#gonna scream and cry and throw up /negative tone

[pidgeysposts]

day a hundred pining for the original midas skin in fortnite because i don't have him.

[gracieheartspedro]

Nobody Likes A Secret

pairing: no outbreak rich older!joel miller x afab reader.

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 3k words

description: a rich wealthy playboy who becomes enthralled by his neighbor's daughter. it never ends well when he can not fathom having happiness for himself.

warnings: ANGSTY!!!!!, age gap (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her mid 20s), wealthy!joel, neighbor!joel, reader is pretty naive and delusional, taboo relationship troupe, mentions of parent death, VERY BRIEF SMUT, joel is borderline evil and very mean. joel calls reader "kid". joel is also a liar. talks of having children.

author’s note: I wrote this all in like... two nights. I listened to illicit affair by taylor swift and nobody likes a secret by lizzy mcalpine a lil much and it ended up here. sorry if I make you sad.

You creep into the large 4-car garage, seeing Joel pacing the oil-stained floor. He’s still in his work clothes, but he looks a bit disheveled. His eyes are wild, his face downturned into a deep-set frown. 

“Joel? Everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “He knows.”

You know only one person who would ruin this. 

‘This’ being an 9-month-long affair with your older neighbor. Months and months of meeting in dark corners, hardly ever seeing each other in the light. 

“How?”

Joel fumbles trying to pull his phone out of his pocket, showing you the 5 missed calls from your Dad. You stare at it blankly, tightening your jaw at the possibility that your Dad is too smart for his own good. Shit, he does know, doesn’t he? He throws the phone down on a nearby leather couch that is positioned near a workbench. Joel was pretty good with his hands, but lately his mind has been anywhere but tinkering with wood in his garage. 

“He came over an hour ago. Sat me down and told me that he was getting suspicious of some outings you’ve had over the last couple months. Said he realized you were not going to the places you said you were going to. So he assumed you had a new boyfriend or something. Then last night…”

You curl your hands into a fist. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Joel grumbles, running his hands over his face, dragging his lower lids down in frustration, “He said that if I know anything or see anything, I am to let him know immediately. He’s worried you’re fuckin’ around with the wrong guy.”

You had snuck out of your house last night and tiptoed your way into Joel’s car, which was parked in a nearby cul de sac. He promised you a nice late dinner in the city and then he ravished you in a hotel room you two didn’t even spend the night in. He brought you home around 4 am and you snuck back into your bedroom, ensuring nothing in your home was stirred. When you woke up the next morning, your father left you a note that he wanted to do dinner with you that night. Meaning tonight. 

You know this is detrimental, and while you do not want to freak out immediately, you can not help but feel like someone is stabbing you directly in the chest. Joel’s body language is giving off negative signals, so even though you want to hug him and tell him that you can talk to your Dad, you know it’s not going to change much.

Your eyes well with tears, thinking of how this was going to ruin everything. After months and months, you thought you were being so smart.

“We can’t do this anymore,” He whispers.

And God damn, did Joel hate seeing you cry. 

But the tear-filled eyes you are giving him are warranted. You don’t turn away from him like usual. You never wanted to show him any weakness. 

This time you confront him, your nose turning upward and your eyes full of disdain. 

“You said we were being careful,” You murmur, the salty tears falling down your cheeks.

“Not careful enough.”

The bitterness tastes like blood in your mouth. You want to scream at him but keep an even tone instead, “Joel… Just let me talk to him.”

“You knew where this was gonna end up,” He states plainly, his voice not wavering. 

And maybe he was right, but you enjoyed living in a loved-up delusion. Maybe it was the sex or maybe it was the looks he gave you from across densely populated parties you were forced to go to. You would put on a show long enough to make your father happy and then you would somehow sneak away with Joel. You knew if your father caught you with the much older man, he would lose his mind, so you were always cautious. You made sure the doors were locked. The moans would stay hushed. The car was parked far from your front door. And during the time spent away from the house, you would get a girlfriend to lie for you. You were always so careful. 

“Maybe he suspects it’s someone else.” you try to reassure him, but you know it’s falling on deaf ears.

“You know he knows it’s me.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

Joel rolls his eyes. He knows that your father’s words were simply a warning. If you two continued this schtick, you know better than anyone your father would find out. You knew he already kind of had eyes on you and Joel had caught on to a couple of neighbors watching him from their bedroom windows. He gives your father credit, he was thorough. 

“We have to stop.”

You did not realize how much your heart was banking on making this work. Joel was about 25 years older, so deep down, you knew that no one would accept the relationship. But in your wildest fantasies, you imagined you two would run away together. He had tons of money, you had nothing tying you down, and it could be a perfect escape. You had brought it up one night after you snuck over to his bed and he didn’t explicitly say no. He just giggled and continued tracing circles on your bare back. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, “So you just… don’t want me anymore?”

He huffs, already annoyed you were making it seem like he had a choice.

“It was never gonna work out in the first place, kid.”

You just stare at him. The nickname hit harder than it ever has. After months of sneaking around with you, Joel only ever saw you as that. A kid. 

“Don’t call me that. Ever.”

He notices the rise in your voice and quickly realizes he made a mistake. 

“Listen-”

It’s like every terrible emotion you have ever had comes bubbling to the surface. The resentment you held towards him when he ignored your calls some nights. Or when he refused to get near you at any party. You had your grievances, but you sat there like a good girl and just accepted him the way he was.

It’s like acid in your throat, it burns. 

“No, you listen,” You snap, “You don’t get to play the kid card. You chose this just as much as I did. You told me that my age didn’t matter. You told me that you would want children with me one day. You filled my head with all this bullshit and now when shit gets real, you walk away. You’re a fuckin’ coward, Joel.”

“My reputation and livelihood is on the line for this! You think I don’t still want those things?”

“If you wanted them bad enough, you would fight for me.”

It makes his face drop. His furrowed eyebrows relax and his mouth droops down into a subtle frown. 

You do not know where to go from here. The atmosphere in his garage rises with tension, words just hanging in the air. 

The Annual Miller Christmas Party was the talk of the town. Everyone who received an invitation would proudly display the cardstock on their huge fridges and show their uninvited neighbors to brag. When Joel came over to hand deliver you and your father’s invitations, he told you to wear something sparkly. 

You searched everywhere for the perfect gown for weeks. He had only really shown you attention when forced to be in the same room as you, so you needed to be eye-catching. He was never the guy to wave to you when he was leaving for work or say a quiet hello at the grocery store. Joel was a very regimented man. He never strayed away from his routine which was usually work, hookups with random women, and sleep. He never kept a woman around for too long. You noticed the circulation of women changed every month or so. Joel never wanted to settle down. He had tried that once 15 years ago and his ex ended up with half of his company. 

But you always loved the way the man carried him. Despite his playboy behavior, you were entranced with him. You always thought he was handsome and when you came home at 25 to help your mother who had fallen sick, you knew that your crush had morphed into borderline obsession. Living next to him would be dangerous.

The dress you chose was red, which was fitting for the occasion. And of course, it was sparkly. Just what Joel ordered. 

You spent all day preparing for the evening and when you showed up on his front door on your Father’s arm, he could not peel his eyes away. You were so radiant and perfect. The twinkle in your eyes shone brighter than the glitter on your gown. 

During the night, you drank a couple of glasses of champagne and chatted up some of your Father’s colleagues. You notice Joel’s eyes following you every so often. You can vividly remember thinking, “This man wants me so bad.”

That night Joel cornered you in the hallway by the bathroom. He asked you if you were interested in literature, but really he just wanted you alone in his study. You being you, you enthusiastically said yes and followed him down the unlit corridor. Once he shut the huge wooden double doors, you knew that you would be slipping out of that gown for him in no time. 

And that’s exactly what happened. 

He drove you crazy, peppering kisses all down your body. He would groan every time he heard your shaky breath, knowing that the effect he had on you would become a dependence for him. 

When he first pressed into you, it was different than any other woman he’s ever been with. You did not throw your head back, moaning obscenities. Instead, you stared into his eyes and nodded, encouraging him to continue his movements. It was so sensual and passionate, by the time you two finished, he held you in his arms for 20 minutes. He was never one for pillow talk or aftercare, so he surprised himself.

You were different than any other woman he had ever encountered. 

You had slipped over to his front door a couple of days after the Christmas party, knocking to ask his assistant if he was home. When she brought you into his office, he told his assistant to shut the door on the way out. His eyes never left yours as you bantered to him. He loved your confidence. He bent you over his desk after 10 minutes, tugging up your skirt and swatting your ass for showing up on his doorstep looking “this beautiful”. 

Joel always made you feel so good. His dirty talk went to Harvard. He could make you cum over and over with his husky Southern accent. Every time he called you “darlin’” or “princess”, you would come undone. 

A couple of months into the entanglement, your Mother’s health deteriorated overnight. You and your Father stayed by her side when she took her last breaths. It was devastating, seeing the woman you looked up to your entire life slowly slip away. You felt like a shell of a person, unable to really harbor any feeling other than pain.

Joel called you and let you know he would not be able to attend the funeral due to work commitments. You did not care, understanding that there’s never a good time for someone to die and he had no obligation to come. You arrived at the funeral home and saw a huge arrangement of purple and blue flowers. On the card, was scribbled in his handwriting. 

“What a breath of fresh air she was. Thinking of her family, always. Joel Miller.”

When it was time for the burial, you watched a large SUV pull up right before the final words were going to be spoken. Joel hopped out the back and slowly approached, keeping his distance from you and the rest of the attendees. Once she was lowered into the ground, Joel came over to give his condolences to your inconsolable father. 

You stayed back, watching everyone except him leave. You sat in the first row of fold-out chairs, watching them throw dirt over her casket. He sat down next to you, never saying anything. His hand extended out, touching your hand that was resting on your lap. It was an unspoken thing, but you never felt more seen in your entire life. He somehow knew exactly what you needed. 

Someone next to you.

After a couple of months, you felt more like yourself. You called him one night, asking if he was available for a drive. He parked his truck in your usual meet-up spot. You crawled up into the passenger seat and asked him to drive. You did not care where. You two caught up and once he could tell you were getting back to some semblance of yourself, he made his move. He was stopped at a red light when he placed his hand on your thigh. It was the first time you had sex in his truck. That night kickstarted the affair again, which led to the secret meetings in hotel rooms. You two got more bold with your rendezvous, even taking a weekend to the mountains. You don’t even remember the lie you told your Father as to why you were gone. 

Joel always thought you were capable. He admired you for being such a dynamic woman. To be so strong and delicate at the same time was unheard of. Even though you were much younger than him, you were well-versed in everything. You were professional and smart when it came to business. All the while, you were polite and empathetic. He would frequently come to you when he needed advice about work or an opinion on something ethical. He enjoyed hearing you ramble on about things you were passionate about. And God, did he love your laugh. 

He did not expect to keep you around as long as he did. But your body was like a drug and Joel had a nasty habit. You were always eager and available, and after a while, Joel started thinking maybe it was too much all at once. When you became comfortable enough to sleep over in his bed and make him breakfast, he knew his world was tilted on its axis. 

He needed to find a way to ruin it for himself, as he had done so many times before. 

He “slipped up” one night. As he and his chatty neighbor Jeff sat outside and smoked cigars, he spoke about his desire for you. He didn’t particularly say that you two were together, but simply insinuated that he would like to have you alone. And the rumors spread quickly. Soon enough a little birdie was in your Dad’s ear, feeding him information. 

Joel kept up the act with you, even though it was not really an act. He did like you, hell, he may have even loved you. But he did not want you to need him. So when people started paying more attention to you and him, he knew his plan was set in motion. In no time, it would all come crashing down. 

“If your Dad takes this to the board, I will lose my company. Do you understand that?”

You hated that you understood stupid business jargon. You knew that Joel losing his company would be devastating. But at this point, you could not care less. Because for as long as your affair, you watched his walls fall away. He had let you in more than once and in your delusional state, you believed for a second that he would choose you over his job. 

You clench your teeth as you suck in a sharp breath, tears still streaming down your warm face. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then we just end it. This has already gone too far.”

You finally turn away from him, your eyes falling to the concrete floor. As soon as he says those words, chills run down your arms. 

“You know Joel…” You drift off, using your shirt sleeve as a tissue. You wipe away a couple of tears and glare back up at him, “I would have given up everything in my life for this. My job. My relationship with my father. Everything. And the fact that you won’t even give me a chance to talk to my Dad to see if he could spare you and this whole charade, really fucking hurts. I’m not worth that to you and that… That’s what hurts the most.”

“Babe-”

“No. You don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to call me anything.”

The tears flow again as you watch him exhale, his hands on his hips. His hair is unkept and the tie he’s wearing has been loosened. 

“I’m sorry,” Is all he can say while your lip quivers. You are trying not to lose it completely. 

You just shake your head, “No. You’re not sorry.”

He was. He was sorry, but he could not let you ruin everything. 

Joel would soon know that you were everything. And as you left the back door that evening, leaving behind the scent of your perfume, he knew that the smell would somehow taint his sheets, even though you had not been in them for weeks. He already started to miss the feeling of your lips. When he tried to go about his evening, he swore he would see you in the shadows of his large house. He even thought he heard your laugh. You were already haunting him even though the death of your relationship happened just hours before. 

You moved on after a couple of years. Met a guy at your 9-5, settled down, and popped out a few kiddos. Some nights you would lie awake, wondering to yourself if Joel was really happy. You never learned the truth of his deceit. After all, your Father was just grateful that his warning to Joel led to his desired outcome, which was him being gone from your life entirely. 

And Joel would be haunted for the rest of his life. No woman. No drugs. No party. Nothing ever filled the void you left behind. And it was all his fault. Just like it always had been.

[lifeweaver-niran]

“Would you be there for me?”

Niran tilted his head, “For what?” he asks, curiosity with a slight hint of concern lacing his tone.

“When i need you, of course!”

Niran chuckles, “Of course i would, that's a silly question, My dear. I would ALWAYS be there for you.”

Y/N gives him a warm smile, one he loves and cherishes oh so much.

.....

Where is it now?

How could he do this to you?

He promised you.

He's a liar.

He's sorry.

“I'm sorry.”

...

“Her before Me.”

TW: ANGST NO COMFORT, DEATH, SLIGHT CURSING, BLOOD !!

.........

“Niran! Guess what today is!!” Y/N chirped happily, twirling around in her brand new baby blue summer dress.

..

In all honesty? Y/N never even wore blue clothing. She was more interested in pink, but she brought a new one hoping to impress her long time crush and best friend, Niran Pruksamanee.

Why blue?

....

It was always her color.

Satya Vaswani.

You cringed at the thought of her. although she was always kind to you, you would always feel a sharp pang go through your chest whenever Niran would openly throw himself at her and practically begging for her attention.

You shrug off the negative thoughts as you're greeted with Niran infront of you, giving you a bright and warm smile. “How could i forget! It's the anniversary of the day we first met!!” First meeting anniversary. Niran made that up since he insists that it was the most special day of his life. Sometimes you think he's lying and that he's just trying to flirt with you, hinting that your feelings for him were mutual. Until you saw how he acts with her. It was very humbling.

You smiled, looking up at him. “I reserved us a spot at your favorite restaurant! We should get going!”

“Is it ok if Satya joins us today? I don't want her to feel left out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, forcing a smile before letting out a cheery “Of course!” and turning away. Tears threatening to spill as you walked away. Niran tilts his head at your suddenly cold demeanor but shrugs it off to you not wanting to be late.

. . . . . . . . . . .

The 3 of you arrived at the restaurant, having to add 1 extra seat at the table since you only planned for you and niran to go.

But.

Why does it feel like it's them that's celebrating? That it's their anniversary? Why. WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO RUIN EVERYTHIN—

You felt your blood boil, your hands clutching your dress tightly while you looked at the menu. You jolt when niran calls out to you.

“Y/n....Y/n..? Are you gonna order?..are you feeling ok?” He asks, putting his hand on your neck to check your temperature. A soft blush creeps its way up to your cheeks as you shake your head, “Uhm..i'll..order..later. I need to use the restroom. Excuse me.” You stood up, walking away and pretending to go to the restroom. You look back, seeing the two happily chatting away. You smile sadly before leaving the restaurant.

“aww..caught a love bug?”

“Sombra..you aren't even using that term correctly.”

“shut up, moira! I meant it literally!”

“it's still wrong.”

“Would you two shut up?” a deeper voice says, irritated.

“w-..what do you- want-”

..

THUD.

..

..

..

..

“urgh.. my head.” You wake up with a throbbing pain on the back of your head. Squinting your eyes as they adjust to the bright lights..bright..blue lights. Wait. You know this place.

“NIRAN!” You tried to scream out, only to let out a muffled noise. Your mouth was covered. Tight. It hurt. But that didn't bother you as much as..why were you tied up in niran's lab? Where is he? Where are the strange people you met before you were knocked out?

“Moiraa, she's awake!” a voice calls out from outside of the lab before a tall woman with short red hair walked up to you.

“I see you are awake. I'll make this quick, tell me the location of this..‘gadget’ your boyfriend uses to produce his..'biolight' and we'll let you go.”

“Boyfriend..? B-biolight..? Gadget..? I have no idea what you're talking abo- !!!” You get cut off with a sharp pain in your arm as you scream, crying out in pain as you bleed out.

“Tell us everything you know about it's location. I am sure you are no fool. You know exactly what we are capable of doing to you if you refuse to cooperate.”

“I will NEVER tell you how to make it..he's spent basically his whole life making that biolight to heal the world!!” You said in between pants, the panic and fear in your body making it hard to breathe. The sight of your bloody arm making you want to pass out.

“Hmm. I didn't expect such a great scientist to be with a girl with such.. stupidity. Perhaps it is the black haired woman..what was it..Satya? That is his lover after all.”

Her words were like venom. Jealousy, Fear, Sadness, Pain all clouded your head at the same time. It hurt so badly. Everything hurt. Little did you know it was about to get so..so much worse.

“Tear her to shreds if you wish, just keep her..somewhat alive. We might be able to use her against him still, in the meantime we'll go for the black-haired girl, Satya Vaswani.”

................................🥀

“Satya.. i'm worried. It's been a while since y/n was in the bathroom. i'll go check up on her, alright? Stay here.” Niran gave her a small smile before walking towards the bathroom. It was a single person bathroom available for all genders, he knocks softly on the door.

“Y/N? Dearest, are you in there?”

..

No response.

..

“My sweet, could you answer me? Me and Satya are worried sick, if you're feeling unwell we could go back home and continue the rest of our day there!” He smiles nervously, hoping the girl he was looking for at the other side of the door would open up, answering him with a gentle smile.

..

No response.

..

Niran's head was racing with thoughts. His hand shakily reached up to the bathroom's door handle.

“did she leave..? Did i make her uncomfortable? Fuck..did i ruin our day? Ok...ok..calm down Niran. Just..try to open the door, if she didn't want you coming in she'd shut it off, right?..right.”

He tried to open the door, hoping it would get slammed shut only to reveal no one was there.

“shit.... SHIT.” He slams his hand on the door, brushing his hair back in frustration. “I'm so sorry.” he mumbled to himself repeatedly as he made his way back to the table only to find his best friend was gone.

“You too..Satya?” He sighed, he felt his heart ache as he gathered his belongings, walking back home. His mind wandering to where the two girls who meant so much to him went.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“No..”

“No...no..no..nononono..NO- FUCK-”

He's panicking. He's panicking. He's panicking. He's panicking. BREATHE. BREATHE NIRAN. BREATHE. BREATHE. CALM DOWN.

FUCK.

There stood a bloody and beaten Satya, His best friend. His best FUCKING friend who he needed so badly to comfort him right now.

No.

They couldn't have found his home.

Not so quickly.

She was just in the restaurant a moment ago. . .

He felt sick.

He felt dizzy.

He felt so..so much guilt.

“Satya.. how? How did they do this to you..when..-” He sobbed, dropping down to his knees, “Please...-” He cried out, “Please wake up..”

How did they find him..?

...

Wait.

Wait.

WAIT.

His mind raced back to you. Panic increasing with every passing thought.

You left the restaurant first.

Surely they couldn't have-

..

He ran.

He ran so fucking fast to his lab, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. He ran as quickly as his already broken down body could take him.

Please be ok.

Please be here.

Please be safe and sound

My love. My life. My lotus. My flower. My everything.

.

.

.

.

“Y/N..?” his voice trembled in fear, dropping down to his knees as he curled up into a ball, rocking back and forth trying to calm himself down. To no avail.

There was his "everything".

Dead.

Lifeless.

Cold.

Next to her, a note written down, although it was incredibly shaky, he could still tell it was you who wrote it.

“Save her, Niran. Save her and not me. I'm already a goner but Satya is a stronger woman than i, She will make it through.

They want your metal glove. The one you used to show me about, the one that could heal the world.

I'm sorry.

I couldn't stop them. Please forgive me. Go now, Save Satya. I already knew this since i left the restaurant. I always knew that you would choose Her before..”

....

“Her before..what..?”

...

“Her before Me.” you said softly, blood dripping out of your mouth, tears falling from your eyes that once glistened with so much life.

“y/n..?”

He sobbed violently, shaking you, “WAKE UP!! PLEASE, KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN..I'M HERE.. I'M HERE. PLEASE!!” He sobbed, His chest rising and falling at a rapid pace, he couldn't calm down. You..Satya...why was this happening to him? All he wanted was to heal the world. Why does this world have so much hate for him when all he wanted was to give it love and care?

“Would you always be here for me?”

“of course..” he cried, cradling her slowly dying body. Feeling her growing colder..and colder.

“Then you'd always be there for Satya, right..?” you said weakly.

..

“of..” he gasped for air, his crying and panic causing him to have a meltdown, unable to respond before finally letting out a soft and broken “of course..”

“Choose Her..Not me..”

....

Then your blood ran cold.

.

.

.

.

Niran lost of himself that day. Now standing on the tombstone of the one he loved and cherished the most with his best friend Satya trying her best to comfort him. Nothing worked though. Niran is now a shell of the man he used to be when he was loving you.

—————————🥀

[dangerousstrawberryshark]

I'm not Mad

A/n: Hello, My 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! I'm back after 5 days? Of being away. Also, I know this pic is from "Defending Jacob" but this was the best I could find. (Totally not because I'm lazy to find another one.)

Chris Evans x Boyfriend reader

Warnings: passionate smut?, no kinks, and fluff

Requested from @nighthunter241

They requested: Male reader is at work while his boyfriend Chris is at the infinity war premiere (their relationship is a secret, so he did not go). While at work he hears some of the other workers talking about how Chris accidentally announced him having a boyfriend. After some days have passed, Chris goes back home and talks to the male reader apologizing about how he exposed the relationship (thinking the male reader was angry with him) But the male reader is relieved that he does not have to be a secret anymore. They celebrate by having a dinner date which ends with the two having a steamy moment (smut).

M/n: Male name

Word count: 2534

If you like what I write, check out my Masterlist.

Hope you enjoy it! Sorry if it's bad! Sorry for any errors that are found.

TWO BIG ANNOUNCEMENTS AT THE END!

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DISCLAIMER: I MEAN NO OFFENSE, DISRESPECT, OR HARM TO ANY OF THESE CELEBRITIES! THIS IS JUST FICTION.

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MINORS DNI. FEMALE READERS… I’LL ALLOW YOU TO READ MY FICS BUT DO NOT FETISHIZE ANY OF MY STORIES

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You were currently at work just doing serving the masses. Everything was going amazing but early a Karen decided to make a fuss.

Flashback

You were just minding your own business, helping some employees until out of the corner of your eyes. You see a woman, who looked like she was in her mid-30s, with blonde hair pushed to the side with some strands on the other side, and wearing sunglasses.

She was yelling and screaming at the poor woman. It looked like the young lady was going to start crying. She was causing a scene, everyone was just pretending like they weren't seeing or hearing anything. Only giving a few glances and some were recording.

"How about you go back to Mexico!" now that's where you cross the line. Well, you crossed the line a long time ago.

"Ma'am, that is highly offensive, and I suggest you leave immediately!" you butted in.

"NO! I won't leave until I have the manager!" She yelled at you, even though you told her to leave in a calm voice.

"I. Am. The. Manager!" You said in a slow tone. Your left eye was twitching and the smile you were giving was twitching. You were this close to losing it.

"Well, sir, this damn immigrant fucked up my food!" you just looked at her like "really?" She was mad over that?! "Okay, ma'am, you could've just ask instead of throwing an adult tantrum."

Her face looked like she was offended. Then she went back to yelling and screaming. "Listen here! I gonna have to ask you to leave or I'm calling the police."

She just screams and screams, annoying the over customers who have to sit through this whole problem. Then she yelled, "He hit me! Stop hitting me!" She said that while she reaching behind the counter to hit ME.

"Y'all are seeing this right? I'm not evening hitting you! My hands are right here!" You just lost but thankfully the police arrived and escorted her out.

