#keeping food on the line and keeping food from coming back up

[zephyrchama]

📞

(Obey Me! mini fic. Contains suggestive content but is overall SFW)

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“How are my brothers doing?”

Lucifer’s voice sounded a little grainy over the phone. He must have been far away, or something somewhere was causing magical interference to the connection. It was nice that he had time to call and check in on things.

“Everything’s great,” you confided. Things had been really calm in his absence and you felt confident the house would still be standing by the time he returned home. “We just finished watching a movie. Belphegor fell asleep midway through, of course. Everyone else-”

“Hey…” Asmodeus interrupted, leaning into your shoulder and putting his cheek against yours. His voice sounded extra raunchy. “I told you, if you keep touching me like that…”

”Asmo, I’m on the phone.”

“You’re going to make me… Hnngh…” He dug an obnoxious smile into your shoulder while continuing to make questionable noises.

You were about to apologize to Lucifer, but a yell from the other room made you jump. Asmodeus tried to repress a giggle as Satan’s voice rang out, loud and clear, “Oh no! I just knocked over Lucifer’s cursed record collection!”

You hadn’t heard any crashes, nothing to indicate property damage had occurred. Thankfully, Satan’s good conscious wanted to keep you out of real trouble more than he wanted to torment Lucifer. That didn’t prevent him from sarcastically lamenting, “wow! I accidentally stepped on a bunch and crushed them even more! That sucks. Oh well.”

A deep inhale, and a deep exhale. You remained calm. They were messing around.

The chewing noises that had been a constant all evening were suddenly gone. You cast a suspicious glance at Beelzebub on the next couch over.

“We’re out of food,” he complained. The fridge had been filled to bursting that morning and there were two half-full bags of chips still in his lap. Belphegor lay face-down next to his twin with an open container of demonic chip dip balanced on his back.

“Don’t worry! Yer big bro’ll take care of everythin’! How many roasted griffon do you want delivered? Ten? Or should we go full catering?”

Mammon, back from his bathroom break, was fast on the uptake when it came to causing mischief. He wasted no time in flaunting money he didn’t have while Beelzebub decided now was a good time to eat those chips. Mammon made sure to stand right behind you so his voice would carry into the receiver. “I’m always takin’ good care of my little bros, aren’t I? Lucifer oughta put me in charge next time.”

Somebody snorted. You weaseled an arm out from under Asmodeus to rub your forehead. “Come on, guys.”

“Mammon, where did you find Lucifer’s backup credit card? I thought that was for emergencies only!” Leviathan cupped his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. All the while, Satan kept shouting, “oops! Broke that, too!” and Asmodeus carried on with his lewd noises.

You held your mouth as close to the phone as possible, helplessly trying to block out the idiots. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course. I’m glad you’re taking care of things, everyone sounds like they’re having fun.” Rather than mad, Lucifer sounded amused. There was a fondness in his voice. “Though, if the house is truly in dire straights, I have no choice but to come straight home without stopping for souvenirs. Be sure to convey that for me.”

You were happy to announce, “Lucifer’s not getting you guys any souvenirs if you keep it up.”

The tomfoolery stopped immediately.

“Whuh?” “No way!” “Does that include picking up dinner?” “My limited edition goods!” “He can’t do that!”

The cacophony of complaints almost caused you to miss the grainy voice over the phone. It said, “I don’t like being away from you for this long. I’ll need you to give a one-on-one report of everything that happened as soon as I get back. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

There was a click, and the line went silent. You set the phone aside. The previously energetic gang looked anxious knowing that their big brother could be upset, even though they brought this upon themselves. Satan carried in a disc, in mint condition, muttering about how he found the sequel and will put it on.

“He’s still going to get us gifts, right?” Leviathan asked. You shrugged.

[rcmclachlan]

8x06 fix-it fic: Amnion

Buck doesn't bounce back from Tommy the way he did with all his other breakups for reasons he can't articulate or even look at. He thinks of how long it took him to recover from Abby, but even that felt different, because he'd had hope carrying him through most of it. He doesn't have that now.

The worst part is it's bringing everyone else down. It's starting to affect the job, and he can't take any more of Bobby's pity dinner invites or the kid gloves Eddie handles him with. Then one day, Chimney (in an attempt to lighten the mood) asks Buck if he's pregnant, and it awakens some primordial rage in Buck that he never knew he possessed and damn near rips off Chimney's head about it.

But once the blood levels in his adrenaline start rising and he calms down, he starts thinking about it. Before he knows it he's thinking about it day and night, and now that's starting to affect the job more than his heartbreak had been.

Then one night Maddie invites him over to watch trash TV and eat junk food until they can't feel feelings anymore, but instead of the patented Maddie Hug he's expecting, she hands him a First Response test stick the second he walks in the door.

Five minutes later, he comes out of the bathroom pale-faced and dripping tears because there are two lines in the test result window, and Maddie leads him over to the couch where they curl up and cry together. Just like the old days.

Maddie asks if he's going to tell Tommy, but there's no judgment in her voice, like she's behind him no matter what he decides, and Buck tries to make her laugh when he says, "How do you know it's his? I could've been living it up for the last month. New person almost every night. Exploring myself."

She just gives him a Look. Also patented.

Under the weight of her scrutiny, Buck thinks about Tommy's face before he left the loft that night and how ''Buck'' looked and sounded so wrong coming from him. Like the shape of it was so painful he could barely move his mouth around it.

Finally, he shakes his head. His eyes well up with more tears, which feels impossible, because the human body can't possibly produce this much liquid. He's going to drown them both. "I thought... I thought we had a future, Maddie. I really did. I guess I still get one... but only with part of him."

A couple of months pass and Buck's entire world shifts. The 118 have rallied around him in a way that almost feels like they're closing ranks to every other firehouse. Eddie becomes especially protective and devises a 5000-point care plan that makes him twitch if Buck so much as thinks about deviating from it, but he also keeps telling Buck that he needs to tell Tommy about the pregnancy.

"If only to get his family history," Eddie says reasonably, but there's something pleading in his voice every time, like there's so much more under the surface that he's trying to keep under wraps. Like there's more about this that he thinks Tommy should know.

Chimney's in the middle of explaining why he's stealing the cool uncle crown from Buck and sitting pretty on the throne when Buck asks him about it.

"Is there something about Tommy that no one's telling me?"

It trips Chimney up. Literally. He just barely catches himself from going headfirst into the kitchen counter.

Buck's heart starts pounding. "Chim, does he know?"

"No," Chimney says, firm and almost a little offended. "We promised you we wouldn't say anything. But Buck... you should tell him. You should talk to him."

Part of him wants to whip his phone out right then and there and dial Tommy's number. He could do what he did the first time: ask to meet somewhere and laugh about bad coffee and plead his case for a second chance. He could reach across the table for his hand, but this time, he'd stand up and walk over to Tommy and place it on his belly. "I don't care about firsts or lasts," he'd say. "I care about only's. And you're the only one I want."

But the other part of him, still licking its wounds, hormones in flux and forcing organs to shift and bend as it makes room for the thing he and Tommy made together, bares its teeth and snaps, "He made it very clear that he had no interest in hearing what I had to say."

Chimney never brings it up again.

Meanwhile, Hen goes a little overboard with forcing him to undergo random physicals—she pops out of the shadows twice a day to ambush him with the blood pressure machine, and he keeps threatening to avoid rooms that have doors—but he loves it. His body is a complete stranger to him for the first time in a long time, but the changes he's experiencing are interesting and he's having a blast cataloging every new one. He and Hen have a spreadsheet with like fifty tabs, and she helps him navigate every test his actual OBGYN sets him up for.

He's over her house at least once a week, although pregnancy talk at the dinner table is verboten.

"If one of you says the word 'amniocentesis' one more time, I will start a food fight," Karen had said, finally putting her foot down. Across the table, Denny perked up.

As much as he hesitates to even think the Q-word, it's a pretty quiet pregnancy. The cravings are kind of wild, though, and he goes most of his first trimester feeling like he's going to die if he can't eat rice krispie treats with cottage cheese. Every time Bobby sees him cracking open another container of Hood, it looks like he's seriously reconsidering sobriety.

But as incredible as they are about the pregnancy, they're all tiptoeing around the other elephant in the room: when Buck is going to stop working scenes. He and Bobby have a series of discussions that satisfies neither of them and resolves nothing, and it builds to a big blow-out that ends when Bobby tearfully begs Buck to stop risking his own life and the life of Bobby's grandkid.

After that, it's like some stone thing in him dissolves into sand and he finally eases back a bit in his fifth month. He doesn't put up a fight when Bobby orders him to only handle the winch or stick with hose duty, and if he stays a little closer to the engine because he gets winded so easily these days, no one comments on it.

In his sixth month, the inevitable happens: there's a call out at Palos Verdes and it's all hands on deck, which means the 217 is there too. At first he thinks he might make it through without running into Tommy at all, but he turns a corner and—there he is. Smudged with mud and looking like a drowned rat because of the downpours, but in his turnouts he's big and capable and, for a second, he's walking into First Presbyterian and apologizing for missing the ceremony.

But the memory is easily wrestled back into the past the second Tommy's gaze fixes on Buck's belly.

Buck wants to stage a retreat that would make the Allies at Dunkirk stand up and applaud. He wants to throw his arms open so Tommy can get a better look at it, say something cool and mean, like, "Did you know that INNOTEX makes turnouts for carriers these days? Pretty progressive of them, if you ask me."

He wants to be weak and ask if Tommy will spare him a hug. Just one. Nothing greedy. Just—a moment to soak in his warmth, to inhale the smell of his skin. Enough to carry him through the rest of it.

But he does none of that. He inhales through his nose, lifts his chin, and says, "Firefighter Kinard."

At that, Tommy smiles, and it's completely awful. There's no joy in it. Not even amusement. He looks like he wants to be sick, and Buck feels like a monster.

But Tommy swallows and says, earnest as anything, "Congratulations. I-I knew you'd find it. I never doubted for a second that you'd find the person who'd be your last."

Even as he says it, Tommy's face does something indescribable, but it rips through Buck's chest and shatters his ribs, tearing through pericardial layers until it scores the vulnerable muscle of his heart. It's so shocking that it almost knocks the truth right out of Buck's mouth.

Someone comes over the radio and requests all available first responders with flight experience to report to the B-zone, and Tommy straightens up and locks whatever it was away.

With an unsteady hand, he tips an invisible hat to Buck and says wryly, "Firefighter Buckley," before jogging away.

And Buck stands there like an idiot watching him go. It's that night all over again. It's Buck instead of Evan.

"See you around," he whispers, and then runs back to his post in the A-zone.

+

Tommy gets the call when he's halfway through a burrito foisted upon him by Dana, who had taken one look at him and said, "You look like a flood victim. Eat something before I get HR involved."

He'd taken a mutinous bite and couldn't argue with her. Months later and it still felt like he'd watched everything he loved wash away with a tide he couldn't fight. Except he'd sent the tide himself. He had no business feeling like this.

But they send him to the site of a car accident where a pregnant driver had been T-boned by some asshole who ran the red light, and the RA unit called to the scene didn't have the right equipment to assess the fetus. But the victim's belly was hard enough to warrant a med evac.

By the time Dana gets the victim loaded on the backboard and inside, Tommy's already on with both First Presbyterian and LA General to see whose neonatal surgery team is available.

The door on Tommy's side slides open and Tommy turns in his seat to ask what the hell Dana's doing over there, but it's Hen who's pulling herself inside.

His stomach clenches with dread. "Hen?"

"I'm riding with you," she shouts, taking the headset that Dana gives her.

He looks just beyond her and wishes he'd had the presence of mind to listen to the manifest when Dana had read it aloud to him, because Evan Buckley is strapped to the gurney and looks like he's on a completely different planet.

"Hen." Tommy can't hear him say her name, but he sees Evan's mouth shape the word. Evan reaches clumsily out for her with one hand while pressing the other to his belly.

Hen murmurs something to him that the comms can't pick up, and Tommy wonders if they've notified Maddie, if they've notified the father, whoever they are. If they're already at the hospital waiting for them. If Tommy will have to see them, talk to them face to face.

Tommy bites the inside of his cheek until he feels the hot wash of blood over his tongue, then forces everything down to join the burrito from earlier that really wants to make a reappearance. It isn't his right to know any of it. That went out with the tide, too.

He locks it down tight enough that he gets them into the air so easily they might be a feather on the wind, then he heads in the direction of First Presbyterian. The real start of it all.

They're maybe halfway across the city when Evan shouts, desperation and fear carrying his voice over the rotors, the words sliding together, "Hen, check Nora! Y-Y'need to ch—"

"Nora's fine, Buck," Hen says, her voice clear as a bell in Tommy's ear.

Staring at a skyline he can't see, Tommy says, "'Nora'? Was someone else in the car with him?"

When Hen comes over the comm, her voice is as inescapable as a flood. "Nora's what he decided on for the baby. It's her name."

Tommy's hand tightens on the cyclic so the way it starts shaking won't be so obvious. "Nora was my grandmother's name."

He'd told Buck about the woman who was basically the only family he could stand, who was responsible for not letting him become his piece of shit father, who accepted him when no one else would. She'd meant the world to him. She'd been the world to him. And for Evan to give his kid her name—

Realization hits like a levy breaking, and he turns to look wide-eyed over his shoulder at Hen, because it can't—he couldn't be—

"Patient, male, 33, prenatal course complicated at 8 months gestation," Dispatch had said.

The timeline is right.

Hen stares right back, as good of a confirmation that he could get outside of a DNA test.

Without breaking her gaze, Tommy tells Dana to take over. She gives him an unreadable look but says nothing except, "Copy that," and smoothly resumes their journey while he squeezes into the back. There's hardly any room next to the gurney and his knees are compressing his lungs, but he takes Evan's' hand and stares blankly at the shiner forming around his right away until Hen breaks the silence.

