turning it, seeing that it wouldn’t budge. “Damn it.” She swore under her breath before she called once again to the voice she swore she heard behind the door. “Look, we’re gonna get you out of here, okay? Just hang on—” Ruth turned to yell for Thatcher’s help, only stopping when she looked back towards the bedroom. The screams had stopped, and when she pulled out her flashlight to point it into the bedroom, she felt her heart sink. Her widened, horror-filled eyes stared forward, her face pale as if she just saw a ghost, and her body was as stiff as a statue, absentmindedly dropping her gun to the wooden floor.

There was a blank wall where the entrance to the hallway was.

Thatcher stared at the only half-made bed of Maria Torres before walking around the room. He sighed, realizing there was nothing of use in that room either, though with the lack of any useful evidence came the realization that it was time to leave. “Ruth, There’s nothing he—” He turned around, seeing that Ruth was nowhere to be seen, as if she had simply vanished. “Ruth?” Thatcher felt his heart pounding against his ribcage.

No.

No not again.

Please God not again.

“Ruth?” Thatcher was unsuccessful in cloaking the panic in his voice as he quickly left the room, looking around and seeing no sign of life. He searched through the other bedroom, seeing and hearing nothing more than his own footsteps and heavy heartbeat before he opened the bathroom door, looking inside to see no sign of his friend. “RUTH?” He grasped onto his radio, holding it up to his face before turning it on and speaking into it. “Ruth where the hell are you?” There was no response; complete radio silence. “Ruth, do you copy?!”

The sound of music from the living room replaced his panic with dread, with Thatcher slowly turning down the hallway towards the kitchen as he listened to the song. The light to the living room was on, with the light spilling into the kitchen from the archway connecting the two rooms. It was from the piano, being an old classical piece Thatcher felt was familiar, but not enough to name it. He swallowed hard, pulling out his gun from its holster before pointing it ahead of him.

The music became louder with each step the lieutenant took, its hands shaking slightly as it inched ever so closer to the archway, soon standing right beside it and pressing its back against the wall. It peeked around the wall, looking into the living room, just barely able to make out a figure sitting in front of the piano from where he stood. Thatcher sucked up his fear as he took a step into the living room, hearing the clock behind him as he quietly approached the piano room, soon being able to see who was playing the piano.

He saw the back of what appeared to be a young man, one wearing a stained, stitched together black suit and a white dress shirt under it. His spine stuck out from underneath the suit, as if the clothes were melded to it. His black, greasy, messy hair was swept to the side, neatly combed despite how dirty the hair itself was. Thatcher watched as he continued to play, seemingly unaware that Thatcher was even there. It stopped, its gun trained on the figure before it spoke. “Hands where I can see them.”

The figure paused, sitting completely still before looking up at the mirror above the piano itself, with Thatcher finally able to see his face through the reflection. It looked like Cesar, though it barely kept the façade together. Its left eye was replaced by dull-colored veins and arteries, coming out of the eye socket and fusing to the rest of his face and head. Its one remaining eye was wide open, along with its smile. It looked towards Thatcher from the reflection before speaking.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt a performance, Lieutenant?”

The figure turned in his seat, placing his folded hands on his lap as he stared at Thatcher with a single, unblinking eye and a soulless smile.

“…Who are you?” Thatcher couldn’t help but notice his voice shook as he spoke, despite him wanting to retain a sense of stoicism.

“…I don’t think that’s important right now.” The figure stated. “Just refer to me as your Host for the night. Besides, I don’t even know if I could tell you my name even if I wanted to.”

Thatcher remained silent as the alternate went on. “Now tell me…who are you? Why are you and your friend here at all?” When Thatcher didn’t respond to the question, the alternate laughed. “Oh who am I kidding…I know your name, Mr. Davis. You two aren’t very quiet…I can at least gather what you call each other.”

“Where’s Ruth.” Thatcher questioned, his tone dark and his expression darker.

“Fodder, dear.” The alternate responded as if it was a stupid question, standing up and causing Thatcher to follow its head with his gun. “Now…why don’t I help you get settled in? I can make dinner, if you’d like.”

“Stay right there.” Thatcher ordered. “…Don’t move.”

“Oh…I suppose I can chat for a little while longer.” The alternate sat back down, staring up at Thatcher’s face, its own expression not changing even slightly. “Though please…I’d like this to be quick.”

“Where…is…Ruth.” Thatcher repeated, his voice more intense than before.

“…You two came at such a perfect time.” The alternate ignored the question asked. “She just wanted some visitors; she’s going to need the company before she sleeps.”

“…She? Who the hell is She?”

The figure chuckled before looking around. “Look around you, Davis. She’s the walls, the floors, the ceiling…she’s made a Home for you, one that welcomes all…even you.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You’re so tense…I figured the concept of a place that’ll accept all company would be…relaxing.” The alternate stated. “I imagine a place that won’t judge you based on your faults would sound inviting for a man like you.”

Thatcher remained in a confused, horrified silence before the alternate stood up. “You know…you remind me of a story I heard once…one of a man named Icarus.”

Thatcher didn’t respond, wordless as the alternate continued. "Ever hear the tale of Icarus? The one who flew too close to the sun...whose hubris became his downfall? Burned, and fell all the way down.”

The figure chuckled, though it sounded more like a wheeze, before continuing. “It's funny. You feel like you can save everyone, don't you? If you just fly a little bit farther, you can keep everyone in this town safe? You've saved Dave. Ruth that one instance. However, you failed to save some. Ones that haunt your conscious despite never meeting them. Is that not why you’re here? To try and save those you failed to protect?”

The figure stared into Thatcher’s face, leaning in closer before he muttered, “Believing you can save everyone will cause you to fall, and I have to ask you, Mr. Davis. Is your case one of flying too close to the sun? Or not flying far enough?"

Thatcher glanced behind him, seeing the front door and living room before staring the alternate in the eye. Thatcher stared into the pure black pupil of the alternate’s bloodshot eye in silence, before slowly and shakily pointing his gun at the figures leg and pulling the trigger.

The alternate didn’t scream, but fell to the ground on its injured knee, looking down at the steadily bleeding wound as Thatcher ran into the main living room. He reached for the front door, attempting to pull it open only to see that it was jammed shut. He backed away, looking back at the alternate to see it stumbling back to its feet, its joints clicking and cracking with every movement. Thatcher turned towards the couch sitting in front of the large window, seeing a small table resting beside it. He scrambled towards it, grasping it by its legs and throwing it as hard as he could into the window.

The glass shattered as the table careened through it, with the alternate beginning to scream behind Thatcher as he began to vault over it. “NO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE…WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO HER?!” Thatcher placed his hand on the windowsill, hopping outside as fast as he could, trying to ignore the burning feeling he assumed was from cutting his fingers open with the shards of glass leftover. However, he found he couldn’t move his hand as soon as he was outside, letting out a pained yell as he looked back to see what it was caught on. Two of his fingers were fused with the windowsill itself.

Melted skin and veins attached the fingertips and the entirety of his ring and pinkie finger on his right hand to the House, being immobile despite how many times Thatcher attempted to separate himself from it. He turned his head around, seeing the alternate staring back at him, for once without the smile on its face. Thatcher saw no choice; he had to force himself off of the windowsill, so he took in a deep breath, jerked his hand away once with no success. He tried to free himself by ripping his arm away from the window, feeling his shoulder tear and his fingers dislocate with every tug. He tried to pull his hand away once, then twice, then three times—

CRACK.