"Finally that woman is gone."

(Don't be a Karen, if you don't know what a Karen is then look it up.)

Flashback over.

But other than that, your day was going amazing. Especially since your boyfriend, the famous, Chris Evans was coming back home after the Infinity War premiere. Yes, you were dating the one and one Chris Evans.

You were still at work on your break until you overhear one of your employees. "Really?" "Yeah, apparently Chris Evans has a boyfriend!" two girls were chatting and looking at the other's phone. "Lucky to whoever is dating him! He is literally daddy material."

"Yeah, but they must be cute together! I wonder who it could be?" the two girls began to squeal. They didn't know that their own boss was dating Chris.

Now, you didn't know that he leaked your guy's relationship but you're not mad at him. You're actually relieved and happy that it's not a secret anymore.

All you could do was wait for his return.

============================

Time Skip (2 days)

============================

Chris was driving his way to yours and his place. Yes, you and he live together. Many thoughts were running through his head. 'What if he leaves me? What if he's mad at me? Will he still be with me?'

Chris just couldn't stop thinking all about the negative thoughts. He knew you wanted to keep your guy's relationship a secret but he accidentally let it slip.

Flashback.

"So, Chris- do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend? Or are you in a relationship?" someone asked.

Chris wasn't thinking properly and accidentally said, "Yes, I do have a boyfriend-" Chris stopped himself but it was too late. His eyes widen but tried to play it off.

Everyone was now talking. It was at that moment Chris knew, he fucked up.

Flashback over.

Chris finally arrived at yours and his place. He approached the door and took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell.

You were sitting on the couch just minding your business watching videos on YouTube until the doorbell rings.

'Chris is here!' you yelled in your mind excited to see your boyfriend. He finally arrived from the Infinity War Premiere.

Once you opened the door, you were immediately engulfed by two large hands and the sounds of Chris crying? He held you tight until he spoke.

"Please don't leave me M/n! I didn't mean to say that! I know you wanted to keep it a secret but- I just-..." Chris said crying his face off. You looked at him confused until you remembered what he meant.

"Please don't break up with me! I'll take you out to dinn-" You cut him off there.

"I'm not mad Chris. I'm actually glad that you told everyone." You said in a soft voice as you wrapped your arms around his neck calming him down a little.

"So, you're not mad?" you shake your head no. "Can I still take you out?" you rolled eyes and smiled, "Whatever makes you happy."

You and Chris just ended up cuddling on the couch for the next 4 hours. Chris was scheduling your guy's date at someplace. You hoped it wasn't any of those places cause their food is awful and tastes horrible.

You were cuddling into Chris's warm muscular arm as it was wrapped around your waist. "Hey, baby?" You hear him call out to you. "Yes?" You responded rubbing your head against his muscular arms. Chris smiled at you before speaking.

"Well... I found this place- and don't worry it ain't fancy- So, how about we go?" Chris said scratching the back of his head. You smiled at your nervous boyfriend. "Yes, you lughead."

"Alright, let's get ready." you nodded your head as you got up from your position to get ready. "Oh, and try to be cautious about the paparazzi. Everyone now knows about our relationship."

You nodded your head understanding what he meant. the Paparazzi can be a pain in the ass. bombarding celebrities with cameras and annoying the shit out of them.

After about 30 minutes you both were ready for dinner. Chris also had something else in store for you when got home.

============================

Time skip (end of your dinner date)

============================

Everything was going amazing besides the bombardment of the paparazzi, questioning us about our relationship.

Once we got home, Chris said he had one more thing to show you. You wondered what it could be.

"So babe, I know you're not mad about me telling everyone about our relationship but I want to give you the ultimate apology," Chris said while snaking his arm around you.

"Oh? And what's this ultimate apology?" You replied knowing what he meant.

(Disclaimer: I'm not good with writing passionate smut. Message me if this is good.)

"Oh, you'll see baby," Chris said before latching his lips against yours. You kissed him back while wrapping your arms around his neck pulling him closer.

You opened your mouth to allow him to have access to your wet cavern. Your tongues fought for dominance with Chris winning. He explored every nook and cranny of your mouth.

Chris pulled back."How about we take this to the room?" "Yes!" Chris smirked before gesturing for you to jump. "Jump baby."

You complied wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck. Chris grabbed your plump ass for more support. But also because he just wanted to touch it.

He carried you to the room still making out. Once there, he sat on the bed with it sinking under his weight. Chris began to move his hands up and down your sides as the kiss was getting more intense.

(Chris is sitting down, with you on his lap.)

You pulled back with a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. You both took deep breaths before you slowly began to undress Chris. Chris did the same.

"You're so hot." You said, kissing down his neck leaving love bites. Chris groaned as a response. You got up and removed pants and boxers hopped back onto Chris's lap.

Your hard cock slapped your stomach as you hopped back onto his lap. This time it was Chris's turn to leave marks on your smooth skin. "You're so soft..." Chris said with his face buried in your neck leaving his love bites on you.

You whine as Chris pulled back before latching his lips back onto you. You pushed him back onto the bed and began to lick his erected bubs.

You moved your hand across his chiseled abs and massage his left pec. You traced your tongue down to his abs, leaving behind a trail of slick down to his lower part.

You have gotten to one of the best parts of Chris's body. His crotch area. You removed Chris's pants to reveal a large bulge. You licked your lips as you removed his underwear.

Chris's cock slapped his stomach after you removed it. You held his 8-inch cock in your hand. You could feel the heat radiant from it and thick heavy meat.

You gave your lips one final lick before stuffing your mouth with his meaty cock. Chris lost his breath and threw his head back as you took him whole.

Chris liked your wet and warm mouth. He felt like he was going to cum right then and there but he held himself back. You lick his sides and swirling your tongue around his fat tip.

You could taste his delicious and creamy pre-cum. You could feel his cock pulse and twitch meaning that he was close.

"Now, Chris, don't cum now or that will ruin the fun! We haven't even gotten to the best part!" You exclaimed pulling away from his cock. Chris just chuckled, "Sorry, your mouth was just too good."

You smiled at Chris before laying down with your ass pointing towards him. Chris immediately got the gesture and approached you.

Chris wet three fingers with his saliva and traced them around your tight muscle ring. You whimpered as you felt one go in. The first finger was to find your sweet spot.

After moving it around for about a minute you felt shocked run through your veins. "That's where it is," Chris muttered to himself. Then you felt a second finger go in.

Chris was stretching you out properly cause he doesn't want to hurt you. Your small moans were muffled by the pillow you were holding tightly.

Chris noticed, "Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?" Chris asked. "N-no... I'm fine. Please... continue." Chris nodded his head before pulling his fingers out.

Chris then placed his cock on one of your cheeks. "Tell me if it hurts. Okay? I don't want to hurt you." You nodded your head in response. This was it, you finally losing your virginity.

You could feel the tip move past the ring as it pushed deeper then it stopped. "Is it you hurting?" You shake your head no. "N-no... it doesn't hurt. C-continue."

Chris nodded his head before pushing deeper into you. His cock was now fully into you, it was touching your sweet spot. Your cock was twitching at the pleasure even though he didn't start thrusting.

He let you adjust yourself to his large size. He's going to wait until your truly prepared. After about 5 minutes you felt ready.

"You... c-can start to move now." You said whimpering and whining a little. Chris nodded and began to thrust. He started off by giving small thrusts but he already was kissing your sweet spot making you moan.

Chris gave more small thrust, waiting for him to go faster. "P-please go faster..." You begged Chris wanting to feel him more. "Are you sure, I don't-"

"Stop it. I can take it... probably" You muttered the last part. Chris sighed and did what you want. His thrusts then began to go faster. His cock repeatedly began to hit your sweet spot.

Your plump ass was tightening around him as he pushed deeper into your warm love hole. "F-feels... so... g-good." You now know what it's like to have sex after your friends talked about how they had sex.

Your cock began to twitch wanting to release a hard load. You could feel Chris's cock pulse and twitch inside. "I'm... c-close." "Me too," Chris responded, throwing his head back as you tighten around him.

"Let's cum together." You nodded your head. Chris began to go faster, hitting your sweet spot over and over. And you began to tighten around him as his thrusts began to go faster.

The room was getting foggier. Sounds of skin slapping, moaning, and groaning were heard too. You and Chris reached the end.

"I'M CUMMING!" You both yelled at the same time. Your cock busted all over the sheets while you could feel Chris's hot cum fill you up. Painting your wet walls with his paint.

Chris pulled out to see some of his cum pouring out and your twitching and doing a grabbing motion. You never felt so empty before.

You two sat there regaining your breath. Chris laid down and soon you followed. You got up from your position and cuddled into Chris's strong arms.

You laid your head onto his pecs while his arm moved to enclose. It was comfortable laying on him. "I love you, Chris." You said kissing him forehead.

"I love you too, M/n. I'm glad you're not mad at me." Chris replied, planting a kiss on your forehead before falling asleep.

You both laid there snuggling into each other's hold.

THE END

============================

ANNOUNCEMENT 1: Request is now opened and I will be changing the capacity of requests. 3 requests to 8 requests.

ANNOUNCEMENT 2: I would like to say, thank you! Thank you to all of you. I reached 200 followers, I thought I would never reach this. I guess this could be a 200 follower special?

A/n: Again thank you all. Bye my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓 see you next time

[moxfirefly]

Okay okay okay I have something. You are so good at writing tmnt so here it goes. What about... Make up sex? ;) I imagine how there has been a huge fight with their girl. So much so that the turtles thought it would lead to breakup. But the SO returns and it ultimately leads to some angsty action. Of course you can imagine it however you want too! Make up your own reasons if need be!!

As somebody who breathes angst this is truly fun. You didn’t specify a turt lad so I hope you don’t mind me choosing and going from there. Just cause I’m intrigued ima go with my orange boi.

TW: Angst/Feels/Arguments

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

His hands hurt so much. When you ball your fists for too long the tendons tend to protest, the digging of nails into palms stings.

Mikey doesn’t like how loud his head feels right now. He sits against the wall closest to his tv, your scent is surrounding him and it only serves to make him more frustrated and gutted. The two of you have never gone past discussion into full blow arguing. He doesn’t like to fight with you, he does enough fighting on a nightly bases anyways.

But you got stubborn and he got selfish. Voices got raised, things were said and each one got hurt. He knows he can’t keep you glued to his shell forever, he’s had to learn the hard way, that there’s a life above that you inhabit and people around he’ll never truly meet. He knows every detail about your home life, knows your mother’s maiden name, how your aunt likes to get drunk at the family reunions and spill gossip. He knows your childhood home’s street name, the first guy you kissed, the first girl you kissed. Every aspect of your life you have told him in confidence, in laughter, in tears.

But Mikey is never gonna be part of it. He can’t really meet your dad and have that ‘if you break her heart I’ll break your legs’ talk. He won’t bond with your mom over their mutual love of cooking and secretly become her confidant. Knowing all these people but never truly knowing them is something he accepts.

It’s you leaving for three months back home. Three months away from him, three months where you’ll be surrounded by nostalgia you miss and love. Where your family will ask about ‘any boyfriends?’ and you’ll have to fake laugh your way through it. Three months of you being amongst people you constantly miss.

Surrounded by normalcy.

And Mikey wanted to be happy for you, he wanted to say fuck it and face time you every morning and night, watch you be happy to be in your hometown and maybe even get a virtual tour of it...

But that little dark part in his brain calls him a freak and reminds him constantly that you’ll get tired of surrounding yourself in craziness, monsters, end of the world scenarios etc. It just can’t seem to allow him to be happy for you. So the entire thing had ended in a fight, where dumb regretful things had been spat and you had marched off pissed and he had remained here equally pissed.

His brothers think he doesn’t get mad, they think he holds himself together through sheer ignorant bliss but it’s never been the case. Cause you’ve seen fire in his pretty blue eyes, you’ve seen those same very pretty blue eyes turn red with tear, you’ve seen so much of what he hides behind his laughter.

And fuck, three months of you away?!

Mikey pushes his knees up against his chest and sighs. His phone hasn’t made a noise despite his efforts to try and call you after he has calmed down. He debated going to your house and apologizing or at least going for a more calmer approach in expressing why this had left him so triggered. He wants to make sure this hasn’t pushed you both to your end, another nagging little thought that hasn’t quite shut its mouth.

Had this been the end? Had you walked out in a fury of frustration and decided this is it? Would you seize all communication and just erase the memories of him and your time together?

He’s hurting himself, he’s also getting angrier. This is stupid, he’s been stupid and immature and so are you for walking off!

It’s two hours before he decides to get up and toss his phone and try to consume his surrounding in order to relax. Mind over matter and all it’s wonderful bullshit. He doesn’t want to leave his room cause he knows the others must’ve heard.

He’s four hours deep into a shooting game when Raph pokes his head in with some food. He doesn’t look up, cause he knows Raph wants to be a good big brother and talk to him but he doesn’t want to when he’s one unfortunate mishandling away from crying. He lets him sit with him, watch him play and run a little bit of commentary that actually makes him smile just a teeny bit.

Even when Raph gets up and runs a large mitt over his head and tells him ‘broads are just emotional, she’ll come around’ he tries his best to not let his eyes betray him. Even when Raph gives the top of his head a kiss and pats his shell, he tries his best to keep it together.

It’s around 4am when he decides to look for his phone, chucked somewhere near his bed and maybe not broken. He finds it under his bed, screen a little cracked and one text message reading ‘r u awake?’ By you, it was sent twenty minutes ago and somewhere between debating calling or texting he hears the curtain in his room move.

You’re there.

Face two parts unreadable and a good topping of frustrated. Your face is bare, a mixture of sleepwear and winter clothing that clearly shows you had tried to sleep it off but couldn’t. “I just saw this... sorry” Mikey wonders if that sorry is related to the unread text or more so this mess. You look away, the energy around you can be felt. That upset way you bite the inside of your lip, how you cross your arms and run through every possible way of starting your side of things to say.

“Why are you really mad about me going back home?” You can’t meet his gaze and Mikey is thankful because he feels an oncoming headache. “I dunno man...” He sets his phone on his makeshift night table and runs his hands through his face, mask being taken off with the motion.

“That’s not an answer, you’re mad about something and I want to know” This time you do look and Mikey’s playing with the shoe string on one of the sneakers that hangs from the bunk bed. He chooses to stay quiet because if he does say something, what are the chances that you’ll understand?

“Mike, talk to me” He huffs a bitter laugh, ‘Mike’ is the he’s in trouble name. But he feels more obstinate than ever because why talk?

He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down at his feet. “I didn’t come back in the freezing cold to actually work through this if you aren’t going to throw me a bone at least-” Your tone is a mix of exasperation and sadness. “You go back and you forget about me” Mikey cuts through.

You furrow your brows at his statement. “What?” You take a few steps but he side steps you and that somehow cuts you. “You go back home and you realize it’s better to be in a normal environment that isn’t New York, in the sewers, with me-“ He motions to all of him. “And all the crazy shit we do” He glares, not necessarily at you but more so at all of this, the current state of affairs.

Running a frustrated hand through your hair you try to settle your thoughts. “You can’t jump to a conclusion like that and you know it, I’m not skulking off back home and ghosting you! And frankly it fucking hurts you think of me like that” You reach for him because Mikey can’t be still for five seconds if his life depended on it, but he grabs your hands and refuses to let you lull him with your touch. “It’s not a conclusion it’s a friggin possibility! Do you see us actually being endgame in all this shit!” He grips your wrists, you want to get through to him but he’s lost in that terrible negative mindset.

“We both aren’t mind readers! But trust me that leaving you is nowhere on my list of achievements” You manage out of his grip and grasp his face. “You are being unfair and stubborn as fuck but I love you okay?” Your voice sounds almost angry, angry at the very idea of living in a world where you and him don’t coexist together.

“I can’t even marry you! I can’t even knock you up!” Another bitter laugh escapes him, he knows your parents would die for some grandkids. Why is he so different, why does he have to be so fucking different he wonders bitterly.

“I don’t care, I don’t fucking care about a piece of paper or screaming babies, I care about you and I want you and I’m fucking happy with you stop sabotaging it” You press your hands to his hard plastron and scowl. “Stop lying to me then! Don’t pity lie at me when I know you want all that shit” He frowns, eyes watery and not caring if he wakes everybody up in the Lair.

Mikey’s ready for the rant of a life time but then you have to go and kiss him.

Kiss him hard, kiss him with rage bubbling on the skin of your lips. He can taste your words, taste every way you would’ve shut down his words with basic truth and facts. You pull away, forehead still pressed to his and you mutter against his lips. “You’re so fucking insufferable, shut up and listen to me” Your eyes are watery as is, hands at his neck to keep him at eye level.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much” You take a shuttering inhale, fingers skimming up towards his cheeks. Mikey can only watch you, take in every detail he’s been obsessed with for so long. You’re so beautiful to him, even when your angry crying, yelling at him to open his eyes. You’re warm and real in front of him, against his body. You watch his eyes go from that calm before the storm into the aftermath.

He’s so real to you, so lovely and he doesn’t seem to understand it.

There’s a pause. A mere ten second reprieve where only silence and breathing remain. Mikey feels your hands slowly slide down his body, nails scratching his sides. You keep your eyes on him, a hand slides into his shorts, index finger mapping out the slit that encompasses his most intimate part. Mikey shudders, sensitivity racking his body at your touch. He walks you up against a wall, a hand on your neck and another finding it’s way into your own pants.

He teases you, just as you tease him. Knees buckle when he pushes your lips apart and feels your moistening folds. There’s already a bump where your touching him and the way he’s tensing gives way to how he’s trying to hold himself in. “Come on, come on” You weren’t aware just how hard you’ve been breathing till you speak. Mikey’s mouths falls open, eyes closing as he drops down into your warm awaiting hand. You stroke him, teasing the flesh of his head just to make him buck and recapture your lips. His own finger finds its way in you, stretching and making your breath hitch.

The only reason you both pull away is to tear at one another’s clothes, an easy accomplishment when Mikey’s got just his shorts. He isn’t soft with your clothing either, yanking and nearly tearing, his on his knees pulling off your underwear. Your scent hits him and he’s gone, trapped in all that is you. He inhales sharply as he gets back on his feet, arms hooking under your thighs as he picks you up.

You both land on the bed, a huff escaping you and a grunt when Mikey feels you push him so you can straddle him. You don’t quite finesse this, it’s not your usual seductive ways that leave him a mess. It’s rough, there’s still frustration lingering in the air and Mikey’s okay with it because he knows he might go to rough if he runs the show.

So you do.

Sinking down on his hard cock with a long guttural moan. Mikey digs his fingers onto the plush skin of your bottom, just enough to make you sit on his cock and relish it. Eyes closed he just basks, the tightness, the wetness, the warmth. His eyes flutter open when he feels your palms on his plastron, firm and with purpose. His hands know already, they go up and rest on your waist and he swallows a churr when your hips begin to move fast and hard.

That rhythmic slapping of flesh, your rear hitting his lap on each thrust down. Mikey can’t stop churring, eyes on your own or slipping down to your beautiful breasts bouncing. You notice and lean forward, he buries his face between him, arm going around your waist as he lifts his hips to help you cross that line. The sweat of your skin is on the top of his tongue as he sucks a bruise onto your breast, you’re tightening up so much, cussing and begging for him.

You both can’t stop moaning, once you’re cummin and Mikey follows closely behind. He holds you close to him as you ride out the sensations, tightly secured against his strong body, held and loved. You’re a broken record of ‘I love you’s and so is he, filling you up and up.

Collapsed on top of him, chest heaving, you still feel the strength in his arms as he hugs you to him. You bury your face on his neck, body shaking with sobs as he whispers he’s sorry over and over as he kisses your shoulder, neck and head.

You say it too, against his skin.

Where you wish you could stay everyday.

[kouomi]

Home

Summary: Atsumu looks back on your relationship and finds himself longing for the person he called home (Miya Atsumu x f!reader)

Warnings: lil bit of fluff, heavy angst, mentions of death, fighting

Word count: 2,708

A/N: italicized parts are in the past! lil heads up this is not edited!! Someone please hug Tsumu cause I made myself sad writing this

My Masterlist

Posted: March 14th 2021, 8:30 AM EST

“‘Tsumu!” You gasp as your flung onto the couch, a chorus of laughter following your cry. The two of you tumbled around for a few moments before Atsumu pins your hands to your side, a leg on either side of your hips as he grins at his victory.

“Don’t you dare.” You warn, knowing all too well what the mischievous glint in his eye meant. Your warning is too late, however, as his hands move to attack your sides sending you into a flurry of laughter. Tears pricked at your eyes as he mercilessly continued to tickle you, his own laughs of amusement being heard over yours.

“What was that? I don’t think I heard ya.”

“You win! Stop!”

Seemingly satisfied with your call of forfeit Atsumu draws his hands away from your sides, only to fall on top of you making a squeal pass your lips. His arms loop around your waist as you tried to shove

-

Atsumus eyes nervously scanned the large crowd as he stepped out on to the court, the loud cheers and blaring band falling upon deaf ears as all he could hear was his thoughts whizzed by faster than he could focus on one. It was his first game of high school and while he was able to hide it well, below the surface of his facade he was swelling with nerves and worries. What if he messed up his serve? What if he did something to lose the game for the third years? What if something he did this game made the entire team turn on him like they did in middle school?

Before he could fully process what was happening the referee passed him the ball, hundreds of eyes following its course into his hands. Taking a deep breath, Atsumu spun the ball in his hands.

Don’t mess up.

How many steps do I take?

Is this too far?

What if I throw it up wrong?

Don’t. Mess. Up.

“Go Atsumu!”

The sudden call of his name pulls him out of his thoughts, his attention being drawn back towards the crowd. After a few moments of searching his eyes meet yours, a sense of calm washing over him as you smile back at him. She came, he thought to himself, his own smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. With you there, surely everything would be

-

“Y/n, can ya please let me in?”

“Go away!”

Atsumu sighs as he leans his head on the bathroom door, his hand once again trying the handle though the lock prevents it from turning.

It was a stupid fight, one that’d been building up over time that suddenly boiled over causing you both to explode at each other. Both of you had said things you didn’t mean, harsh words being thrown at each other since you arrived home. Your throats had gone raw from trying to speak over each other but you both refused to back down, tunnel vision preventing you from hearing one another out as you pressed to prove you were right.

Looking on what you’d said now having been sitting outside the bathroom for about an hour he understood why you’d been upset and, while he didn’t quite want to admit it, you were in the right.

While he knew this now, it didn’t help what had gotten him in this situation in the first place. At the peak of your screaming match he found himself blinded by anger and words he’d never thought he’d ever say to you passed his lips, rolling off his tongue before he realized what he was saying.

“All I’m saying is I want to spend some more time with you! Is that really too much to ask?” You asked, exasperated.

“Ya knew when we started dating how busy I am!” Atsumu exclaimed, “Why are ya suddenly so mad about it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s because you spend more time with your fan girls than with your actual girlfriend!”

“Really? Yer pulling that? It’s not my fault yer so needy Y/n, I’m not gonna drop my practices just to make ya happy all the time!”

“If you think I’m needy why don’t you go date one of the girls who keep throwing themselves at you?”

“Maybe I should! They’d probably be less annoying than ya!”

“‘Tsumu, wait-“

“What? Finally realizing how easily I could replace ya? Yer the one who suggested it, remember?” He scoffs, ignoring how you’d shrunken, ���Ya should be thankful for the time ya get with me, cause if not there’s other girls who could take yer place. I don’t need ya.”

As soon as he said it he froze, almost not believing that those words had actually come out of his mouth. The look on your face unfortunately proved it to be true, however, as he could see the way it seemed as if all of the fight and anger had been drained out of you leaving you with a hollow expression. You but your lip as you shook your head and shoved your way past him, ignoring all attempts he made at stopping you as you slammed the bathroom door in his face.

“Baby, I’m sorry okay? Can ya unlock the door so we can talk?”

“Leave me alone, Atsumu.”

He felt a pull at his heart at the slight crack in your voice followed by quiet sniffling, guilt threatening to swallow him whole as he realized you were crying because of him.

Unable to put up with you locking yourself away any longer, Atsumu grabbed a bobby-pin from your room and got to work unlocking the door with it, successfully doing so after a few minutes. Almost as soon as the door swung open he’s kneeling on the ground beside where you were curled into a ball, frantically scanning his mind for something to do.

“Y/n...” He says, reaching a hand out to brush your hair away from your face.

He cringes when you flinch, temporarily drawing back before reaching out again this time wrapping his arms around your shuttering frame. Though you temporarily resisted, ultimately you found yourself melting into his embrace as you adjusted to wrap your arms around his torso. Atsumu pulls you into his lap, one of his hands cradling the back of your head as you cried into his shirt while the other ran up and down your back. The two of you sat there until your tears slowed to a stop, Atsumu not daring to move a muscle in fear of scaring you off.