Why didn't you tell me, he wants to demand, but he knows that if he so much as opens his mouth, he's going to start screaming until someone sedates him.

"For the record," she says, "I hate what you did. I hate what you took from him. But I understand why you did it."

Tommy rolls his lips inward and wants to suffocate himself to death. She understands? Does she? Does she know a life can be obliterated in the span of a minute? Does she know what it is to live a half life, to walk through the world like a five-year old drew a scribble on a blank sheet of paper that was supposed to be a person?

Does she know what Evan looks like when his joy is sucked away? Because Tommy does. She hates what he did? No one hates what he did more than him. No one hates him more than him.

Shakily, he lifts his other hand and touches the tips of his fingers to Evan's birthmark, which used to know the touch of his lips so well that Evan would joke that it was actually in the shape of Tommy's mouth print. Like a brand.

He forces himself to inhale. It seems impossible that Evan's here, carrying their child, their Nora. Evan used to say the lightning strike gave him super powers, made him invincible, and Tommy's ashamed to admit that he almost believed him. It seemed like nothing could ever bring Evan Buckley down, but here he is in Tommy's sky, halfway to Heaven already.

He glances at the LifePAK—where Evan's life has been concentrated into a series of lines and numbers, the reading strong despite everything—and then looks back at Evan, who is still the most beautiful man Tommy has ever seen even now.

"Evan," he chokes out.

There's no answer. At least not from Evan.

Across from him, Hen breathes through her nose and then quietly says, "I'm only going to say this once, Tommy, so I hope you're listening. If you can't trust him to know what his own heart wants, then this flight will never have happened. When he wakes up, you will not have been here. I'll change the manifest myself."

Tommy closes his eyes. Something hot spills down his cheeks.

"I know things haven't been all sunshine and roses for you. Lucy's said you've basically shut down since it ended. I know you're hurting just as much as Buck is... which is why I'm telling you: be sure. He's going to have enough on his plate without worrying about whether or not you're going to swan out of his life again. You need to be sure, Tommy."

Tommy doesn't say anything, but he opens his eyes and holds her gaze without flinching, and he tightens his hold on Evan's hand.

The rest of the flight passes in the kind of silence that feels like a cyst was lanced. Or maybe a boil, as it were.

+

Buck wakes up in stages to find he's in a hospital bed, and when he puts a hand on his belly it's smaller and almost deflated beneath his palm. He is just starting to hyperventilate when suddenly Tommy's there, murmuring to him, "You're okay. Everything's okay, I promise, she's fine. She's fine. Look."

And Buck, heart racing, forces himself to breathe slowly while he follows Tommy's gaze down to the bundle in Tommy's arms. Then he stops breathing altogether.

"She's fine," Tommy says. "A little early, according to the doctor, but absolutely fine."

Buck collapses back to the bed and weeps in relief, because she's fine. She's here and she's fine and she's perfect. Tommy gently places her in Buck's arms before retreating to the chair next to the bed which has a dent in the vinyl in the shape of his ass.

But Buck is enraptured with Nora, who smacks her lips in her sleep, and he marvels aloud, "She has my mouth."

"Thank God for that," Tommy says with a laugh. "It'll help take the focus off my nose. Poor kid."

It hits Buck like lightning that Tommy is here. He's in this room and talking about Nora like—like he knows. And there are things Buck should probably be saying, like apologizing for not telling Tommy about her as soon as he found out, or asking why he's there at all, but the words are crowding in his mouth and he can't figure out which ones should go first.

Tommy's lips twitch in a smile that is awful to look at, like he completely understand Buck's struggle, but his voice is soft and even when he says, "I need you to know that it wasn't about you. Not you personally. It never was."

Buck stops trying to speak and just stares at him, because that is bullshit, and oh, he knows which words should come first, and he opens his mouth to release them into the wild but Tommy holds up a hand.

"I know," he says. "I was a coward and an asshole, and I'm more sorry than I can possibly say. I won't ever be able to make up for what I did. But I need you to know why I did it."

And, in fits and starts before he finally finds the thread, Tommy tells him about Jeremy.

After Tommy ended things with Abby and then finally came out, he dated around for a long time before he met Jeremy, who was brilliant and fun and new. Tommy was the first man Jeremy had ever been with, and Jeremy was the first person Tommy saw a future with. He'd been so sure about Jeremy. He'd believed that Jeremy was it.

Until, almost two years in, Jeremy ended it. He'd sat Tommy down and said kindly, cruelly, "You're amazing, Tom, but you're just the first. You can't be my last." And then he'd left Tommy completely shattered in the rearview.

"That night, when you asked me to move in... it was like I was watching him put on his coat all over again," Tommy says shakily. "But what I felt for you was lightyears beyond anything I felt for him. I'd fallen so hard for you that I knew if I had to watch you walk away I'd never get up again."

Buck stares at Tommy, eyes rimmed red, and says, "So instead you made me watch you walk away."

It must land like a fist because Tommy exhales sharply and hangs his head, bowing around the pain. He sits like that for a moment, absorbing it, before he lifts his head and nods. "Yeah. That's exactly what I did."

There are deep, dark circles under Tommy's eyes that speak of a hundred sleepless nights, and his body is sharper, leaner, trimmed entirely of anything soft. He's made entirely of angles. He's so unfairly hot. He's miserable to look at.

Buck swallows and murmurs, "You look like there's no love in your life, Tommy."

Sucking in a trembling breath, Tommy smiles weakly and sketches a shrug. It looks like the fatigued steel of his edges are starting to crack.

"I left all my love with you that night." His gaze darts down. "Among other things."

Buck looks down at Nora, who's sleeping the sleep of someone already exhausted by existence, or maybe just by her fathers' drama, and thinks that maybe he really has been carrying all his love plus Tommy's around. Because otherwise he has no idea how he's so full of it.

"She's absolutely perfect," Buck says, smiling dopily.

"She's... more than anything I could've ever dreamed of."

He looks up in time to see Tommy drop his gaze to the floor at the same time his shoulders lift and lock like they're bracing for a blow. And in a voice so thin it's barely a sound, Tommy says, "I know I don't have... any right to ask, but is there any... any chance I could be part of her life?"

The tears that have been languishing at the edges of Buck's eyes finally see an opportunity. He doesn't think he could've held them back any longer if he tried.

Mouth trembling, he whispers, "Just hers?"

At that, Tommy looks up, eyes wide, disbelief and hope chasing each other across his face like dogs. He jerks a little in his chair but he doesn't move. He doesn't move.

Buck stares at him, a tsunami pulling everything back from his shoreline, and bites out, "Thomas James Kinard, if you don't get over here and kiss me, I swear to Christ—"

But Tommy's out of the chair and at his bedside, cupping Buck's face and tenderly smearing a kiss over his open mouth, licking the relieved gasp right off Buck's tongue.

Between them, Nora makes a tiny noise, and Tommy startles away just enough that he can press the side of his head to Buck's and gaze down at her with a tremulous smile.

"She really is something, huh? Sorry about the nose, kiddo," he says softly.

Buck knocks their heads together and says, "I happen to love that nose, thanks. And like you said, my lips will help balance it out."

Huffing a laugh, Tommy kisses Buck's lips. And the side of his nose and the bolt of his jaw. Then he leans down and presses a kiss to Nora's little pink and blue hat.

"I'm sure if you are," Tommy murmurs, tilting his chin up so he can flash a brave smile up at Buck, who smiles back.

"I was always sure."

[urno1luv]

sana x reader

what if you were sana's new manager?

(also if this gets enough attention, i'll make a what-if series with different female idols, mostly pretty dark tho so dni if uncomfy!!)

cw: EXTREMELY ooc sana (she's so sweet, but here? not so much😭), age gap, power imbalance, obsessive/possessive behaviours, implied non-con towards the end

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

the moment you were promoted to being her manager, everything changed. sana was beautiful, poised, a fan favorite, and an idol who's been around for so long. naturally, you were really shocked, and slightly scared. imagine being in charge of a member of TWICE?? it was enough pressure to make anyone succumb quickly to stress, but you were dedicated to the job, which caught sana's attention, but not in a good way.

sana was not really pleased to see how... composed you were around her. the amount of compliments she got daily made her rather egotistical, so seeing you this "unbothered" when accompanying her to meetings and events really ticked her off, to put it simply. and when she heard about how old you were... sana's pride was HURT. a woman in charge of what she does, one who was younger than her by a few years? don't piss her off.

the next time you saw her, the mask fell off. sana would laugh at your smallest mistakes, throw away the food you gave her after a music show promotion, RIGHT in front of you, and treat every effort as something to be dismissed or useless. "do you think this is good enough? you were running late, i'm your fucking boss. seriously, what kind of manager are you?" sana scoffed as your face heated up in embarrassment, tears pricking at your eyes. why was she suddenly so mean? she stood closer to you, her tone laced with sadistic amusement. "don't cry, love, if you were more competent, i wouldn't be pissed, but... gotta work with what i got."

sana would sneer at your pathetic attempts to please her, and one night, she dropped all of her makeup brushes, and forced you to pick them up one by one. but what sana didn't expect was to feel.. something for you that very second. the way you always came back to her, still took care of her despite her countless insults towards you... she definitely went home to reflect on that.

the conclusion sana came to was that she really did like you. in her own, cruel way. and we've already established how she was an egotistical maniac who uses her power, so she refused to let you step out of line or get close to anyone else, and she’d punish you in small, petty ways if you tried. schedule changes without warning, "accidentally" spilling rumours that made things harder for you, and reminders that you only had this position because she allowed it. as much as you wanted to push back, the truth was undeniable: sana held your career—and your sanity—in her hands.

sana's fixation on you only seemed to get worse, as the months went by. and she made sure you KNEW it. she knew where you were at all times, texting you constantly, filling your phone with messages that were affectionate one moment and threatening the next. if you so much as glanced at anyone else, sana would go out of her way to isolate you, to sabotage anything that might distract you from her. "you’re mine," she'd whisper, almost tenderly, before tightening her grip on your waist as she pushed you against a wall. every attempt to set boundaries only seemed to feed her obsession. and with every passing day, you realized that she’d do anything, and i mean ANYTHING, to keep you by her side, whether you wanted it or not.

one fateful night, where she had dragged you to her penthouse, you would soon come to the realisation that sana was truly someone that you should've ran away from a loooong time ago. you sat stiffly on the edge of her bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the room. sana stood in front of you, close enough that you could feel the weight of her gaze. her hand moved to your shoulder, fingers pressing in with a possessive force that left no doubt who was in control. “don’t even think about leaving,” she whispered, her voice chillingly soft, as if daring you to defy her. sana leaned in, her other hand resting heavily between your legs, pinning you in place. every touch felt like a claim, each movement sending a quiet threat through the air. as her fingers tightened their hold, you realized escape wasn’t an option; you were exactly where she wanted you, and there was no way out.

sana's hands moved back up to your shoulders, firm and unyielding as she guided you back against the pillows, her hot tongue tracing possessively along your neck, the saliva cooling down quickly in the cold air, making your pulse race. she murmured sweet nothings into your ear, calming you down, voice low and commanding as she leaned in, body pressing onto yours. her hand slid down to your wrist, pinning it against the bed as her lips brushed close to your ear, each word a quiet, inescapable claim. the weight of sana's presence left no room for protest, every touch a reminder that here, in this room, you belonged entirely to her.

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

when you woke, the room was dark, save for the faint glow of her phone screen, casting eerie shadows across her face as sana sat beside you, watching. you tried to move, but a strange, deep ache reminded you how powerless you were in her world, in her hands. her fingers traced along your arm, and she smiled—a soft, chilling smile that only deepened your sense of dread. "you belong to me," sana whispered, voice filled with a twisted satisfaction. "I told you, no one else could ever love you like I do." you couldn’t remember when you’d fallen asleep, or how long she’d been there, but one thing was certain: there was no part of you sana hadn’t claimed, judging from the pain in your heart, and the bruises and hickeys shamelessly left in obvious areas.

[anyca786]

"I WON'T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU OR OUR CHILD"

Daemon Targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister &niece) poly relationship, family drama, fluff, mention of pregnancy.

Series

The wind whipped through Daenys' hair as she soared through the sky, Nyx's powerful wings carrying her towards King's Landing. The world below was a patchwork quilt of greens and blues, the vast expanse of ocean contrasting with the lush forests.

Nyx's roars echoed through the sky, a unique sound that set her apart from other dragons. Daenys smiled, recalling all playful rivalry between Nyx and her husband's dragon, Caraxes, and her wife's young dragon, Syrax, their unique roars often echoing across the skies of Dragonstone.

As she neared the city, she could feel the anticipation growing within her. She wondered how her brother, Viserys, would react to her return. Would he be angry, or would he finally forgive her for marrying Daemon and Rhaenyra?

She landed Nyx in the dragon pit, the great beast settling with a contented sigh. Daenys dismounted, patting Nyx and bidding her goodbye.

As she walked in, the palace was abuzz with activity, the scent of food and wine filling the air. The court lined with people, preparing to celebrate the wedding of the King's firstborn male.

As she entered the throne room, the guards announced her arrival. "Princess Daenys Targaryen has arrived!"

A rush of emotions flooded through her as she stepped into the familiar halls, but soon disappointment takes over as she finds the throne empty. Where is Viserys?

"Princess", Otto Hightower called from behind, startling Daenys. She turned to face him, a forced smile playing or her lips.

"Otto," she acknowledged, "Where is my lovely brother?" she asked.

"His Grace was not feeling well this morning, Princess," Otto replied, his tone somber. Daenys' heart sank. She remembered the last time she saw Viserys, he had looked frail.