Thatcher screamed, not daring to look at his hand as he scrambled towards the police car on the side of the road; away from that damned house. He swung open the driver’s side door with his left hand, holding his right, rapidly bleeding hand close to his chest as he hopped into the car and started it after fumbling with the key for a second. He placed his clammy, trembling left hand onto the steering wheel, all before hesitantly holding up his right to see it.

The fingers that were stuck on the windowsill were missing.

He couldn’t calm his breathing as much as he tried, instead focusing on not vomiting as he drove away, using only his left hand to do so as he could barely feel anything in his right hand other than agonizing pain. He couldn’t even think properly, his mind going too fast to pick out anything from the mess. He muttered under his breath as he escaped, only worrying about one thing.

“I’ll come back…I’ll get help, Ruth, I will…I will…” He gasped. “I’ll get help…just…sit tight…I’ll be there.” He paused to take in another pained gasp.

“I’ll be there.”

October 6th, 1992. 12:00 PM.

Thatcher’s finger prosthetics itched.

He had been scratching the skin around it the entire day, with the skin in that area becoming red from it. He almost wished he could simply not wear them, but the new scars and the fact that he was missing fingers in general made him keep them on. As he sat, hunched over outside of the church auditorium, he stared blankly at the floor. He was wearing a black suit and tie, his hair being barely considered neat. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall made him sick, though it was better than the sound of people talking in hushed and somber tones around him. If anything, the distracting ticking helped him, if only a little, forget that he was there for a reason. A funeral.

No body was found yet the bastards decided to pronounce Ruth dead. Thatcher had told them Ruth wasn’t confirmed to have passed whatsoever, and could still be out there, yet they didn’t listen. Maybe the cost of a funeral was cheaper than the cost of sending more officers to the scene to get potentially killed. No matter the reason, Thatcher felt a deep hatred in his heart, past all the pain and sadness. How could they? They acted as if she wasn’t a person, only another fucking statistic. Though what was the worst part?

Thatcher could’ve prevented it.

How stupid was he to bring Ruth into danger again? Did he truly believe he would be as lucky as he was last time? Ruth was gone because Thatcher ran away. He was a coward; the very thing he feared becoming the most.

The bells tolled. Service was starting.

Thatcher sighed deeply, standing up before walking into the auditorium, not once looking up as he joined his fellow officers in the pews. He couldn’t bear to look at the casket in front of him, nor the photo of Ruth put up next to it as he sat on the cold wooden bench alone. He stared at his feet, absentmindedly scratching his knuckles with his dirty nails. He could barely think, his mind blank and his expression dead. He could barely even process what was being said by both the priest and whoever was giving the eulogy, simply staring forward before he finally looked at the casket. He knew it was empty, and somehow that made everything feel worse.

He looked to the right, noticing members of Ruth’s family sitting on the opposite side of the church. Parents sobbing, uncles and aunts mourning in silence, however the sight of little Amelia Weaver, sitting with her family, being embraced by her grandfather in an attempt to comfort her, made Thatcher’s heart heavier than a ton of bricks. She was so young, yet she was losing her only parent. Thatcher silently apologized to her, mentally telling her how sorry he was that he failed to protect her mother. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything out loud, with his throat tight and his chest tense. He turned back towards the casket, blankly staring at it as he wondered what would’ve been different if they never went to that House. Maybe she’d still be around. Maybe Thatcher wouldn’t have been a filthy coward.

Someone was walking down the aisle as Thatcher looked back down towards the ground, the person clad in a police uniform staring at Thatcher as he thought to himself. Thatcher listened to the words the priest was saying, though as the seconds ticked by his words became nothing but muffled speech in Thatcher’s mind. Thatcher heard the clock ticking again, this time giving him a headache that worsened with every tick. He kept scratching at his hand, not even noticing the thin, red lines his nails left behind. The figure in the aisle slowly walked towards Thatcher, soon standing directly behind him. Thatcher felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, looking up at the casket before he felt a hand be placed on his shoulder.

He flinched, turning around to see no one in the pew behind him. The sound of the clock was quiet again, barely audible. He stared down at his now bleeding hand, seeing the scratches he dug in his own skin that were bleeding ever so slightly. He let out a shaky breath as he covered his face, wanting nothing more than the service to be over.

Thatcher stayed behind even when the service was over and done with, staring blankly at the casket as if he was incapable of leaving. Even Ruth’s family had left a little while before, but Thatcher simply couldn’t make himself follow them out the door. He sighed deeply, standing up and grabbing a metal folding chair he saw leaning against the wall before placing it in front of the casket, sitting down on top of it in silence before he spoke.

“…I don’t think you can hear me, but…I guess this is for more my peace of mind.” Thatcher muttered, his voice raspier than usual. “…I’m sorry. I can’t even convey how sorry I am.” He let out a brief, forced scoff. “God…I’m fucking pathetic. You’re probably looking down at me…laughing at how God damn stupid I am.”

Thatcher paused, forcing out his words after a few moments of silence. “I failed you. I failed you twice…and…now…you’re gone.” He stifled a sob. “…All because I was scared. You’re dead because I was too fucking scared to protect you. What kind of fucking cop am I? I can’t even protect the people that actually fucking matter.” Thatcher looked up at Ruth’s picture, her smile feeling sunny, though it didn’t help the cloud of guilt over Thatcher’s head.

“If you’re still out there…” Thatcher muttered under his breath. “…I’ll find you. I don’t want forgiveness, I just…I…I-I just…want you here.” He grasped his hair as he hunched over, trying to hold in sobs as tears ran down his face. “I just need you here…”

“Mr. Davis?”

The sound of a deep voice behind it caused Thatcher to turn around, its eyes red from crying. It was Dave, standing in the aisle, staring back at Thatcher with a look of worry in his eyes. He was wearing tinted glasses, along with a black suit, though it was missing a tie. He limped over to Thatcher, supporting himself with the metal cane under his right hand as he approached the lieutenant.

“What.” Thatcher growled, not in the mood to talk.

“I just…wanted to…offer my condolences.” Dave stated quietly. “…I know how close you were to her. She…she was a good woman.”

“…She was.”

Dave looked away for a second, seemingly to think. “…Y’know, I’m…always available to talk.” He said. “I mean…it’s the least I can do.”

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t do that.” Dave said. “I know you’re not…and you know what? That’s okay. You need time to…mourn. I don’t think you should be so hard on yoursel—”

“Leave me alone.”

Dave became silent, staring at Thatcher as it looked away, once again staring at the casket with a dead look in its eyes. Dave sighed quietly before speaking again.

“If you need anything…just ask.”

With that, Dave began to walk away, leaving Thatcher by himself once again. It clasped its hands together hard enough to hurt, feeling like he had run out of tears to cry. He shook his head, standing up as he stared down at the casket in front of him. He placed a hand on the wood, standing in silence before whispering, “I’ll find you, alright? I promise.”

Thatcher hesitantly left the casket behind, putting his hands in his jacket pockets before walking down the aisle, finally leaving the church through the front door. His guilt couldn’t be described in words, and the emotions he felt clouding his mind were too much to handle, but one thing rang out from his mind, more than everything else; anger, both towards himself and the police station for deeming Ruth a lost cause. He was going to find Ruth, dead or alive. He made a promise, after all.