“You really are an asshole, Atsumu.” You mumble, your grip on the fabric of his tshirt tightening.

“I know.” He sighs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. Yer the best girlfriend I could ever ask for, no one else even begins to compare. And yer right, I’m not spending enough time with ya but I’ll try to, okay? I love ya so much.”

“I

-

The two of you lay on the couch in your living room, the only sound being that of the TV you’d turned on for background noise when your boyfriend had appeared at your front door. You’d anticipated his arrival, having watched the game against Karasuno on your phone the day before and such expected the defeated and angry atmosphere that surrounded him.

Atsumu lay on top of you with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, holding himself in place against you. One of your hands rested on the back of his head that rested on your chest as the other ran up and down his back, paying attention to rub in the patterns you knew he liked. He hadn’t said a word since he arrived other than a short “missed ya”, having passed all welcomes in favor of clinging to you, his body melting into yours. After the loss at nationals he had wanted nothing more than to curl up in your arms, the long trip home seeming to go slower as he counted down the seconds until he could finally be here.

“You did really good.” You whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he tensed slightly. “I’m proud of you.”

“It wasn’t good enough.” Atsumu says, voice weak compared to its usual light hearted tone. “I lost the game for everyone.”

“You weren’t the only one playing, ‘Tsum. It isn’t all one person’s fault. But you are one of the reasons you guys were even able to get that far, yeah? Don’t beat yourself up over one play.”

It’s quiet for a moment as he processes your words, as if trying to decide if he’ll believe you or not. He moves his head upwards so he can nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, the feeling of a tear falling onto your skin pulling at your heart as you give him a small squeeze.

“It’s just- it was-“ He stutters, his words shaky and ultimately cut off by a sharp intake of breath as he tries to hold back his tears.

“I know.” You murmur, “But you’re still the best setter there is, y’know? And the best boyfriend, best teammate, best looking; you’re so much more than that one game.”

“...Best looking twin?” He asks quietly.

You laugh, “Yes.”

The sound fills his ears, providing him with a sense of comfort no words or actions had been able to. You always knew the right things to say, to do, to comfort him and make him feel better when he was at his lowest and felt ready to give up. Something about you warded off all of the negatives and filled the air around you with warmth. Something about you felt like home. Something about you made him sure that one day, he was going to m

that’s how things between the two of you went, always being cut off too soon. All of his memories with you, each I love you, each kiss, each quiet afternoon spent cuddling on the couch watching movies, everything was ended before it was supposed to. Even your relationship went that way, being cut off, suddenly forced to a stop before it could even really begin. Each memory was halted right in the middle, part of each story missing making them feel impartial and almost fake with holes in their plots and the endings missing. Everything was so vivid, yet so vividly fading at the same time it terrified him that he was losing what little left he had of you. Details faded away so all he was left was glimpses of a memory that didn’t even feel like his anymore; left looking through a foggy window on to a life he wished he still had.

Every day without you felt bland. No longer did he have your soft voice scratchy with sleep whispering in his ear in the mornings; your fingers lacing with his as you wandered around the shops; your body searching for his warmth during the night. The apartment that had once belonged to the both of you was now void of your glowing presence, the air stiff and too quiet without you. His happy, care-free smile had faded from his face and become less frequent as he found himself wondering what he was supposed to do without the one person he could call home.

“I got invited to play for the Olympics next year.” Atsumu says, not quite as enthusiastic as it should be, “Ya always said I’d get there one day.”

No response comes.

“It really sucks without ya here, Y/n.” He continues, feeling his throat start to constrict, “I miss ya. A lot.

It’s already been a year, can ya believe that? I don’t want to believe it. A whole year with ya gone. It’s just... not right.

Sometimes I forget for a few minutes, and I think yer gonna be there when I open the door just like ya always were. It scares me, cause I can’t remember everything, even yer voice is a little gone without the videos. I could never forget yer smile though, even with all the pictures. I think that’s my favorite thing about ya.

I really took everything for granted. I wish I could go back and just hold ya, one more time. One more kiss. One more time hearing ya say I love you. Just something to hold onto. It’s not right, nothings right without ya here. Ya were the reason I was always so happy, ya made everything seem so much brighter, but now it’s just... bland. It’s like I can’t be happy without ya, I don’t wanna be happy without ya.” He stops to wipe his face of the tears that’d begun to fall, though new ones quickly slip into the tracks of the old.

“I wish you’d just come back. Sometimes I get mad at ya, for leaving me here alone, but ya know I can’t stay made atcha for long. It just hurts, knowing yer not coming back... Yer not coming back.”

He hits his lip, the air in his lungs feeling to heavy as if it’s trying to suffocate him from the inside. Everything falls on him at once, like a thick sheet of snow covering everything in sight and leaving him cold and numb yet burning and screaming at the same time. You’re gone. His Y/n, his beautiful wonderful, amazing Y/n, was gone. Everything hurt, every breath, every small movement of his body as it shook with sobs, every nerve; everything hurt as he longed for something that was so painfully taken away.

“Please Y/n/n... I don’t know what to do without ya.” He cries, eyes squeezing shut, “I miss ya, just please... come back to me.”

Still no response. The only sound being Atsumus cries muffled by the snow he sat buried in.

Atsumu barely notices the hand placed on his shoulder, only acknowledging the other person when they call his name.

“Hey.” Osamu starts, glancing down at his brother with eyes heavy with concern before flickering back up. “Do ya wanna minute?”

He doesn’t respond, another cry being answer enough as he feels his body collapsing in on itself. Risking his legs giving out beneath him, Atsumu stands and throws his arms around his twin, desperately clinging to him as if trying to find an anchor to the world. Osamu didn’t say anything as he held the blonde, feeling his own tears prick at the corners of his eyes at seeing his brother so torn and distraught.

He’d known this was going to happen today, that no amount of words would even begin to fill the void within him and every attempt at comfort would fall upon deaf ears so he didn’t try. Instead, he sat there. For a time unbeknownst to the pair they sat on a bench Osamu was able to coax Atsumu towards, no words daring break the silent agreement they’d made to not speak. They sat there until Atsumus heavy sobs eventually eased to a dull crying and he pulled away, eyes meeting his brothers for a moment as if to thank him before he let his head fall back on to the bench to face the sky.

“Come on.” Osamu said quietly, standing and waiting for the other to follow. He does after a moments pause, eyes lingering on the grave he’d sat beside and tracing over your name before he lets out a heavy, shaky sigh and started walking away, ignoring his mind that screamed at him to stay.

“Let’s get ya home.”

Atsumu obliged but he knew that part of him lay within you, that where ever you went, no matter how far was where his home was; that, without you, away from you, he’d never truly be home again. So he left, leaving with you the pieces of himself he’d given away and the memories that failed to fully reanimate with hopes that maybe, if he couldn’t be with you now at least you could find your way back to him, waiting for you to fall into his arms and bring him wherever you had settled; the place he so desperately longed for: home.

[seouliie]

bikini bottoms (m)

having a job as a lifeguard on the beach has you doing many things you’ve never done before. stopping fights between a 5 year old and a seagull, spending hours trying to dig a jeep out of a 4 foot hole some doofus had dug, and lastly, giving jung hoseok a blowjob.

(gif from weheartit)

GENRE: e2l, smut, lifeguard!au

WORDS: 2753

MEMBER: jung hoseok

WARNINGS: really only a blowjob, implied smut, possible part two, hoseok is a fuckboy, mention of sexual harassment, there’s banter in this and hoseok slaps yn’s ass, but it’s all playful!!

The wooden chair of the lifeguard tower creaks as you sit down, as if releasing a heavy sigh after a long night of no usage, now to be sat on at the fresh time of 10 am- the start of your work day. From above, the people now rolling in to the beach start appearing, encouraged by the sunny sky and beautiful weather to get on their swimsuits and hop in the clear water.

This was an everyday thing for you- and you loved it. The fresh air seemingly always in the atmosphere, tinted by the salty smell of the sea, the sun, the sand- everything. It was the perfect way to start your day, and the perfect day to end it. Your mornings could never go wrong at the beach.

From the corner of your eye, you can see the outline of a rather familiar figure making his way towards the lifeguard tower, a frown naturally forming onto to your lips.

Well, except for one thing.

Meet Jung Hoseok, the heartthrob of the beach. Not gonna lie, the only reason you haven't filed a complaint for him to get fired was because almost half of the people who come to the beach are teenagers who want a piece of him. Not just him- his dick. If he did evidently get fired, then less people would actually come, meaning less money for you. Yes, you have thought this through before. And you prefer money.

"______!"

You sigh, not wanting to interact with this sex machine at least until you've had your third cup of coffee. Lazily, you respond: "Yes, Hoseok?"

He smiles when you make eye contact with him, his gaze pure and playful. "You left your shoes at the shed! I wanted to bring them to you!" A hand covers his eyes from the rays of the sun, and he lifts his other hand to reveal your pair of dark blue flip-flops hanging off his middle finger.

"I know, Hoseok," you reply. "I leave them on purpose. I don't like the feeling of shoes on a beach." You rake a hand through your hair, your strands getting blown into your eyes from the slight wind.

"Well, I brought them, so you might as well wear it." He smirks as he waves the shoes around mockingly. From afar, the sound of a baseline is audible, hinting that the car of the boy-crazy girls have arrived.

You scoff. "Just throw them up or something. Don't you know how? Weren't you captain of your basketball team?"

Hoseok laughs, a sound that- for some reason- causes your stomach to flurry. "First of all, I was not captain and I barely played since the coach despised me. Secondly, I will not throw these up, and you will come down to get them."

High-pitched laughter rings through your ears, causing your mood to already turn negative. You roll your eyes. "Don't you have some girls to fuck? I can practically hear them calling your name already in their squeaky ass voices like some fourth graders."

At this, the raven haired boy pouts, slight wind brushing his bangs into his eyes. "Come on, I'm trying to be nice, princess."

You bit your lip. The sun was pretty hot today, the wood burning up below your feet. Maybe you should put some comfort between your skin the the fiery hot chair. "Alright fine." You stand up and turn around, going down the ladder one foot at a time.

Little did you know, Hoseok was not focused at all on giving your shoes back. After he saw you climbing down the little wooden stubs, his eyes were trained on your ass, naturally pushed out each step. Once stepping onto the grainy smooth sand, you swiftly grab your shoes from his hand, pulling him out of his trance.

You bend down to slide the soft material onto your feet and shake your head. "God, making me do all this extra work for nothing-"

A hard smack to your ass cuts you off mid-sentence. Jung fucking Hoseok. Almost breaking your neck from looking up so fast, you notice that the human incarnated form of aggravation is not in front of you like he was a second ago. He's halfway up the ladder.

"Hoseok!" You cry, shocked by how he slapped your ass and how he climbed the goddamn thing so fast. "The hell are you doing?"

"Getting away from those girls." He says as he reaches for another slab of woob. "Jesus, you fuck them once, and they get all attached."

The group of girls have already set up their towel on the pale sand, one of them already oiling themselves up. He fucked them all? Like.. at once or all tog- You huff a breath of air. You are not going to be thinking about that right now.

"Not all at once, of course," He calls out, which makes you wonder if you were thinking out loud. "Although it definitely wasn't individual." Hoseok talks with a sly tone, raising a brow at you.

Looking back at the girls, you see them talking amongst themselves. However, they are all turning their heads, looking for one thing- the thing that's sitting at the top of the lifeguard tower.

Realization hits you like a truck. "Jung Hoseok, you are not leaving me with those maniacs."

He snorts, raking a hand through his hair. "Yes you are! I got you your shoes, do me this favor."

You could not believe the audacity of this man. He practically forced you to take the shoes, and now as a 'favor' you had to deal with those hoes who you only wish would get a grip of self worth so they stop chasing after that man? What a great way to start your day.

"Oh my fucking God." Anger is flowing through your veins, taking over your thoughts and actions, and you no longer can feel your sanity. "This is not a fucking favor, this is you manipulating me for you sake, so fuck you slutty bitch!"

The sand is wet and warm as you roll it into a ball, turning around and chucking it at Hoseok’s head. You barely miss his slim face and hit his neck, but still doing damage by getting stuck to his skin. "That's for slapping my ass, asshole."

You miss the way he eyes your leaving figure up and down after wiping the sand off his neck. Oh, he just loved messing with you.

-----

Swimsuits are tight. They curve around one's body perfectly, almost painfully, used for swimming or other water activities. They're actually pretty comfortable, if you do say so yourself, and you take pride in knowing the way your body looks in the bright red one piece of the lifeguard apparel.

But wet swimsuits are a whole 'nother story. Wet swimsuits are the devil themselves. They're sticky and distressing and tight, feeling like hell in spandex form suffocating your body and not letting you get the blood you need. Not to mention they take almost an hour to take off.

"God, can't I just take it off?" You whisper to no one in particular. The pad of your thumb scrolls through Instagram, images of other people's picture-perfect lives on view to the world. Feeling itchy, you continuously adjust your swimsuit, trying to find some relief for the discomfort you currently felt.

Sounds from the door break the much appreciated silent atmosphere you were miraculously blessed with, of course broken by the one and only  Jung Hoseok. "Help me," he quickly says, slamming the door of the hut shut. There's still some sand stuck on his bare upper chest from where you've hit him.

You scoff and look back down to your screen. "Help yourself, Jung. You've clearly been doing that the whole day, anyways." You squeeze your eyes shut as memories from earlier in the day came rushing at you.

The girls approached you right after you walked away from throwing the sand at Hoseok, ignoring the way he screamed your name repetitively. Not only did they waste your time by asking you where Hoseok was, but once you wouldn't let them go up the lifeguard tower, it got into a heated argument and one girl had the audacity to throw you into the fucking water.

She was strong, not gonna lie, but over what? A simple fuck? From the man who probably has a little tic-tac anyways? Oh, how you went off on them.

"They, uh-" Hoseok's voice slightly cracks, and he's talking in a slight panicked way, fast and mumbled. "They sort of attacked me- harassed me."

You look up. "They harassed you? You mean like... harassed harassed or harassed harassed?" He just blinks and shyly points to his trunks.

"Harassed harassed." Your eyes trail down, and the little bulge in Hoseok's pants momentarily shocks you.

"Holy shit, Hoseok."

Eyes wide, he nods. "I know. They fucking went after me once I got down the tower, so I ran here as fast as I could." When his breathing begins to slow, Hoseok moves to stand next to the big wooden table in the center of the room. "God, crazy bitches."

"And you got turned on from that?"

Not from them, he thinks to himself. But he wasn't about to let you know that he was already having his senses heightened after he saw your wet figure in the water.

"Well not exactly. It's kind of, just, you know," he sighs in defeat and shakes his bangs.

"And you want me to help... how?"

Hoseok stares at you, saying nothing. And you realize it.

"No, Hoseok, no way." You click your phone off and set it on the armrest of the wooden chair. "I'm not gonna sleep with you."

He lets out a frustrated groan. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me, just help me deal with this!" His hair comes out slightly ruffled after he rakes his hand through it. "I can't walk around with a fucking tent in my shorts around everybody. There's children!"

It takes all your self control and dignity to not look down at his crotch once again, for the outline is becoming more and more visible as the seconds roll on. And you've got to admit, he doesn't look as small as you thought. "Why should I do that? You've basically ruined my whole day by tricking me into getting down from the tower so I had to deal with those psychos. Not to mention, you slapped my ass and one of them threw me in the goddamn water!"

"Okay, well," Hoseok tries to counter argue. "You... threw sand at me." He knew he wasn't convincing anyone with that. "Please ________ just help me. I swear I'll make it up to you."

You think. You actually think about it. Blame it on the fact that the Jung Hoseok is practically begging you for it. An amused idea runs through your mind as you think of all the things you could make Hoseok do for you, all the embarrassment that would come with it, all the revenge you would finally get. Without saying anything, you make eye contact with his desperate form and stand up, walking towards him. His eyes widen.

"Woah, you're actually gonna-"

"Stop talking." You turn the both of you around and push him onto the chair, kneeling down in front of him. Hoseok is so stunned he doesn't even realize he bumped your phone off the armrest and onto the sandy floor. His breath gets stuck in his throat at the sight of you on your knees, ready to take him in your mouth. You run both of your hands up his thighs before slowly outlining his cock lightly with your fingertips.

"Jesus Christ," he breaks underneath your touch. He couldn't believe he was gonna get sucked off by you, the girl who's hated him since they first met. It was unbelievably hot. He sucks in a harsh breath when you squeeze his clothed dick. "Please don't fucking tease me, ______"

His length hardens in your hand when you begin to sensually rub your palm against it. You would be lying if you said that you weren't even the slightest bit turned on. "Patience, Hoseok," you grin. "God, you're so desperate for me, huh?"

A whimper. Jung Hoseok fucking whimpers.

Dominant, cocky Hoseok, just whimpered. For you. And it went straight to your core.

Rubbing your thighs together, you opt for some relief from the tingling you felt. Hoping to distract yourself, you toy with the waistband of his swim trunks for a few seconds before finally pulling them down his thighs.

It was much different than you would've ever imagined. In the past whenever you thought about his dick, which was rarely ever, you obviously knew he was packing some size considering the amount of times he slept around. However, seeing it in person has outdid all of your previous expectations. His dripping cock had length to it, but the thickness was shocking. It was unbelievably thick.

"Fuck," you whisper. You wrap your hand around the base of his cock, your fingertips barely able to touch each other. You give it a light squeeze before slowly sliding up.

Hoseok is watching your every move, his hands forming fists by his side to keep him from thrusting himself into your grip. "_____- shit." He leans his head back, clenching his jaw as you spread his precum around his length, making sure to coat every spot with his juice. The sight of his throat bobbing up and down makes your eyes flutter. God, why is he so hot right now.

"Your so naughty, Hoseok." You lightly trail your tongue up his cock, keeping your eyes on him the whole way up. Wrapping your lips around the head, Hoseok whimpers once again when you begin to suck on the swollen tip. He can't hold back anymore and snakes his hand into your hair, pulling at the roots while letting out deep groans.

When you take all of him in one go, he slowly pushes down on your head so that his tip meets the back of your throat. The sound of you quietly gagging sends him into overdrive, his body shaking from the pleasure. You grasp at his thighs, clawing your nails into his skin. "______, please please please, fuck."

Remembering a tip your friend once gave you, you hollow your cheeks and suck, continuously bobbing your head up and down. Obviously, your friend knows what she's doing, basing off of the way Hoseok lets out a loud vocal moan and thrusts wildly into your mouth. You've never seen him like this- so unhinged and in a way almost pathetically desperate. It was turning you on beyond belief.

He's close and it's obvious, sweat dripping down the side of neck, letting out a string of curses and swears as he gets closer to his high.

"Fuck, _____ don't stop, p-please don't stop." His voice sends a rush of warmth to your core, and his other hand releases the grip on the armrest to join the other in pulling your hair. Both of his hands are grabbing at your head, and you move even faster, giving his throbbing cock a couple swirls with your tongue until finally he's squeezing his eyes shut and releasing his seed into your mouth. The warmth in your throat seems to never end, akin to the strings of moans Hoseok lets out. After swallowing, you release his cock with a pop and wipe his cum off of your chin with the back of your hand.

Hoseok tilts his head back and keeps his hands in your hair, wanting to pause for a while for him to catch his breath. "Goddamn, ______." He lets out a breathless laugh.

You smile breathlessly and rub your hands up to his abs, tracing the outline lightly with your fingertips. His eyes darken again as they watch your lips swollen red and with his cum dripping down the sides. He forces himself to loosen his grip on your hair and slowly pulls his hands back.

You grab it before he can fully retreat. He looks at you, confused. A soft laugh escapes your lips.

"You still owe me a favor, shit head.”

[gaemkyuu]

Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy

Warnings: none! A/N: This is my valentine’s day entry for @cherrymaybank ! Back to back posts about Charlie, Riley and little Emerson! We do talk about the potential to having another one in the family, but I’m not sure if we like the trio as it is... do you guys want to see Dad!Charlie with a new born and an 8 year old daughter? Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy

Riley emptied the contents of her stomach into the toilet, Charlie rushing into their ensuite to help hold her hair back. He soothed her back and got her a glass of water from the sink. They had gone to the clinic yesterday to confirm whether or not she was pregnant, since she had been nauseous and throwing up a lot lately. The drug store pregnancy tests were negative, but then again the same thing happened when Riley was pregnant with Emerson. She was normally irregular and active, but grew up with the doctors always saying she would have fertility problems. Emerson came to her as a shock.

“Mommy?” they heard their little girl call out from the hallway, and Charlie got up to intervene before she saw her mother.

“Hey Princess, bad dream?” Charlie scooped Emerson up from the hallway, feeling her heaviness set in. Emerson was 7 and soon to be 8, but Charlie wouldn’t pass the opportunity to pick her up. He didn’t want her growing up too fast, although mentally that ship had sailed.

“No, I had a weird one” she hugged his back and laid her head on his shoulder. “Can we have a midnight snack Daddy?” that’s when Charlie noticed the clock in the hallway read 1:13AM. He contemplated it for a moment, thinking about how Riley wouldn’t approve, but she wasn’t there to stop him and she would appreciate him distracting Emerson.

“Sure, you get the cookies and milk. I’ll be down to help with plates and stuff.” he set her down and kissed her on the head. Emerson looked up inquisitively at him and then back at their open bedroom door. Charlie noticed, and turned her around, gently pushing her towards the kitchen. “Mommy’s fine, just a tiny upset stomach. I’m gonna go make sure she’s good, so don’t eat all the cookies without me” 

This made the little girl giggle as she made her way to the kitchen. Charlie went back to check on Riley, who had her back to the wall adjacent to the toilet. She looked better, less pale, but still exhausted. “You want me to help you up?”

“No, I think I’ve got another round coming in a moment or two. Emerson okay?” Charlie nodded, taking the glass from her hand and refilling it. “Let me guess. Another round of Gillespie’s Midnight Munchies?”

“What can I say? She’s super persuasive” He passed her the glass and she scoffed before taking another drink. “She’s got me wrapped around her fingers”

“Well then don’t let me stop you! You’re princess awaits!” She made a flamboyant gesture of hands referencing her daughter, grateful for her acceptance of Charlie in her life. Riley had to admit that it was helpful to have Charlie around! 

Since the wedding, Riley had made the decision to homeschool Emerson. It meant that she could play with kids in the neighbourhood, but do schoolwork at her pace. Riley was able to work a lot more from home and with Charlie’s acting hours, it meant that he could be home a lot more too. She was often in charge of setting up Emerson’s curriculum, but it helped to have Charlie around. She knew Emerson was learning because she would hear her daughter teaching Charlie the concepts that she went through that day when he would get her ready for bed. Emerson often expressed that she liked doing this more than what they had been doing before. Occasionally, she would go to a daycare program when both of them were busy, but Charlie often brought her to set when he could.

Riley smiles fondly the first time Charlie brought her to set on a project he was working on. She snapped a picture as they walked through the door, Emerson wearing a pretty dress, Charlie in his comfy clothes and a pink backpack that was way too small hung over his shoulder. They walked hand in hand to the car and waved goodbye to her. The time that the two spent together did include a lot of shenanigans and sometimes being outnumbered or out voted, but Charlie never let it get out of hand.

***

Emerson’s lip quivered as her mother shook her head no. She wanted ice cream, but Riley had refused because of the cotton candy she ate earlier. Emerson didn’t take a nap and woke up early, and more sugar would mean a bigger problem later that day. Not wanting to take no for an answer, Emerson asked Charlie, who also agreed that she should forego the ice cream. 

That was the straw that broke Emerson’s back.

Riley had never seen Emerson tantrum so bad before, especially since her toddler was known to be very mature. She was used to her daughter clamming up and refusing to talk to her until she was ready, but that day was a completely different experience. Here she was screaming and crying, insisting she deserved ice cream.

Charlie sensed Riley’s flusteredness and tried to calm Emerson down. When she screamed and cried louder, she flailed her arms about, hitting Riley and Charlie. That’s when his usual sparkle and mischief that was normally present in his eyes disappeared.

“Emerson Gianna Gillespie. That’s enough.” Emerson was in shock at the tone of his voice. He didn’t yell, but he wasn’t quiet either. She could see that his eyes meant business, and he had never used her real name. She sunk to the ground in a last attempt at defiance. “Please stand up, or we are going home.” Emerson refused to stand. Charlie motioned for Riley to pack up their stuff quickly, as he picked up Emerson and brought her to the car. He didn’t say a single word, even as Emerson started to cry softly on their way to the car. She had started to realize the errors of her actions and felt awful.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bad girl” she sniffed as Charlie buckled her into her booster seat. “Can we still get McDonalds?” she wiped away a few more tears as Riley got into the passenger side. Before she could reply, Charlie quickly answered the little girl.