"Where is he? I want to see him," she insisted.

'Come, I'Il take you to his chamber," Otto offered

As they walked down the hallway, Otto attempted to make small talk. "You still look delightful, Princess. Its a shame you displayed such poor judgment in choosing partners," he remarked bitterly.

Daenys rolled her eyes, "Some people prefer passion, which you're not familiar with, over politics," she retorted.

When they reached Viserys chamber, he was sitting up in bed, his face pale and gaunt.

"Vis," Daenys called softly.

Viserys raised his head, a weak smile gracing his lips. "Sister," he greeted her. "You came," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

Daenys walked over to him, cupping his face gently. "Of course I did," she replied, her voice filled with concern.

"What happened?" she asked, her eyes scanning his face.

Viserys chuckled weakly. "Don't worry, sister, I'm just getting old."

"Don't be ridiculous, you're not old yet," she protested.

Viserys chuckled again, "Come, sit with me," his gaze filled with love.

'Your Grace," Otto interrupted, "The wedding starts soon,".

"I'Il be there with my sister," Viserys replied. "You are dismissed, Otto"

Once Otto left, Viserys turned back to Daenys. "You haven't aged a day. In fact, you look more youthful," he commented.

Daenys laughed.

"How is Daemon and Rhaenyra?" Viserys asked.

"They're doing well, brother," she replied, biting her lip nervously. "Are you upset with me?" she asked softly.

"Yes," Viserys admitted.

Daenys's face fell but he continued, "I was upset at first, but then I realised that they both need you," he said, "only you can keep Daemon and Rhaenyra grounded"

"They are indeed, both very stubborn," Daenys complained.

"Well, it is in the blood," Viserys smiled at her.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, revealing Alicent, dressed in a stunning gown, ready for her firstborn's wedding. Her expression shifted from surprise to a forced smile as she saw Daenys.

"Husband," Alicent greeted Viserys, then turned to Daenys. "Princess, It's a joy to see you."

Daenys remembered their last encounter. A flicker of resentment passed through her as she replied, "Alicent, Good to see you too." She unconsciously touched the scar on her neck, a reminder of the near-fatal attack.

Alicent noticed and as if guilty awkwardly said, "Everything is prepared," to Viserys.

A groan escaped his mouth due to pain, Viserys, with Daenys's assistance, rose from the bed and began to walk towards the throne room.

As they walked, Daenys couldn't help but notice the toll the recent events had taken on Viserys. She watched as his once vibrant spirit seemed dimmed, his body frail. She have always looked up to him, more like her father figure and it pains her seeing him like this.

🥀

The wedding was a grand, a spectacle of wealth and power.

Yet, amidst the festivities, a sense of unease hung in the air. Aegon seemed disinterested and least bothered, his gaze often drifting off into the distance, eyes disturbingly preying over other girls. Helaena, on the other hand, radiated an ethereal beauty, her innocence a contrast to the political intrigue that surrounded her.

Daenys, wandering through the hall for food, found herself drawn to the unusual food combinations again. This time, she selected a dish of salted fish and added fermented sweet plums on it.

"Looks gross," a voice sneered from behind her.

Daenys turned to see Aemond, Viserys's younger son.

"Smells delicious to me," she retorted, her gaze unwavering. She found a secluded table and sat down, her legs already feeling weary.

Aemond followed her, a smirk playing on his lips. "You know, I've always admired you," he said. "Father used to tell us stories of your childhood, how you were his favorite, the most rebellious, brave, and beautiful. And how my uncle was always so protective of you."

"I've also always envied you in a way," he confessed.

"I'm sure Viserys loves all his children equally, and holds love for them more than he does for me," Daenys replied, trying to comfort him.

"He's not the same anymore," Aemond said, his voice filled with bitterness. "Not after his precious Rhaenyra cut him off."

Daenys remained silent, knowing the truth behind his words. Viserys did have a soft corner for Rhaenyra, his only child with Aemma, the love of his life.

"Why did you blame it on Aegon that day?" she asked, putting down her plate and changing the matter of conversation.

Aemond hesitated.

"I didn't want to get humiliated in front of you."

Daenys's heart softened. "If you had owned up to your mistake, I would have respected you more," she said.

"But it was no mistake! ," Aemond argued. "Rhaenyra's sons are not trueborn."

"Rhaenyra is the heir, and her sons have just as much Targaryen blood as you," Daenys countered.

"But she's a woman," Aemond insisted.

"And?" Daenys replied, her voice sharp.

"No woman ever s-"

Daenys sighed, "Enough, boy. You're giving me a headache," she said, her patience wearing thin.

Aemond hung his head.

Daenys sighed, feeling a surge of pity, "Do you want to fly out?" she proposed, also wanting to see Vhagar, her Laena's beloved companion.

Aemond's face lit up. "If you insist, I'd race you with but know that I'd win," he boasted.

"We'll see about that," Daenys challenged, a playful glint in her eye.

🥀

Daenys doubled over, vomiting for the fourth time. Daemon's face hardened as he watched her suffer. "They have poisoned her," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Rhaenyra rushed to her side, gently rubbing her back. "Are you alright, my love?" she asked, concern etched on her face.

"I think it's just the salted fish with fermented sweet plums," Daenys managed to say, wiping her mouth with a cloth Rhaenyra offered. Daemon cringed internally at the thought of such a bizarre combination.

"Daemon wouldn't admit it, but we've missed you," Rhaenyra confessed, her voice soft.

"I was only gone for a day," Daenys chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Too long," Daemon muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, Daenys felt a wave of dizziness. "I need to sit," she gasped, her vision blurring.

Rhaenyra called for a maester, her voice filled with worry. Before the maester could arrive, Daemon scooped Daenys into his arms, her face pale and carried her to bed.

When the maester examined Daenys, gently running his hand over her stomach. His brow furrowed. "The Princess is with child," he announced.

Daenys's eyes widened in shock. She couldn't believe it. Fear and uncertainty washed over her. "I can't be a mother, Daemon," she whispered, her voice trembling. "What if... what if I..."

Daemon sat beside her, his hand gently stroking her hair. "Nothing will happen to you," he assured her. "I won't allow it."

"I'm afraid," Daenys confessed.

Rhaenyra took Daenys' hand. "I won't let anything happen to you or our child," she vowed, highlighting our.

"But I'm not ready," Daenys protested. "What if I cannot be a good mother."

"You'll be the best mother, my love," Rhaenyra insisted. "You already are so kind to my sons and Daemon's daughters."

Daenys sighed this was all too much for her, a part of her always wanted to be a mother, to carry Daemon's child in her womb. A child out of love, a Targaryen child. Maybe a daughter with Daemon's temper or a son with her subtle kindness.

Daemon leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Rest now," he said. "We'll talk about this later."

He stood up and placed a loving hand on Rhaenyra's swollen belly, "You too" he said.

Then, he left the room, his heart a mixture of joy as well as worry.

Rhaenyra turned to Daenys,

"Lay with me, Nyra," Daenys offered.

Rhaenyra nodded and climbed into bed beside her. She smiled and snuggled closer to her, and as for Daenys, a sense of peace washed over her.

A/N: Boring filler chapter. Not my best :(( Having a writer's block :(

Gimme suggestions in the request box😔

[ahyperactivehero]

Please please please a drabble I've been in a constant state of panic. Maybe a fluff fic of Edwin and Charles at an amusement park or carnival? ❤️

sorry this leaned somewhere between fluff and... sad? not really, but there is a touch of it, which i feel like sort of fits with the day everyone has had.

much love to you, @edwinspaynes and thank you for the prompt <3 <3 <3

(i took drabble prompts during election night and am currently getting them out. everyone, please stay safe my loves <3)

Drabble 3

May, 1990

Charles hadn’t realized how much his enjoyment of carnivals or amusement parks depended on the types of foods he could eat until he couldn’t enjoy them.

He’d practically begged Edwin to come with him, but now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what to do. He couldn’t play any of the games– the person manning the booth couldn’t see him. He couldn’t eat any of the food– it would pass right through him and it’s not like he could taste it anyways.

So what was there left to do? He eyed all of the rides nearby, but quickly ruled them out one by one. He might have convinced Edwin to come with him, but he couldn’t picture him on any of the rides.

He sighed and kicked at the dirt. He didn’t even know why he was making a big deal about any of this. It’s not like it really mattered. Not when he was alive and certainly not now that he was dead.

“Do you–” Edwin started and then trailed off. “Is there a ride you would like to go on?” He looked around, his eyes landing on a group of teens walking by and followed them as they passed through them. He did that sometimes, his attention getting caught on something and just running away until something brought it back.

“Nah, mate,” he said with a forced smile he hoped Edwin couldn’t see through. “S’not really that important.”

Edwin furrowed his brows, that very distinct line appearing between them. “But you were excited?” he said, his voice tipping into a question.

“Not really,” Charles lied. “Just thought it might be cool to check out.”

That same confused look stayed on Edwin’s face. “But I–” he cut himself off and fixed his bowtie, which was already very much in place. “Very well.”

He smiled again and bumped his shoulder, completely content to head to the Hall of Mirrors and leave. Edwin, it seemed, had other plans.

“If you did want to ride something, however, need I remind you that any and all rides are open to us,” he said, waving his hands in a way that gestured to the rides around them. “It is not like ghosts need wait.”

“Wouldn’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do,” he said with a shake of his head.

That line only seemed to deepen. “What makes you think that?” he asked. “Besides, aren’t we here because…”

Charles frowned and tilted his head. “Here ‘cause what?” 

Edwin cleared his throat. “Well, it is your birthday, is it not?”

Blood that no longer existed seemed to freeze in him as he stared at Edwin. “What?” he asked, his throat locking up.

Thin, nimble fingers darted up and down Edwin’s coat before settling into fists against each other. Nervous, flighty energy rolled off of him in waves, nearly strong enough to make Charles sick.

“Perhaps I was mistaken,” Edwin said. “I– well, I just thought.”

Charles thought back to the last time he had looked at a calendar. It was hard to keep track of what day it was when you never needed to sleep. Or had any sort of usual schedule. Or real purpose in this afterlife.

Not that he didn’t think hanging out with Edwin was brills, because it was. And he definitely rather be doing absolutely fuck-all with him than moving on, but that didn’t mean some things weren’t hard.

“No,” he said after calculating it in his head. “You were right.” 

This would be the first birthday since his death. The first one that he’d celebrate without a word from his mum or dad. Not that he was exactly keen to hear from his dad, but it was the principle of the thing, wasn’t it?

“So,” Edwin said, looking over to one of the spinning rides. “Do you want to ride?”

“Nah,” he said again. He turned away, already planning his route back to the closest mirror when Edwin piped up.

“What if I did?” he asked.

He nearly tipped over from stopping so fast. Charles turned, looking at Edwin with unchecked disbelief on his face. “You wanna ride?” he asked, unable to stop himself from looking Edwin up and down. Had anyone ever rode an amusement park ride with a bowtie on before?

That strange, calculating look came over Edwin’s face. The same one he got when something had especially sparked his interest. Last week it had been one of Charles’s favorite songs; even though Edwin had claimed to dislike it because it was just ‘noise.’

That hadn’t stopped him from catching Edwin humming it under his breath later that afternoon.

“I must admit I am rather interested in them,” he said, glancing at Charles from the corner of his eye. “It seems as though everyone is enjoying them, but I find myself unable to understand why.”

Ah, so that was it. Edwin always did love a question.

“Bit of fun, innit?” Charles said. “Kinda like riding a horse or a bike or skateboard.”

Edwin nodded. “I do like horses, although I fear I am not sure what a skateboard is.”

Right. Should have guessed that.

“So you really wanna go?” Charles asked. Even he could hear how desperate he was for Edwin to say yes.

Because Edwin would say yes, if Charles asked. That was something he’d found out rather quickly about the boy. No matter what it was, he almost always agreed to try something, even if he was sure he’d hate it. How long he was committed to trying tended to depend on the action.

But Charles didn’t want to have to ask. He knew it wasn’t fair, but he wanted someone who wanted to willingly do what he wanted to do, even if that was as simple as riding the whirling ride in front of them.

“I wouldn’t have said so if I didn’t want to,” Edwin said, and Charles was sure that was the case.

“Right!” Charles said. He clapped his hands together and shuffled Edwin towards the ride. “Let’s go then!”

Thankfully there seemed to be one empty as they approached. Otherwise, Charles shuddered, they might have had to sit in a seat where someone else was sitting. Which was fine, but definitely not the best experience– for ghosts or living people. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to people being able to walk through him.

“So, you hold on right here,” Charles said, pulling the bar down across both of their laps. “And then you lean right or left and it helps spin you faster.”

Edwin’s lip jutted out in thought. “And we want that?” he asked.

“Yeah we want that!” Charles said, feeling more and more pumped. “It’s what makes it fun.”

Edwin nodded, agreeing to try it.

Once the ride started it quickly became obvious that they wouldn’t need to lean. Since there was supposed to be no one inside, the ride moved crazily– around and around until Charles was sure he’d be sick. 

“Ghosts cannot get sick,” Edwin said, as they climbed off the ride. His green tinged face spoke otherwise.

“Anything else you wanna try?” Charles asked, glancing at the other rides.

Edwin did the same. “I picked this one. You pick the next,” he said. 

And Charles didn’t point out that actually Charles had picked that ride. It didn’t seem to be worth mentioning. 

He picked three more rides, each one turning their stomachs more and more until Edwin finally waved off. “I think I need to sit,” he said, all but collapsing onto a bench outside one of the lines. 

Charles nodded and sat next to him. Who knew vertigo could affect ghosts?

“Gotta be like a rule book somewhere to this all, right?” Charles asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Edwin pulled his head up from between his knees to look at him. “Amusement park rides?” he asked.