Until we meet again, Ruth.

#the mandela catalogue #mandela catalogue #tmc #tmc home sweet home au #hsh thatcher #hsh ruth #Leah Heathcliff (tmc)#arthur heathcliff (tmc)#host (hsh)#Home (tmc)#body horror #injury tw #blood tw #gore tw #character death tw #shmorp writes sometimes #tell me if I failed to tag anything!!#Wowee. the horrors sure can horror huh.#Won't say much else. the fic speaks for itself I believe :)

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bakugoyelling · 2 years

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Baker! Giyuu Tomioka x Reader (modern AU)

wc: 870

warnings: (18+ // minors dni) suggestive content, finger sucking

summary: giyuu is trying out a new recipe for the bakery, and you're there to taste-test it.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚* ♡ 🍞 ♡ *˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

While Giyuu’s bakery is mostly known for its delicious artisanal bread, that’s not all they serve. They pride themselves on providing a variety of sweet treats for their customers too, and with fall around the corner, there’s no better time than now to start working on those fresh seasonal menu items.

So while he has the weekend off, Giyuu decides to try out one of the new recipes — a decadent layered pumpkin cream cheese bread. Because as the surrounding foliage begins to transform into shades of red and the morning air begins to grow crisp, who doesn’t enjoy a bit of pumpkin spice?

The ingredients are fairly simple, and after combining everything into two smooth batters, he evenly layers each of his mixtures into a pan before setting it into the oven.

The bread calls for about forty minutes of bake time, so while the loaf slowly turns a golden brown, Giyuu begins to clean his workspace, washing the mixing bowls and wiping away any spilled ingredients.

Tidying up always helps the time go by, and as the bread reaches its end time, the warm pumpkin scent of it fills the room, drawing you into the kitchen to check out the baked confection.

“Ooo, it smells good in here,”

You step beside him, propping yourself up on the counter.

“Which recipe did you decide to make? The pumpkin one?”

The timer beeps as Giyuu nods, pulling on an oven mitt before he pops the oven door open, sliding the golden bread from the rack and setting it down to cool.

“It's still too warm to cut, but would you like to try it when it’s ready?” he questions while placing the oven mitt back into the drawer.

“Of course,” you say, your gaze following his movements as he goes to put the brown sugar away.

“I could try it now, actually. I like warm desserts, you know,”

Giyuu side eyes you from across the room, that playful tone in your voice matching how you poke at the cooling pumpkin loaf.

Desserts are best when at the appropriate temperature — he’s told you that before and while it may be true, you’ve always found a way to taste-test anything he makes before its cooling time is complete. Although, Giyuu doesn’t really mind, as long as you're honest about the results.

“Alright, but let me know if it tastes good, okay? I adjusted the recipe a bit,”

You agree to his request, and when he makes his way back over, you watch as, in one quick movement, Giyuu slices the bread, placing a piece of it on a paper towel before offering it up to you. But instead of taking it, you drop your mouth open — signaling him to feed it to you.

“Oh,” your boyfriend is quick to mumble, and you chuckle, peering up at him while he brings the soft bread to your lips, cupping a hand beneath your chin to catch any crumbs.

As you take a bite, your tongue brushes against Giyuu's skin and you hum as the tang of the cream cheese layered between the rich pumpkin flavoring of the bread mixes upon your palate. Pleased with your reaction, his sapphire gaze meets you as you nod in approval, leaning in for another taste.

However, this time, the action is a tad messier, and as you pull away, a dollop of cream cheese sticks to your bottom lip, the remnants sliding down to your chin as you attempt to lick it off.

“Mmm, yeah, that’s good,”

“…Yeah?” Giyuu tries to focus on your compliment, but the mess left on you is distracting, and since you’re seemingly unaware of it, he takes matters into his own hands and thoughtlessly swipes his thumb below your lip, cleaning the white cream from your skin.

But he's so concentrated on your mouth, Giyuu doesn’t catch how your hand wraps around his wrist until your wet tongue is pressing against his finger. Encasing his thumb in a drooling warmth as you lick what remains of the creamy filling — your eyes fluttering shut as you hum.

He wonders if you know the effect this has on him.

The scene is borderline erotic. And when you finally break away, pulling the spit-coated digit away from your lips with a slick pop, Giyuu heaves a breathy sigh, meeting your eyes once again as you tilt your head in innocence.

“Yeah! I like it,” you say, biting your lip to conceal your smirk. “The cream is really smooth too,”

Still in a daze from having your lips wrapped around his finger, Giyuu can only nod, mumbling out a low “Thank you,” as you hop off the countertop, pinching off another chunk of the pumpkin bread to plop into your mouth before you continue.

“Well, I think I’m gonna go shower now,”

Giyuu turns to look at you, and you chuckle, noticing the hint of a blush on his features as he awaits your inevitable invite.

“...Are you coming with or not?” you ask, lifting a brow at him.

Quick to agree, Giyuu clears his throat, responding with a hasty "yes" as he nods, tugging off his baking apron while your giggling form heads off to the bathroom.

・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

— please do not modify or repost my work.

a/n: i could not get this idea out of my head so i wrote this rather quickly. it might not be the best but yeah, baker giyuu is cute and i can’t get enough of him <3 let me know if you enjoyed reading!

#giyuu tomioka x reader #kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #giyu tomioka x reader #tomioka giyuu x reader #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #tomioka giyuu #☁️kny #💗giyuu #🌹spicy stuff #baker!giyuu #mp #m.writes

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hanryuu · 3 months

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has @heirdragonair apologized for calling videos and images of palestinian suffering "snuff" yet and changed their tune on sharing these images/videos or are they going to keep blocking people who are calling them out like a fucking coward

#beep beep sapphire

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wallgirl · 2 years

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Poseidon x Fem!Reader - Consolation Gifts

1500 words. SFW, no warnings. Human/modern AU.

Your impatience with Poseidon comes to a boiling point.

It was nearly eleven o'clock when you heard the faint beeping of the keypad outside your loft's entry door.

You perched on an over-stuffed armchair situated towards the marble fireplace, staring emptily at the flames. Your favorite purse and jacket, both designer pieces that cost more than most people's yearly income, lay abandoned on the floor next to you. You'd been waiting here for hours; first eagerly, then impatiently, then despondently. The time for your dinner reservation had come and went, along with your hopes for a romantic evening with your lover. Now you waited, frigid and silent despite the fire's lively heat, for him to return home and hear his reason. There always was one.

It wasn't that it was unexpected. His profession, as more of a lifestyle than a career, held late hours and had him forever on-call. At any moment, regardless of where he was or who he was with, he might be called to attend some urgent business... and leave you behind with only a hope that he'd soon return.

But these interruptions happened more and more frequently as of late. There were more nights, now, that he didn't return home until the early hours of the morning. More plans ruined, more promises broken, with nothing offered to you as consolation besides a hastily bought gift presented by his butler.

Take this evening, for instance. You were supposed to have had dinner together at a new Michelin-starred restaurant downtown with panoramic views from atop a skyscraper. You had done your hair carefully and put on his favorite perfume, eager for romance. Instead, as the hour of the reservation crept by, the butler, Proteus, came knocking at the door with a Tiffany box in hand.