“We are going home. We will talk about this when we get home” and with that he shut the door, and they drove home in silence. Emerson walked over to her time out corner in the house, a place where she rarely sat, but knew it was meant for her to reflect upon her actions. Emerson didn’t know that Charlie felt awful about being stone cold to her and was upstairs whisper venting to Riley, who patiently sat and listened. 

They made up over dinner that night and this was the first time that Emerson saw Charlie acting like a Daddy and not like a Charlie.

***

“Take all the time you need. I got Emmy” he kissed her head and went to join his little one at the kitchen island. As directed, the jar of cookies was on the counter, along with the jug of milk. She sat on the stood and swung her legs back and forth singing a song, waiting patiently for him. “Ready for some late night snicky snacks?”

“Mommy okay?” the little girl sat there waiting patiently but worrying about her mom. Charlie grabbed two dessert plates and two glasses for the milk and cookies. Charlie nodded and dished them up some cookies and poured the milk into the glasses, humming to himself. They clinked their glasses together and enjoyed their food in silence, only the sounds of the cookies crunching.

“Are you going to tell me about the weird dream you had?” he asked, a few crumbs spilling from his mouth. He wiped the corner of Emerson’s mouth with his thumb and took a sip of his milk.

“I had a dream that I had a baby brother” Charlie spat out his milk and choked, coughing at her comment. Emerson patted the man on the back, something she often saw adults do to other adults when they choked and something her parents did for her. “Isn’t that why mommy has an upset stomach?”

“Who told you that?” Charlie wiped his mouth and the counter of his mess, moving to dispose of the paper towel in the kitchen garbage. Emerson quietly munched on her cookie and took a drink of milk. “It was Uncle Owen wasn’t it?” she nodded, knowing that speaking with a full mouth was rude. Charlie made a mental note to chastise Owen later. Emerson was smart and perceptive but she was still a kid and who knows what the giant told her in his panic. Charlie gave her another cookie.

“Is this meant to keep me quiet? Uncle Owen did that last time. He said adults like to bribe children with things so they behave and don’t expose them. Didn’t anyone tell Uncle Owen that he’s not supposed to keep secrets or lie?” The little girl greatly accepted the cookie from Charlie and took a big bite, sipping on some more milk to help wash it down.

“No, it’s not a bribe. I’m giving you another cookie because you’re so tiny! I have to fatten you up if I’m going to bake you into a pie!” he joked as he tickled the girl. She laughed and dropped her cookie as Charlie attacked her sides and blew raspberries into her neck.

Even though Riley was 5”2 and her mother was short, Emerson seemed a little too much on the tiny side. She was still the height of your average six year old but she was thin and weighed very little despite the amount of food she ate. Her pediatricians worried that she wasn’t growing as healthily as the other children, but found no problems or illnesses within her. She was simply a late bloomer. It didn’t help that she was twice as smart as kids her age either, but Charlie made sure she knew that was something to be proud of. Both parents always told her that real friends would like her despite her differences and that being like the other kids is boring. 

“Seems like you two are doing fine without me!” the two froze in their act as they realized that Riley had walked into the kitchen. She smiled and grabbed the cookie off Charlie’s plate, sipping on his milk.

“Yup. Definitely pregnant. I guess I am getting a younger brother” Riley’s eyes were as wide as saucers and Charlie rolled his. She looked to Charlie for answers.

“Owen?”

“Owen.”

“Daddy? I think I’m ready to go back to bed” Emerson rubbed her eyes and hopped off the chair. Her mother smiled and gave her little girl a big hug, she couldn’t believe that Emerson would soon be 8.

“You and mommy go upstairs. I’ll clean up down here” Charlie gave both of his girls a kiss on the head before they retreated to Emerson’s bedroom. He began to pick up the plates and wipe the counter down, not bothering to wash the plates. He was supposed to be cooking breakfast for everyone in the morning, so he thought to wash their dishes then, but seeing as they were up so late, breakfast might be brunch. Just as he was putting away the milk and cookie jar, he heard soft footsteps rush into the kitchen. When he closed the door, he saw no one except a little red present box on the counter.

To Daddy

From Emmy

He smiled and carried the tiny box over to the bedroom. Riley was just tucking Emerson in, when he popped his head into the bedroom and shook the box. Emerson blushed and hid under the covers and Riley turned around seeing the box that Charlie shook.

“Is that where you went? I thought you were going pee!” her mother prodded, poking her daughter who was trying to hide. “Why are you hiding Emmy? There’s no need to be shy about it!”

“Did you know about this?” Riley shook her head no and peeled the blanket off her daughter. She hid her face in her hands, blushing a deep pink. “Emmy, come on, I wanna share this moment with you!” Charlie sat down at the foot of the bed and Riley sat beside her. Emerson lowered her hands from her face.

“Uncle Owen helped me with this when he babysat me last week” she smiled, avoiding eye contact. Charlie opened the box and instantly felt his heart grow big. Seeing his reaction, Riley peered into the box and understood the man’s reaction.

In the tiny red box lay a plastic guitar pick which had a picture from their wedding printed on it. It was a photo of the three of them, a stolen shot, between professional takes that encaptured their family’s dynamic. They were all smiling and laughing. It was Charlie’s favorite picture and it was his phone background. At the top of the pic was a tiny hole that connected it to a chain that he could wear around his neck.

“I haven’t been to daycare in a while, so I missed the Valentine’s day crafts. I’m going to a tea party with Aunty Savannah and mommy for Valentine’s day, but I didn’t have anything for you” Charlie opened his arms and beckoned for the little girl to crawl into his lap and hug him back. He rested his chin on her head and sniffed back the tears that had formed. “Did you read the back?” he pulled away and flipped the pick around.

Happy Valentine’s Day Daddy!

“Gosh Emmy, you are just so smart” he pulled the little girl in for another hug, a tear escaping his eye and he kissed her head again. “You didn’t have to do this Princess!”

“It’s my first Valentine’s day with a Daddy. Every year, the girls at the daycare got to have a Valentine’s day date with their Dads and would make them stuff at craft time. This is the first year I get to do it, so I wanted it to be special” she smiled up at him, happy that he liked the gift.

“I love it Emmy. I’ll never take it off” he placed it around his neck and fiddled with it again. Charlie really meant that he never wanted to take it off. Everything precious to him was represented on that pick. He made a mental note to thank Owen and probably not chastise him as bad as he wanted to before.

“Does that mean I get to spend Valentine’s day with the both of you?” Charlie and Riley shared a confused look, wondering where the question came from. Sensing their confusion, Emerson clarified her question. “Uncle Owen said that on Valentine’s day, you guys were going to play hide the zucchini, so he’d probably babysit me again. I thought it sounded like fun”

Cancel that. Charlie was definitely going to kill Owen.

[ijustwant2write]

Confidence-Bucky Barnes x Powers!Reader

(GIF credit to @sunoficarus​)

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello there angel! I've been reading your cute imagines lately and they really warmed my heart and got me out of depression cloud! so i tried to be brave and request something bcs i'm usually shy ><~ can i request a Bucky Barnes x Reader oneshot, the reader is kinda a chubby avenger and she has feelings for him but she gets sad bcs she thinks he'll never fall for someone like her bcs sh's not like the other pretty female avengers annnddd.. yeah! XD~♡’

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name     

Replication=Being able to make a copy of yourself, biological cloning, or the splitting of the body into multiples

Warnings: Insecurity, negative talk about weight/image, sad/crying reader, fluff

                                          *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Opening the fridge, I took out a water bottle, instantly opening it before taking a big swig. We had come back from a mission early afternoon, the team had been away for just over a week, so it was good to be back. Even though I had showered, eaten and unpacked, I still had an immense thirst in me.

"Hey, I'm making toast, you want some?" Natasha asked as she walked in.

"No, I've eaten thank you." I replied, sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar.

As she began making her food, she continued talking."You OK after the last week?"

"Yeah, just tired. The longest mission I've done is four days, it's amazing what a few more days can do to you."

"You were great out there, a real natural. Your powers are much more controlled than they used to be."

"Thanks, it's all down to the training I guess."

"And your confidence."

"Really?"

Nat placed three pieces of bread into the toaster, turning around to face me once the lever was pushed down."Yes! It wasn't like you were extremely shy when you first came, but there's a difference in you."

If only I was this confident around someone else.

“You gonna head up early tonight?” Nat asked.

“Definitely. The last time I used my powers like that was when you guys first brought me in. And that was when I didn’t have as much control over them. I think it’s a good idea, we all need the rest.”

“So am I. Actually, Dr Cho wanted to see you. She said something really medical and science-y to explain why but I made no sense to me. Something about your cells splitting...or recreating?"

"Oh, she did mention that before we left. Think she's trying to help me connect more with my replicas, so that I can confuse whoever we're attacking even more. Thanks for telling me."

She nodded, turning around once the toast popped up. I said goodbye, scrolling on my phone as I made my way to Dr Cho's lab. My power to basically clone multiple versions of myself seemed useless at first, until I figured out how to control them and thought about tactics they were useful in. It was very strategic, everything had to be carefully planned. But now that I was getting used to it, everything seemed like second nature. And I had the team to thank for that. 

"Hey (Y/N), thanks for coming by." Helen greeted as I walked into her lab, holding her tablet as she usually did. 

"Hi. So, am I being wired up to a machine today?" 

She smiled."No, nothing like that. Tony and I have been working together on something that will ensure you can keep track of all your replicas."

Helen turned her back to me, grabbing a tray with what looked like four silver bracelets. She gestured for me to stand by her as she placed the tray on the table in front of us. 

"These are your new accessories." she started, picking up a pair."You'll wear them when on missions, and these will be able to connect you to any replicas you create. It's just to help you keep a better track. And any time they are hurt in anyway, the energy from the hit will drive into your bracelet." 

"Like T'Challa's armour?" 

Helen nodded."But instead of propelling back that energy, it'll just mean your replica can hold the energy and use it as a shield. Say someone was stood behind it and the enemy attacked the replica, the real person behind them would be safe." 

"That's amazing!" 

She held out her hand, wanting me to give her my wrist. I complied, letting her put the bracelets on me. They glowed blue before returning to the silver colour, feeling weightless on me. 

"They're able to become translucent depending on what uniform you're wearing. That way they won't be able to differentiate you from your replicas."

"Wow, thank you." 

"Don't thank me just yet. We still need to trial them. I definitely need Tony for this, just to make sure he's happy with them." 

"I think he's gone to rest right now." 

With a cheeky grin, she said,"Don't worry, he won't mind, this is important." 

Helen left me by myself, and I felt slightly awkward around all of the expensive and confusing technology that surrounded me. A thought flashed in my mind to try out the bracelets, but I decided against it, not wanting to risk anything going wrong. Slipping them off and placing them back on the table, I caught myself in the reflection of the windows. My hands subconsciously moved to my stomach, brushing against it before grabbing the skin; they traced upwards to my forearms, repeating my actions despite my brain screaming that I shouldn't. It grossed me out every time, why would I want to touch those parts of me? 

Turning to look at myself side on, I sighed at how stomach looked, almost wincing as my gaze travelled down to my thighs. All that training, the healthy meals I ate, where were the results? Why didn't I look like Natasha or Wanda? I battled with my conscious everyday over this. The tiniest part of it begged me to not look at myself that way, not to throw my hard work away or belittle myself over such a thing; but that was an extremely rare thing to happen, and that voice was hard to hear. The voice that spoke much too often had something completely different to say. It would force me to look at myself whenever I passed anything reflective, to make sure I looked decent, although I never did. It wanted to point out my flaws, it wanted to make me aware and punish me for looking like this,despite all the hard work I put into training. And training had never been about losing weight, it was purely strengthening, learning how to fight/defend myself as well as keep up with my stamina. 

Taking a deep breath in, I faced myself properly, squeezing my hands in and out of fists as I replicated myself, scanning my eyes over every single version of me. There were seven of me altogether, three replicas on either side of me, and I wondered why I even thought about doing this to myself. I made each replica turn more than the other, meaning I was looking at myself at every angle, and I hated all of them. It wasn't fair. Why was my power to make copies of myself when I didn't even like the one, true version of me? 

"(Y/N)?" someone startled me, my replicas instantly disappearing. 

Whipping around as my concentration broke, my face broke out into a blush as I saw Bucky standing in the doorway. It just had to be him, why couldn't it have been anyone else? 

"Y-yes?" I stuttered, immediately breaking eye contact. 

"Sorry, I needed to speak to Dr Cho." 

"Sh-she, uh, she just left, a-actually." 

"OK, I'll come by later." I glanced up, seeing him move to leave before turning back to me."You sure you're alright?" 

I nodded."Mhm."

He slowly nodded, but mostly to himself."Good job this week by the way, you were great." 

I hated how hot I was feeling after the compliment, even when he was gone I felt embarrassed by myself. Did he see me looking at myself like that? He must have thought I was an absolute weirdo for doing such a thing! 

Helen reappeared, a yawning Tony following in behind her."Right, this shouldn't take too long-" 

"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this right now." I blurted out."I’m really tired and I want to make sure that the results are accurate." 

They were taken back by my snappy tone, slowly nodding as I refrained from bolting out of the room. Brushing past them, my hands instantly wrapped around my torso, making a beeline towards the elevator. My breaths were sort and sharp as I hit the button, fingers poking into my sides as I crossed them again. Why wasn’t I toned? Why was I able to grab so much skin? Once I was out of the elevator, I picked up the pace towards my room, resisting slamming the door to not gain any more attention. Grabbing the throw at the end of my bed, I threw it over the mirror, making sure I could not see any part of myself before I collapsed onto my bed, covering myself with the bed sheets.

Silent sobs ran through me as I gripped onto the sheets that were bunched up around me. I hated my mind, I hated how I looked, I hated how I could never be at peace with how I looked. Sleep would come to me late tonight, but only once I exhausted myself from crying. And I hoped that I would not dream tonight. 

Waking up, I felt how dry my moth and lips were, and also where the tears had stained my cheeks, as well as my pillow. My neck was aching from the position I had fallen asleep in, it felt worse as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. Rubbing my eyes, I coughed to clear my throat, definitely needing water after I felt how hoarse it was. Although it would have been so much easier to stay holed up in my room all day, avoid questions from everyone (even making small talk could reveal how I was really feeling), staying here would cause more fuss than needed.

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)." Vision greeted as I walked the halls.

"Morning." I mustered up the best smile.

"I hope I am not coming across as rude or interfering, but are you alright?"

I nodded, hiding my panic."Yeah, just a little tired from the mission. And I think overwhelmed, it's been my longest one yet."

"That is understandable. Though I am sure the experience will serve you well in future missions, especially with your stamina."

"Yep, hopefully."

Vision hadn't done anything wrong, he was being a good friend. But my mind wondered whether anything had been said about me. Did I look bad? Did I look exhausted? Why did he mention stamina? He could have just left that part out. I engaged with more small talk as we made our way down to the kitchen (Vision liked to be part of an everyday routine), though part of me wished that I was alone again.

"Ah, morning Mr Barnes." Vision said as we walked in, and I instantly cringed.

"Morning." Bucky mumbled, sending a small smile our way, but I quickly looked elsewhere. He was finishing a bowl of cereal as he sat at the kitchen island.

"Miss (Y/L/N), could I tempt you with a fully cooked breakfast? Something that is full of nutrition but still quite enjoyable? I believe it would help with your recovery." Vision offered.

"Oh, that's very kind Vis." I quietly said."But I'll just stick to coffee for now."

"You sure? I wouldn't pass up that opportunity." Bucky added.

I could only muster,"Mhm." before focusing on the coffee machine in front of me.

"Well, the offer stands if you wish for it." Vision said, and I could tell I had upset him.

He said his goodbyes to us as he left, leaving me alone with Bucky. Keeping my back to him, I played with the end of my sleeves, coming up with normal answers that I could say if Bucky started asking questions. I knew that even with backup answers, I wouldn't be able to speak properly to him, my mind would go blank.

"You should have something to eat really. At least an apple or something." Bucky said.

"I'll have one once I've woken up more. Don't feel like eating just yet, think I'm overtired."

"Just make sure you're looking after yourself."

I poured out the coffee into a mug, prepared to leave when I caught Bucky looking at me. My demeanour became smaller, shy, more withdrawn.

"What were you doing the other day? In the lab?"

"I...was testing out a new gadget Tony and Dr Cho created for me."

"(Y/N), I don't want to make assumptions-"

"Then believe what I say. Why would I be lying?"

He looked shocked."I didn't say anything like that."

My eyes cast down, panic setting into my mind, I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Forgetting about my coffee, I gave myself no other choice than to run away from any confrontation. I thought that would be the end of it, it usually was, but I heard footsteps behind me, heavy ones, belonging to Bucky. At first, I kept going, hoping he was just going to call out to me before giving up, but again, I was wrong. 

“(Y/N), please!” Bucky pleaded.

Not knowing where to go made me falter, it was only for a split second, that was enough time for Bucky to open a door and drag me inside. Breaking away from him, I sighed when I realised we were in an old conference room; it was empty now, no furniture or screens, it was currently being upgraded and renovated. However, that also meant no one would have any intention of walking in, meaning we were very likely to not be interrupted. 

“Bucky, I don’t want to talk about this.” I rushed out.

“So there is something wrong!” he exclaimed, but kept his tone calm.

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“You’re my friend, my teammate (Y/N), I care about you.”

“Fine! You want to know what’s wrong? I’m surrounded by images of strong, fit people, who I work just as hard as, yet I never look like them! I train and train and train, but for some cruel reason, my body never changes. Sure, I’ve slimmed down slightly since I arrived here, but it’s not enough for me. I’ve been called a superhero, I fight alongside all of you with your slim physiques, huge muscles and beautiful faces; so when I see a picture, or news footage of us fighting, I look like the odd one out, the huge odd one out. I don’t look right standing beside any of you, even an agent from S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. His mouth was slightly open, eyes squinted and eyebrows furrowed as he continued staring at me. I scoffed, facing away from him.

“Now you’re seeing it. Or at least your thoughts about me are confirmed. I understand. I know you guys are my friends, you don’t care what I look like. But you must look at me in the line up and think I look out of place.”

“(Y/N), I could never look at you, or think of you in that way.”

“You don’t have to pity me-”

“I’m not. (Y/N), you don’t realise how beautiful you are.”

I glanced over my shoulder, shocked by his sentence.“Don’t do this to make me feel better, because it doesn’t work.”

He took a step closer to me.“How long have you been holding this in for?”

“I’m a woman who’s been bigger than everyone else around me my entire life, and I also have powers which made me a freak before people realised I could save them. So, basically my whole life.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why would anyone in my position want to speak up about this? You didn’t say anything when your nightmares came back.”

I saw that throw him off.

“I’m sorry Bucky, I didn’t mean to...to mention it, or-”

“No, you’re right. I know what it feels like to keep something to yourself. You don’t want to burden anyone around you, especially the ones you love. You think it’s not that important, that you can handle it by yourself, or you can ignore it until it goes away. But that’s not the right way to handle things. I can see that, looking back on everything.”

“But your nightmares were worth talking about. They scarred you, reminded you of that awful past. I’m a stupid girl crying over weight that can easily be shifted if I just work harder.”

“You would work yourself to death if you did that. (Y/N), I see you everyday training hard, making sure your powers are being improved everyday, going over tactics you can use by yourself or with the team. Everyday you ensure you are at your best because you want to help people out there that can’t defend themselves. If people judge you on how you look instead of your actions, they’re not even worth thinking about.”

Letting my arms drop to my sides, I faced Bucky, gathering enough courage to look him in the eyes.“Thanks Bucky.”

“(Y/N) I mean it. I’m not saying this to just be nice. You matter to me.”

“I know-”

“No, you don’t. I...I really like you (Y/N). And I know you may not see me in the same way, but you’re such a caring, powerful and hard working person. We come back from a mission, and you could be carried out on a stretcher but you still keep positive and make sure everyone else is safe before yourself. I’m telling you this because...well it just feels right. I’m also not making this up because you need validation from a man to make you feel better about yourself. You should be able to look at yourself in the mirror and love what you see, no matter what you look like.”

My chin was trembling as my lips pursed, trying to hold back my tears. Shaky breath escaped my nostrils, and as Bucky kept looking at me with those nurturing, safe eyes, I broke. No one had ever said something like that to me. I could tell he meant it. He wouldn’t be putting all this effort into this if he just wanted to be a good friend.

“Do...do you really mean it?” my voice wobbled.

He smiled.“Yes.”

Bucky wrapped his arms around me tenderly, pulling me into his chest. Surprisingly, my instincts made me quickly copy, gripping onto his t-shirt as I started sobbing. My mind was confused. One minute I was absolutely hating myself, then I had covered up my sadness, panicking because someone was about to see me break, and here I was, letting it all out in front of him. But I didn’t feel embarrassed like I thought I would. It felt amazing to feel that dragging weight on my shoulders suddenly lift away, the comfort of someone else was welcoming. 

“Th-thank you Bucky.” I sniffed.“I’ve always thought that I need to keep this sort of thing to myself. I’ve been terrified to even be sad, even though I know it’s OK to be sad, but for some reason, my mind would never let me. It’s been building up inside of me, I’ve never been able to express myself properly.”

“We’re here for you, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here to listen...and you tell you how beautiful you are every time I see you.”

I giggled as I pulled away, wiping my cheeks.“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I want to.”

“Thank you Bucky, I really appreciate your help.”

He kissed my forehead.“I’ll always be here.”

[gojifan97]

Dads For Deku-Family Bonding

“Alright Izuku, are you ready to come out?” said Gentle, knocking on Izuku’s door. La Brava was standing a little behind Gentle, staring expectedly at the door.

“Y-yeah! I’m ready!”

“Excellent, then show us what the newest member of our show will look like!” said Gentle, dramatically flourishing his arms. After all a showman must always be practicing, he never knew when the camera would turn on.

“Behold…” Izuku said. The door slammed open and Izuku leapt out, “KILLER RABBIT!” He landed on the floor and struck what seemed intended to be an intimidating pose. Seemed to being the operative term.

This wasn’t helped by his costume. It looked like a giant bunny costume. It consisted of a black jumpsuit, with elbow and knee pads, a dark green waistcoat with gray geometric highlights (how did he even get that?), a utility belt partially hidden by the coat, white gardener’s gloves, his red sneakers (throwing off the color scheme), a dark mouthpiece with a fanged grin painted on the front, and a cowl that covered his head topped by massive bunny ears. All in all, he looked ridiculous.

Gentle struggled to hold in his laughter. Beside him, he saw La Brava doing the same. He began to frantically fake-cough to get it out of his system.

“Gentle are you alright?” Izuku asked running up to him. The failed attempt at being intimidating now replaced with his regular sweet and harmless demeanor.

“Yes, yes. Just had something in my throat,” Gentle said. An idea began to form.

“Oh good. You were just coughing so hard, and it sounded so weird…”

“Hey, Izuku,” said La Brava, shuffling awkwardly, “About your name…”

“Huh? Is it bad?” Izuku said, his eyes looking like a sad puppy under his mask. La Brava stumbled slightly, so Gentle took this opportunity to jump in.

“Not at all! However I think you should drop the “Killer” part from your name. It creates a negative image for our viewers!” he said. La Brava sent him a confused look.

“Oh ok, that makes sense,” said Izuku. “Then I shall be Rabbit! And while they may have once underestimated me, seen me as something weak and helpless, the evils of this world will soon learn I am a threat to all those who harm the innocents!”

“Oh, so that’s why you went with that motif. That makes sense,” La Brava said. But when Izuku looked away she still eyed his costume skeptically.

“Now, I believe we have other things to do now. The sun is down, it is time.”

“Wait now? Tonight?! I thought I was just trying on my costume today!”

“Not to worry Izuku, you said you’ve been training in that on your own right?” said Gentle.

“…Yeah…”

“You have me and La Brava to handle the lion’s share of the work and protect you if needed right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you need to start eventually right?”

“Yeah! Ok. I’m ready to have my first outing tonight!”

“That’s the spirit!” said Gentle, who began walking to grab his disguise.

“Come on! La Brava said to Izuku as she went for her own. “You’ll do great!”

The three ran across the rooftops. Whenever they came to the edge of one, Gentle would take the lead and use his quirk to make the edge of the roof a trampoline for them. They stopped on the edge of a roof overlooking a street in a more run-down neighborhood. Gentle looked and listened for any sign of wrongdoing. He heard the sound of crying. He looked and saw a little girl sobbing in front of a tree, her cat near the top loudly meowing, stuck.

“Follow me!” He said, leaping down. After a few light bounces he and La Brava were securely on the ground. Izuku stood on the edge, staring down.

“Come on Izuku! You can do it!” said Gentle.

“We made it! Gentle made the ground soft!” said La Brava.

Izuku snapped to look at them as if he’d forgotten about them.