“Ghost rules, I mean,” he said. “Like, who knew we could get sick?”

“We cannot,” Edwin said, although his head was back between his legs, so who really knew what was true anymore.

“Just saying. Seems like it would be useful,” he said.

Edwin bobbed his head slightly. “Maybe you should write it,” he said.

Charles laughed, far more loud and boisterous than he had intended. “Me? Write a book? Oh that’s rich.”

Edwin looked at him. “I don’t see why not. You’re intelligent, you love to question me when I tell you something about ‘ghosts rules’ as you so call them. I think you’d be perfect for it.”

That was just ridiculous. “If anyone should, it’s you, mate. I’ve seen the way you read, and you’re always writing in that notebook of yours. You’re already halfway to writing the book!”

A small, genuine smile touched Edwin’s lips. It was rare for Charles to see, something that he could usually only coax out of him at the most unexpected moments. He’d love to know how to get more of them, how to be the one to always make him smile, but he’d settle for what he had gotten so far.

“I think I have a different career in mind,” he said. 

This was the first Charles had heard of this. Who had ever heard of a ghost with a career before?

“What is it, mate? Gonna be a full time scarer at a haunted house?” he asked, elbowing him.

That smile again. “No,” he said. “I’m thinking about being a detective.”

Well, Charles thought, that was probably the best idea either one of them had had yet.

[holylulusworld]

BFG (10)

Summary: He’s new to town and just your type…

Pairing: Reacher x Plussized!Reader

Warnings/Tags: pregnancy, fluff, love confessions

Catch up here: BFG (9)

BFG masterlist

Legend: Y/M/N = Your mother's name Y/F/N = Your father's name

Frances left after she was sure Reacher came back to stay, and that he wouldn't leave again. You watched them say goodbye. Reacher nodded at Neagley and silently thanked her while she awkwardly looked at him.

You got that both, Neagley and Reacher are not fans of showing emotions or hugs. Still, you knew the moment you saw them interact for the first time that they shared a special kind of friendship.

“Have a safe trip home,” you didn’t shake her hand or hug her. Not because you didn’t want to, though. You figured that Neagley doesn’t like physical contact, and respected her personal space. “If you ever come back, you have a place to stay and free cereals.”

She smiled and nodded. “You better keep Mayor Reacher in line. He can be hard to handle but is a protective giant. He’ll be good to you and the baby.” She leaned closer and whispered in your ear. “If he gets antsy, give me a call. I’ll set him straight.”

You giggled and wished her well. Holding back the urge to hug her, you watched Neagley enter her car and drive away. “What did she say?” Reacher asked. “Y/N?”

“Oh, she wanted me to take good care of you, and your stomach,” you chuckled and patted his belly. “How can you stay so fit, and eat that much at the same time?”

“I’m a big guy,” he said and looked down at his body. “Ma always said I grew big and strong for a reason.” He lifted his big hands to look at them. “Maybe she was right.”

“I know she was right,” you said and took his hands to place them on your belly. “You grew big and strong enough to hold your baby one day.”

Reacher smiled at your words. He nodded, eyes glued to his hands on your belly. You didn’t show yet, but he already imagined you swollen with his child. The baby wasn’t planned, but he wouldn’t want to change a thing.

“So, did you think about names already?” Reacher looked up from the assembly instructions of the new cradle you bought. “Reacher?”

“Uh—no,” he said, surprised that you wanted him to think of a name. Reacher didn’t expect to have a say in this. “Do you already know what we’re having?”

“Not yet,” you said and stepped closer to Reacher. The giant sat on the ground; long legs stretched out to read the assembly instructions. “It’s too soon.”

You looked around the room you wanted to turn into a nursery. Reacher already cleaned out the former guestroom and painted the walls in neutral colors.

Reacher followed your eyes, grinning as you admired the teddy bear he painted on the wall. You had no clue he could draw. “I’m finished with the wardrobe and the diaper-changing table. I am trying to build the cradle now. It seems a few screws are missing.”

“How about a break? You worked all morning,” you softly said, and ran your hand over his shoulders. “I made lunch. Sally Ann and the new girl take care of the diner today. I have the day off and we could talk about baby names.”

“My ma’s name was Josephine,” he said, eyes saddening. “Maybe Joseph for a boy. My brother would be over the moon, or not. He wasn’t very emotional.”

You smiled and sat down next to him to pat his thigh. “I like both. Josephine Y/M/N for a girl, and Joseph Y/F/N for a boy. We can decide after finding out about the gender in a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Reacher shoved the food you made into his mouth, groaning as he couldn’t get enough. “You’re a great cook too.”

“You hit the jackpot.” You winked at Reacher before putting more mashed potatoes and another steak on his plate. “Eat up, I got dessert too.”

Reacher licked his lips, already imagining something sweeter than dessert. He’d wait until he finished the nursery, of course. “What will we get for dessert?”

“I tried a new variation of my peach pie. You can have whipped cream too.” He kept on praising your food. You sighed all the while watching him eat. “If you don't want to eat peach pie again, I can make a cherry pie or apple pie.”

“I love your peach pie,” he murmured while eating more mashed potatoes. “And your pie tastes great too.”

“You’re naughty,” you giggled and threw your napkin at him. Reacher easily caught the napkin and wiped his mouth clean. “I like it.”

He laughed, deep and rich as you dreamily looked at the giant of a man. Who would’ve thought he’d stay and raise a child with you when he walked into your diner for the first time?

Tags in reblog.

[gojoonsaturn]

pairing: singer!Suguru Geto x fem reader

wc: 8158 (i'm sick)

summary: Suguru Geto returns to university after spending a year in treatment for his drug and alcohol addiction. At his friend's party, Shoko Ieiri, he meets you and helps you when you get into trouble. What happens next?

a/n: I would like to explain why Y/n and Mahito are a couple at the beginning of the story. As I love all of the male characters in JJK (except Mahito), so I wanted none of them to have a negative role in this story. Therefore, I decided that Y/n should be dating Mahito at the beginning. Oh, and if you want, you can imagine Suguru sings "Call out my name" by The Weeknd.

warnings: song inspired fic, university au, Shoko and Suguru are singers (actually, everyone is singer here except y/n), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, drug intoxication, swearing, fluff, a little angst, mention of the death of minor characters (y/n's mother), sex. In short, read!

english is not my first language, nor even second, so there may be mistakes, but i really spent a lot of time proofreading and improving my works.

Suguru left the principal's office and felt a sense of familiarity with the university atmosphere, which seemed to have flown out of his mind during his year-long break from Tokyo University of Arts. He was glad to be back on campus.

He called Shoko, his new classmate, to ask about the class schedule. A cheerful voice came from the other end of the line.

"I'm so happy to hear from you!" Geto said, with a smile that Ieiri could hear in his voice. "I just left Yaga's office, and he said he'll put me in your study group, so, I need some information about assignments and the schedule."

They agreed that Shoko would email him all the information about her classes.

"By the way," she added in a tempting voice. "I'm throwing a party tonight! You should come!"

Geto hesitated, as parties hadn’t ended well for him in the past, but Ieiri reassured him that there would be nothing to worry about – there will be just food and low-alcohol drinks.

"I can't make any promises, but I'll keep it in mind." He said, hanging up the phone.

He then went to the parking lot and from there, to the apartment he had rented the day before.

Suguru was a student at the Faculty of Arts, studying music. He often received offers from producers who came to the university to arrange auditions. His voice was exceptionally beautiful, and his lyrics were so soulful that his works were sold for good sums. With the money he earned, Geto was able to purchase a good car and rent a comfortable apartment near the university. Even though the treatment at the clinic was not cheap, he had enough money to maintain his previous standard of living.

The musician entered the apartment and looked around at the empty studio, feeling a sense of loneliness gnaw at him. He thought about how he would spend the evening alone and felt a bitter realization that all his friends had moved on without him. Memories of past parties sent shivers down his spine, but he made a decision not to go back to those types of gatherings.

But he didn't want to disappoint his friend. Suguru changed into a black polo shirt and jeans, checked himself in the mirror, and left the apartment.

Shoko's house was located right on the shore of Tokyo Bay. As Geto drove there, he felt a sense of determination to meet new people and understand what university life was all about.

On his way to the house, he heard muffled music and joyful screams from people. He called Shoko and asked her to meet him. She came out, happy, and rushed over to give him a hug.

"Oh, Geto, I've missed you so much!" Ieiri exclaimed, pulling away and smiling at him. "Let me introduce you to my friends!"

Suguru's expression softened, and he agreed. After a few minutes, they were standing in front of a group of people, and Shoko introduced him as her friend and new classmate.

One of the guys, Mahito, greeted Geto and complimented his music. "I've heard some of your songs. You make great music."

Mahito was standing with a girl who was holding a drink. She seemed bored at first, but when she saw Suguru, she smiled and greeted him as well.

"This is Y/n," Mahito introduced his girlfriend. "She's from Sophia University and studying English literature."

Y/n smiled at Geto, but then seemed to lose interest in the party and disengage from everything around her.

After some time, Shoko approached Suguru and invited him to join her to perform a song they had written together before his departure. Suguru accepted the invitation and joined Shoko on the makeshift stage.

"Friends, I am delighted to introduce you my friend Suguru! This song is the work of both of us, and it was written even before..." Shoko paused, as she was the only one aware of the reason for Suguru's absence the previous year. "A year ago! You will be the first to hear this track, which in a few months will surely be on all of the world's best charts!"

Shoko began playing the song and clapped her hands to get the audience excited. As she sang, Suguru felt goosebumps on his skin. He noted that Shoko had significantly improved her vocals and was now singing as if she was breathing. Suddenly, a wave of anxiety washed over him, as he had not practiced for a long time. His eyes excitedly scanned the crowd and settled on Mahito's girlfriend. She smiled at Shoko and, surprisingly, started singing along with her. Then, she looked at Geto and winked.

And as soon as the first line was sung, the crowd cheered on him even more and started to whistle with encouragement. The singer listened to the music and recognized that he felt it no worse than he had been a year ago. Overwhelmed by the experience, he closed his eyes in pleasure, only opening them when Shoko joined him in singing. After the song, they bowed to the audience and clapped for each other.

"I have heard this song performed by Sho many times and thought it was perfect, but when I heard it with your part, it's simply heavenly!" Y/n ran up to the performers and hugged Ieiri, then turned to Suguru.

Geto smiled at her and thanked her for the compliment. That's how she knew the words!

Mahito stood next to Y/n, but Suguru didn't notice any encouragement on his face. He tugged at her arm, and she almost looked at him in fright, immediately falling silent. Geto looked at Shoko, who had clearly seen similar behavior from her classmate before. She rolled her eyes and gave Y/n a sympathetic look. The couple moved away into the crowd, and Suguru continued gathering applause with Shoko.

A few hours later, Suguru realized that he was better off without alcohol and drugs. He met some of his classmates and other students from different departments. It was nice to chat with people who shared his interests and discuss music. While chatting with a girl who flirted with him, he saw Mahito leading his girlfriend upstairs. For some reason, Y/n seemed about to faint. Suguru had a bad feeling and left the girl to follow Mahito and Y/n.

On the second floor, Suguru saw Y/n trying weakly to wave Mahito away. However, he continued to approach her.

"Damn, I told you..." She tried to swing him, but he caught her hand and pushed her back against the wall.

"I think she made herself clear," Suguru said, covering the distance between them and pushing Mahito away from her.

Geto didn't know how Y/n had become so drunk in such a short time. Mahito, on the other hand, seemed very sober, even though a glass of something other than soda was constantly in his hand.

"Mind your own business! Go sing with this bitch!" Mahito snapped, pushing Suguru's arm away and moving towards the girl again.

Suguru didn't want to start a fight on his first day back, but he hated when his friends were insulted. So, he calmly pushed Mahito back again, this time with more force, sending the guy flying towards the stairs.

"Leave him alone, please! He's not worth it..." Suddenly, Y/n grabbed Suguru's arm. Through her glassy and intoxicated eyes, he saw her serious expression. "Just help me, please..."

Geto noticed that Y/n was struggling to stand up, and there was a trickle of blood flowing from her hand. Mahito must have hurt her in some way.

He picked up Y/n and carried her into the bedroom, laying her down on the bed.

"I feel like there's something wrong with my mind... I understand things, but I can't seem to control myself..."

Something clicked in Geto's mind. It wasn't just alcohol. "Tell me, have you taken any drugs or pills?"

Y/n shook her head vehemently. "No, I don't do drugs! I wouldn't take anything like that!" But then, a look of realization crossed her face, and she added, "Not intentionally, anyway."

Geto opened her eyes and saw enlarged pupils. The girl began to tremble. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead, and he realized what was causing her condition.

"Listen, you don't need to move too much right now. Just lie down and rest. I'll bring you some water. We need to wait for this to pass and give you plenty of fluids." He helped Y/n lay down and covered her with a blanket.

Downstairs, Suguru explained the situation to Shoko. She promised to deal with Mahito and started winding down the party. Guests started saying goodbye and leaving the house. Shoko got a bottle and filled it with warm water, then they headed upstairs to see Y/n.

"I'm so mad at that bastard!" Shoko said, pouring some water into a glass for her friend. "I've told you time and time again that he’s not good for you."

"You're making things worse!" Even in this state, Y/n managed to smile.

Suguru looked at her and remembered how many girls he had seen in this condition. And the worst thing was that he was the one who had brought most of them there. The guilt he felt before his treatment at the center came back to him, and Geto hated himself again. But then, the next moment, Y/n turned to him.