"Master Poseidon gives his deepest apologies for missing tonight's reservation, and sends you this," the old man had bowed. He opened up the box to present you with the beautiful sapphire necklace inside. However, you could only stare lividly at the glistening piece, before hastily making up your mind.

"Thank you, Proteus, but there's no need," you dismissed it, turning away. "You may take it back. Poseidon needn't waste any more of his gifts on me." His lavish presents couldn't buy your patience any longer.

It had been nearly two hours since, but that patience was still barely maintained, now that your love, Poseidon, had finally come home. You remained silent, not moving from your perch to greet him or acknowledge him. The door shut behind him, and when he realized you were not coming to welcome him home, he stepped into the living room.

"I heard you refused the necklace I sent. Were you not pleased with it?" He produced the small blue box from his tailored coat.

You glanced at the rejected gift out of the corner of your eye. "...It's not that it isn't beautiful, but..." You dismissed it with a wave of your hand.

"Are sapphires no longer your favorite?"

Well, as much as you admired sapphires, you wore them primarily because you knew he loved their color. But, that aside... "No, it's not that." You turned away again, arms crossed against your chest.

"Then what is it?"

"I don't need any more consolation gifts!" You snapped at him over your shoulder. "Every time you cancel our plans, you send me something to buy my complacency. Did you think I wouldn't pick up on the pattern?"

He stared at you silently.

"But I've had enough! You can keep your diamonds and sapphires. You can't buy my forgiveness anymore. More often than not, you leave me to wait here by myself, not bothering to tell me when you'll be back. And I'm left wondering whether or not I'll get to see you again that day. Do you know how much that hurts me?!" You turned your face away once more to hide the tears in your eyes. "Fancy jewelry can't make up for it this time!"

He set the box down on the end table and slowly approached you. Several moments of silence crept by before he finally answered. "...You knew when we first got together that this would be the case. My duties aren't the sort that I can put off for the day, or even an hour; you know this. When my brothers call me, or when an urgent situation arises, I must take care of it."

His words were quiet, but they dug into your heart with icy claws all the same. You hugged yourself tighter. He was right; you did know all of this. But there was a difference between knowing the future and living it. You admonished your past self for agreeing to a relationship on these terms... for not understanding how difficult it would become.

There was hardly a foot between the two of you now, and you could feel the magnetism from his body calling you. But you refused to budge; an icy veil that you would not cross continued to separate you. "So you can't even make an effort? Why even keep me here as your lover, then, when I'm nothing more than a prop most days? You could shower anyone else with gifts and have them at your beck and call, hanging off of your arm whenever you want." Your eyes burned into the crackling fire. "No reason to keep me hanging."

"Then... are you asking me to set you free?"

You finally turned around to face him. Your tears glistened in the firelight, putting the diamonds of any jewelry he could offer you to shame. "That wouldn't make my heart ache any less."

His gaze softened, and he gently cupped your face in his hands. "What would, then?"

"There's no point in asking me that if you're never going to change," you scoffed, but he kept you from turning away.

"Even when I'm not at your side, you are always foremost in my mind. And every time I have to leave, the disappointment on your face hurts me more than anything else." His simple words were so uncharacteristically open and vulnerable that your breath caught in your chest.

"Then... can't you act like it?" You tugged at the front of his suit jacket glumly. "Because... I don't want to be 'free.' I just want to be with the man I love. With you."

He released your face and enveloped you into his arms. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself tight to him. The faint heat coming through his jacket somehow dulled the roaring fire's many times over. "I can't always change the way things are... But I apologize," he whispered against your hair. "Perhaps I haven't made enough of an effort. I didn't know that this was how you felt... I thought you were angry with me."

"I was angry," you admitted. "But not because I no longer care about you." Indeed, maybe you cared for him a little too much. Maybe it was impossible for your love to work out. The thought made your heart ache again.

"This lifestyle hardly ever allows things to go to plan, but I promise to do better in the future. As for now... I know it's late, but we still have this night together." He caressed your hair gently. "I can get us a table downtown, if your appetite hasn't faded." Indeed, a phone call from Poseidon would open up any restaurant in the city, even at this hour.

"I ate hours ago," you admitted with a weak laugh. "I just had Proteus deliver some takeout."

"Is that why I could detect the scent of stir-fry when I came home?" Poseidon mused.

"There's some in the fridge, if you'd like." You leaned back to admire his face in the dim light. "General Zhao's chicken, too."

"Who am I to refuse such a generous offer?" He teased you, tapping your lips. "As long as you're really alright with staying in tonight."

"Yes. And when you're done eating, we can just take a shower and cuddle." You snuggled against him once more. "I've missed laying next to you. The bed is cold and lonely without you."

"We can warm it up tonight," he whispered in your ear. Your arms tightened around him at the thought.

"It has been a while," you admitted weakly. Far, far too long.

"Then we're in agreement." He released you but kept your hand in his. "Now... General Zhao's chicken."

You smiled brightly as he led you into the kitchen. All the riches and gifts were meaningless. You just wanted to enjoy and cherish as many moments with him as possible. As long as you could be together like this, able to understand and be honest with each other, there would be no need for you to feel lonely any longer.

The fireplace continued to crackle cheerfully, shedding its light on two lovers and their night of solace.

---

Author’s note: What is Poseidon’s mysterious profession? Uh I was thinking mafia, tbh. There was just no reason to slap more details on it. But he can just be a realllllly busy businessman if you want!

Has it really been over a year since I joined this fandom? Yeesh. So much has happened since then. A lot of people involved in the fandom back then, when it was still pretty new, have left... But I see new faces in the tags now, which is good! There was a time when the fandom was almost dead. I hope that the fandom continues to grow as the manga and anime continue to come out.

#record of ragnarok #poseidon #record of ragnarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie #poseidon x reader #ror #snv #fanfiction

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acaiasahi · 2 years

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✶ pancakes for dinner ; hamada asahi

synopsis. you confess your love for your best friend before your plane crashes.

info. angst. hamada asahi x gn!reader. 689 words.

warnings. plane crash, crying, free falling (?), allusions of death (not specified but reader DOES NOT die), grammar errors, lowercase + smaller text intended, proofread, lmk if i'm missing anything!

[ now playing . . . ] pancakes for dinner by lizzie mcalpine

the plane jerks forward and causes your hands to grip onto the seat's arm rests. your breath is held in your lungs, too afraid that one tiny exhale will cause a butterfly effect.

pure fear wracks through your body, eyes screwed shut but ultimately opening as you look out the plane's window.

the sky resembles a nautical blue hue and as the plane begins drooping, your heart tumbles within your chest like loose change in a tote bag.

matcha-colored hills take over the sapphire sky, the plane slightly dropping before recovering and although the fear is most definitely prominent within your body, you can't help but feel utter regret.

it's a mush of a emotions really. feelings upon feelings, words being muddled and unspoken. yes, pure regret.

flashes of moments with your loved ones leave as quickly as they come, but soon come to a screeching halt upon one boy.

the boy that's your best friend. god, the boy who makes you feel love, anger, guilt. the boy who stares at you like you put the stars in the sky but you somehow always miss his longing gaze.

hamada asahi.

the world's most beautiful boy who you love so dearly is patiently waiting for you at the airport with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, completely oblivious to how your plane keeps drooping lower and almost ready to crash into the deep, verdant green hills.

mustering all the strength within, you remove your white-knuckled hands off the arm rests, whipping your phone out to call him.

your fingers tremble as you swipe through your contacts to find him. quickly pressing the 'call' button, the ringing ends and an automated voice appears.

the person you are trying to currently reach is not accepting calls. please press one to leave a voicemail.

the hope in your body dissolves, hands shakily removing the device from your ear to press the 'one' button. curse him for always having his phone on do not disturb.

you sigh, completely ignoring the automated voice who walks you through the instructions until the sound of the beep blares into your ears.