“Trust me,” Gentle said, “You’ll be fi-“

Izuku raised his hand in a “wait” gesture, then began scrambling down the building, using any handholds available and even dropping himself once or twice, using the parkour skills he’d shown Gentle so happily last week. Gentle felt proud. Until Izuku slipped and fell onto an awning. He rolled down and Gentle softened the ground just before Izuku landed into a roll. That did not terrify Gentle at all. Only slightly concern him.

“S-sorry, I guess I have to work on that a little more…” Izuku said. “I wanted to try getting down myself so if you’re ever not there I’ll be able to do it on my own…”

Gentle smiled, “Excellent forward thinking. And don’t be afraid to try again. As long as I’m here I’ll be ready to help catch you.”

“I am too! Even if I’m not strong. I will even use my quirk to help you if needed.” La Brava said. Love of surrogate little brothers was still love after all.

Izuku began tearing up, “Thank-OH MY GOSH THE CIVILIAN!” He leapt to his feet and began racing to the little girl with the cat in the tree. La Brava got out the camera.

Gentle tried to introduce himself, but he didn’t even make it past “I AM” before Izuku was kneeling next to the girl.

“Hi there, I’m Rabbit. Do you need some help?” said Izuku.

The girl stopped crying, turned to Izuku, and pointed, “My kitty Cupcake is in that tree and can’t get down. Are you a hero? Can you help him down? Be careful, he scratches.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get him right down!” said Izuku. He quickly climbed the tree until he made it to the wailing cat. He carefully lifted the cat into his shoulders and climbed down. “There you go!” he said, “The cat wasn’t any trouble after all.”

“Oh good! I guess he was too scared by being up in the tree!” said the girl. Izuku smiled, until her words seemed to sink in. The rest of them picked up on it too, just as the cat began growling.

After Izuku escaped that ferocious little cretin, the girl gave him a hug, calling him her hero, thanked the rest of them. She picked up her pet monster and walked inside. The three of them ran off to their next adventure.

“I didn’t get any footage of you Gentle, but I got plenty of Izuku. It makes for a great debut!”

“Excellent work La Brava!”

“I’ve got a question though,” she glanced at Izuku, who was running ahead and upwind of them, then she continued in a tone too low for him to hear, “Why’d you let him keep that ridiculous name and costume anyway? It doesn’t even match our theme!”

“Well La Brava, that’s because I realized Izuku has a different appeal. His attempts at intimidation are so horrendous to regular people that they will endear them to him. That, his soft demeanor, and how obviously bad he is at looking “cool” will make them all love him causing our videos to, what were your words, ‘go viral for sheer dorky adorable?’”

“I guess. He will have cuteness appeal with a lot of viewers, especially younger ones” she said, “but why not tell him?”

Gentle smirked. “Because he’d never believe me. So, I’ll let his unexpected popularity be a pleasant surprise.”

They soon came across a group of muggers harassing a trio of teenagers.

“Greetings! I am the GENTLE VIGILANTE, here to make my vigilante debut!” said Gentle.

“I am his faithful butler and partner in ending your ungentlemanly behavior, La Brava!”

“And I am here to protect the innocent, underestimate me at your own risk, for I am Rabbit!”

The last one caused the criminals to break into a fit of laughter. It lasted until Rabbit punched one in the face.

After a brief fight the muggers were all subdued. Izuku seemed to be gleeful about defeating two of them quirkless, Gentle was happy to have tried out Izuku’s suggestion of carrying and rubberfying a rapier (quite good for slapping those hooligans), while La Brava struggled working the camera.

“It won’t turn on!” she said, pushing the button for the fifth time.

“That leader guy said that his quirk disables all communication and recording devices that get too close and keeps them that way for twelve hours,” said one of the teens.

“W-what?” she said, looking like she’d just been told Christmas was cancelled.  

“Yeah, sorry. My phone got the same. Hope I don’t lose anything already on there.”

“But that means…” she groaned, “never mind. You guys ok?”

“Yeah! Did they hurt you? Or take anything? You know, before we showed up?” said Izuku.

“Aside from some incredibly crass comments? No.” said one of the teenagers.

“Ungentlemanly filth,” said Gentle, “No matter. You all run along, find help, and call the police. Tell them where to find these ruffians. In the meantime my associates and I will be off.” He, La Brava, and Izuku bounced away.

“That was, a fine experience. Worthy of some fine tea,” said Gentle.

“Yeah, even though we won’t have any footage aside from maybe Izuku helping the girl. Still, it was nice to do all that,” La Brava said.

“I got to be a hero. I got to save people,” Izuku said, taking off his hood and mouthpiece, “I know I’ve said it before but, thank you for taking me in Gentle. You’ve given me so much I never thought I could have.” His eyes glistened with tears.

“You’ve repaid it in full with all you’ve given us Rabbit, from your smarts and strategies, to your moral compass that lead us to becoming the vigilantes we are today. It is an honor to have you with us,” said Gentle.

“He’s right you know. You’ve helped us as much as we’ve helped you,” said La Brava.

They shared a group hug. They eventually broke off and La Brava said “With the camera shot, what are we gonna-“

They heard another scream. Izuku was already running toward it. As they neared the alley they heard it from, La Brava said to Gentle, “About your plan. With Izuku?”

“Yes?”

Izuku got into the alley just ahead of them and shouted, “Stop dirtbags! I am the terror that hops in the night! RABBIT!”

She smirked, “It’s totally gonna work.”

[angrylizardjacket]

and i’ll miss you

a run to paradise au | [ p l a y l i s t ]

Summary: Lola’s dad, Leo, lives. A series of conversations between Lola, Leo, and Irene, her mother, throughout her life.

A/N: 15,449 words. @misscharlottelee @local-troubled-writer for putting up with me all through writing this. this is making me so fucking emotional you don’t even know. lola’s parents aren’t shitty i promise!! i will say that lola is manipulative but it’s never for negative or selfish (mostly) reasons, but still thought i should warn you.

----

Lola’s sixteenth birthday present from her parents is tickets to see KISS perform live when they were set to come to town in a few months, seeing as how they were currently her whole family’s favourite band. Well, okay, they were her dad’s and her’s, and her mom liked their music well enough but was never fanatical. However, Irene would hum along and tap her foot as she did the diner’s banking for the night once it had closed, as Lola and Leo blasted their music from the jukebox as they were cleaning up for the night.

“A friend of mine got me the tickets,” Leo was telling Lola, “you know Bill, he’s the guy who always eats his fries with no sauce,” he prompts, and Lola makes a noise of recognition.

“He hasn’t been in for a while,” Lola pointed out; he’d been a regular for as long as she could remember, he was a good friend to her father, and once snuck them onto set for a TV show he was working on at the time, though Lola didn’t recognise the show, her dad was overjoyed.

“’Cos he’s been managing KISS!” Leo’s practically bursting with excitement, acting like a big kid, up to his elbows in dishes with his daughter beside him, drying them. Lola, upon hearing this news, almost screams.

“Sweethearts, please don’t let the neighbours think we’re being murdered,” Irene called out from the counter, though there was the faintest smile in her words, and both Lola and Leo called back an apology.

----

For each day that the concert grows closer, Lola grows more anxious. Her friends, while she enjoys their company and their tastes in music, are far more fond of ABBA, and don’t get why Lola’s so excited about punks in face paint. Lola’s cut out a picture of KISS and sticks in the front of her binder, and one friend wrinkles her nose at it, calls them gross.

Lola likes ABBA. Lola likes all sorts of music, Leo had made sure of that, but it was disheartening that her friends weren’t so open minded. Which is why she can’t ask any of them what to wear to the concert; they don’t go to rock concerts. Her dad’s ‘you’ll look kick ass in anything, Lola’  is well-meaning but unhelpful; he has to say that, he’s her dad! Surprisingly, it’s her mom who saves the day.

“You’re fretting, Keola,” her mother says softly. They’re in the diner, side by side at the counter during a lull; the hiss of Leo cooking from the kitchen, and the hum of music from the jukebox fill the air, but Lola’s twisted the straw in her hands that no matter how she untwists it, it’s mostly unusable, not that she’s noticed, looking at the wall where her parents have put their music memorabilia.

“I’m not fretting,” Lola huffs a little. The concert is in two days and she still doesn’t know what to wear, “mom am I a dork?” And it’s more nervous than Lola had wanted it to sound, even if it had been playing on her mind for almost a week.

Irene’s lips twist into something faintly amused at the phrasing, but her eyes are kind and gentle.

“Sweetheart, you are mine and your father’s child,” she says, “we are both very big dorks.” Lola gives her a look as if to say ‘that’s really not what I wanted to hear right now’, but Irene continues, “but I would also say we’re the coolest people I know; me, your dad, and you, of course.” At least at this, Lola’s expression softens, turning honest and a little forlorn.

“All the outfits I try for Saturday make me look like a dork,” she says quietly, “and my friends think KISS is gross.” She doesn’t intend for it to sound petulant, or whiny, though it comes across like that a little, but thankfully her mother can hear how genuinely sad this all makes her.

“Do you want to borrow something from me?” Irene asks, and Lola gives her a somewhat sceptical look that she’d been expecting; her daughter’s only ever known her as her mom, and as an accountant. Even now, she’s in a smart, black button-down and black slacks, knowing full-well that the dress code at Leo’s is quite casual. “I wasn’t always a grown up, you know,” Irene gives a faint grin, and Lola gives her the benefit of the doubt.

----

“Dad, stop- come on dude, be cool,” Lola insisted as she stepped out of her room on Saturday evening, wearing a band t-shirt of his that he’d leant her, her favourite black jeans with the rip in the knee, Doc Martins that had been a present for her last birthday, and the leather jacket from the back of her mom’s closet.

Leo was tearing up. Irene says his name very softly, her hand on his shoulder, but her expression is understanding. He’s really trying to keep it together, but his expression keeps scrunching up like he can’t quite help himself.

“Is that your jacket?” Leo’s voice is strained, looking to Irene.

“The one I wore to every concert we’ve ever gone to together,” Irene tells him, and Leo wraps her up in a hug, hiding his face from his daughter as to not appear as emotionally overwhelmed as he clearly was.

“I can’t believe we raised the coolest kid in the world,” Leo finally spoke, clearly crying with pride. Irene laughed softly from amid his embrace, and as much as Lola could act embarrassed, she herself was trying to act like she wasn’t getting emotional, “it’s her first concert and she’s already cooler than me.” Leo crowed.

“Dad,” Lola said, trying to sound embarrassed, like she thinks any other teenager would probably be, and not grateful, the way she actually feels, “you’re gonna have to redo your eyeliner.” But she can’t help herself, and joins her parents, if only to hide how emotional the moment was, in the way they wrap her up in a group hug.

And before they leave, Irene sets firm ground rules, to make sure neither of them goes too haywire; above all, Lola is never to leave Leo’s sight, she’s strict about this.

“And Lola,” Irene adds, taking a deep breath, “but if you end up meeting the band, if Bill wants to you and dad to say hi after, I know this seems silly, but please promise me something,” Lola frowns a little at her mother’s intensity, but nods as a prompt, “don’t touch them. Don’t let them touch you. Don’t shake their hands. Don’t leave your father’s side at all. Please,” and she looks to her husband, expression imploring, “Leo please, I know you think I’m overreacting, but please.”

“I promise,” Leo says, as serious as Lola’s ever heard her father, and Irene gives a grateful smile, and wishes them a wonderful night.

----

Lola doesn’t have to ask her father if he can see alright, even as she’s sitting on his shoulders; he towers over most of the crowd, and from this vantage point, Lola feels like the most powerful person in the world... Right before the opening act finishes, and KISS walks on stage.

They know all these songs too well, have been listening to them intently for months, and Lola and Leo belt the lyrics back like their lives depend on it. They mosh together when she climbs off his shoulders.

“Don’t you wanna push through to the stage?” He yells over the music; he’s ready to steamroll through the crowd if Lola asked, but she’s shaking her head, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’d rather hang out back here than for people to start throwing stuff at you because you’re blocking their view,” she points out, before adding, “don’t be weird, dad, I’m doing this for the greater good.” Leo raises his hands in mock surrender, grinning from ear to ear with pride. He doesn’t say that she’s considerate, he doesn’t argue that even if she were at the front of the crowd, he could still stand back and still have her in his sights, he just enjoys the moment, enjoys the fact that his daughter still likes his company.

“You’re a good kid, Keola,” he tells her seriously, as the song is winding down. Lola makes a face at that, but then grins and shouts;

“And whose fault is that?!” With amusement and love in her voice.

She’d had her angry, bitter moments, had cursed him and her mom and the diner and the work she had to do when her friends were out being hooligans, but he was grateful for moments like this, for moments when he knew that deep down, she loved him, and loved her family.

As the night comes to an end with three encore songs, and as everyone’s filing out in a messy stream, a pair of surly-looking security guards cut easily through the crowd to Lola and Leo, telling them that they need to come with them. Lola, terrified that they were going to get reprimanded for how she’d been sitting on her dad’s shoulders and probably blocking people’s view for a third of the show, is glued to her father’s side as he’s trying to make conversation with the now-silent security detail.

But then there’s Bill, former diner regular, current KISS manager, beaming from ear to ear, welcoming them backstage with open arms, wishing Lola a happy birthday, giving a joking apology that the tour was two months too late for her. Lola laughs with relief, and steps apart from her dad as she follows Bill through the theater’s winding corridors to the green room, but Leo’s still got a hand on her shoulder; she’s glad for the contact, not wanting to get lost.

“You sure we’re allowed to be back here,” there’s something strange in her dad’s tone, like he’s trying to imply something that goes over Lola’s head. Bill gives him a knowing, but reassuring look, as he tells Leo that it’s fine, and that the band will be on their best behaviour while they’re there. His gaze flicks to Lola for a moment; she’s confused, what, are they drunk or something? Even at sixteen, and as much of a wild child as her father was - and still kind of is - she’s naive.

Well, okay, the band are already drunk, but at least that seems to be the worst of it.

They’re still in their makeup, though it’s a little smeared, a little sweated-through, but they’re bright and friendly and forthcoming, and seem so grateful when Leo and Lola both babble their praises. Bill introduces them as old friends, as ‘Leo and his daughter, Lola’ with a strange emphasis on daughter that Lola doesn’t catch, but then the band, who’d been watching the two of them, watching Lola talk about how cool it was, how much she loves them, they look at Leo as if seeing him for the first time. He’s bigger even than the security guards, with his hand on Lola’s shoulder, standing close to her; the band are watching him like startled rabbits all of a sudden, and when Lola looks to her father, she sees him levelling a look of warning at the band. The moment he sees Lola looking, however, he grins down at her, and addresses the band.

“Listen, we’re absolutely stoked to get to meet you guys, you fuckin’ kick ass -”

“Kicked. Fucking. Ass!” Lola agrees as punctuation, and the tension in the room eases considerably as they all give a fond chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“You want a beer, man?” Ace Freehly asks, and Leo hesitates, looks to Bill, who nods, and then to Lola, who’s finally looking around the dressing room with wide-eyes.

“Just one,” Leo concedes, and Lola nervously asks if she can look around. She gets permission, and Leo sits on the arm of the sofa that Bill had taken up, asking the band what kind of music they listened to in their spare time.

Lola’s naive, but she’s not an idiot; she’s heard bands sing about how they loved girls who were seventeen, she’s heard gossip about celebrities with young girlfriends, hell, she’s at an age where her friends are talking about ‘fooling around’ and it actually means something. And she’d seen how the some of the band members had looked at her, the way she’d dressed up to fit in, maybe looking a little older than she was - she can hear her mother’s warning in her head, and knows why her father was acting protective. For all that the kids her age might think she’s being too safe, being too childish, her parents have never lead her astray; if they’re working this hard to keep her from the band, there was a good reason, and she’d trust them on that.

They leave in much better spirits than they’d arrived, the tension having defrosted between Leo and the band, but even so, as they’re saying they’re goodbyes, and shaking hands, someone offers Lola his hand, but she hears her mother’s voice and moves on instinct, taking a step back, a step closer to her father, though she’s beaming and waving and thanking them for getting the opportunity to meet them, and see them play, and Leo’s hand wordlessly comes to rest on her shoulder, even as he’s using the other to still shake hands. It’s an unspoken connection between them. An understanding for which Leo is so incredibly grateful.

She’s a good kid.

----

“I hear you’re gonna start helping mom with the finances,” Leo says, tone light as he approaches Lola, squirrelled away in the corner booth that’s unofficially hers, as she pores over her homework.

“All I said was that I was thinking of taking a few of the business subjects as electives,” she says, not looking up, sounding distracted, “and music.” She added, as if to put her father’s heart at ease.

“Business subjects?” Leo asks, sliding into the seat across from her. Lola’s holding her highlighter in her mouth, looking up from what looks like English notes. She nods. Leo is quiet, and folds his hands on the table and gives a look that he hopes is intrigued, or curious, or some sort of non-judgemental prompt for her to explain why.

“Mom’s like a calculator of a person; if you could win at doing taxes, you know mom would win taxes,” she says, sitting back and pulling the highlighter from her mouth to fidget with, “and the only reason you don’t have a Michelin Star is because the inspectors are classist, bitch-ass jagweeds who wouldn’t even make the detour that you’re worth -”

“Lola,” Leo admonished her phrasing with a slight frown, and her scowl deepens as she looks to her father.

“Mom said it first.”

“Your mom did not call the Michelin Star inspectors classist, bitch-ass jagweeds,” he countered with, and Lola huffed, knowing it was the truth.

“She called them classist,” she corrects herself, sinking further into the chair and into her terrible posture, “and the other stuff she said too, just not the bitch-ass jagweed stuff,” she concedes, before sighing, and almost out of view from how badly she’s slouching down in her seat across the table, “but I’m just... here, and sometimes I think about seeing if I could talk to Bill about being a musician because I’m kind of okay at piano and singing and that stuff, and I love music and I think it’d be cool to have a job in the music industry, but every time I think about getting a note wrong while someone’s watching me I feel really sick, and now every time I even think about playing in front of people I start feeling really sick, so I’m trying not to think about being a musician, but I keep having these little ideas for the diner and I think about how one-day I’ll be helping run it, and I don’t wanna do what you guys are doing here, so maybe doing not-finance-business-stuff could be my thing.” She’s laying side-ways on the seat of the booth by the end of her rant, hands beneath head, staring at the gum someone’s put there. When she’d finished her homework, she’ll grab the scraper. Oh god, what other teenager thinks like that? Mom was right, she is a dork... Okay, maybe she should have realised sooner, like when she developed a strong opinion on the Michelin Star inspectors.

“Two things,” Leo says, after a beat of silence; he’s still sitting perfectly still, and his voice is kind, “one; if you want to have a job in music, you don’t have to be on stage, you don’t have to have people looking at you if you don’t want,” and as he speaks, Lola slowly raises herself to a sitting position, “and two; what ideas do you have for the diner, kid? I’ve always said we need a designated ideas man, I think you’d be perfect for it.”

In the end, still helps Irene with the finances, though her mom somehow manages to make it interesting, and Lola will always fondly look back on the night she and her mother had taken a break from working on the coming month’s roster to drink milkshakes.

“You’re his favourite person in the world, Keola, he’d steal the moon if you asked,” Irene spoke fondly of her husband, “and of course you’re my favourite too, sweetheart, but I draw the line at using our entire life savings and mortgaging the diner to buy enough tomatoes to fill the diner -”

“But theoretically,” Lola was trying to hold back her laughter, “if we did, we’d have enough money that we could buy enough tomatoes to fill the diner.”

“You’re greatly underestimating the amount of tomatoes we’d need,” her mother chuckled.

“What if I got a great deal on tomatoes, since we’re buying them in bulk?”

“We’re not -”

“Theoretically!” Lola had crowed, which had dissolved into laughter, while her mother played up her annoyance with a sigh, though she was grinning from ear to ear. As the laughter dies out, and Lola finishes her milkshake, she looks over the draft of the roster, and hums. Irene, intrigued, hums in return, hums a question.

“You should put Parker on the weekend; give him the Friday and Saturday nights, and the Sunday lunch,” Lola muses.

“I thought you said he was annoying? Do you want him cooking out the back?” Irene leans forward, following her daughter’s gaze and frowning at the messy schedule.

“Fuck no -”

“Language.”

“He ignores dad’s ‘no idle talking in the kitchen during the rush’ rule, and when he’s serving when it’s not a rush he won’t shut up about WWE, but, he’s cheerful as hell and works well under pressure, which,” Lola takes the eraser from the table and scrubs off a name, before taking the pen from her mother and writing the same name elsewhere, “is why Candice should be taken off the rush on Saturday since she had a meltdown the last three times she was scheduled then. But she’s really good when it’s slow; she refills stuff, helps with prep, folds napkins into swans, and makes great conversation with customers.”

Irene marvels as her daughter talks through a schedule that would optimise each of the strange and wonderful employees they had, and realises something with startling clarity.

Irene knew how the numbers worked. Leo knew how the food worked. Lola knew how the people worked.

----

“Sweetheart, it’s your second-last Prom, wouldn’t you rather go than spend the night at work with your parents?” Irene asked; Prom night was always a slow one, even for a Friday. Lola gives her mother a strange little smile, tapping her fingers against the counter.

“I’m gonna leave it up to chance,” she said, which confused her mother, who was refilling a napkin despenser.

“Leave what - oh, Candice; I know you worked hard as her campaign manager, but she’d want you there with her, win or lose,” Lola’s parents had been confused but supportive when Lola announced that not only their server, Candice, get nominated for Prom Queen, but that Lola was going to be her campaign manager, despite the fact that Prom Queen nominees didn’t usually have a campaign manager.

Candice, who was flourishing with her new shifts, curtesy of Lola’s scheduling, was more than happy to agree, and the two became fast friends. Lola herself was blossoming with the new task, staying up, excitedly making posters, and writing speeches, and hoarding the phone for hours every night to talk to Candice, and the new friends she seemed to be making. It wasn’t that she was unpopular, it’s just that she was standoffish, quiet, and focused, and took pride in her work, which happened to be at her parents’ diner.

Between the campaign, being in charge of the rosters for the diner, the general work she did around the diner, and her school work, Lola’s life was pretty full, and she was surprisingly happy.

Leo had overheard when Candice had approached Lola after her shift, had pointed out how Lola had scheduled her to work on the night of the Prom, and how Lola had sworn before profusely apologising. Lola had offered to cover the shift, and been quick to reassure Candice that it was okay, that she didn’t need Lola at Prom, that she’d do great and be wonderful and that all the hard work was done; now she just needed to look pretty and win. Candice had wrapped her up in a hug, overflowing with gratitude, assuring Lola that she’d owe her one, and in turn, Lola had brushed her off, saying it was nothing, apologising again for the scheduling mistake.

At the time, Leo’s heart had swelled with love for his daughter, proud of her for sticking to her commitments, and for being so kind and reassuring. On the night of the Prom, he sees Lola looking a little giddy, almost a little nervous, and thinks she might just be worried about Candice. Then, when the diner is at it’s quietest, there’s noise outside, and Lola almost shrieks, much to her parents’ dismay.

“They’re here!”

Through the windows, the little family, and the few other employees see a hoard of well-dressed teenagers, some where crowns and sashes, making their way past the window, lead by Candice in a crown, beaming.

There’s chatter, as the other teenagers realise where they are, saying they love this place, some a little tipsy making grateful noises as they divide themselves into groups and fill over half the diner in an instant. There’s a booth where everyone’s wearing crowns, and Candice leaves them, assures them she’d be back, before she bolts to Lola, who’s practically bouncing with excitement. The girls squeal about how Candice won, and she’s adamant she couldn’t have done it without Lola. Of course, Lola humbly brushes it off, babbles about how proud she is.

It ends up as one of the busiest night they’ve had in months.

Perhaps she’d just wanted to help a friend, maybe she’d worked in some way to bring the Prom to her when she ended up not being able to go; mostly her parents think it’s a fluke.

Until the next year.

Until, amid college applications, scholarship applications, work, and homework, Lola sets her sights on campaigning for their new cashier, Abigail, her classmate.

Until it’s her last Prom, and again Lola’s had to swap shifts with the girl she was campaigning for.

Until her parents hear it again.

“They’re here!”

It’s deja vu, with Abigail in a crown, so overjoyed, and grateful, bring with her even more than had been there when Candice had won.

“Didn’t we come here last year? Fuck, man, this place is the fuckin’ best, we should do this every year!” A boy in a white tuxedo announces to a resounding cheer, and yes, he seems a little bit drunk, but Irene and Leo have paused in their food prep to see Lola turn and look directly at them, upon hearing these words, grinning from ear to ear like it was her plan all along.

Oh.

“We may have raised a super villain,” Leo muses, though he can’t stop himself from sounding a little proud as Lola turns back around to head back out and take more orders from students clamouring for food.