"If it wasn't for you…" She said, struggling to speak. Shoko handed her a glass of water, and Suguru felt all the symptoms that Y/n was experiencing at that moment. Dry mouth, thirst, nausea, chills that were replaced by fever. "In general, thank you..." She smiled weakly and closed her eyes, trying to control her shaking.

"You can go home." Ieiri whispered. "I'll stay with her. I have experience with these things."

She looked at Y/n with sympathy and at Geto with a sense of guilt. She had been there most of the time when he had brought himself to this state. There were countless apologies in her eyes for not being able to protect her friend at that moment.

"Don't worry." He said. "You've done your best and you're doing great." He hugged Shoko and crouched down next to Y/n, stroking her cold cheek with his finger. "She's strong." He continued. "She'll be okay."

For the next week, Suguru joined the learning process. Some teachers were pleased to see him, while others were skeptical, knowing the reason for his absence. The groupmates assisted Suguru with his learning, and he in turn provided them with tips that helped them improve their musical skills.

At the end of the month, each student had to create their own project and present it to a professional music producer. The producers selected the best performers, recorded their tracks in their studio, and promoted them. Naturally, each producer had different criteria and ideas about what music would appeal to their audience. The teachers explained that not being chosen by a specific producer simply meant that the student's music was not in line with that producer's taste.

Geto recalled with a smile his audition experiences, which in 95% of cases ended in success. The secret to his success was that he looked through the producer's repertoire beforehand and created a song that he would perform. His versatility as a musician allowed him to pull off this strategy.

"Yoshiki Yamada!" A joyful Shoko announced to her group a week before the audition.

"His label is the best in Japan for today." Nanami said with excitement.

"Yes, it will be success if we manage to work with him." Geto replied.

Geto turned his attention to Mahito, who turned even darker when he heard the name of the producer. He thought about the incident with Y/n and how Shoko had said she was okay, but he wanted to check on her anyway. Looking at Mahito, Geto decided he would go see Y/n after the audition to see how she was doing.

Geto flipped through the list of artists from the "TOUCH" label and listened to their latest tracks. Love ballads seemed to be the focus of the most recently released tracks.

The young man sighed and leaned back on the couch, feeling like it was time to finish the song he'd started writing before his drug problems started. All he needed to do was improve a few details and it would be finished.

On Friday evening, his band gathered in the auditorium, anxiously waiting for the producer. Shimizu-sensei, the professor who was responsible for organizing auditions, assured his students and prepared them for success.

The door opened, and a man in his middle age wearing a long black coat walked in, taking it off as he came. Shimizu greeted him and guided him to a seat in the center of the front row. Yamada appeared to be a friendly person, smiling warmly at the students and wishing them luck. His eyes fixed on Mahito, who seemed to be pale.

The group sat behind Yamada, preparing to support each other. Utahime was the first to perform, looking very excited. She began with some slightly wrong chords, but then everything went well for her.

Yoshiki took notes in his notebook, writing down various things beside the students' names. After her performance, Shoko nudged Suguru, pointing to Yamada's notebook. Suguru tried to look, but the producer blocked his view with his hand.

Suguru was the last to sing. When he stepped onto the stage, he saw Y/n at the back of the room. He smiled and winked at her.

"Good evening. My name is Suguru Geto. Here's my song, please, Haibara." He turned to the DJ and made a nod, indicating that he was ready to start.

As Suguru began singing, Y/n felt a shiver run down her spine. His voice was so beautiful and enchanting that it made her forget everything else around her. But at the same time, his words made her heart hurt in a way that was familiar. Y/n glanced around to make sure no one else had noticed her own tears, and discreetly wiped them away.

Suguru noticed Y/n looking at him with a new sparkle in her eyes, and he gave her a small smile. He then bowed to the audience and looked over at Yoshiki, who was applauding along with the rest of the group.

A few minutes later, Shimizu invited Yamada up onto the stage to announce the results.

"Dear students! Thank you for such wonderful performances. You have shown that you deserve to be in this university. For now, I won't be announcing the results. Instead, you will all receive an email with an invitation for a follow-up audition. Please don't be discouraged if I don't invite you. This is not a personal decision, but one based on my professional interest in your potential as performers. Remember that not you are looking for a producer - the producer is looking for you. Once again, thank you for coming tonight!"

The students applauded Yamada's performance. They were disappointed that they would not find out the results immediately, but the words the producer used to end the evening inspired them.

Suguru wanted to talk to Y/n, but she had already left.

Everyone in the group was in a state of anxious anticipation for the weekend. They were eagerly waiting for the much-anticipated letter from the "TOUCH" producer and were already imagining recording a solo album with him.

"Guys, check your emails!!!" Shoko sent in the group chat.

Suguru grabbed his laptop and opened his inbox, which contained an email with the TOUCH logo. He caught himself thinking that he was feeling very anxious. With a heavy heart, he clicked on the email, and a short message appeared in front of him.

"Thursday, 7 p.m., Yashio 1-chome"

Only Suguru and Shoko had received the invitation, while Yamada had sent recommendations to the other students for their tracks and overall creativity. Ieiri decided Geto to join her, but as it turned out, Yamada had scheduled different times for Suguru and Shoko - Suguru's meeting was on Thursday, while Shoko's was on Friday.

"That's great! So, you're going to tell me what's going to happen at the meeting?" Shoko sat across from Suguru, contentedly drinking coffee.

"I wish I were the first to know..." The guy smiled and took a sip from his mug of tea.

"Come on, you've met with producers millions of times, but it will be my first time!"

The time until Thursday seemed to drag on, and suddenly, Geto realized that he was even more nervous than he had been before. It had been a long time since he had attended these meetings. When he arrived at the designated location, he took a deep breath and made his way towards the building.

As he rang the doorbell, the wait seemed like an eternity. The door eventually opened, and Y/n stood in front of him. Geto checked the house number and confirmed that it was the right address.

"That’s not a mistake. Come in. Dad is already waiting for you."

"Dad?" Suguru asked in surprise.

"Yamada-san." Y/n smiled and handed him the guest slippers. "Dad! Geto-san has arrived."

He smiled at her formal address. Yoshiki Yamada greeted Geto in a casual outfit, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. After shaking hands, he escorted Geto to his office

"Nice to see you again, Geto-san."

"You can just call me Suguru."

"Well, Suguru, I think your song has a great chance of becoming a big hit. If we work together, it will definitely be number one on all the charts in the country. I want to help you achieve success. The rights to your lyrics and music belong to you, and I will only be promoting your work. Additionally, you will be recording a duet with one of our artists. I’ll send you a list of some of my singers who would match your style. Make an appointment with them, discuss the format of the song, write it, show it to me and we'll make any necessary adjustments before recording at my studio."

Suguru was excited about the idea of recording a track with one of TOUCH's artists and imagined how Shoko would be thrilled.

"In principle, everything sounds great. When can we start recording my song?"

"This weekend, I have already scheduled a recording session for Saturday. Tonight, I will send you a list of potential duet partners via email. Please take some time to review the options and let me know your decision by Friday evening. Based on your response, I will invite one of the artists to our recording session so you can meet them and chat."

Yamada seemed like a man who didn't like wasting time.

Suguru was confused by all the information. "There's a lot of information…" He said, scratching his head.

"Don't worry, everything will be in your email. Now, I suggest we start dinner. Y/n!"

A few seconds later, Y/n appeared in the room's doorway.

"Honey, is dinner ready?"

"Yes, you can come to the table."

Yoshiki stood up and gestured for Suguru to follow her. The young man was still a bit confused, as he had not expected Y/n to be the daughter of Yoshiki Yamada.

At the table, there was a boy of about eight sitting patiently. He looked at the different types of sushi on the plate.

"This is Reiji, my youngest." The man said, sitting down next to his son and patting him on the head. "Reiji, this is Suguru. He'll be recording at my studio."

"Nice to meet you, Suguru-san!" Reiji said seriously.

Suguru responded with a smile, saying, "It's nice to meet you too, Reiji-san." He heard Y/n chuckle at his response.

At dinner, the conversation was relaxed. Yoshiki spoke about the tours his team had been on, and the music his label produced. Suguru felt so comfortable that he began to reminisce about his childhood, when his entire family would gather for dinner in the evenings and share what had happened during the day. Realizing that he was only a guest, after a while, he apologized and said he had to leave.

"Dad, I'll walk Suguru." Y/n said, standing up and nodding to her father.

"Yamada-san, thank you for the meeting and dinner. I appreciate our collaboration. Hopefully, everything will go smoothly between us." Geto shook hands with the producer and headed for the exit.

"That's why Mahito looked so pale when he saw your father." Y/n and Geto went outside.

The sun had already set, and a gentle breeze was playing with Y/n's hair, which fell in disarray around her shoulders.

"I didn't introduce them, but they already knew about each other. Shoko told me that Mahito just needed a contract from my father, not me." Yamada smiled and looked out at the horizon. "Are you in a hurry?" Suguru shook his head.

He had no one waiting for him at home, and spending time with someone was a way for him to escape from loneliness. Y/n came around the corner of the house and they walked down the path leading to the embankment.

"So, you are the daughter of Yoshiki Yamada?" The guy asked. "And Shoko knew. And she didn't even mention it to me..."

"I asked her not to tell anyone."

"Is it a coincidence that your father invited just us?"

"I told my father about Shoko." She said. "She often came to see us, and Dad would hear her. I didn't have much to tell about you, as I only knew you from a party at Shoko's... Though we have a good relationship, and my father listens to me carefully, I try not to mix our personal lives with his work. I understand that Shoko may not be on his radar, but he could give her a chance and introduce her to some people who could help her."

"So, what do you think about me?"

"My father has a good instinct for performers with great potential. You may know some of his artists. I only heard one of your songs, and it was impressive. But to work with "TOUCH", you need to be flexible and able to adapt to the ever-changing trends in the music industry. Today, your song may be popular, but a month from now, people may be listening to Mahito's nonsense."

Suguru listened to the girl seriously, and then he laughed at the last sentence.

"Thank God you said that!" He said. "I don't understand how he manages to study at the university."

"His father finances the university." The girl replied.

"I'm sorry to ask, but how did you meet?" Suguru asked.

The girl explained that they had known each other for a long time, as they had attended the same school. When her mother died, the boy was there for her, and although he had not been perfect, things had changed recently. She explained that Mahito had gotten involved with a questionable company, and she felt like he had been replaced. After recent events, communication was simply not possible.

"And what about the girl you sang about?"

Suguru smiled, and they walked along the shore, enjoying each other's company.

"Well, she had the love of her life, and it wasn't me. When she needed support, I was there for her, which is familiar, isn't it? I honestly thought I was helping her deal with her feelings and move on, but she just suppressed her longing, while I fell in love with her. At some point, he called, and she rushed to him. In the morning, her things were gone from the apartment. I found out he had left her after all, and you have no idea how painful it was for me to refuse to renew our relationship. I realized that in our relationship, I was like a vessel from which water was constantly being drawn, but never returned. It was excruciating."

They walked in silence, each digesting the other's story. The sun had almost set, leaving a thin purple streak in the sky.

"Yes, we both need to see a therapist…" Y/n concluded with a joking tone. "What did help you cope with this?"

Suguru didn't want to admit it, but he knew that sooner or later, Y/n would hear the rumors.

"I thought it would help. Drugs, alcohol. I spent the last year in a clinic."

Yamada didn't seem surprised. She looked down at her feet and kicked a pebble.

"I've been thinking about it too…" She said. "But after mother’s death, Reiji became ill. My father and I went to Europe and spent a lot of time in different clinics. Reiji is better now, and I realized that I needed to be a mother for him at that time. If I started using drugs or drinking alcohol, I can't even imagine what would have happened to my family."

"Are you judging me?"

"No, I'm not. I condemn the girl who brought you to that state. Self-destruction is a way to numb emotional pain, but now you're here with me, walking along the river, recording your song on Saturday and doing a duet with another artist. All of our past actions have led us to this point. Look at it as an experience, even if it takes a year out of your life."

"Wow. You should write motivational books!" Geto laughed and gave the girl a friendly pat on the shoulder.

"You know, it would be great if I followed my own advice."

"Do you still love Mahito?"

"It's a difficult question. Maybe it wasn't love, but affection. He was there for me at the right time. But his recent attitude negates all his good actions. Especially that damn party..."

They walked along the embankment and turned towards Yamada's house.

"I'm glad my father chose you. If everything goes well, then you could become a world-famous artist." Y/n said, her voice sounding slightly distant.

Suguru saw from her face that she was lost in memories of her past and didn't interrupt her. He just nodded at her and walked towards the car. The weather was getting cold, so Y/n pulled her cardigan closer around herself. She smiled at Geto warmly and reached for his embrace.

"Thanks for tonight..." Suguru was a little surprised by the closeness of the girl, but he still put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"Don't worry, everything will be alright."

Upon arriving home, Suguru checked his email and saw a message from the producer. He glanced over the list of artists and smiled with contentment, choosing Yuki Tsukumo immediately. Her name was well-known, and she was famous for her collaborations with foreign artists. Suguru was even pleased that Yoshiki had offered him work with her.

On Saturday morning, Suguru drove to Yamada's studio, listening to Shoko's account of her meeting with the producer. When she found out that Geto will be recording a duet with Yuki, she was elated. However, Yamada had suggested her other artists, and Shoko had yet to make a decision.

Upon arriving at the studio, Suguru saw Y/n and Mahito. He hurried out of the car and headed towards them. Already from far, he could hear blond guy hysterically shouting and waving his arms. Y/n tried to turn away from him, but Mahito grabbed her arm and refused to let her go.

Suguru looked at Y/n with concern, noticing relief in her eyes at his arrival.

"Are you all right?" He asked.

Mahito noticed Suguru's arrival and noticed his former girlfriend's gaze directed at the dark-haired man. His voice dripped with hatred as he said, "So you did fuck her that night! That's why Yoshiki invited you."