"asahi, it's y/n. t-this plane is getting super crazy an-and i'm scared that there's gonna be an accident and i won't b-be able to see yo-you again," your words tumble around in your mouth, quite literally speaking just to speak at this point. you sigh, attempting to ignore the horrified screams of the other passengers as you continue.

a panicked laugh leaves your chapped lips, "i should tell you this, y-you deserve to know. i want to eat pancakes for dinner with you, a-and i wanna get stuck in your head, or do that super cringey thing where we dance and kiss in the rain," your laugh is genuine at the thought of doing these mundane things with your best friend.

"it sounds stupid, i know," you begin, hesitancy practically seeping through as you try to find the right words. "i love you, i'm in love with you. i always have been, i love you, i love you, i love you," your words are on repeat like a broken record as you begin to cry. tears falling freely like a waterfall, streaks left behind on your face due to sadness and regret for not expressing your romantic feelings for him.

your sobs begin to die down, wiping your tears with the sleeve of your — asahi's hoodie. the fabric soaks up all your sorrows, as you sniffle.

"i'm not sure how this'll end, but i just want you to know that i'm proud of you. whatever happens, please be happy. be happy for me, okay? i love you." your words cut off with a sob.

a loud beep causes your brain to go numb, the voices around you soon turning into white noise as the plane drops. your eyes glance over to the window, watching as you free fall. the beautiful greenery becomes your doom as the plane tumbles and turns.

you shut your eyes, leaning back against the headrest with asahi finding refuge in the back of your mind before everything just goes black.

★ treasure taglist. @ficscafe ... @kflixnet ... @yogurteume ... @tahyunwoo ... @h4chi ... @enhacolor ... @wonluvrbot ... @alohajun ... @youngminhee ... @setakdongies ... @ncizen ... @kyufilms ... @saeromiz ... @sunoo-bby ... @dancinginthetaillight ... @seung-scrittore ... @sseastar-main ... @changmin-wrlds ... @hanjisungpark ... @existnesia ... @ily-cuz-i ... @yedamology ... @i-luvsang ... @wyynn [click here to join!]

[ 🎧 ] jaydi's notes. there will be a pt. 2 to this! i hope u enjoy this, i was in my feels laurkey so saurry for the consistent angst LOL

#kflixnet #ficscafe #treasure imagines #treasure drabbles #treasure blurbs #treasure angst #treasure x reader #treasure sad hours #hamada asahi imagines #hamada asahi drabbles #hamada asahi blurbs #hamada asahi angst #hamada asahi x reader #asahi imagines #asahi drabbles #asahi blurbs #asahi angst #asahi x reader

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kannymaei · 1 year

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The Perfect Girl - Chapter 11 (Kamisato Ayato x Reader)

Author’s Note: All characters are OOC! Please be reminded that this fanfic is Modern! AU and Highschool! AU and none of this are canons to the actual lore of Genshin Impact. I do not own Genshin Impact or the characters in the game!

Synopsis: You were a graduating high school student who somehow got involved in unfortunate events and transferred to Teyvat International School. Due to your “complicated” physical features, you became the main target of the school’s “bully”, Kamisato Ayato! Together with his friends, Diluc Ragnvindr, Tartaglia, and Arataki Itto.

Word Count: 3.9k

Taglist: @frieschan @nejibot

Masterlist

Next -> Chapter 12

It has been a couple of months already since you were discharged from the hospital and today is a special day.

You're wearing a long-sleeved white dress while placing camelia flower pins on your little bun together with the necklace and bracelet that Ayato gave you. The chain has a medium oval-shaped Sapphire gem while the bracelet is silver that has three small camelia flowers in the middle.

This gift was just a gift to you, but for Ayato it means everything.

…Everything?

—

Ayato patiently waited for you in the carnival while sitting in the nearby pastry shop where he bought you different flavors of macarons with some freshly baked croissants.

It was all peaceful not until he saw three familiar shadows of people. His eyes widened because he couldn't understand why these people are here right now, was it a coincidence? Maybe not. It was just supposed to be the two of you here today.

"I'd never thought the Lord of the Kamisato Family would indulge in a place like a carnival." Arataki Itto said while smirking at his best friend.

"Is the Lord of the Kamisato Family not allowed to be seen in such places?" Ayato gave Itto a cold glare, making the white-haired rascal flinch a little.

"Why are you surprised that we're here, didn't you invite us here in the first place?" Diluc Ragnvindr states while looking at the bag of pastries he bought for you.

"Oh, sweets! You won't mind if I get some here right? Pretty sure you didn't buy anything with beans here." As Itto was about to lay his hands inside the bag he was immediately tightly held on the arm by Ayato.

"I was about to say you're so thoughtful to buy us food but it seems… This was bought for someone else." Childe smirked at Ayato who was currently scratching his head abashedly.

…

A car stopped in front of the cafe and revealed the elegant lady. The three men froze and were completely shocked by the beauty you had, how long it had been and how come, especially Ayato, did not notice that you were so simple but pretty.

However, Diluc seemed not bothered by your sudden appearance. It was you who invited him, Childe, and Itto to come along. Although, he was kind of already expecting that you'd be dressing up.

You came up to Ayato immediately and whispered to him.

"Sorry, I got a little excited and embarrassed. I invited everyone…" You let out a small giggle.

The man seemed to keep up a straight face despite his inner self breaking down already. He wanted this day to be special for both of you. It seemed that hanging out with you while you were in a hospital made him think that you're not a bad person after all even after all of the childish games the two of you played.

"W-well, I suppose Lumine should be here anytime soon…" You nervously spoke when your phone beeped a message that was from Lumine.

—

From: Lumie 🎉

Y/N! I'm so sorry I can't come today… I woke up and I have Chicken pox! I guess I'll see you after two weeks or more weeks then… Just about time for the Kamisato Family's annual celebration for the heir.

—

(A/N: And I'm going to give y'all a pretty good guess on what's about to go down in the next chapter.)

"Oh no! Lumine can't come, she, unfortunately, has chicken pox." You spoke softly which was too cute for Ayato to hear hence his ears were starting to turn red.

"Stop going "Oh no!" Y/N. You're alive! I haven't seen you so well in ages! I thought you were going to be bedridden after all that?!" Itto is exaggeratedly said.

"Calm down Itto…" Diluc and Ayato said in unison. The two glared at each other as if there was a heavy atmosphere of fighting between them.

"Isn’t it a little too soon for Y/N to go to places like this? She just got out of the hospital…” Diluc sighed and his hands moved across his face.

Before anyone could say a thing, Diluc was very much straightforward with his thoughts and actions.

“Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll keep you away from harm.” He said while staring at the flower pins you have in your head while unconsciously holding your hand.

Ayato was fixated on your small hands that were being held by the manly hands of one of his best friends, for some reason, he did not like whatever was in front of him.