----

“I feel like we should sit you down and talk to you about... something, but I’m not quite sure what,” Leo says, wiping down the tables well past midnight, while Lola was cleaning the windows that somehow had grease stains on them. Irene, from where she was organising the till, where they had received so much so quickly that half the bills had been stuffed in haphazardly, chooses this moment to pipe up.

“Using people is wrong, Keola; Abigail and Candice are your friends, you shouldn’t be using them just to make yourself popular,” she reprimands, to which Leo makes a stern noise of agreement. Lola, however, pauses, sitting on the table.

“Ma, if anything, they’re using me; I’m the reason they both won Prom Queen. I wanted to see if business management was something I’d want to do, and it turns out; yes, and I’m good at it. My two-year plan paid off,” she said simply.

“Two year plan?” Irene asked, baffled, and Lola, two months shy of eighteen, crossed her legs and beckoned her parents over.

It takes some explaining, from the fact that when she realised she might want to do business, that she might want to do business managing, and that she’d been thinking about how Leo had told her she could do work without anyone else realising that it was because of her if she wanted to. So she gave herself a challenge; work with the people she knew, to eventually help the business she cared about, the diner. Of course, this asks more questions than it answers.

So Lola explains that she’d switched Candice onto the shifts she works best in to keep her happy, and spent time getting to know her and being kind and building her confidence until she could casually bring up the idea of Prom, and how Candice would kick ass as Prom Queen, and that she had a shot at it, and that Candice would believe her and follow through, and more importantly, let Lola be her campaign manager. Lola knew how people worked, knew what certain people needed to hear, who to interact with to create the most wave, how to market an individual.

“Also, the scheduling thing wasn’t an accident; Candy and Abby love their jobs, and love this place - which is really a testament to both of you - and love me and the fact that I won them Prom Queen; if I tell them I can’t go to Prom and they win, even if I told them I don’t mind not being there, they’d still kind of feel guilty, and I figured they’d want to come and, I dunno, thank me and show off the crown. They love it here and love you guys, like I said, and it’s something to be proud of,” Lola shrugs, wrinkling her nose a little as she looks at her hands, “but, yanno, one night on it’s own doesn’t make a tradition, so I rinsed and repeated with Abby. Now two years in a row, the Prom Queen has come from here, and after the Prom they’ve come here and had incredible food; the people becoming Juniors and Seniors, the top contenders for Prom Court, remember coming here and having a great time after Prom two years in a row. I’m kind of working towards it being a tradition, it was my two year plan; turn one of the slowest Fridays of the year into one of the busiest.”

“While I’m very grateful you were thinking of us,” Leo says slowly, trying to process all the information he’d just received, “you shouldn’t manipulate your entire high school -”

“Twice,” Irene softly reminded him.

“ - twice, just to help the family business.” Leo had his head in his hands.

“No-one was hurt,” Lola added, “and, bonus, I know there’s already a few kind of superstitious Sophomores who will be coming in and asking for job applications soon,” she paused, “not that we need the help, but raises the diner’s profile a little, don’t you think?”

“You know the diner’s doing fine, we’re not struggling, sweetheart,” Irene still sounded like she couldn’t quite believe all of this.

“I know,” Lola’s voice was quiet, and finally her parents looked at her, saw her looking at her hands where she was fiddling, quiet and pensive.

“Then why, Lola?” Leo asked, finally, and she shrugged, a little helpless, as if she hadn’t spent the past two years carefully manipulating her friends, colleges, and peers, simply to increase business at the diner for two nights, one year apart, hoping it would become tradition going forward.

“I wanted to see if I could.”

Looking at their daughter, Irene and Leo see themselves in how she came to be like this; Leo’s got more love in his body than almost any other human, he’s personable and kind and hard working, while Irene’s smart, driven, and ruthlessly pragmatic. Their differences complimented each other, it’s why they worked so well together in all aspects of their life, and to see how well those traits worked within their daughter, they were certainly proud, but Irene quietly suspects that Leo may have been right.

If Lola didn’t become one of the best managers in her field, she’d end up a super villain... Irene’s actually kind of proud, and honestly, so’s Leo.

----

Going to college for Business Management seems like the most logical thing in the world for Lola to do next, and of course her parents would be happy to pay any costs associated, but it’s still nice to discover she’d received a scholarship, thanks to the glowing reports from several of her teachers, whose subjects she made sure to do well in as they would look good when applying specifically to be a business major.

Leo’s the one who drives with her and her things to her new college housing in New York, to her dorm, who meets her roommate and dorm mother, who hugs her for a full minute in the carpark before he leaves. They’re both pretending like they don’t have tears in their eyes.

Lola’s babbling away, reminding him about how he should start advertising the Prom-related discounts for the diner three weeks before the Prom itself, how he should have his employees who are students put up posters around the school, or at least he should put up posters around the school, and the places where teenagers hang out. She’s reminding him which of their employees work best in different circumstances, and why Belinda can’t work with Judas for more than two hours and -

She’s crying, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands as she talks, until Leo takes her shoulders firmly, and her voice dies in her throat as she comes back to reality.

“You’re going to be amazing,” he says softly, tears shining in his eyes. Lola’s lip quivers at this, and she surges forwards, wrapping him in another hug as she cries.

“You’re going to be amazing, we’re always just a phone call away, my sweet girl, but I know you’re going to take the world by storm,” Leo mutters into her hair, holding her tightly.

“Be good. Be kind. I love you,” he tells her as they finally step back from each other, and Lola wipes at her eyes again, quiet this time, nodding adamantly, before telling him she loves him too, that she’s so grateful for him, that -

“Come on, dude,” Leo says softly, with a gentle smile, “be cool.” And hearing the words that, for so long, had come to mean ‘I love you, I feel the same, but you need to be strong’, since Lola had first said it back when they’d first seen KISS together, has Lola laughing with fond adoration.

None of the other Freshman moving in, saying goodbye to their parents, appear to be half as emotional as she was, but honestly, she didn’t really care.

----

“Hey, question;” Lola’s voice is hesitant over the phone when Irene picks up one quiet evening in the diner at the end of Spring, at the end of Lola’s second year of college, “would you or dad know how to get in contact with that guy who manages KISS? The old regular? Bill?”

“Why?” Irene asked slowly, a little concerned given how much she and Leo had omitted when they talked about him to Lola when she was younger.

“I wanted to see if he needed an intern for the summer.”

It makes sense, but the prospect still makes Irene nervous.

----

“Leo I’m home~” Bill practically sings as he throws the door open to the diner on a bustling Monday afternoon. The server at the door skitters back in the face of his enthusiasm, and as a few mean-looking individuals slink into the diner behind him. Through them all, however, is Lola, who doesn’t even announce her presence, just slips past Bill, darting through the diner and through the kitchen, so by the time Leo’s looks their way, he’s already being bowled over with a hug. 

It was a surprise, and Leo’s yelling he’s so excited. KISS is halfway through their tour, playing Providence the following two nights, but Lola and Bill had dragged the band along to surprise Leo while they were close. 

Leo’s babbling away as Lola ties up her hair without even having to ask, stepping up beside him and falling into the routine of helping him prepare food. Bill and the band have taken up residence in a booth, chattering amongst themselves, while Lola and her father work and catch up. 

“Wait, Lola, sweetie, go sit, go sit,” Leo insisted, catching himself before he lost sight of the whole situation, “I’m not paying you, go sit with the band; you’re customer -”

“Dad -” Lola tried to protest, but Leo was adamant, nudging her out of the kitchen with determination. As they pass the counter, Leo grabs a note book, and gives the confused server a kind smile, following Lola to the band.

“Vito, what do you recco...” Ace asks glancing up from the menu, but he trails off, seeing her father practically shadowing her.

“You guys remember Leo, right?” Bill looked like he was trying not to laugh as he shoved Peter further into the booth to make room for Lola. The others were all, for what seemed like the first moment on tour, silent. Then, Gene speaks.

“If you’re sick of our fuckin’ shit, Bill, murder us yourself, like a real man,” he says, voice gruff, and Lola has to fight not to smile in the face of her father’s bemusement.

“No-one’s getting murdered; Leo’s has the best food this side of the country, right, Vito?” Bill asks easily, looking to her, and she can feel her father’s questioning gaze on her too, so she looks to the others, smile blinding.

“I know I might seem biased, but I swear I’m not,” she fans her fingers out on the table, leaning forward, eyes shining with sudden enthusiasm, “I know you guys have a weird history with my dad, I wouldn’t bring you here if it wasn’t worth it.” She assures, and slowly but surely, the others look at the menu; her dad’s still watching her carefully, even as she’s sitting back, confidently telling the others that whatever they order would be good. 

“Was it you or ‘rene who loved The Godfather?” Bill pipes up, addressing Leo, and Lola, in her seat, goes still. 

“It’s ‘rene’s favourite movie,” Leo says with a slowly forming smile, as Lola chances a look up at him. When she sees the amused, even proud look in his eyes, she gives a small smile back.

“Is mom around?” Lola asks, gaze quickly darting to the counter and the kitchen, and then to the nondescript door that led to the second floor where she her family had lived all her life. 

“At the grocery store, we ran out of whipping cream,” Leo explains, smile growing wider as he lets himself bask in the moment, “menu hasn’t changed much in the last few months, what are you hungry for, Vito?”

Of course Lola’s right about the food, of course, and the band chatters amongst themselves, and to Leo easily enough, though when Irene gets back, for all that she’s thrilled to see her daughter, she’s less than thrilled to see KISS being obnoxious in one of her booths.

Pulling Lola aside, she speaks quietly, glad to see her, demanding to know if the band treats her with respect, scowling when Lola casually rolls her eyes and says the band doesn’t treat anything with respect.

“But I still live by what you said the first time I saw them,” she added, and Irene frowned, “don’t let ‘em touch me, don’t shake their hands.” And Irene gives a faint smile at that. After a moment, Leo’s warm, booming laughter fills the restaurant, and both women turn to see him throwing his head back, eyes creasing in the corner as the rest of the band seem pleased to have made him laugh.

“They’re gonna give you and dad all access passes to their Wednesday show,” Lola says softly, watching the band, watching her dad sit in the seat she’d vacated.

“Oh, that’s so nice, but you didn’t have to -”

“I didn’t ask them to,” Lola tells her frankly, “they’ve been acting like my dad is some violent asshole whenever I bring him up because he was super protective when they met him the first time, even though they know I love him, so I brought them here, and knew dad was too kind of a person, and too good of a chef, to not win them over. They also definitely didn’t believe me when I said how good his food was, even when Bill backed me up. They’re not exactly introspective people, so when they offer the tickets, they won’t realise it’s because they feel guilty for making me upset whenever I bring up dad, but still, they’re trying to make up for it without realising what they’re doing; they think they’re just being kind to a new friend and a cool dude, without thinking about why giving these tickets feels better than it usually does. Friends are made, you guys get cool tickets, everybody wins,” Lola’s still watching the band joke around with her dad and Bill, and she lets herself smile a little, even as her mother is quietly watching her. 

“They aren’t my friends this time, mom, this is business, and if they didn’t want to feel guilty for shittalking a good man, then they shouldn’t have shittalked a good man,” and though her mother says her name with a faintly disapproving tone, Lola’s lips thinned with annoyance, “if you disapproved of me doing this shit, you wouldn’t have told Bill about the Prom scheme I pulled in high school.”

Then Irene says her name again, like an apology, like regret, like she was aware of her betrayal. 

“On the plus side,” Lola took a deep breath, grinning and finally looking to her mother, “I’ve already kind of got a reputation; Bill called me Vito the first day I came in, which is how I figured out you’d told him, and someone misheard and thought it was my name. It stuck.”

“They’re calling you Vito?” Her mother said softly, earlier disapproval vanishing with soft glee, “for the record, I said that while I don’t condone some of what you did, I admired your tenacity, perseverance, and finely tuned social awareness.” Okay, that made sense, and something warmed in Lola’s heart hearing that.

“Well thanks to that, I think they’re implying that I’m The Godfather,” Lola snorts, looking back at the table, “well, Bill was, the others don’t actually believe it, but they still use the nickname.”

“You don’t want them to know that that’s... your goal, do you?” Irene said, wrapping an arm around Lola’s shoulders. Lola rests her head against her mother’s. 

“I’ll only use my powers for good... usually.” 

“I know, sweet girl, you’ve got a good heart.” 

----

“I’ve got my own desk! I’ve got my own office!” Lola’s all but squealing over the phone to her parents, explaining about how she’d been offered a job with Bill’s company as a PR consultant while she insisted on staying in New York and finishing her degree. 

She’s living with her music-producer boyfriend, spending every other weekend at industry events, spending nights in dingy bars that boasted live music as if she were scouting talent, attempting to study during the day while putting out various bands’ fires from afar. 

“That’s wonderful, Lola,” her dad gives a contented little sigh where he and Irene are pressed together, both trying to listen to her speak.

“You’re still studying hard though, aren’t you? I’m glad you’re doing well but you know you’d regret it if you didn’t finish your course so close to the end,” Irene pointed out, and Lola assures her that she’s still going ahead strong, that the company gives her half-days when she has lectures to attend, and she sounds... fulfilled. 

They’re still calling her Vito; she’s garnered herself something of a reputation in the months leading up to her graduation, and anticipated full-time employment with the company. People from all sides are urging her to move out to LA, but she’s refusing to budge until she graduates, and for that her parents are proud. 

Back home, there’s been a strange influx of out-of-town patrons to the diner, music fans, or bands, or part of the industry, usually New York based, saying that Lola had recommended this place, if they were ever in the area. It was heart-warming to think she still thought of her parents so often that she’d still go about recommending their diner. They don’t think much beyond it; she’d been true to her word and only seemed to be using her way with people in professional matters. 

But still, it was jarring hearing ‘the Godfather sent me’ when chatting with customers, even moreso to know they meant Lola every time.

----

“One of Bill’s friends in LA called me up about a job,” Lola’s fretting in her parent’s diner for the first time in a long time. A year out of college, she’s been on the road essentially since graduation, working as an assistant manager, for Bill for some time, then for Kenny Laguna with Joan Jett & The Blackhearts, and a few smaller bands around New York as a manager in her own right, though by virtue of her role as an assistant, she’d been working with everyone in the industry that he usually had dealings with, setting up meetings, organising schedules for the band, setting everything up so all her bosses had to do was sign off and only worry about the bands themselves. 

Lola had her fair share of flings in that time, but it was hard when she was always travelling, and even with the people who she seemed somewhat serious about, she never brought them home to meet her family. Her parents tried to reason that she was just young, that if she wanted to find love, she’d find it in time, but thankfully she seemed more concerned with her career than ever dwelling on heartbreak.

“That’s exciting; would we know the band?” Irene asked, printing off a receipt for a customer and wishing them a good day. The customer smiled back, and went on their way, and Irene joined her daughter, stealing one of Lola’s fries.

“Not really, they’re a little metal, kinda punk band, Motley Crue, but Doc - that’s Bill’s friend - he thinks they have potential, and he thinks I’d be the right person to help him, and help them.”

“As an assistant?” Irene asked, frown creasing her brow, and Lola makes a face.

“As co-manager,” she said, clearly in two minds about the situation. 

“Co-manager?” Her mother prompted, and Lola wrinkled her nose for a moment, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’ve been on tour, all over America, right? But I’ve never...” she hesitates, “actually ever lived more than two hours away from you guys.” Lola fidgeted, “which I know is a dumb reason to not move, I’m an adult, and everyone’s pushing me to move to LA, so even if it falls through I’ll probably still get work, but -”

“Sweet girl, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with, you don’t have to explain yourself, not to me, not to anyone,” her mother says, reaching out to rest a hand on Lola’s cheek. For just a moment, Lola leans into her mother’s hand, taking the familiar comfort and basking in it, letting out a gentle sigh.

“They’re flying me out in two days to meet the band, and I can decide where to go from there,” she says softly, and Irene gives her a fond pet, assuring her that nothing is set in stone.

----

“Do you remember when I did that thing in high school, that whole thing with those girls, Abigail and... Candice? I think? How I managed them and got them voted Prom Queen?”

“Lola I love you with my whole heart, but sweet girl, you had a whole supervillain monologue prepared that night, so yes, I remember,” Leo says to his daughter, the two of them in the kitchen of the diner the night before Lola’s set to leave for LA. They’ve closed up for the night, and Irene went upstairs to their little home above the diner to relax for the night while Lola stayed, and Leo refilled the salt shakers. The corner of Lola’s lips quirk into a faint smile where she’s leaning her hip against the counter a few feet away.

“I still can’t believe no-one caught on; only you and mom had any idea, or even still know,” Lola admitted with a faint laugh, and Leo assures her that he’ll take that secret to his grave, his tone amused at how he was overstating the importance of the secret. Lola considers for a moment, shifting her weight on her feet before asking, “do you remember, even before that, saying about how I understood people the way you understood flavours, the way mom understood numbers?”

“Vaguely,” Leo’s voice was concentrated as he reflected on his daughter’s teen years in the diner. Lola made a faint hum at that.

“Do you think there’s ever going to be anyone other than you and mom who understands me?”

It hits Leo like a truck, the tone, the rawness to her voice, the way so much had suddenly clicked into place with understanding. 

Lola was who she was because she was listened to, because Leo and Irene had worked to make sure she felt understood, showing by example as they befriended their customers, the people around them too, to build a kind, family atmosphere in their business too. So too did Lola, going through life listening to people, getting to know them, understanding them, understanding more and more as she went that while people loved feeling understood, feeling seen, they very rarely put in the effort to understand others in such a way, even people who were putting the effort into them. 

“Oh Keola,” Leo’s voice comes out an apologetic breath as he puts down the salt shaker he’d been working with, and at that, he can see the tears spring up in Lola’s eyes. Without hesitation, he’s crossing to her, wrapping her up in a firm hug, “you will find someone who sees you, Keola, who understands you, and maybe they won’t understand the world as well as you do, but it won’t matter, because they’ll understand you.”

Lola, who’s hugging him back tightly, fingers digging into him as she’s shaking, crying, scared to leave, scared to be truly on her own. It’s breaking Leo’s heart to see her like this, to not know what to say or how to comfort her in the right way, so he holds his daughter close, and reassures her, and she gives a quiet thanks, muffled against his shirt.

----

“They live like horrible, little, drunk rats and I hate them,” Lola tells her mother flatly over the phone from the hotel Doc McGhee’s company had put her up in for the week. 

Doc she liked well enough, she’d been to events with him, gotten to know him, and spoken extensively to him after he’d called her to ask if she’d co-manage Motley Crue with him; he’d called her up because the band had talent and potential, but he could see that if they weren’t managed properly, they would end up as their own worst enemy, with the whole world loathing them. Some controversy was healthy, but it felt as though this band could be capable of worse. 

He’d called asking for Vito, for the Godfather specifically, and despite Lola’s apparent lack of experience in the industry, he knew what he was doing when he called her. 

The day after she’d flown out, she’d had a meeting with Doc before he’d brought the band in. She’d worn all black, well fitted and perfectly tailored suit, with black shirt to match, hair perfectly straight and makeup dark but clean. She’d looked the part, had stood beside Doc as the band was brought in, her hands clasped behind her back, not sure what she was expecting to see. The band had been dressed down for the most-part, all in varying dark colours, all denim and hints of leather, and boots that made them a little too tall for her liking. She’d held out her hand across the desk, expression stony, and as they’d all shook her hands, they’d looked her over, and while some were leering, one, who looked to be the oldest of the group, Mick, seemed unimpressed. 

“That’s a child,” he had said, and Lola had blinked slowly at him, allowing Doc to make the introductions.

“That is Vito Fields;” Doc corrects, tone firm, and Mick, upon hearing this, looks to her very suddenly. Lola raises a single eyebrow at him as Doc keeps talking, “she’s worked with KISS and Joan Jett; anyone in this industry who knows of Vito knows you want her in your corner, you boys are lucky she’s considering working with you.”

“She seems like a bitch,” the one in the middle, Nikki, pipes up, his pupils wide and shiny, a dead giveaway that he’s high, and he’s smirking at her like he’s waiting for a reaction.

“I am a bitch,” Lola tells him flatly, looking him dead in the eyes, while the younger two on his other side, one dark haired, Tommy, and one blonde, Vince, startled by her response, break out into giggles. 

“You’re Magic Touch Vito?” Mick asks, voice having taken on a strange quality she couldn’t quite identify, though her lips quirk into the barest smile, even as the other three clutch at each other, trying to muffle their laughs at their own dirty-minded implications.

“The very same,” Lola gave a slight nod, and suddenly, there was something impressed in Mick’s eyes. After touring with them, KISS had kindly written a song entitled Magic Touch, about Lola, which as the line ‘she's got the magic touch / oh no, but it ain't what it seems’ implied, wasn’t sexual in nature. In actual fact, it was about how they hadn’t realised how much she’d worked to make their lives run smoothly, to keep them from any serious controversy, how they’d seemingly worked more cohesively and agreeably when she had been around, until she was gone. When asked who it was about, the band would always answer ‘the chick from our management team last tour, Vito’.

They don’t quite know what to make of her, think she’s too uptight, too serious, and they invite her to their gig the following night, in an attempt to see if she could loosen up, fit in, and Lola accepts easily, knowing she has Mick on her side, and that the other three should be easy enough to win over, if what she knows of them is correct.

So she dresses up for the show, clothes tight and dark and revealing, boots high and hair higher, makeup dark and smoky and eye catching; if nothing else, she looks the part. She sits by the bar, nurses a single beer all night, and at least Doc wasn’t kidding about their talent; small miracles, she supposes. They’re loud and energetic and everything about rock and roll that she has come to love, but once the gig is over, they’re messy, spilling off the stage after their gear is packed up, easily distracted by pretty girls and promises of booze. Mick is the first to the bar, and seems surprised to see her dressed the way she is, fitting in so easily, and she gives him a smile, a nod, a raised glass of appreciation, before someone stumbles from the crowd and almost runs straight into her, bracing themselves on the bar either side of her, sweaty and panting and grinning and babbling apologies - Tommy, if her memory serves her well. 

“Hey, Doc was right, you guys play well,” she tells him amicably, tone much sweeter and more animated than he’d heard yesterday, so it takes him a few moments to place where he knows her from before it dawns on him. And he’s drunk and tactile, his hands on her arms, her thighs, her face, as if making sure she was real, and she was the same girl from yesterday.

“Vito?” Tommy asks, still only inches from her where he’d almost bowled into her. Lola, seemingly unphased by the proximity, smile and confirms as much, her hand coming to rest on his where he was braced against her thigh, gentle contact, nothing more. 

And he’s telling her she’d gotta come back to the after party, at the Motley House as he called it, and he turned, wanting to call the others over, still with his hand on her thigh, but they’re lost in their own various states of debauchery. Lola buys him a few shots for good measure, which he’s grateful for, and lets him loop his arm around her shoulders as they head back to the Motley House with the crowd. 

Another pretty girl, however, calls Tommy away with promises Lola definitely won’t make, so he goes, and Lola follows the crowd back to the house with the door nailed shut. Her fishnets catch on something as she’s climbing through the window and they rip, and a guy hoots appreciate from inside the house, but she’s not bothered by him as much as she is by the house itself as she takes in the scene. 

“No shame in admitting you can’t hack it,” a voice in her ear mutters, accompanied by a hand on her hip, and for a moment Lola’s composure breaks as she’s startled, turning sharply to see Nikki Sixx, standing over her in his platform boots and stupidly tall hair, wearing a grin that’s all teeth. Lola doesn’t know enough about Nikki to read him, to understand him, apart from the fact that she recognises that he’d putting up something of a front, and had been both times he’d spoken to her. 

“I find your lack of faith disturbing,” tone cool as she finds herself quoting Star Wars with a smirk, she looks Nikki in the eyes, and is glad to see the momentary flicker of confusion as she refuses to back down despite his goading. Then, she looks over her shoulder, “you live like rats, but that’s not necessarily a complaint since it fits with your brand.” And he doesn’t seem to know if that’s a compliment or an insult, but he’s left bemused by the encounter, as Lola heads through to the kitchen, avoiding making eye contact with Vince who’s getting head from a groupie on the counter, as she takes a beer from their fridge and goes to mill about in the main room. 

Lola’s never been much of a drinker; Irene’s been sober since she was pregnant with Lola, and Leo only ever drank socially outside of work, and he didn’t exactly have a lot of social encounters outside of work to begin with. Lola herself was never particularly discouraged from drinking as long as she took care of herself, and sure she had some wild nights in college, but despite her field of work, she preferred to keep drinking to a minimum. Drinking dulled her senses, and she didn’t want the people she was working with to see her as anything less than what she wanted to show them. 

She’d be the first to admit that she had issues with control, both of herself and other people, but it was yet to detrimentally effect her life, or the people around her, so she found it to be more of a strength than a flaw, at least for now. 