Y/n did not let Suguru answer and abruptly pulled away from Mahito's grip, surprising him with her confidence. She looked at Suguru apologizingly and said, "Mahito, please leave me alone."

Suguru was surprised by her confidence and looked at her with admiration. He then looked at the retreating Y/n and the angry Mahito.

"Just because your father finances the university doesn't mean that I can't punch you in the face." Geto's voice was calm, but his jaw muscles betrayed his anger.

Mahito grunted in displeasure, spat on the floor near Suguru's feet, and walked away from the studio.

At the studio, Suguru was given a pass and escorted to the recording area, where Yuki Tsukumo was already seated and chatting with Yoshiki. The singer seemed relaxed, and when she noticed Geto, she smiled and nodded in greeting. Yamada introduced them, and it was clear that he was excited about the upcoming collaboration.

"Suguru, the studio is all yours today, so make the most of our facilities." The producer playfully winked at Yuki, who watched her future collaborator with interest.

As Suguru sang in the recording booth, he observed Y/n conversing with Yuki through the window. The two seemed to have known each other for some time. At one point, Y/n covered her face with her hands, and Yuki comfortingly patted her shoulder. Y/n then shifted her gaze to Suguru, quickly averting her eyes when she noticed him watching.

Suguru gave the sound engineer a thumbs up as a sign of his readiness. He put on headphones and began recording his vocals. Thanks to his experience, the recording went quite quickly. Sometimes, Yoshiki himself made minor adjustments to the process, but Suguru appreciated these tips.

When the vocals were recorded, Suguru left the room for the producer. Yoshiki looked pleased and said, "You've done a great job! Your vocals are amazing!" He shook Suguru's hand.

"Yamada doesn't praise young performers often. You should appreciate these words!" Yuki approached Suguru with a smile and said, "Well, let's discuss our duet."

Y/n got up from the couch and headed towards the exit, awkwardly waving at Suguru while still avoiding eye contact.

Tsukumo and Geto began discussing the upcoming track. Inside, Suguru was happy about how similar they thought with Yuki. Their phrases complemented each other, which Yamada appreciated. He didn't interfere in their conversation, because he saw Suguru as an accomplished artist despite his young age. Yamada had never seen such seriousness in his adult performers.

"I like your ideas! Where did you find this guy, Yamada?" Yuki asked, leaning back on the sofa and tilting her head in interest.

As a result, Yuki and Suguru agreed to meet at the end of the week. Yuki offered to video call each other during the week to discuss lyrics and music.

Two days after the meeting, Yuki called Suguru unexpectedly and invited him over to her place to write music. An hour later, he was standing outside Tsukumo's small mansion. The singer came out to greet him in casual jeans and a black top, being in a good mood. It was difficult for Suguru to imagine that Yuki had ever been in a bad mood.

She invited Suguru inside. When he entered the living room, he noticed a girl sitting on the couch who immediately turned towards him. Suguru's breath caught slightly at the sight of Y/n, who was wearing a knit sweater with one bare shoulder. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she looked very comfortable. He also noticed a glass of wine in her hand that she tried to hide, but the bottle on the table revealed the truth about their pastime.

"Are you sure you need me this evening?" Geto asked, raising one eyebrow questioningly.

Y/n got up from the couch and wanted to leave when Yuki stopped her with her hand.

"Stay with us, please." Suddenly, Suguru said.

Tsukumo smiled to herself. She immediately noticed that there seemed to be something between Y/n and Suguru, though it was still in its early stages. Without hesitating, she decided to try to bring the two of them together.

Yuki invited them both into a room with music recording equipment. The room looked like the small studio that Suguru had seen in Yamada's office. Tsukumo gestured for Geto to sit in a chair next to her, and Y/n took a seat on the sofa, holding a glass of wine. As Yuki and Suguru began discussing music with technical terms, Yamada grew bored. She continued drinking the wine until she felt warmth on her cheeks and lightheadedness.

"I think I should go..." She stood up from the sofa and swayed slightly, but Suguru managed gently held her elbow.

"Woah, woah! Girl, I can't let you go alone like this! Suguru, could you take her home?" Tsukumo bit her lip, hoping for Suguru's agreement.

"Of course, no problem." Geto said, taking Y/n's arm and slowly leading her out of the room and then out of the house.

In the car, Y/n sat next to Suguru, not knowing where to look. She glanced in the rearview mirror halfway through the ride. Then, she opened the window and tried to catch the wind.

"Am I pretty?" She suddenly asked.

Geto paused for a moment. "It's subjective," he said.

"Subjectively, am I pretty?"

"Yes. You're pretty." Suguru replied.

Y/n smiled slightly.

"Yuki says I'm pretty too. Even beautiful. But I don't understand why I can't find someone to love me."

Suguru saw her serious expression.

"You're young. You'll find what you're looking for."

"But it feels like I'll always be alone."

"No, I don't believe that. A soulmate is out there for each of us. You just need to wait."

Y/n sighed. "Maybe you're right."

They drove up to Yamada's house, and Suguru looked at the upset Y/n with affection. The girl closed the window and leaned her forehead against the glass.

"Thank you for the ride." She said and hurried out the door.

A month and a half later, the long-awaited release of the duet between Yuki and Suguru took place. Yamada had decided to release the duo first, with the intention of releasing Geto's solo track later. Suguru had no objections to this plan, as he understood that the audience would not be as interested in an unknown artist's song if it were released before the duet with super-star Tsukumo.

Following the release of Geto's solo song, Yoshiki hosted a gala event to celebrate his new artist's success. However, Suguru was unaware of what Yamada had planned for him, so he approached the event in a relaxed state.

Upon arriving at the venue, Suguru was greeted by Y/n, who seemed to have recovered from her difficult breakup with Mahito. The two exchanged pleasantries, and Geto noticed how beautiful Y/n looked in her sea-green dress that reached the floor. Her curled hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, and her natural makeup only enhanced her natural beauty. She was not only pretty, but also stunning.

Yuki was already sitting at the table, talking with Yamada and another man with dark hair tied into two high ponytails that jut upward and outward. Suguru immediately recognized Choso Kamo, the artist for the "TOUCH" label. As their eyes met, Kamo winked at him.

Next to Y/n, on one side, was Reiji. On the other side, there was a blue-eyed man with snow-colored hair. As Y/n sat down, he whispered something to her, and the girl laughed. However, when she noticed Geto's frown, she looked guilty and bit her lower lip.

"I am very pleased to see you all here today! Unfortunately, most of my artists are currently on tour, but I believe a great opportunity has arisen today." Yamada seemed to be in a good mood, which positively affected the mood of his children, Y/n and Reiji. They looked at each other and smiled. "Today, I would like to announce that "TOUCH" is pleased to welcome two talented young artists, Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto!"

Yoshiki gestured towards Suguru and the blond man sitting next to Y/n. Gojo seemed unsurprised, but Geto's reaction was more subdued. Yuki gave him a nod of approval and a thumbs up, while Kamo appeared calm but also expressed his approval.

"Yamada-san, I would like to thank you for this opportunity. It is an honor to work with you." Satoru said, standing up from the table to shake Yamada's hand.

"Geto, did you swallow your tongue?" Tsukumo gently kicked the man under the table, motioning towards Yoshiki.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I didn't expect it..." Geto reached out to Yamada and shook his hand.

"Your track with Tsukumo has been a huge success! Well deserved!" Gojo said, smiling encouragingly at his new colleague.

"Thank you, Satoru." Geto looked at Y/n, who seemed happy.

He didn't know why she was so happy. Was Satoru her new love interest? He tried to stop his train of thought, which had taken on a tinge of jealousy. While the company had dinner, Geto tried to sort out his feelings about Y/n. After their encounter at Tsukumo's, they had seen each other a few times at the studio, exchanged messages, but nothing more. Why was he so concerned about Y/n's interaction with Satoru now?

When dinner was over, Y/n collected the plates and carried them to the kitchen. Suguru excused himself from the table and followed her. She was putting the dishes in the dishwasher and singing softly to herself. As Geto approached her, he heard her singing a song by him and Tsukumo. He smiled at himself and cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Oh, my goodness! You scared me!" Y/n turned to him and leaned against the counter.

"What? Am I that scary?" Geto asked.

Y/n seemed flustered by his question. "No, you're not scary at all. You look great." She said, covering her mouth with her hand.

Geto tried not to show how much her compliment meant to him, but he could feel his heart racing.

"You look beautiful too."

"Yes, Yuki helped me with my makeup and hair. And the dress… it belonged to my mother." Y/n's tone took on a sadness as she remembered her mother.

Suguru and Y/n's eyes locked. Geto approached the girl and took the plate from her hand, placing it in the dishwasher. When he stood up and was at the same height as her, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He quickly cut the distance between them and gently kissed her. To his surprise, Y/n did not push him away but instead, with a sigh of relief, returned the kiss.

Suddenly, Reiji's voice echoed in the distance, making Y/n pull away from Geto. Reiji entered the kitchen, holding Satoru's hand. The boy saw his sister and happily ran up to hug her around the waist. Suguru stepped away from the girl and leaned against the table.

Y/n asked gently, "What happened, Reiji? " She stroked the top of her brother's head, her eyes fixed on Geto. "Satoru-san told me he has a collection of toy cars! Can I come with you next time you visit Satoru?" Reiji said excitedly about the upcoming trip.

"Reiji, there's no need for you to wait for Y/n to visit me. We can simply talk to your father and, if he allows you to come with me..."

Reiji happily clapped his hands and turned his attention to Gojo. "Come on, buddy!" Satoru picked him up and carried him out of the kitchen, winking at Y/n.

"I'm sorry…" Suguru said, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

"Don’t. That's what both of us wanted, right?" Yamada turned on the dishwasher and looked at a bit confused Geto. "And Satoru is just a friend from school." She said.

Suguru sighed with relief and approached Y/n, kissing her temple. She smiled and snuggled deeper into his arms, breathing in his scent.

Without hesitation, Suguru invited Y/n to spend the next weekend with him, on a date. This news delighted Shoko, who had no idea what was going on between Suguru and Y/n but was still happy to hear that their two friends were now a couple.

Friday evening, Suguru visited Yamada's studio to finalize the details of their collaboration with the record label. While there, he saw Gojo flirting with a receptionist. When Suguru approached him, Satoru happily slapped his shoulder in greeting.

"Y/n has told me so much about you! I hear you make great music. Maybe we can work together on a duet sometime!" The blond man seemed friendly and welcoming towards Suguru.

Suguru smiled and agreed. He then went to meet with the lawyer, but after a brief thought, returned to Gojo.

"What does Y/n enjoy doing?" Suguru asked.

Satoru smiled mischievously, placed his hand on the shoulder of his friend, and began to talk about Y/n.

That evening, Suguru picked Y/n up from the university and took her to his place. She looked a little tired, but when she saw his car, she smiled and gave him a tight hug. There were some boxes and bags of groceries in the backseat of the car.

"What's in the boxes?" Y/n asked, leaning closer to Suguru and putting her hand on his shoulder. From this gesture, his body was covered in goosebumps, and he tried to restrain himself from purring.

"You'll see." he smiled, starting the car and driving to his house.

Once they arrived at his apartment, Suguru allowed Y/n to unpack the boxes. Inside, she found a portable stove and a large soup pot. She raised an eyebrow in surprise, but Suguru just smiled mysteriously. They went to the kitchen and started unpacking the grocery bags. When she saw the groceries, she covered her mouth in shock.

"How did you know?"

"My sources of information are confidential." He replied with a smile.

While Suguru figured out how to turn on the stove, Y/n smiled to herself as she washed the groceries. Shabu-shabu was her mother's favorite dish, and they cooked it together as a family on holidays.

He watched as Y/n sliced the food with care and sent it to the boiling water. He mentally thanked Satoru for his advice, as seeing Y/n happy warmed his own heart.

"Wow, this is so delicious! I didn't know you could cook." Yamada said as she shoveled a piece of shiitake mushroom into her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure.

Suguru picked up a piece of meat and handed it on a fork to Y/n, saying, "We have our whole lives ahead of us to learn more about each other."

After dinner, they moved to the living room where Geto had a synthesizer. He invited Y/n to sit down on the sofa across from him, then he kissed her hand like a true gentleman. The girl smiled at his gesture and settled comfortably on the couch.

Suguru began playing a melody that was unfamiliar to Y/n, warming up for his performance. After a few chords, he started singing one of his own songs. Yamada had grown up in a family with a music producer. When her father started his career, there were young performers gathering at their house to compose music. From childhood, Y/n was fascinated by live singing, and it brought her great joy. She remembered how she had thrown a tantrum because she couldn’t sing. Her mother replied that it was not necessary for Y/n to become a singer to find happiness.

"Suguru, you..."

After a few songs, Y/n jumped off the couch and approached Suguru. Geto moved away from the keyboard and let the girl sit on his lap. She placed her hands on Suguru's cheeks and leaned in closer to his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. The sound of their lips meeting could be heard throughout the room, occasionally mixed with soft moans. After a long time, their pent-up feelings of physical attraction finally burst out, and they were both on the verge just because of kissing and hugging each other.

Suguru felt the need for air and pulled away from Y/n. His chest was rising and falling heavily from her embrace.

"Wow…" He said as Y/n drew him in for another kiss.

Geto ran his hands under the girl's blouse, causing her to shudder slightly at his touch. His hands traveled down her back and then to her chest, as Suguru moved one hand to lift the edge of her shirt. He pulled it off, causing Y/n to laugh as the shirt ruffled her hair.