There was a long silence but was fortunately interrupted by Itto’s sneeze due to the smell of the Cafe, after all, he does not like beans. The five of you walked out with Diluc still holding your hand and you weren’t aware of the dark auras Childe and Ayato were producing whereas it’s enough for Itto to be scared of what happened next since all that Diluc was doing to look back at the three and smirk at them for holding something they wanted to hold.

A few minutes after, something caught your eye and you ran to it letting go of Diluc’s hand but this time Childe was quick to go after you. You were in front of a really cute and squishy stuffed toy in a stall at the carnival.

“I-I’d like to play twice!” You slammed down the money in front of the staff who smiled and handed you a toy gun with 6 bullets, 3 each play.

You don’t have good accuracy and precision with guns and wasted all six bullets, you didn’t notice Childe was grinning at you while you were grieving your failure.

He held you by your shoulder and whispered. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll get this one for you.” As he puts down his money while the staff arranges the emptied cans before handing Childe his toy gun and bullets.

“Now, watch closely Y/N.” He positioned his arm and legs, he looked like he knew how to use a gun. Well, after all, Childe came from a popular family. Everyone heard three bullets were shot and it was a bullseye!

Other people that were watching began to clap their hands to Childe while he felt so honored to be praised by other people.

“Acta es Fabula, Plaudite!” He jokingly bowed to other people.

“Congratulations Miss, your boyfriend won this price for you.” You heard the staff speak behind you while handing you the stuffed toy that you wanted.

“Wow! She’s so lucky to have a handsome gentleman as her boyfriend!”

“Mommy! I also want that stuffed toy!”

“I’m sorry dear, someone got to it first. Let’s choose something else okay?”

“Okay, Mommy!”

“When would I get a boyfriend like him?”

“In your dreams girl!”

“W-wait! I-I’m not h-his girlfrie-” Childe grabbed you and walked in the middle of the crowd.

“Childe! What are you doing?” You frantically said while he continued to drag you.

“Saving you from the crowd, what else?” He replied and hid his slight blush.

After a few moments, you and Childe are both exhausted and currently resting at a small table with the others.

“Took you long enough to get back here, a lover from Snezhnaya." You heard Itto speak while the two of you were still catching your breath.

"Very funny Itto…" You pouted at him and somehow made a certain individual blush.

"Are you alright Y/N?" Diluc immediately came to your care quickly giving you a cup of water which you gladly accepted.

"S-she's fine Diluc, stupid crowd," Childe replied but he already looks like he got squished and dies in the corner already.

Ayato did nothing but observed the four of you. He was quite frustrated with how his friends were doing everything just to keep you away from him but then again he didn't want to appear as someone who likes you. He decided to set aside the knot feeling he has in his heart for a while and think about the girl she likes, Guuji Yae, who hasn't been messaging or talking to anyone after her party. Some students in the school were worried about her but there have been ongoing rumors going on about her at the same time, everyone had their doubts about it and concluded that anyone who spread that rumor was only jealous of Guuji Yae.

"Is everyone alright for an early lunch?" Ayato said while fixing the buttons of his left wrist and looking at his watch.

"Hell yeah, I am!" Itto was the first person to reply, of course, you thought he'd be the first person to get hungry.

"Would our pretty lady pick a restaurant of her choice?" Ayato gave you a charming smile while speaking which made you flustered for a while.

(What possessed this person? I doubt he remembered me.) You thought to yourself and tried to think of a restaurant.

"What about "Good Hunter" Diluc brought me there when I was new in the school." You genuinely answered which brightened up the redhead's face. He was glad that even though you were in a coma, you still remembered the first things you had with him.

"Hmm, it's quite affordable there but if that's what Y/N wants then sure! Let's go." Ayato replied while picking up the bag he's been carrying since you arrived here.

The four of you followed him to his vehicle.

"Are we driving solo or are we driving as a group?" Childe said while waving and playing with his car keys.

"Which one do you prefer, Y/N?" Ayato asked you.

(What's with these people making me decide on their cars.) You mentally rolled your eyes at them.

"I prefer riding in groups, so it doesn't feel lonely." You replied.

"Then I offer to drive!" Itto shouted that echoed in the parking area.

"First come, first serve," Itto added and there's like a static shock with the four of you outside.

You quickly dashed to the backseat followed by Diluc and Childe leaving Ayato in the passenger seat.

The car seating arrangement:

Driver's seat: Itto

Passenger seat: Ayato

Back seat: Diluc, Y/N, Childe

Ayato thought you were aiming for the passenger seat which is why he didn’t race with Diluc and Childe but now he’s frowning on the side of his seat.

Meanwhile, you’re in the middle of Childe and Diluc.

“Itto, please stay safe driving.” You broke the silence.

“Of course I am, don’t worry Y/N” Itto smirked. Why was he smirking? You’re pretty sure that he wouldn’t crash the car right?

“Y/N since you’re new in our school. Why won’t you tell us about your childhood?” Itto said, he’s not doing much because he’s driving.

“I…” You spoke slowly and thought how on earth would you say that Ayato is your childhood best friend? To escape the situation, you put your hand on your forehead to show that you’re having a hard time recalling it.

“I think it’s best not to ask Y/N about her childhood, I believe she’s having a hard time recalling it,” Childe said while wrapping his arms around your shoulder.

(Why would Y/N get a hard time recalling her childhood? If she doesn’t want to remember it, she’d say it’s best not to talk about it because it’s unpleasant.) Somehow, this thought bothers Ayato.

You look out the front window and see that the road ahead isn’t nice. You’re pretty much sure that this doesn’t look like a road ahead for a restaurant.

“Itto, I’ve been in that restaurant and I’m damn sure this isn’t the short route,” Diluc said trying to hold still.

“What? I can’t hear you Diluc.” Itto shouted before turning the maneuver from side to side causing the back seat to fall into shambles.

You, being the person who sits in the middle have been thrown off from side to side. Falling into Childe’s chest to Diluc’s.

“Why are middle seat belts shitty?!” You attempted to remain your composure but failed to do so and continued to fall into your friends' manly chests.

“Ouch! That hurts!” Childe said and rubbed his head after hitting it on the corner of the car.

Diluc had enough and immediately grabbed you by your hips and pulled you closer to him. This had his face turn into a tomato. On the contrary, Itto finally hit the brakes.

“I was wondering which one of you has a thing for Y/N, so it’s you Diluc,” Itto said and laughed.

“W-who said I like Y/N?! You’re the dumbass who went on a zigzag rocky road that no person in their right mind would choose this road to eat in a restaurant.” Diluc furiously replied trying to get his point across before he let out the cat in the box.

“I’m simply protecting Y/N! She just got out of the hospital!” He added, defending himself.

“Look at her, she’s happy as a clam.” Itto looked back and stared at you who was currently flushed having your face pressed onto a man.

“Too much defense is quite suspicious.” Ayato coldly said while staring at the road ahead.

“What about you Ayato?” Itto looked at him in the eyes.

“What do you mean what about me?” He annoyingly replied to Itto.

Ayato’s eyes widened for a little bit when he saw you wrapped around Diluc’s body. He shook his head before replying again.

“What about it?” He added.

“Itto, when are you going to continue driving? I am hungry.” Childe begged for Itto and he smiled and moved the maneuver of his car.

Ayato is disturbed by the things Diluc is doing to you. He decided to avert his thinking to something else and continued to wonder how Miko is doing.