All through the night she found herself talking to fans and groupies, talking up the band, the boys, putting on a bubbly persona, perhaps overplaying her own inebriation after only two drinks, giggling and making a spot for herself amongst their groupies. She declined the drugs as they were passed around, keeping her mind clear as she was able, while not being a buzzkill, pouting and making up excuses about a drug test at her work the next morning, how she’d only just gotten the coke out of her system and she couldn’t fail another one - 

Everyone was so understanding of her fake sob story, she almost misses Mick, sitting a few feet away on the arm of the sofa, laughing to himself, watching her. 

“You’re good, girlie, you’re good,” he gives her when she approaches, and Lola raises an eyebrow at him, still smiling, “you planning on outright fuckin’ our frontman, or you gonna tease him like you did the drummer?”

“If I have to fuck him, I’ll fuck him,” Lola shrugs with a smirk, joining him and looking out at the gathered crowd, “but I don’t think it’ll come to that.”

So the next day when she calls her mother, tells her mother that the band lives like rats and that she hates them, she immediately follows it up with ‘but I think I’m going to stay’.

----

Be sweet to Tommy. Be honest with Mick. Keep Vince’s revolving door of girlfriends from seeing him hook up with groupies. That’s the trick to keeping three quarters of the band happy. 

Nikki changes from moment to moment it seems. He’s a hard worker musically, but a loose canon in the rest of his life, and he never seems to be sure of what to make of Lola, so she can never be sure of what to make of him.

She still lives loosely by her mother’s suggestion, to never let them touch her, which means she’s never done anything more than let the three younger ones cop a feel occasionally, or kiss them on the cheek, but she’s never let them get further than that, she doesn’t need to. She’s kind to them, good to them, she compliments their music and their work ethic when they’re working particularly hard. She remembers the names of the hookers they like when Zutaut brings them in, and she gets on well with the rest of their team. Their scandals are kept out of the papers, and when they release Too Fast For Love there’s buzz in the industry from the moment it drops. 

“I know a guy,” is all Lola says when they ask, when in reality she spends nights that she’s not with the band going to VIP events for music executives, rubbing elbows and kissing ass and casually talking up the band within earshot of the bigwigs. Her free time in the day is spent reading tabloids and listening to the bands being managed by the people she meets, and making friends with club owners up and down The Strip who she’d met before, through KISS or Joan Jett.

“Sweet baby Vito,” Doug Weston kissed Lola on both cheeks as she walked through the doors of the Troubadour one sunny afternoon, the day the band was set to perform, “it’s been too long; have you gotten taller?” Doug smiles from ear to ear, holding her shoulders and looking her over as the band, behind her, seems bemused, “how are my boys, Bill and Kenny? You hear from them much anymore?”

“Dad tells me Bill is good -” Lola assures with a smile, before looking over her shoulder, “boys if you wanna start setting up you can go ahead, right Doug?” She grins at the club owner, who nods, gesturing to the stage for Motley and their roadie to go ahead as he takes Lola and leads her to the bar. 

Lola seems to have an encyclopaedic knowledge of the bands who have come through the Troubadour before they’d made it big, praising Doug on his foresight, assuring him that Motley would be one of the names on that list he helped grow in popularity. He asks her how she knows so much, how she remembers so well; simply put, Lola tells him it’s her job. 

For a moment, Doug is quiet, looking at her, his eyes searching her face for any hint of insincerity or doubt, and upon finding none, he gives a strange little smile. 

“You know what they say about me, little Vito, don’t you?” 

Lola hesitates, because of course she knows, and him so pointedly using her nickname only makes clearer his meaning.

“You’re essentially the Godfather around here, Doug, I know that, I wasn’t trying to -”

“You’re putting the work in; I’ve heard your name time and again now from my friends and colleagues, you’re working with one band but the whole Strip knows you, kiddo,” he’s giving her a fond, perhaps even impressed look, “little Vito, you’re so young, but I can already see you growing into your title.” 

And pride swells in Lola’s chest as she hears this. 

A week later, a tabloid article will be released with an article on Motley Crue’s quick rise in sucess, with a quote from Doug himself.

“How could I say no to having them play here? Those boys have got more talent in one hand than any do in their whole bodies, not to mention they’ve got Doc and The Godfather behind them; mark my words there’s success on their horizon.” 

“Lola!” Leo had shouted excitedly through the phone the moment she’d picked up, and Lola had laughed nervously, unsure of the exactly reason for his call. Leo had babbled about seeing the article, how he’d pinned it up on the wall of the diner, right next to the photos of KISS, and Joan Jett that had been taken when they’d visited. He goes on in delight about how he and Irene were so proud; Lola couldn’t help but tear up. 

“Doug Weston called you The Godfather, Lola!” 

“I know, dad,” Lola had laughed a little, and Leo had whistled through his teeth, low and proud.

“What did I tell you, kiddo, already taking the world by storm.”

----

“You know how I was... I was like having trouble with Nikki? Like I could figure him out?” Lola brings up over the phone to her father, a few month into being in LA.

“Nikki’s the asshole one?”

“The asshole one, the one you’d like,” Lola clarifies and confirms, and Leo makes an understanding noise in the back of his throat, “I think... I think I’ve figured him out, I think I got him.”

“How so?”

“He, um,” Lola hesitates for a moment, shifting a little where she was sitting on her bed, “he’s actually kind of like me, which I think tripped me up, not like, as refined or anything, or as invested in people, but,” she can’t help but softly smile, “he just wants to be seen, you know, as a musician, as himself, except that things have been shitty for him so he’s actually scared to feel seen, you know?”

“So are you going to make him feel seen, or would that scare him?” Leo asks, and Lola tells him that she’s going to be careful, like she’s always been.

She’s already started; a few days before, she’d turned up to the studio only for a beleaguered assistant to nervously warn her that Nikki had been in there all night, drinking, snorting, and writing music frantically.

“Sixx?” Her voice had been quiet, and he’d looked up with wild, tired eyes, levelling a pen at her through the glass into the sound booth where she’d entered.

“You!” 

“Me?” She gave a slight smile, despite how there was paper and broken glass everywhere, and one of his hands was bleeding. 

“You!” He’d reiterated with a scowl, though Lola kept her approach slow, opening the door to the recording studio, carefully picking her way over to him, while he continued to point at her. 

“What are you writing?” She asks carefully, and finally he looks down, to the page with it’s bloody fingerprints, and messy scribblings. 

“What do you want from me?” He asked, and she’s wondering if he’s talking to the page before he looks back at her, confused and hostile as he regards her. Lola’s expression falls.

“Right now? I want you to come to the bathroom so I can clean you up and get you some medical attention -”

“You want something you always want something, you know too much about everyone we meet, everywhere we play, every photographer who shoots us, every writer who writes about us, every interviewer we speak to,” he sounds half-mad, but Lola’s blood has run cold, “it’s like the more you know about everyone, about us, you can predict us, can plan for if we go rogue, how you can lasso us back in line like we’re your cattle; you’re The Godfather but you never explained to us what that means.”

Lola swallows hard, steeling herself for a moment before she looks Nikki in the eyes.

“What do you want from music?” She’s dropped the kindly voice, “you understand it, you understand how to make it sound good, how to make something people will like and want to listen to, and you know what to do to keep it from being a disaster because you know the note before, and what notes should go after,” she explained, and in the face of her cool composure, Nikki’s hostility was actually... disappearing. “To me, people are their own kind of music when organised well enough, when I know where they’ve been, so I know how to keep them out of disaster, which topics not to talk about, to know what’s worked to bring things to their attention in the past, so I can use those for you guys in the future.” 

Nikki is quiet, looking up at where she’s standing over him, and then at the paper in his hands. 

“You’re organising us to... to what?”

“To optimise productivity,” Lola said bluntly, “which is hard, considering who you all are, but I’m glad Doc called me in. I feed your egos in the way you all respond to best, and keep you all from self destructing, and I pull you assholes from the gutter, and you get a successful album. I’m not hurting anyone, it’s my job to make you successful.”

She’s got her hands behind her back to hide how they’re shaking; she’s never been so bluntly honest with anyone since she’d explained her Prom Plan to her parents years ago. 

“You won’t remember this,” she tells him, and he looks sharply at her, though she’s saying it more for her own peace of mind than for him. She offers her hand to him, and he quietly takes it, lets her take him to the bathroom and clean him up. She calls the Motley House, and Mick, and Doc, and lets them know that Nikki wouldn’t be in today, and she takes him back to her little apartment a few blocks from the Strip.

“This is tiny,” Nikki comments, his first since Lola’s monologue about her true intentions.

“I’m frugal,” Lola responded, flatly, showing him through to her bathroom, advising him to shower or bathe, though he made a face at that.

“Why am I here?”

“Because I have actual toilet paper and I didn’t want your hands to contract sepsis,” she responds with irritation, but soon enough, as she’s reading through the stack of tabloids that she has delivered daily, she hears the shower being turned on. 

After an hour, she realises something may be wrong, as she hasn’t heard him moving about in there for a while, and when she knocks there’s no answer, and cracking the door reveals that he’s fallen asleep sitting at the bottom of her shower. Sighing deeply, Lola turns off the water, tries to wake him, and gets a sleepy, groaned response, which at the very least means she doesn’t need to call a paramedic. So she dries him off, and wraps him up in her bathrobe, and deposits him in her bed, while she listens to the radio and takes notes while reading the tabloids. 

“Vito?” Nikki’s bleary voice greets her around sunset, and Lola, who’d been painting her nails and humming along to a cassette of the latest Queen album, looks up sharply at him. When their gazes meet, he regards her curiously before yawning, “I remember, you know?”

“Remember what?”

“What you said, how you use people because they’re like music,” he says, and grimaces when he tries to use his hands, only to see they’re bandaged. When he asks for a drink, Lola has to tell him she has nothing in the apartment, and he calls her a bitch under his breath, but that was to be expected.

“I don’t use people for fun, I... I...”

“There’s no sweet way to say it, is there?” He sits up with a groan, though he still manages to smirk, and Lola’s expression sours.

“Are you mad at me for manipulating people in the industry to make Motley Crue successful?” Her lip curled, tone derisive as an insult sat on the tip of her tongue, but Nikki paused.

“Are you trying to manipulate me by saying that?”

“What? No!” Lola had insisted, “everyone else thinks I’m the version of me that I want them to know, okay? But you... you’re the only motherfucker who knows I’m all of them at once, and also, well, none of them,” she admitted after a moment.

“Well how does me knowing that help you?”

“It doesn’t, okay?! I can’t figure you out, Nikki, I don’t know how the fuck to -”

“How the fuck to control me,” Nikki said, seemingly proud of that achievement.

“I don’t control you dumbasses, I keep you out of jail; if I wanted to control you, I’d try keeping you from hookers and drugs and falling asleep in gutters, I’d make you presentable for a mass-market audience, but none of you want that, so I’m trying to keep you alive and keep you productive while still being yourselves, get it?”

“You really want Motley to do well?” Nikki asks, tentatively, surprising Lola, who had her head in her hands.

“You fuckin’ dickbags have so much talent and absolutely no ability to function as human beings. Yes I want you to do well, I know you can, and I know you will, but dude, if you all go out in a firey ball of carnage, they’re not gonna blame you guys, because you’re the talent, live fast die young is what talent does, and they’re not gonna blame Doc,” her voice catches in her throat, and Nikki realises she’s on the verge of tears, “they’re gonna blame the twenty-three year old girl who everyone in the industry knows, and is calling The Godfather, who has a reputation despite only doing this shit for a few years -” 

“Vito -”

“My name’s Lola!” She’d snapped, and Nikki had gone quiet. “You’re a talented musician, Nikki,” her voice had gone soft, and she gently thumped her forehead on the table, “you’re all talented men, I’m just doing the only thing I can do to get you the success you deserve, okay? I made a promise to never manipulate people for evil, and I don’t break my promises.” 

After a long silence, Nikki finally spoke up, saying her name, her real name.

“Lola, thanks for taking care of me.”

----

“So this is Motley Crue,” Leo says the day Lola walks into the diner with the band and Doc, and Leo’s trying to reign in his instinct to be excited and proud and loud, trying to act discerning from behind the counter... Right as their Too Fast For Love album begins playing over the jukebox. The band seems confused, Lola hangs her head, and Leo’s lips immediately twist into an overjoyed grin, “that wasn’t planned but I love it!” He delights, and goes over to greet the band, giving each member a hearty handshake, managing to name each and every single one of them before they introduce themselves, which only serves to mortify Lola.

“You talk about us?” Tommy teases, while Lola’s standing by her father, face bright red. 

“Drummer Boy, you’re killing me,” Lola groans, but takes her seat beside Nikki, and he throws an arm around her.

“Don’t worry, Leo, we’re taking care of her,” and he gives Lola’s shoulder a squeeze. 

The thing is, Leo knows he can believe Nikki, knows because after a year, Lola’s told her parents practically everything about the band, every terrible, sordid detail, but also about their talent, and how they can be good people when they want to be. Leo and Irene have hear the change in the way Lola spoke about the band, heard Lola marvel at the way the band seemed to grow more protective of her after her breakdown in front of Nikki, how they defend her when they’re in their right mind, and at least attempt to listen to her some of the time. They’re still themselves, still far from perfect, but it’s become a known fact that The Godfather had the might of Motley Crue behind her now. 

Mick and Leo got along well, of course Leo got along with all the band well, but he and Mick’s taste in music aligned, and there was a certain wisdom to the pair of them that eluded the others. 

And when Lola hands tickets to the band’s show the following night to her mother, she assured her that it wasn’t their idea, it was all Lola’s. Irene wraps her in a tight hug, pride in her eyes, before she looks over at the band, louging in a booth like they own it while the diner was meant to have closed twenty minutes ago, and Leo’s still talking to them. It’s empty apart from the band, and Lola’s about to start washing up so her dad can keep getting to know the band, but her mother speaks quietly.

“They’re good boys,” she muses, and Lola snorts.

“They’re garbage boys, ma, pretty terrible, you know they fucked an eggroll so their girlfriends couldn’t tell they slept with other girls?”

“Oh I know they’re terrible - eggroll, really? -” Irene made a momentarily horrified face as Lola confirmed, but as a shiver of disgust passed down Irene’s spine, she continued, “but they’re good to you.”

And looking at them, Lola sees the band and Doc smiling and laughing and chatting with her dad, picking at the crumbs they had left of the food they’d been served, and for a moment, Nikki looks over and catches her gaze. He raises an eyebrow at her, a silent question; Lola gives the barest nod back, and he turns back to the conversation. 

“They’re pretty good to me when they want to be,” Lola agreed.

----

“Lo, we wanted to run this past you first,” immediately hearing these words from her father, Lola’s stomach drops, “but you remember your Aunt Malia who lives back in Hawaii, right?” And as Lola confirmed as much, Leo went on, “her youngest, Kai, is going to come and live at the diner; he’s about your age and Malia says he’s wanted to be a chef for a long time. I thought he could come work with us, or maybe stay here if he wanted to study in the states.”

“Why do you need to run it past me?” Lola asked, voice quiet, though her heart eased considerably; the news had been much less dire than she had been anticipating. 

“He’s going to be sleeping in your old room is all, I know you’ve moved everything out, but I didn’t want you to be surprised if you dropped in; when you stop by, we’ve converted the old study into a spare bedroom.”

“Okay,” Lola wasn’t quite sure why the news hurt so much, but it did, though she tried not to let her father hear as much, “as long as he does a good job, that’s all we can ask for, right?” And Leo seemed happy to hear as much.

But it had sent Lola spiralling; all her life she’d thought she’d end up running the diner when she got old enough, but now she was getting to be old enough, and living a completely different life.

“Would it make you happy?” When had coming to Nikki Sixx for life advice become a real option? They’re sitting in a round booth at a bar, both dressed casually, sitting side by side, probably closer than was necessary, though Lola liked the contact.

“Yes,” she admitted, “if I went home and ran the diner with mom and dad for the rest of my life, I’d honestly be happy.” She admitted.

“And us, the industry, everything you’ve been working for, you’d give it all up for them?” He asked, and Lola picked at the label on her beer bottle, stomach twisting with guilt.

“If they asked,” came her answer.

“Did they ask?”

Lola swallows hard, and realises with startling clarity that Nikki knows where her train of thought is headed. 

“Does the life you have here make you happy?” He asks, tone demanding an honest answer, and Lola nods once, before his final question hits her squarely in the chest; “would they want you to give up this happiness you’ve built, the experiences you’re still yet to have, for them?”

He understands her. 

“And if I asked, would you stay here and manage us?” 

“What?” Lola’s voice came out soft and surprised as she looked to Nikki, her eyes wide, and a little misty with all the emotions and thoughts blurring together in her mind. 

“If I get any sort of say or vote in this, I’d like to keep The Godfather on my team,” he muses, grin getting a little wider, tone a little more honest, “‘d like to keep you around, Lola.”

----

Kai vaults the counter the first time Lola walks into the diner after he arrives. It’s been a few months, Lola’s been overseas with the band, but she’s back, and had wanted to stop in home to see how he was going. They’d spoken often; he’s as kind and outgoing as her father, and seems just as enthusiastic about food, which is good. At first there had been jealousy, that he was there, while she couldn’t be, but her parents always assured her there was a place for her if she wanted it, if she wanted to come back.

But Nikki had been right, they wanted her to see the world, so long as she knew they’d always be there for her to come home to. 

But it’s Summer, Saturday afternoon, and Kai looks up as the bell rings, spots Lola, and drops the napkin dispenser he’d been refilling, vaulting the counter to sweep her off her feet in a hug. He’s chattering away about how good it is to meet her, how people keep saying the Godfather sent them and how it’s weird knowing they mean her, about how a few more bands had come through, without Lola even, word of mouth having spread that this was the place to come to in Boston, and he gestures proudly to the wall of photographs, and how more had been added; Areosmith, the Pixies, Blondie.

“And you! You’re -” suddenly spotting the person who’d come in behind Lola, Kai’s eyes go wide and his words stop for a moment. 

“Nikki Sixx, man, good to meet you,” Nikki grins brightly, “Kai, right?” And Kai nods, before blinking away his shock and nodding, shaking Nikki’s hand vigerously. 

“Good to meet you, dude, lemme go get Aunty; Leo’s at the markets,” he says, and then he trots off, calling out to the kitchen staff where he was headed. The moment he’s disappeared up the stairs to the flat above, Lola leans into Nikki, huffing a laugh.

“God, he fits right in,” she muses fondly, and Nikki wraps an arm around her, himself trying to process Kai’s enthusiasm. 

And Irene greets Nikki and Lola with warmth and excitement, the three of them sitting in a booth together while Kai goes through any changes to the menu, lighting up when Lola asks what he recommends. Nikki and Lola sit close as they chatter away, recounting stories to Irene about their travels, words flowing together like they were rehearsed; as Lola’s overcome with a fit of giggles recounting one of Nikki and Tommy’s stunts, Nikki wraps his arm around her, pulling her close as he seamlessly takes over the story, grinning from ear to ear. As Lola’s giggles subside, she looks back to her mother, and Nikki’s voice goes quiet as Lola takes back over telling the story, instinctually in sync, and oh, Irene realises fondly, they understand each other. Despite everything she’s heard about the band, about Nikki, she’s filled with an indescribably sense of calm knowing Nikki made Lola this happy, made her feel understood. She’d be here if he broke Lola’s heart, but until then, she’d be happy for them. 

“Lola!” It’s Leo’s voice that interupts them, and instinctively Irene reminds him that he’s holding eggs, without even needing to look at him. When they all do, they see Kai handing Leo an empty, plastic fries basket for him to drop in surprise instead, and he does so, which makes Lola laugh, even though she’s tearing up at the sight of him.

Nikki relaxes his grip on her shoulders without her needing to ask, and she ran to Leo, jumping to wrap him in a koala hug as he anticipated as much, holding her tight. 

“If you guys ever wanted her back here to stay, you know she’d be more than happy to do it, I don’t know how you guys did it, but she loves you more than anything else in the whole world,” Nikki says quietly to Irene, the pair of them watching Lola and Leo, still hugging, with Lola koala-ed onto her father, talking to each other.

“She’s lucky to have Leo,” Irene said softly, “and so am I,” she admits easily, with a smile, “we both just wanted to give her the world, and if that, for her, means taking over the diner, then she’ll always have a place here, but if she wants more than that, if for her the world is the world, we’ll do everything in our power to help her get it,” she paused, before her smile turns amused; the expression looks so much like Lola’s, “but I suspect she doesn’t need our help with that.”

“And Nikki,” Irene turns to him, to look him in the eyes, and he knows that she knows every terrible thing Lola knows about him, but the thing is, he trusts Lola, and Lola loves and trusts her parents more than anything in the world, so if she’s trusted them with his dirty laundry and they still treat him kindly, he knows he has nothing to fear, “as long as you love her and treat her well, you’ll have us in your corner too.”

----

In 2005, it seems as though everyone in the entertainment industry knows about Boston’s famous Lionheart Diner, renamed in the mid-90s to coincide with the official forming of Lionheart Talent Management in LA, a label that would develop a reputation for finding talented underground acts, and making them huge. 

Over the years, it had become a tradition for touring rock groups to visit the diner, claiming The Godfather sent them, even if Lola had never interacted with the band. As time wore on, bands outside of the rock genre caught on to the tradition, and soon even those from film or television or even art had joined the tradition too. 

The business was booming, it had become a spot for tourists to come take photos against the wall of famous band photos, and people would often stop by on the off chance that someone famous would be around. They’d invested in selling shirts, plain black with the Lionheart logo over the left breast, and the word ‘crew’ printed in all capitals in white across the back. 

The heart of the business remained, with Leo, seventy-one and still spry, as Sous Chef, while Kai had stepped up as head chef. One of the benefits of being part-owned by a successful management company was that Irene was able to retire, as Lola’s in-house accountants took care of the diner’s finances, and her little sixty-nine year-old mother could spend her time relaxing, or playing with her grandchildren. 

In 2005, Lola went home in anticipation of a letter she hoped her parents would be receiving, taking Nikki, their son, and her entire rolodex of industry contacts with her.

In 2005, Lola and her family are awoken by a legitimate yell sounding through the little flat above the diner; it’s Leo, he’s excited and nervous and panicking, and Lola’s rubbing sleep from her eyes as she finds him, alongside her mother, sitting at the kitchen table, looking at a pristine, off-white envelope. 

“We should wait for Kai, we have to call him, we have to call him now,” Leo’s chattering away, already up, and when Lola sits at the table, Irene hands her the bulky envelope before she even has to ask. 

The return address was the Michelin Offices in Paris. 

Lola’s smile grows wider.

The kitchen is eerily silent, apart from Lola’s son Mal moving about the kitchen, making himself cereal, as all the adults wait quietly for Kai to arrive with his own wife and baby daughters.

“I heard they were... were coming to America, but I thought it was only New York,” Leo looked so much younger for his nervous excitement, and once Kai had sat down and realised what it was, Lola pushed the envelope towards her father.

With shaking hands, Leo opens the letter, he and Kai reading the congratulations that had been sent to them, the praise for their food, their plating, their atmosphere and service. Leo’s crying, his hand pressed to his mouth, he’s crying, and Lola can feel the tears in her eyes too. 

“They gave us two stars,” he chokes out, pride in his voice, “two whole Michelin Stars, the only restaurant outside of New York,” he’s sniffling as he lets Kai take the letter, pulling the book from the package, thumbing through it, and bursting into tears, the book in a white-knuckled grip as a lifetime of work is finally granted the recognition it deserved. 

“Two stars; excellent cooking, worth a detour,” Kai was crying too, his pride overwhelming him, and it seemed, all other at the table, aside from Nikki, and Kai’s wife Julia. 

Lola spends the next week organising a party, calling everyone and anyone to invite them to Leo’s, promising her father the night off to celebrate, but he waved her off, so long as she would work by his side for the night. Of course she agreed. 

It was a star-studded event, surprising the locals, with Lola calling her contacts who loved the restaurant, and Leo and Irene and Kai calling old regulars they wanted to celebrate with, everyone who heard the news was delighted, knew it was well earned, and cheered as Leo unveiled the new sign with the Michelin Stars on full display. 

“Thirty years ago,” Lola makes a toast, and the room falls silent, all looking at her on this night of mirth and merry, on this night of celebrating Leo and Irene and their family and their staff, “I claimed that the Michelin Star Inspectors were classicist, bitch-ass jagweeds, who hadn’t given the diner a star because they couldn’t even be bothered making the detour it was worth,” and that got a laugh to rise from the crowd, while Leo’s surprised Lola remembers that, hell, he’s surprised he remembers that, “but they’ve finally come to America; they said they were coming to New York, but you know what- you know fucking what? They made the detour! Because they’d heard this place was worth it! They knew what my parents built, what everyone here still upholds, it’s world class, it’s excellent cooking, it’s worth the detour!” And a cheer rises from the crowd, just as the diner deserves. 