Yamada's skin was velvety, driving Suguru wild. His touch was gentle and careful, like he was touching something precious. Geto managed to pull away from Y/n's lips and move to her neck, trailing down to her collarbones. As he lightly bit her collarbone, she let out a soft moan. Y/n's one hand buried in Suguru's hair, pulling back slightly and revealing his neck. It was now her turn to mark him.

When Y/n moved away slightly, her back touched the cold keys of the synthesizer. Her skin covered in goosebumps made Suguru chuckle. He was impatient to be inside Y/n and, holding her back with one hand, tried to pull off his jeans with the other. However, he couldn't succeed, so Yamada helped him. Finally, his cock was free.

Suguru lifted Y/n's skirt and guided her onto his dick. Two moans of pleasure filled the room as they adjusted to each other. Geto began to stroke her back to help her feel more comfortable. When she was ready, Y/n started moving up and down, gradually increasing her pace.

Suguru had slept with many girls, but this time, his feelings for Yamada were stronger than physical attraction. He felt like there were only the two of them in the world. He pressed his face against her chest, breathing in her intoxicating scent.

When Suguru's cock kissed Y/n's cervix, she dug her nails into his back but immediately moved her hands to his shoulders.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." She said guiltily.

"It's okay, baby. You're beautiful and I would only be glad if you left your marks on me." Suguru smiled, noticing that Y/n had regained some confidence.

When he felt his cock begin to pulse inside her, Y/n's movements slowed down. The sound of their skin slapping filled the room and drove them both crazy.

"May I?" Suguru asked, feeling his release close.

"Yes, don't worry."

He allowed himself to finish inside her and felt his warm cum flowing down his cock. Y/n clung to Suguru's chest, trying to catch her breath. Suguru gently wiped away the sweat from her forehead.

"Let's take a shower together, I'll take care of you." Suguru said, getting up from his chair with Y/n in his hands.

Y/n screamed and wrapped her legs around him.

"Don't worry, I've got you!" Geto laughed, hugging her tightly.

The next morning, Suguru woke up to the sound of music in the kitchen. He smiled and stretched under the covers, but then decided to get up. When he entered the kitchen, he saw Y/n standing at the stove, looking at the frying pan thoughtfully. Suguru approached her and wrapped his arms around her, causing her to flinch in surprise.

"Am I that scary?" Suguru asked, smiling.

"I’ve already told you. My answer remains the same." She replied, kissing him on the cheek.

At breakfast, they looked at each other in silence, smiling at the memory of the previous night. Y/n felt great, knowing that Suguru made her feel comfortable.

"What?" Geto asked, when Yamada smiled and tried to avoid looking at him. "Why do you keep hiding your eyes from me? They’re so beautiful…"

"Because you make me feel embarrassed!"

"I’m just sitting here, drinking tea. How can I make you feel embarrassed?" Suguru laughed, taking another sip from his cup.

"It’s not now, it’s in general…" Y/n drew a circle in the air, referring to their night together.

Geto reached out to the girl’s face, removing the sandwich sauce from her lips and licking his finger. Yamada covered her face in embarrassment, shaking her head. Suguru stood up, walked over to her, and easily picked her up, carrying her to the bedroom.

"I'll kiss you every time you feel embarrassed."

"Then you'll have calluses all over your lips! And I still need them!"

"Wow, Yamada, that's so filthy! "Suguru sat Y/n on the bed and looked at her. Her eyes were shining with joy.

"But I have a good example!" Y/n said, pulling Suguru in for a passionate kiss.

After a difficult year and dealing with drug issues, Geto found himself feeling great around Y/n. He recalled how they first met, remembering her indifference towards him and the way she looked at him while he sang with Shoko. Perhaps already then something had already sparked between them, but neither could have known what kind of spark it was. However, now, as he held her hips in his hands, Suguru felt his feelings for the girl growing by the second. Looking into her eyes, he realized that those feelings were mutual.

[hidefdoritos]

working in fast food will give you eating disorders you’ve never even heard of

[riacte]

so hey guys i finished dungeon meshi yesterday and i'm still thinking about it

[weaselle]

it was too much i had to make my own post

line cook here. ACCURATE

if you don't get the hate, here's what you don't understand.

it takes up to 2 hours to close down the kitchen.

The last 60-90 minutes before closing time you do almost no cooking because the restaurant doesn't have many people in it and you've already cooked most of their diners.

So if someone walks in during, like, the last hour, the cook is in the middle of an industrial deep clean of the kitchen.

(these numbers can vary quite a bit from place to place but i have worked several restaurants with these actual times and the concept remains the same)

Say the place closes at 10. If you wait til the restaurant is already closed to start all your cleaning duties, you'll be there until at least midnight.

More than that your boss knows that on an average night you can start your clean up as soon as the last rush ends and get out of there around 10:45, even 10:15 on a slow night if you get lucky. That means there are plenty of restaurants where if you do take until midnight the manager is going to come up to you at some point that week and ask you what went wrong that night, and you'd better have an answer.

So this example restaurant closes at 10 pm. The dinner rush ends around 8:30, and shortly after that the cook is going to start getting every single dish possible over to the dishwasher because the dishwasher always gets hit hard and late, and the machine runs for 2 full minutes and only holds so many dishes, so the way that works out is if you wait an extra 30 minutes to give the dishwasher all your stuff it can mean adding like 60 minutes to the end of his shift. And you're gonna KEEP finding shit to send to the dishpit right up until you leave probably.

all these little square and rectangle containers in this cold table have to be pulled out and changed over into new containers, replaced by new full ones, or in some cases filled from larger containers in the back, which can result in even more empty containers to send to the dishwasher.

while it's all pulled apart to do this, you have to clean up all the spilled food and sauce and juices and stuff from the joints and ledges and shelves and drip trays

Once you get your line changed over in this way, and fully stocked, anytime someone orders something that makes use of a bunch of that stuff, you have to restock and re-clean it some. It might already be covered in plastic. Some of it might already be stuck in the back to make room to take apart your cutting board counter to clean. To cook a dish isn't TOO much of a problem at this point, but you're really hoping for zero orders because you still have so much other cleaning to do.

Meanwhile the salad bar and appetizer section and server station and everybody are all doing the same thing. Even the bartenders are stocking olives and lemons and sending back whisks and stir spoons and shakers and empty 4quart storage containers that used to hold the back-up lemons and olives and things. Every section is dumping their must-be-cleaneds to the dishpit as fast as possible because early and fast is the only thing they can do to to help that dishpit not absolutely drown into overtime.

The poor dishwasher is always the last to clock out, soaking wet and exhausted.

Around this time you probably scrub the flat top, which has turned black from cooked on grease and is still about 500 degrees. Line cooks are divided in opinion on water-based or oil based cleaning methods for this, but they all involve scrubbing with (usually) a brick of pumice stone using every ounce of your strength while you try not to burn yourself

you scrub it from fully blackened to gleaming silver and now if somebody orders something that needs the flat top to cook, you can either fuck up your cleaning job or fake it in a couple frying pans and pass that tiny fuck you down to your dishwasher (who usually understands, especially if you help them take the garbage out or clean your own floor drain later)

If there's deep fried stuff on the menu then the fryers have to be cleaned out, which includes straining the oil out into enormous and super-heavy pots full of oil so hot that if you spill on yourself then it's probably a hospital visit and if you slip and fall face first into it it'll be the last thing you ever do.

Then you gotta scrub out the fryer. Like you gotta take the (hot) screen out and reach your arm down into the weird rounded pipes and curved areas (so hot, burn you if you brush against them hot) and scrub off whatever is down there

Depending on your kitchen you might have to do up to four of these. Then you'll have to pour the (dangerously hot) oil back in

oh, and if you didn't dry the pipes and get ALL the water out of the trap and tank?

water reacts with hot oil in a sort of mentos and coke way that can send a tidal wave of oil past the open flame of the pilot light ...HUGE dangerous mess and/or burn down the kitchen if the oil lights up.

Unless! If the oil has been used too hard and needs to be changed, it's time to carry those open topped super heavy pots full of will-kill-you-hot oil and dump them in the barrel outside by the dumpsters so you can put room temp fresh oil in the fryers. whew!

The clean up is not just some light wiping down that can be easily interrupted, is what i'm saying.

You might have to do some kind of walk-in duty (moving around 50lb cases of lettuce and 50lb bags of onions to get to the stacks of five gallon buckets full of salad dressings and sauces to move so you can reach the giant metal pots and bus tubs full of prep and get it all organized and make sure it's all labeled and i have to stop now i'm having flashbacks)

THE POINT IS

by 15 or however many minutes to close, the line cook is doing an intense deep clean and probably has the whole stove taken apart to detail.

For some industrial stoves this means lifting off large cast iron plates that weigh like 20 lbs each and are still quite hot. Whatever metal burners are on there, you gotta take off and clean, you can see here the lines that indicate the large thick cast iron rectangles that sit on top of the burners to allow heavy pots to rest on. Those five (each has one front burner hole and one back burner hole, see?) have to be lifted off and cleaned with soap and a wire brush usually, and then the underneath area also has to be cleaned because a lot of shit falls through the burner holes on a busy night.

if you didn't do it when you did the flat top you have to do the grease trap (which can be like a full five minutes and is always disgusting).. You gotta clean out all the little gas jets in each burner with a wire or something so the burners all flame evenly, and sometimes you have to remove some of the natural gas piping that connects the burners to access where you have to clean.

you gotta clean out the bottom of the oven and the wire racks, and, oh gods, you gotta take down the filter vents from the hood fans above the stove.

See all the lined parts along the top of the wall?

those are hood vents, and as they pull air up they also pull a lot of grease and they have to be taken down and cleaned, then you gotta climb up there and scrub where they go before you put them back...

And then there's the mopping and floor drains and...

Anyway, that's what the line cook is doing when you walk in fifteen minutes before closing and order something that needs to be cooked on that stove. They are doing an entire industrial cleaning of a professional kitchen.

In some restaurants maybe one or two of these jobs will be every other night or even only twice a week, but in many, possibly most kitchens, ALL of these things happen EVERY night. You don't want to leave any food mess that might attract insects or rodents for one thing, so a really good kitchen is as close to brand new as you can get it every night.

IF YOU ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO ORDER SOMETHING ANYWAY, HERE IS WHAT TO DO

open with an apology and ask the server to go ask what the cook would prefer you to order.

Any good server will already know what the cook is hoping for and what will make their line cook go into the walk in and scream. If it's significantly less than an hour to close and they say some variant of "oh anything is fine" they are either telling the lie their boss wants them to say, or they actually do not know what their line cook wants, and you can either use human connection and a conspiratorial just-between-us tone to get them to drop the customer-is-always-right act, or get them to actually go ask the cook.

It might be as specific as "the lasagna is easiest on the kitchen" or it might be a simple guideline like "nothing that requires the flat top" or "any of the sautés are easy" but a good line cook will probably have a system for if they have to make a couple of the most popular items after they start their close, so the answer is likely to include something most people like and you should be good to order that.

but for the love of all that's holy, please only do so at great need. Leave that last 30-60 minutes to the truly desperate and the crew's duties.

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Simon Riley who after coming back to his flat (courtesy of the government) from his first deployment as 'Ghost', finds a momma cat yowling and crying. She's hurt and has four kittens tucked into her side. Simon takes them to the vet only to be informed that only one kitten survived and the momma is dead.

So he raises the kitten. Bhe bottle feeds it every two hours, keeps it warm and safe inside a box with a heating pad and a hoodie of his. He's sure that it'll die but he keeps trying anyways with the heart wrenching hope that he's wrong.

The kitten pulls through.

Now six years later, he has a sassy sphynx cat who cries and meows whenever she isn't fed on time. When his usual pet sitter bails on him just days before his next deployment, he scrambles. He never knows how long he'll be gone and that's an issue with pet hotels. He has to find someone trust worthy and capable of caring for his darling pet.

Then he meets you by pure coincidence. Ruthie had slipped between his legs on his way out to grab some more of the wet cat food she liked then made a bee line right towards you. She meowed and meowed until you crouched down to pet her. Simon swears he had never heard her purr that loudly before.

You smile up at him and comment on how he has a sweet cat (he doesn't. Ruthie knocks everything over and has broken so many mugs, plates and cracked so many screens he owns plastic versions of everything plus keeps his phone on him at all times). Simon says something about trying to find a pet sitter to you and immediately realizes what he said when you smile. "I can keep an eye on her for you. She seems like a sweetie." You coo and gently scratch under her chin. Traitor, it took him weeks to get her to let him do that. But how can he say no when she's already taken a liking to you.

[chxrryhansen]

okay but rafe shamelessly peeking up your skirt is something so personal to me

omg omg wait s1 golf frat boy rafe x cutesy kinda bimbo reader??? COUNT ME IN. p.s- i have no idea how to play golf so i wrote my best interpretation😭

₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧

you sat in rafes private golf caddy watching as he lined up his next shot, his backwards cap keeping his hair out of his eyes and his muscular legs spread wide as he takes the shot.

rafe had asked (told) you to come watch him play, he thought it would be a cute date idea for you both to get out of the house since it was way too hot to stay cooped up inside all day… when in reality he just wanted to show off his skills and impress his girl.

“rafeeeeey.” you whined in a high pitch tone.

he turns to look back at you with a sour expression, wiping the sweat from his brows with one arm, using the other to lean against his golf club. “quit distracting me. what dya’ want?” he pants in the summer heat.

“i’m boreddddd” you moan again, standing from your seat in the cabby and bouncing over to him.

his free hand reaches out to grip your face, smushing your cheeks together tight “what’ve i told you about the whining? daddy’s tryna’ play a game here, sweetcheeks.”

you look up at him with big puppy dog eyes “can you teach me? please rafey…i’m so bored just sittin’ here, daddy please.”

he lets out an irritated groan, knowing you were too ditzy to understand how golf works and way too uncoordinated to actually putt a ball. he looks back at you giving you a once over, a smirk appearing on his face.