Ayato thought to himself, after the accident and the days he spent every day in the hospital too. You don’t seem to be a bad person at all…

(Y/N’s kind, Y/N’s pure-hearted… Wait why am I thinking of Y/N?! I’m only doing this because I’m indebted to her) He shook his head and admired the scenery.

—

A couple of minutes later, you finally arrived at good hunter when you should have been here way earlier only if Itto wasn’t a bad driver.

Fast-forwarding time, you were mistaken to be Diluc’s girlfriend by the other waitresses but Ayato tried to correct them that you weren’t his which made some of his friends laugh.

You enjoyed your lunch with everyone, especially when you were listening to Childe’s little sibling whom he called Teucer. He said that he hasn’t seen him a lot since he went to high school and he would love you to meet his family.

Itto talked about the childish rivalry he had with Kujuo Sara, how Sara always takes something very important from him and then bribes him into something. On the other hand, he had a bunch of friends outside school which he calls his gang and there’s a girl there that’s named Kuki Shinobu.

When it was Diluc’s turn to share something, he mentioned Kaeya, whom you met during your first days in school in this same restaurant that loves to tease and annoy Diluc. He mentioned that he used to be close friends with Jean not until a certain incident happened. They also had another friend, Lisa, who transferred schools after middle school. She’s rumored to be smart but also lazy.

Last but not least was Ayato, who said that he doesn’t want to share anything.

“Oh come on man, everyone shared,” Itto said while struggling to slice the steak he ordered.

“Well, if he doesn’t want to share. It’s alright, everyone has their privacy.” Diluc said and nodded.

“How about this, isn’t the annual celebration of the heir of the Kamisato Family 2 weeks from now?” Childe asked.

“Yes…” Ayato quietly replied, something seemed to be bothering his mind. As if he isn’t excited about the event.

“Why do you sound upset?” After listening to them talk, you finally spoke.

“Who said I’m upset?! This is none of your business Y/N!” He replied with a frustrated tone.

“Whoa! Someone’s on their period.” Childe jokingly said before he got smacked in the back by Itto.

"What was that for?!" Childe complained to Itto.

Ayato was a little surprised by your reaction, you were shocked by his sudden tone.

"I-I'm sorry, it's just… I get this bad feeling that something's going to happen and I'm not going to like it…" Ayato said and apologized to you.

"I-it's okay!" You worryingly answered him.

"Should we get dessert?" Diluc said to lighten up the mood. Fortunately, everyone agreed and ordered their respective sweets.

The afternoon was well spent walking around the mall near the restaurant, no one would want to go to the carnival with a full stomach.

—

You found yourself in the shoe and heels section in the mall. A pair of stilettos caught your attention and it was displayed in a glass case.

"These shoes were created specifically by a Princess from a foreign land. It is almost 70 years old but it was taken care of by this shop for a long time. This is the only pair that exists in the world. If no one buys this in the next 14 days, it will be put onto auction." The saleslady said.

"It's so beautiful…" You whispered while admiring the hand-picked diamond, carefully carving for every inch of its beauty. It is a daunting piece in the world.

You failed to notice the eyes that were gazing at you as you said those words.

"H-how much was it?" You frantically asked.

"990,000,000 Mora." The saleslady bowed her head when she said it. It's very expensive, even if you're rich. You wouldn't want to buy a pair of stilettos at that price even if it's very pretty. What you liked the most was the flowers and ribbons around it. It's so perfect that it can fit any kind of outfit.

"A-ah… I'll… get it sooner…" You replied with a gloomy tone.

"Ma'am, its price would be lowered to 50,000,000 Mora at the auction. Although it's already a given, a lot of people would fight for it and eventually, it's going to reach that price again…" The saleslady replied.

"O-oh… 14 days… okay…" You said and before you turned your back, you heard someone behind you speak. But isn't the next two weeks the annual celebration of the Kamisato Family? You don't even know if you're invited. If you're not invited, then you would be able to attend the auction.

"I'll take it, here's my black card." Even the other people overheard what he said. Their eyes widened after so long, someone finally bought the shoes.

"Y-you don't have to… I can buy this if I want… I just don't think it's worth it." You looked behind and tried to fight the man who said it.

"You want it right? Consider it as a gift from me."

"As expected from the heir of the Ragnvindr family…"

"Is she Lord Diluc's girlfriend?"

"I don't think the Lord is seeing someone. If he was, it would have been reported everywhere."

"But who is she…"

"Isn't she from the L/N family?"

"This is the first time I heard of the L/N family…"

"You didn't know?! There's a lot of rumors—"

As much as you want to hear the things they would say… you were interrupted by your friends.

Ayato's eyes darkened, they lost the shine they had earlier. He was completely distraught and thorned apart. He wanted to hate you so bad but he just can't, and he doesn't even know the cause of this. Even if he tries to think of Guuji Yae, it doesn't erase the annoyance and frustration he's feeling inside.

The number of times Diluc Ragnvindr bested him.

(Maybe he's just trying to show off that he's a better gentleman than me…) Ayato thought but he knew Diluc would never do that.

(I'm just nervous about the celebration. That's all besides I'm the one who invited Y/N to this day. What was I thinking in the hospital?!) Ayato scratched his head very fast and looked at you and Diluc.

"What the hell is he doing?!" He whispered that had Itto looked at him, he was hesitating to ask Ayato because he knew he wasn't being himself.

"Thank you so much, Sir! Thank you so much, Sir!" All of the staff were repeatedly saying their gratitude to Diluc who bought the shoes.

Aside from that, they included so many freebies that are about 400,000,000 Mora but it's just a bonus considering the price of the shoes.

As the person gifted with these divine shoes, you get to choose 20 sets of accessories you wanted, colognes, 10 different designer dresses, and 1 gown that was worn by the Princess.

"The gown isn't a part of the freebie Ma'am. Lord Ragnvindr added 700,000,000 Mora to pair it with the shoes. The reason for the price was there is only one dress and one pair of shoes that exists in the world. Any form of copies or imitations would put someone’s family and future generation in jail for a lifetime." The manager of the shop said as he walked out of the authorized room.

"D-Diluc! That's… 1,690,000,000 Mora! How could you buy me such things! I- I don't deserve it…" You said to him.

He hasn't said anything since he bought the dress.

"Y/N, a lady like you deserves an elegant gown for the Kamisato Family's Annual celebration. Has Ayato not mentioned it? That you were invited?" He said while tucking your hair behind your ears.

"Ma'am, the reason the gown isn't displayed was that it's supposed to be bought together with the shoes. Even if the buyer doesn't have enough money to buy the gown and shoes together. Whoever buys the shoes will automatically be the buyer of the gown and it will be forever preserved in their family's name until it has been decided that it will be bought.

And another reason that it was this expensive was that whoever would wear the gown and shoes would be recognized as the rightful inheritor of the princess. Their name shall be written in history. This is due to the princess being infertile and failing to have a child which would mean no one would inherit anything from her." The manager added.

You read an old written will that was sealed. The letter seemed to be only revealed if the shoes and gown were bought.

Only someone as perfect as me would be able to wear this.

"Y/N you are very…—"

"Ehem!" Childe coughed between the two of you.

"Yes, you are invited L/N." Ayato coldly answered Diluc's question.

"I'll have those presents sent to your address Y/N," Diluc said while he was signing a form concerning his purchase.

"Let's go back to the carnival, shall we? It's getting late soon." Itto said trying to lower the tension and the aura Ayato was showing.