“you know what? sure pretty girl, c’mere.”

you yelp with excitement, moving to stand infront of him, your short pink skirt barely reaching your thighs as you bounce over and your tits jiggling, practically spilling out of your tight shirt.

rafe stands behind you as he passes you the golf club, quickly showing you the correct way to hold it before he moves onto your position. kicking your feet apart and pressing down on your back with his thick fingers, forcing you to arch your back as he bites his lip, his cock already growing hard.

“that’s it baby, stay just like that. now, lift your arm up like this, and strike.” you beam at him while he instructs you before focusing on the ball.

you raise your arm holding the club tight before you strike it. not even noticing rafe bending down slightly, his legs still spread wide around your figure and his fingers lifting your short skirt, peeking at your cute, pink panties underneath, he lets out a low “fuckkk.” at the sight, not loud enough for you to notice seeming as you were concentrating.

“rafey! look! i hit it. look how far it went!” you gasp, raising one arm to block the sun as you search for the ball with your eyes.

“yeah babe, daddy’s super proud of you.” he mutters, not paying attention to a word you said, instead focusing on the slightly damp patch on your panties.

he brings his thumb to your pussy, rubbing over the soaked material. your panties beginning to stick to your cunt as he thumbs your sensitive slit.

you whimper in surprise, your head spinning to look at him in shock. “daddy! wh-what are you doing?!” you hush, eyes wide, looking around quickly to see if anybody had noticed what he was doing, which they hadn’t… yet.

rafe hushes you before pulling your skirt back down and giving your ass a harsh smack. lifting up from his bent knees and looking down at you with a large smirk.

“nice panties, baby. where’d you get em?” he asks rhetorically, a sly smile appearing on his face.

knowing for a fine fact he bought them, as he does everything else, your clothes, food, shoes. you name it, he bought it. because that’s what wealthy daddy’s like him do. and rafe is without question, wholeheartedly, your daddy.

[writersdrug]

Bartender Simon when a customer yells at reader for a mistake?

I love the way you guys think LOVE keep em comin!!

It starts when he's restocking his bar, carrying crates with fruit, bitters, coasters, and straws. He comes down from the pantry upstairs to a decently relaxed lunch crowd, when he hears the second half of the customer's tantrum.

"You expect me to eat this?! It's bloody raw!"

"I'm so sorry, I can take it back aga-"

"You already did that - went to the kitchen and stuck it under the warmer for a few seconds and thought I wouldn't notice, huh?"

"No sir, I gave it to the che-"

"I don't want to hear fucking excuses, just go fix my damn burger. I'm paying for this shit, aren't I? And you're working for my tip. So fucking work, cunt."

Humiliation isn't enough to describe what you feel - there isn't a strong enough word for it. Claiming you're a liar, saying you grovel for tips, yelling at you in front of your other tables, calling you a cunt - it makes your eyes sting with oncoming tears, staring at him and using every muscle in your jaw to keep from spitting insults back at him. You want to throw the food in his face, but instead, you grab his plate and storm off to the kitchen before he can see you cry.

The man scoffs, looking at his watch. "Fuckin' great..."

Simon's still standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding his crates and staring daggers at the man. He knows what it's like, being berated by customers. He says "that's customer service for ya" and moves on. But for this wanker to berate you - he sees red. He sees his next target.

He swiftly crosses the restaurant floor, boots thudding against the old wood as he drops his crate behind the bar. Soap's already yelling about the asshole when he pushes his way into the kitchen.

"Order it fuckin' rare and ye get fuckin' rare, bloody clipe- talkin' mince, bawface bastard-" he slams the burger back onto the grill with a tense arm, continuing to grumble as it sizzles. "Cookin' ye a nice strip o' shoe leather-"

You're sitting on an overturned crate, sobbing into your hands, pen and notepad on the ground beside you. Price is on one knee, one arm around your shoulder and the other on your leg - you'd never officially met the owner of the pub, but now was as good a time as any, you suppose.

"Wot happened?" Is all that Ghost could say without going off on a rampage. He's saving that for later.

"He fucking embarrassed me, that's what happened!!" You snap, looking up at Simon. Your eyes are red and puffy after only crying for a minute or two, cheeks wet from your tears. You hug your arms around your middle and choke on a sob. "Told me his fucking burger wasn't cooked, so I sent it back- then he tries to say I never even gave it to Soap?! Calls m-me a cunt in front of my tables?! Make me fucking work for his money - I don't want his goddamn money!!"

Price shushes you, worrying your anger might be leaking through the kitchen door - he doesn't want the same customer to hear you bad-mouthing him, although it's rightfully deserved. He rubs your back gently as you drop your head into your hands again, shoulders shaking as you cry.

Simon's seething - he's already moving before his brain can catch up, still stuck on the picture of your teary face. He marches behind the line and reaches across Soap, picking the burger right off the grill.

Soap makes a shocked sound. "Ye gone mad, LT?!"

"Table six?" Ghost asks, holding the sizzling burger patty in his hand, grease dripping onto his forearm.

You stare between his face and the patty - your crying stopped, your face now replaced with a stupefied expression. "Uh- yeah."

And like that, he's off; he shoves himself back out onto the floor and makes his way towards the customer who yelled at you. The burger burns his hand, but he doesn't even notice the pain. He drops it onto the table in front of the man, who yelps in disgust. "What the fuck-"

"Better?" Ghost says, hands clenching into fists at his sides as he looked down at the man, now stuttering and blubbering in shock. Specks of grease are freckling his white dress shirt.

"Are you- is this a fucking joke?"

"It's your fuckin' burger."

"I can't believe this-"

"Then get the fuck out my pub." Ghost growls; he grabs the man by his arm, ripping his blazer off the back of his chair, and drags him to the front door. The other customers look with wide eyes as he busts the door open with his shoulder and throws the man onto the sidewalk. He wheezes as he hits the ground, and Ghost throws his blazer at him next.

"If I ever see your face in 'ere after this, 'm throwin' you out again and keepin' your bullocks as a fuckin' souvenir."

The man stares at him, flabbergasted, as Ghost walks back inside. People are focused on their meals now, heads down and pretending they didn't see Simon body a man to the ground - the guy deserved it, after all.

Simon huffs, picking up the burger from the now-empty table. His hand stings a bit, but he has years of callouses built up to keep any real burns from settling in. He gently kicks the chair back into place and starts heading back to the kitchen, when he sees you.

You're staring at him with wide, wet eyes, standing in the entryway to the kitchen and mouth slightly ajar in awe. You've fully stopped crying, but there are still tears on your face from before. Eyeliner and mascara are smudged a bit, but it only makes Simon's fondness for you blossom.

He gently nudges your shoulder with his elbow as he pushes past you. "Take a fifteen. I'll watch your tables."

You stare after him as he throws the burger into the trash, grabbing a fresh towel and wrapping his hand. Wide back facing you as he looks at Soap, who stares at him with a frustrated sigh.

You're horny now. Horny for Simon - and you're definitely relaying this entire shebang to your friends tonight.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I grew up lucky for a queer person. My area wasn’t actively hostile to me. My parents accepted the news that I had a crush on my best friend with no major upset.

There was homophobic comments made in my household in line with the era, but without hatred behind the words. I got called “lesbian” by bullies but honestly it just rolled off of hurtful and hit funny.

That’s why I was so ill prepared for my move to Arizona. I was moving to live with my at-the-time girlfriend, Taylor. She was native to the state and I’d met her while living there for one miserable year in high school. I’d had a crush on her for ten years before we started dating.

In the process of moving my parents were helping by driving a uhaul with my stuff while Taylor and I drove down in my car. It was a two day drive and we rolled into my new city one warm desert evening. We stopped to get some water and wait for my parents to catch up in the uhaul.

We got out of the car, stretching our achy limbs and heading toward a little fast food place in the strip mall. Across the parking lot a group of men started hooting and whistling at us. Words like “beautiful,” and “come here” drifting along the still evening air. We didn’t react and they grew louder until I casually flipped them off.

The tenor of their calls changed instantly. Now we heard “dykes” and “bitches” and “teach you a lesson”. For the first time, I felt afraid to be walking along in a lit parking lot. I looked at Taylor and to my horror she had started to turn in their direction.

I grabbed her arm and she shook me off. The men were moving away but I didn’t want to see a fight or worse break out if she caught up. But Taylor wasn’t heading to follow them. She was arrowing toward the truck they’d been lounging across.

“What are you doing?” I asked her anxiously.

For answer she reached for guys front tire and started letting the air out. A nervous giggle escaped me and I stood to keep lookout. She had the front two tires done before the trucks owner came storming across the parking lot.

“You should have just slashed them!” he snarled, “Woulda been faster.”

Taylor rose and coolly said, “That’s destruction of property, I was just checkin’ your tires, bro.”

Emotions flitted across his face from surprise to rage but after a moment he mastered his anger and said, “Okay. I get it. We were out of line before.”

He held out his hand as if to shake hers and I tensed. His eyes told a very different story than his mouth. Taylor casually flicked his air cap at him and it bounced off his chest. We turned and walked away without another word.

It was my first night in my new town. The scene would set the stage for later interactions. People who would ask me if I couldn’t empathize with parents who kicked their gay kids out for spreading sin. I’d go on to be followed and harassed on more than one occasion. That night showed me how privileged I’d been and how vulnerable I was at the time. But I at least had the satisfaction of thinking back to that man filling his tires back up with air.

[robo-writing]

Mother reader with Logan as her new neighbor, looking at this sweet little lady run around with her hair in a messy bun and baby food staining her shirt, clearly tired and overrun and very much in need of a break. Sweet thing she is, waves to the neighbors each morning before walking her kids to school every morning, and Logan can’t help but watch from afar. Like waving a bone in front of a starving dog, he feels his chest tighten as you scurry about the town.

Enter Logan, who overhears you complain about a broken sink you can’t afford to fix so he leans up against your fence, waves you down and says that he “heard from a friend of a friend” that you’re having sink issues and would you guess it? He’s pretty handy with a toolbox. Plants his feet in the ground and won’t accept no for an answer, no matter how many times you try to decline.

When he comes over to fix it he’s appalled at the state of your home, toys everywhere, children running about. “Where’s dad?” He asks and come to find out you’re a single mother, poor thing like you. He fixes your sink and you offer him some food in return, an old apple pie you baked for a school fundraiser that you never went to.

“Sorry if it’s not exactly fresh,” you mumble, but Logan wouldn’t give a damn if you had fished it out of the trash. You let him into your personal space and offered him food? Clearly your parents never taught you—you should never feed strays, or they’ll keep coming back for more.

And boy, do you feed him. He offers help anytime you need it which ends up being quite often, it’s truly the strangest thing—reports of animals attacking water lines and such, but aren’t you lucky you’ve got Logan to help? Who else would offer you their shower? And don’t forget about the time your lawnmower was stolen, of course you can borrow his—hell, he’ll mow it for you free of charge.

Of course, you’re not totally blameless in this little cat and mouse game—walking around his house in only a towel, water clinging to your bare legs as you thank him, staring at his shirtless form from the window when you think he’s not watching.

You don’t realize how bad it’s gotten until your little one calls Logan “Daddy” one day, embarrassment hot against your face as you work to correct him. Little do you notice Logan standing behind you, a sharp-toothed smile against his rugged features.

“Daddy, huh? Got a nice ring to it.”

[superhoeva]

bouncer!logan using his break to fuck you silly in the bar bathroom after you come a visit him at work. such a sweet thing, driving down here just to see him and bring him something other than bar food.

he couldn't care less that you're dressed in a t-shirt, sweatpants, and shoes that should've been chucked out ages ago. you're here for him. running around town and bringing food for him.

a hand settles over your mouth to muffle your loud moans and his chest presses hard against your back at he plunges inside you. you're leaking a mess, and logan finds it's a fucking sight whenever he pulls back enough to see how well his dick is splitting you open.

the man is certain he won't be able to hold it long, thinking of you. how good you are to him. the way you kissed his chin at the door. he's trying. really, he is. rutting and gnawing a sore into his bottom lip, groaning every time his hips snap against your ass.

huffs of hot air pants out against the shell of your ear, and logan is damn near drooling as he whispers rather loudly at how infuckingcredible you are for squeezing around him like you are.

"who told you you could feel this good, huh? and who told you to be so sweet to me, hm? " he grunts, smirking at the pitiful response you whimper out in return. tears are welling in your eyes as he shifts his hips, the new angle punching the head of his cock right into your spot. you both share a broken groan that echoes against the cool walls of the bathroom. "shit, there it is. right there. right there, yeah? s'at it?"

you jerk with heavy gasps into logan's palm. the world blurs, and a rush of heat floods over you at a suffocating rate. your peak only drags logan's along, the man smashing himself against you in a noisy, shaky hover.

logan doesn't want you to leave after. the soft hand and long kiss that rubs against your cheek after he pulls up your sweats tells you that much.

so instead of you driving back home with shaky legs and a hazy head, logan settles you in a booth near the very back of the bar. right in his eye line and content in the quieter space with however many drinks and snacks you want.

his attention is split for the rest of the shift–dutifully scanning his sharp gaze over the entire room while keeping himself where he can see and get to you quick if he needs. he ends up chuckling to himself when he's allowed to go home for the night, only to find you slumped next to an empty basket that used to hold the house fries he ordered you in a light sleep.

head tilted and eyes soft as you snore quietly, logan just watches you for a moment. grinning a little at how easy you are to tire out.

soon enough, he's coaxing you from the booth with soft coos and shushes whenever you whine about not wanting to move.

he cuddles you with strong arms into his side the entire way to his truck, promising to come back and get your car in the morning. it's the least he can do...

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