Childe immediately understood the message Itto was saying and agreed to his proposal to convince everyone.

The ride was quiet, no one spoke a word not until you reached the destination.

…

It was almost sunset when you arrived but this has to be the prettiest sunset you’d seen. No wonder a lot of people go into the carnival before the evening.

“We can probably eat dinner here after we watched the fireworks around 8:45 PM. In the meantime, we can enjoy some of the rides…” Childe suggested and everyone nodded.

You spent your time trying some of the scary rides but at the same time your right arm is covered in sweat due to Itto has been burying his face in your arm because he was scared.

The next thing you went is Itto test his strength with the hammer game thingy you’re not familiar with but it was embarrassing because he almost broke it.

You accompanied Childe on the claw machine, he said he wanted to go home with some toys for his siblings. You were enjoying your time but what’s odd is that Ayato is different than he was earlier, it’s like he’s avoiding you on purpose or distancing himself from everyone. You thought to yourself if the Ayato you met back in the hospital was different than the Ayato you are seeing right now.

After that, the five of you went to visit a wall that was full of locks with some initials on it. Everyone went admiring the locks, reading the names of the couples in the locks.

You read some of the names written and some of them were familiar to you because it was your classmates.

One lock caught the eye of Diluc, it was neon pink with a sakura keychain on it. Of course, it was easy to spot it due to its color. Diluc walked towards it and everyone followed him.

You were all behind him, waiting for him to speak the names of the locks.

“A + Miko <3” He spoke softly.

“A means Ayato right?” Itto said when the manager approached all of you.

“Ah, there’s a pretty lady with pink hair that did this… Neon locks are quite expensive you know? Neon colors are quite easy to spot and would mostly raise the curiosity of people.” The manager said.

“Itto! Why would you ask if A is for Ayato? Of course, A means Ayato. They’ve been lovey-dovey all around in school!” You said and faked your laugh, your voice almost broke when you said the lovey-dovey part because initially, you don’t like Guuji Yae and the things she did. While Diluc and Childe looked in the eyes of each other as you were conversing with Itto.

“I don’t think… A means Ayato…” Ayato said himself which had you and Itto question yourselves if it wasn’t him then who is that A?

“Excuse me, Sir! Is this the man that the pink-haired lady was with when she bought that lock?” Itto tapped the shoulder of the manager repeatedly, he wanted to know the answer because it should only be Ayato… not unless… Guuji Yae was hiding something.

“Pardon me but it was already the evening when I saw them around here a long time ago… I’m afraid it is not Lord Ayato who the lady was with. I’m sorry if I am prying some personal issues here…” Almost every manager and organizer of the carnival is familiar with Ayato because he is one of the honored ones.

“I believe the man is a little short…”

Ayato’s heart was starting to beat faster, he did not want to listen further but his heart really wanted to know more about the man.

“The color of his hair is…”

He was nervous… there are only two possible people that would fit the description.

“Ashy light blonde.”

He sighed in relief, he already thought of Aether but fortunately, the color of Aether’s hair is blonde.

“Albedo?” You and Itto said in unison, this had Diluc and Childe mentally face-palming themselves. Diluc didn’t hesitate but took this chance to give everyone a hint about who was it.

“You don’t think it’s Aether?” Diluc said, the moment Ayato heard his name he felt like his heart stopped beating.

“I don’t know man, Aether is fully blonde-” Itto paused before continuing because he realized something.

“You’re right… It could be Aether… the manager did say it was a long time ago and it was also the evening… He could have mistaken it as ashy light blonde…” Itto added.

“Y-yeah! But wait! I don’t think it’s Aether… isn’t he Ayaka’s girlfriend. I don’t think he would cheat on her and if it’s Albedo, we don’t see them interact in school and why would Albedo flirt with the woman of Ayato?” You argued.

You were caught off guard when the megaphone started to say something.

“Good evening everyone! We would like to announce that the fireworks are going to set off in 5 minutes. Please group in the plaza next to the carnival so you can all watch it.” With that being said, the people started to walk outside of the carnival leaving all of you with an unfinished important conversation.

“Let’s go shall we?” Diluc offered and everyone agreed.

Ayato was distraught, he was following you guys mindlessly, clenching the pastries he bought you earlier. It was unfortunate that he didn’t get to give it to you. He kept on thinking why would Albedo do something like that? His mind was clouded that he didn’t comprehend the things you stated about who was the man Guuji Yae was with.

Childe tapped on his shoulder which jolted the Ayato back to reality.

“Don’t overthink it, bro, we will get to the bottom of this. You can ask Guuji Yae about it, right? I’m pretty sure she would be honest with you.” He rubbed Ayato’s back to make him worry less about it.

…

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, the fireworks will begin in 60 seconds.”

“Dammit! I’m too small to be in front!” You said when Diluc held your hand and ran off. You looked back to your other friends but your eyes were fixated on Ayato’s lilac eyes which shone brightly with the reflection of the lights.

(Is he… sad?) You whispered before you reached the front of where the fireworks were best viewed.

“Don’t worry about them Y/N… Here take my handkerchief, it’s going to be a little smokey while we watch and I don’t want you inhaling the smoke because I care about you… I-I mean you just got out of the hospital right?” Diluc said while you accept his handkerchief.

People suddenly became quiet when the first firework was lit. You looked up and watched the fireworks in the sky and smiled.

“Y/N… you are so beautiful when you smile… You should do it often.” Diluc said but you didn’t hear it clearly because he was whispering it and you were too distracted by the fireworks.

While everyone else is watching the fireworks, Ayato was looking somewhere else.

Ayato found himself in the same position again when he watched Diluc carry you in a bridal matter when you first entered the school and you got sprained. He is watching you enjoy the fireworks with Diluc.

“So Ayato… you sure you still hate Y/N?” Itto said to him when he saw where Ayato was looking.

“Excuse me, I need to do something urgent at home.” Ayato lied and walked away.

…

2 weeks later…

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen! We are welcoming you to the annual celebration of the Kamisato Family! I present you the heir of the Kamisato Clan, Kamisato Ayato!” The master of the ceremony said.

The event was extravagant, not even rich people would be able to enter the venue. This event was purely held with noble families, people who were born from old money.

The event has people attending from each family such as the Lawrence clan, Gundilhr clan, and other prestigious families.

The ladies were seen in gowns that are designed with rare diamonds and pearls while the gentlemen were seen in their coats that were specifically named after them. Each of the coats has its signature design that would define them.

You stepped out of your car and wondered how this night would go on.

…

2 weeks ago…

“Lord Ayato? What brings you back here?” The manager of the love locks greeted him.

“I… I would like to buy a lock.” Ayato said.

“Is it a neon blue my Lord?” The manager said that surprised him, how does he know it would be a neon blue that Ayato would buy?

“How-” Ayato replied.

“I have something for you, my lord…” The manager went near the locks and tried to search for something that piqued the interest of Kamisato Ayato.

After a few minutes, the manager showed him something but this surprised Ayato to the extent he would think he was dreaming and wished for someone to punch him in the face. He read over and over again what was written.

“There’s no fucking way…” He muttered, the words were poorly written and it was more than 10 years ago… probably 11 or 13 years. Most importantly, the date written was his birthday.

…

“Kamisato Ayato + L/N Y/N”

“Our love will never falter.”

“March 26, 2150”

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