But something about it sticks for Leo, something about it is familiar, perhaps it’s just the way Lola’s smiling, but he asks for a word with her, and she agrees easily. She’s not his little girl anymore, neither of them as young as they once were, but they sit on the back step of the diner, the door shut, the celebrations inside muffled.

After a long while, Leo looks to Lola and gives her a fond little smile.

“I’ve really raised a supervillain, haven’t I?” And Lola acts confused for all of two minutes before she gives up the ruse, grinning like she’d been caught red-handed.

“Hey, if this place didn’t deserve any Michelin Stars, it wouldn’t get any; I just wanted to get the word out there so people would know where to look,” she shrugged, and Leo threw an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“How long were you planning this?”

“That day in the diner when we talked about my future, and I said this place deserved a Michelin Star,” she admitted, and Leo’s eyes went wide, realising just why she’d remembered that day so well during her speech.

“Your thirty year plan?”

“I didn’t know when they’d come to America, honestly I think you guys would have still had enough notoriety to warrant someone coming to check this place out fifteen years ago,” she mused, “but like I said, it’s because this is a good diner, dad, I only brought it to their attention.”

“Lola, this is you life -” he tried with concern, though Lola rested her head on his shoulder, cutting him off with reassurances.

“I love my job, I love the life that I have, and the people in it, and it just so happened that the thing that I’m good at and do professionally means I have some influence; I promised I’d only use my powers for good, and this is the good-est thing I could think of,” she ducks her head, to hide her teary eyes, so glad that finally her family, her father, got their deserved recognition. 

“All for your lil’ old family,” Leo gave a watery chuckle, overwhelmed with pride.

“All for my lil’ old family,” Lola agreed, sniffling, and Leo pulled her into a tight hug, so Lola’s next words were muffled against his chest, “come on, dude, be cool.”

“You made the whole world love us because how much you love us, I will not be cool,” Leo held her tighter, and Lola laughed softly, wanting this moment to last forever if it could, “you were never a supervillain, sweet girl, you’ve always been my hero.”

[brianc521]

Test | CEO Peter

Being engaged to Peter meant being engaged to his job. He’s a very busy man, especially this week considering an inspection to one of his newest ships is undergoing.

He’s been holed up in his office, dealing with meetings and phone calls, cleaning up messes and fixing up on errors in preparation for this inspection. Which means you haven’t seen him all that much. The few times you have seen him he’s been on the phone, giving you nothing more than a quick wave before turning his back and continuing on.

You’re trying not to take his actions personally. You know how stressful his job is, it’s not your first rodeo for an inspection. This just happens to be a final inspection, before a launch. It’s huge for him, huge for the company. 

“Mrs. Mendes,” Stan answers the phone. “He’s in a meeting.” 

You sigh and shake your head, staring at the box in your hand, trying to breathe. 

“Can you tell him it's an emergency.” You whisper. 

“Are you okay?” Stan asks quickly, taking your call much more seriously now. 

“Yeah, I just need to speak with him.” 

“Of course.” 

You’re set on hold, waiting for his soothing voice to come through. 

“Kitten I’m busy.” He barks, scaring you. 

“I know I’m sorry, I just, I need you right now.” 

“Kitten.” He sighs. “It’s inspection day. The inspectors are in the lab right now. I really need to be in there. Can it wait?” 

You gulp, looking up at the ceiling in an attempt to push your tears away. “Yeah sure.” You choke out.

“Okay good, I’ll call you when it’s done.”

The dial tone startles you and leaves you feeling more alone than ever, which is ironic because you might not be alone anymore. You might now be alone for the next nine months.

**

Peter smiles as he watches the inspectors enter the elevator. Once the doors have closed and everyone watching him has left he claps loudly and covers his face with his hands. 

The inspection went great, he’s been given the green light for the launch. He can’t wait to go home and tell you. 

“Stan,” He stops by his desk on his way back to his office to gather his things. “Tell Bailey I’m ready.” 

Stan clears his throat and looks at his desk while responding, “Bailey isn’t here right now Sir.” 

“Excuse me, I pay him to be here when I’m ready.” 

“You also gave him strict orders to be an escort for Mrs. Mendes when she needs.” 

Peter pales, his heart stopping for a moment. You have never ever taken him up on his offer of Bailey. 

“Where are they?” 

“She asked I not say.” Stan gulps, looking up at his boss. 

“Put Bailey on line one.” Peter demands, stalking into his office, slamming the door behind him. 

He stomps to his desk, just about ripping the phone off it’s cradle. 

“Sir.” Bailey answers.

“Where are you? What’s happening?” 

“She needed a safe ride Sir.” 

“I understand that Bailey, where to?” 

“Is that him?” Your voice echoes from the background. The phone jostles before you speak. “Peter?” 

“Kitten, where are you? What’s going on?” 

“How was the inspection?” 

“Where are you?” His voice goes hard. 

“Headed back home.” You whimper, sniffling. 

“What happened? Kitty talk to me.” 

“Everything's okay now.” 

“Now? What’s going on? Why won’t you tell me?” He tugs at his curls. “You called me earlier, what was that about?” 

“Nothing, it was nothing. I thought there was something going on, but it’s a,” You hiccup, “It’s a negative.” 

He stares at his computer screen in confusion, but his mind is made up when he hears you muffle a sob. “Go straight home, I’ll meet you there. I love you Kitten.” 

“Okay.” You cry, hanging up the phone not really listening to anything he said. 

“STAN!” Peter yells through the intercom, “Get me a cab! Now!” 

He’s scrambling, rushing for his phone and jacket, briefcase and coffee mug. 

**

He feels like his heart is ripping to shreds when he finds you curled into a ball on the couch, tear stained cheeks and red puffy eyes. 

“Kitten?” He murmurs, crouching in front of you, caressing a hand across your cheek. 

“What are you doing home?” You croak out.

“You’re crying. Why?” 

“It’s over now, I’m okay.” You shrug, taking a deep breath. 

“Why won’t you tell me what's the matter?” He groans, falling back on his butt, covering his face in his hands. 

“Because it’s not important.” 

“Kitten, you know how I feel about secrets, and we promised we’d never have any.”

“There’s no secret I’m keeping from you.” 

He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Right, whatever. I’m taking a shower, if and when you decide to tell me what the fuck happened I’ll be waiting.” He stands up, stalking off to the bathroom.

He’s upset that you won’t talk to him. Obviously something upset you, even if it’s not upsetting you now, he still wants to know. That way he can be there for you, and maybe have some insight on how to better prevent this thing from upsetting you in the future. 

He’s slamming his things around in the bathroom, totally throwing a childish fit when he finds it. He wasn’t looking or anything, he was just throwing an old razor blade away and caught sight of the pink cap. 

He wads up some toilet paper, reaching in and grabbing the stick. Grabbing the positive stick. His breath catches, his world freezes, but to his surprise a smile forms on his face. He’s quickly rushing out to you, finding you in the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of wine.

“You’re not supposed to drink when you’re pregnant.” He orders. 

“What?” You whip around, facial features blown back in guilt. 

He holds up the test, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Where did you get that?” You whisper, rubbing your forehead as the tears build back up. 

“I saw it when I was throwing my razor away. What the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me?” He throws the test on the counter, settling his hands on his hips. 

“It’s false.” You mutter.

“I mean what the fuck Kitten? This is certainly important. We’re gonna have a child for christ sake, did you plan on keeping that from me?” He speaks right over you.

All at once your emotions fester and explode. “Fuck you Peter!” You yell out, looking at him with tears streaming down your face. “Fuck you. How dare you say that to me?” 

“Excuse me?” His voice is deathly low. 

“How dare you?” You gasp out. “You weren’t there. You weren’t there for me.”

“How was I supposed to know when you didn’t fucking tell me?” He raises his voice as well.

“I tried, I called you. I called you and told Stan it was a fucking emergency, and all you had to say was that you were busy and you needed me to wait for later. Well guess what? I wasn’t gonna fucking wait for later with you!” 

“You could have said this was what you were calling about!” He continues to yell, hoping to mask the amount of guilt he’s feeling. He knew you needed him, you had said so, but he was preoccupied to really listen. He’s at fault, and he knows that, he just can’t seem to admit it. 

“So what you wanted me to call you and tell you over the phone that I’ve missed my period and that I was holding a pregnancy test and on the verge of a fucking panic attack?” 

He deflates hearing you say that. You get anxious, but never that bad. 

“Why didn’t you tell me when I called you? Or when I got home? I’d say this is some pretty significant news.” 

“It’s not news! Peter you don’t fucking listen. I just told you it’s false!” 

How many times can a man's heart break in one day? Because Peter feels like he’s setting the world record. 

“What? How?”

“Well when the test said positive I scheduled an appointment. Which is what I needed Bailey for, because I wanted to be sure that I wasn’t going to be seen spotted. You’ve been pretty popular lately since you were seen out with Shawn. I didn’t want to start drama or anything.” 

He’s rounding the counter, reaching for you. 

“The doctor administered a test, and it came back negative, the one I took here was a false positive.”

“Maybe it’s just too early to tell.” He hopes out loud.

“No Peter, when I got home my period started.” You shrug sadly, “I’m not pregnant.” 

“Then we’ll keep trying.” He blurts, eyes going wide the same as yours when he processes what he’s just said.

“I didn’t realize we were trying.” You say softly. 

“Me either, but the thought has me excited.” 

“Peter we’re not even fucking married yet.” 

“So?” He tilts his head to the side. “My parents aren’t even married at all, they had all four of us.” 

“Peter,” You reach up and cup his face. “I was excited too, I won’t lie. And it’s really breaking my heart to think that I could have been but I’m not. With that said though, I kind of would like to enjoy you as my husband before I enjoy you as the father of my children.” 

“I know you’re right. I have so many plans for us once we’re man and wife,” He nods, “But the thought of you carrying my child is so exciting. I didn’t think I would be happy about the thought of children at this point in my life, but my knee jerk reaction was to go running around the world screaming that we’re having a baby.” 

“Not right now, but maybe we can really talk about it after the wedding. I just really can’t deal with the extra stress right now.” 

“Of course Kitten.” He hugs you, burying his face in your neck.

[dust-broken-berry]

This is more an extra and a lot people aren't gonna like it cause it's a NightHorror. But here it is anyway, second post up soon.

Part 12: His Hopes, His Dreams

    Nightmare and Horror walking out of the hospital, Horror asking-

“So when did you want to go and look at those books?”

“Well I’m not doing anything unless you are?”

“No but you want to look at them now?”

“Well no I need to get some things first but yes I do.”

“Oh ok, what do you have to get?”

“You ask a lot of questions”

    Nightmare said, making Horror grumbled

“It’s just because I wanna know”

    Nightmare walked as he kept talking, so Horror followed.

“Ya I suppose that makes sense, well I need to retrieve some documents, and I may have passages and books about It.”

“Ok….can I ask where?”

“In my AU…”

    Horror was surprised and asked-

“Wait, wasn't that place destroyed?”

“It was but it is Ink’s job to fix AU’s so I can only assume that’s why it’s still there.”

“Ya I guess, but don’t they kinda hate you? Like a lot”

“Yes but regardless I need to get those things, they could be important so a little while of scrutiny is fine.”

“Will they try and stop us?”

“Us?”

“Ya sure why not”

    Nightmare looked away for a moment then back at Horror as he spoke

“Nothing, I just never said anything about there being an us.”

“Well I could go with you, hell I may even be useful.”

“Ya I suppose you could be, the people there won’t take very kindly to...us.”

“Well they will if they know what’s good for them.”

“I would hope”

    Nightmare said as he opened a portal

“Come on let’s go”

    He said as him and Horror entered his AU. As they did Nightmare shed his tar body, Horror looked over confused and asked-

“Why are you doing that?”

“I don’t know, maybe they won’t have that much of a stick up there ass if I do.”

    They both laughed, as Horror said-

“Haha, hey don’t these monsters not like swearing, fighting, and you know all that junk?”

“Ya but they’ll need to get over themselves. Come on now, unless it’s just me.”

    Nightmare said, as the two began to walk through the AU as the portal closed behind them. They were walking on a cobblestone path with many heads turned towards them, Nightmare just put his hood up.

    Horor on the other hand was amazed as he looked at the olden styled town

“Holy shit man, are we back in the eighteen hundreds?”

    After Horror said that some lady with a child slapped him, he was angry and confused to say the least.

“Hey! Watch it lady!”

“Then you watch your tone, demon!”

    The lady said as she walked off, Horror screamed back

“HEY I’M A SKELETON JUST TO LET YOU KNOW!”

“Horror I’ma go ahead and tell you now that if you’re associated with me, then you're gonna be called demon, or evil, or anything else they can think of.”

“Eh not the first time”

“Ya I guess… Come on we might need some new clothes.”

“Why? We never have before?”

“Horror, look at everyone else then look at us. We don’t need the attention looking like this.”

“Fine, just don’t make me look ridiculous”

“Ha don’t worry you want look any worse”

“Haha good…”   

    Nightmare waited a minute, then Horror yelled-

“HEY WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN!?”

    Horror angrily yelled and chased Nightmare as he laughed, they then made it to some store. Nightmare trying to calm Horror down.

“Alright, alright it’s time to stop yelling.”

“Ok fine…”

    The two walked up to the clerk at the counter, the clerk said-

“Hello there sir, madam”

“PPfff- who’s madam?”

    Horror asked trying not to laugh, the clerk confused answered-

“Why the lady next to you?”

    Horror could hold it anymore and burst out into laughter, while Nightmare tried to keep himself from screaming. The clerk was even more confused now so he asked-

“Did I say something funny?”

“Ahaha oh ya man. The ‘lady’ over here is actually one pissed off dude!”

“O-Oh, my dearest apologizes s-sir.”

    The clerk tried to apologize, and Nightmare just grumbled

“Ugh...it doesn’t matter right now, we need clothes!”

“Y-Yes um is there anything that you two are interested in?”

    The man asked nervously, Horror thought about it and looked around the store then back at the guy.

“Well I don’t really care so...uh...anything like red? Or something? But I don’t know about the ‘lady’ though.”

    Nightmare looked angrily at Horror as he grumbled

“I would like a vest, formal fitting. Either black or dark purple.”

“Ok, and ok, I’ll be right out with that. You can get anything else you need while I’m gone.”

    The clerk practically sprinted into the back room. Nightmare and Horror started looking at other things in the store. Horror looked over at Nightmare and asked-

“Hey, why are you getting something with such poofy sleeves?”

“Because we’re skeletons, anything tight looks stupid trust me.”

“Well ok then but why are we looking at shirts, isn’t that guy doing that for us?”

“He’s gonna bring you a vest, jacket, and maybe pants but not likely. And since you weren’t very specific he’s probably just gonna bring you something red.”

“That may look stupid”

“Eh not always”

    They got some shirts and some pants just in case as the clerk ran back out of the backroom.

“Ok you can go try these on”

“Thanks…”

    Nightmare grumbled as the two monsters went ahead and put the clothes on-

    Horror had a dark red vest with a dark brown coat, he had on a normal pair of black pants on with it.

    Nightmare had a loose sleeved white shirt that was cuffed at the bottom, he had a dark royal purple vest on over it. He had a gold chain from one of his buttons to his pocket. Like Horror he also had on a normal pair of black pants.

    Horror angrily groaned-

“I feel like a fucking clown”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just pay and we’ll go.”

    They walk back over to the counter

“How much?”

    Nightmare asked, the clerk turned and looked back at Nightmare and freaked out.

“AH! YOUR NIGHTMARE AREN-!”

“Uh no I get that a lot though, my names actually uh...Jack...ya, so how much?”

    The clerk kinda calmed down

“Oh...Er sorry then Mr. Jack… Uh it’s gonna be fifteen coins”

“Ok here”

    Nightmare handed the man some coins as he opened a portal, he told Horror

“Horror throw are clothes in here”

“Where is here?”

“My house, I’ll give you your clothes back later.”

“Uh ok?”

    Horror said as he threw the clothes through the portal as the clerk cashed them out.

“H-Have a nice day”

    Nightmare looked down at his cufflinks and asked-

“Can I swap these out?”

“Oh ya sure, what would you want instead?”

“Really Ni-”

    Nightmare gave Horror death stare before he could finish his sentence.”

“Jack…”

“Oh don’t worry about it. This’ll just be a sorry for earlier, so what would you like?”

“Moons”

    Nightmare said, confusing the clerk a little bit

“Hm moons?”

“Yes, unless you don’t have any?”

“I think we do...let me go check”

    The clerk said as he went to the backroom again, Horror asked-

“Why do you want those?”

“I don’t know...I guess…”

    Nightmare pulled his old crown out of the portal as it closed. He put it around his collar, like an emblem or a necklace.

“Nostalgia…”

    Nightmare said as the clerk ran back out. He handed Nightmare the cufflinks.

“Wasn’t sure if we had any but I found them. They’re a bit old but they should work fine.”

    The clerk looked at Nightmare, and the new golden emblem around his neck.

“Hm? Where did that come from?”

“I just had it”

    Nightmare put the cufflinks on, he said-

“Have a good day”

“You to sir’s”

    The clerk said as the two left the store. They walked and Horror want ask something so he said-

“Hey Nightmare, can I ask something?”

“Shoot”

    Horror hesitated a bit, but still asked-

“Are you and Dream getting along better or somethin’?”

“That’s a bit random”

“Well I just wanted to know since you brought up nostalgia and all.”

    Nightmare paused for a moment, then said-

“No...we have petty differences and yet now more than ever we neglect to try and solve them…”

“So you’re saying that you wish you were on better terms?”

“Eh I don’t really know anymore...some days I wish he were dead with his dust six feet under… While other days I wish I were fine calling him my brother, and maybe him the same…”

“Dude I think that’s just how siblings are-”

“You know why it’s different…”

“If I’m being honest…I really don’t”

    Nightmare sighed

“Just take are time here for example. Dream was practically put on top of a throne and given gifts, friends, and more importantly he was given kindness, respect… Me on the other hand was put in the dirt, treated as rotten as the food and trash the people threw at me, the only thing they felt for me was hatred. And the only reason they liked Dream was because he put off positive feelings, and they loved that. As for when I was near I put off negative feelings...and worse when I felt empty and bitter. And with how they treated me, it always made it so.”

“Geez…”

    Horror said, then asked-

“Then how come I don’t feel more like shit around you when you’re angry or something?”

“You and everyone else I found...they all seem to be much less affected by my aura.”

“Ha well maybe that because we’re all already depressed as balls! But hey maybe that’s just me!”

    Horror said in a jokingly trying to cheer Nightmare up, he failed.

“Then how does that explain Outer, he’s generally happy around me. Hell even the baby is…”

    Horror did really know what to say anymore, so he just decided to say-

“Well...you never know, maybe we all did something different. Something better…”

“Hm?”

“I know for a fact that we didn’t treat you like garbage, or as some kind of freak. We thought of you as an equal, a boss, a friend, we even thought some of that when we first met you and frankly we still do now...hehe hell I guess you could say we all might’ve cared.”

    Horror said as he looked over Nightmare, he was smiling and even crying a little bit. Horror chuckled a little bit and asked-

“Why are you crying?”

“Wait what?”

    Nightmare questioned as he put a hand to his face.

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t make me cry t-to”

    Horror said sarcastically. Nightmare just rolled his eyes as he wiped the tears.

“Oh come on I thought you were unassholed for a second there.”

“If I can joke around then I’ll never be unassholed”

“Ha figures”

    Nightmare said, looking down at the ground then back at Horror.

“But then again that’s just you”

    Nightmare said, as he sighed

“And I may regret saying this but for once I think I’m happy that you’re you.”

    Horror smiled, saying-

“I wish I could get that on tape…”

“Haha don’t push it”

    Nightmare said, the two laughed as Horror looked up.

“Oh we’re here”

    Horror said, Nightmare looked up to and nodded

“Ya this tree, where my life slowly became-”

“An existential crisis?”

“Got it”

“Fist bump?”

“What?”

“You heard me”

“But when have you ever done that?”

“Since you’re happy I’m me”

    Nightmare just rolled his eyes again, and gave Horror a fist bump. He said-

“Ok happy?”

“Very, let’s go”

    Nightmare stood there as Horror walked into an invisible magic dome around the tree.

“Ow my fucking nose”

    Nightmare smiled mischievously as he spoke-

“Oh ya I forgot to tell you, Dream made that when we were here so only me and him could get through, and some others when he allowed it.”

“Ya and you just forgot to tell me?”

“Eh maybe so, maybe no”

“Anyways, can’t you just move or whatever?”

“Dream made it, I can only pass through it”

“Then just put your arm on it and make a doorway or something.”

“Can’t”

    Nightmare put his arm through the wall, and it was surrounded by a little circle of bright yellow magic.

“Even if I wanted to I couldn’t…”

“Ok? Then how do we get in?”

“Um well I saw Dream sneak creatures in before so I know how to do it…”

“Ok then, do it”

“It’ll make us both very uncomfortable”

“Oh come on it can’t be that bad”

“Really?”

“Come on it’s fine”

“Ok then...come here…”

“Ok I will”

    Horror walked over to Nightmare. Nightmare made Horror crouch down as he basically draped his whole body over Horror and walked him inside, Horrors face was red the whole time. Since no one had seen anyone get near the tree in many, many years so a crowd began to form. Nightmare got off of Horror when they were inside. Horror screamed-

“I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WOULD FUCKING DRY HUMP ME!”

    Nightmare blushed and screamed back

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN!?”

“I MEAN YOU FUCKING FRY HUMPED ME!”

“NO YOU’RE MAKING IT SOUND LIKE THAT!”

    Nightmare took a few breathes and calmed down

“Ok! Ok it’s time to relax, ok?..”

    Horror looked at Nightmare, and Nightmare seemed genuinely sorry.

“...Ok fine...it’s fine lets just go and get your shit.”

    Horror looked outside and saw the crowd of people, he asked-

“Why is there a crowd out there?”

“Because there hasn’t been anyone near this dead tree for many years.”

“So they know who you are now don't they…”

    Nightmare sighed

“Ya…”

“Sorry about that”

    Horror said as they began to walk up the small hill to the tree.

“What for?”

“For being loud and obnoxious...and drawing them over here. It’s more my fault then anyone else’s…”

Nightmare looked over at Horror and smiled

“Horror even if you weren’t here they would’ve looked over. So just don’t worry about it, ok?”

 “Ok”

    Horror said as they got to the old dead tree.

“Ok we’re here”

    Nightmare said, as he opened his satchel and started old dusty papers in it, along with a book or two. Nightmare said-

“That should be all here, we just need to go to the library and we can leave.”

“Uh how late is that library open?”

“Not very, why?”

“The suns going down, looks like we’re gonna have to stay here.”

    Nightmare looked over and saw the sun had almost set.

“Ya and I don’t think we can get a motel anymore.”

“Can’t we just stay here?”

    Nightmare looked over at Horror confused, Nightmare said-

“Well I guess, but why would you want to stay up here.”

“I don’t really want to. I just don’t think we have any other choice, besides…”

“Hm?”

“The view is kinda nice”

    Nightmare chuckled and said-

“Never took you for a guy that would like the view."

[marvelmymarvel]

Serial Killer (Part 1)

Keigo Takami x Ex-Hero!Todoroki!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Synopsis: After being held captive by the LoV for over a year, the heroes realized that they had messed you up in ways no one would expect. You used to be a hero, but now you were the villain. What was Keigo to do with you when you couldn’t even remember him anymore? 

Song: Serial Killer by Moncrieff x Judge (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F0kuxeMEIcg)

Trigger Warning: Blood, stalking, almost murder, angst

A/n: Bro, writing the first part in detail made me sick, but don't worry it will get better ;). Probs gonna have more than one part, hope you like it.

You twirled the knife in your hands, stalking after the civilian running away from you. You felt like a robot, no emotion evident on your face as you hunted your prey. All you were chasing was the high of taking a life, that's what the League taught you. 

That's what Dabi taught you.

The girl hid behind a wall and you could hear her holding her own breath. She seemed to forget who you were. “Come out come out wherever you are” your sing-songy voice turned sinister at the end as you ignited the fire in your hand, bright yellow flames licked the bricks as you stalked closer to her. 

“WHY USE A KNIFE?!” 

You chuckled darkly at the girl's brave words, but you could hear the fear laced in them. Her back was still pressed against the wall, but the silence that followed made her confused. She pushed off the wall, ready to see if you were gone. Your hand slammed her back into the sharp brick, blade pressed to her neck while your laugh reverberated in her ears. 

“Because fire isn’t as fun when I can see the life drain from your eyes this way.”

Her whimpers matched her struggle, trying to push you away but only making the situation better. Your e/c eyes glistened in pure ecstasy, taking in the fear on her face as you pressed the silver deeper into her skin. Some blood flowed out and down the blade, causing her to gasp and cry.

Your soft chuckle filled the air but fell short when her eyes changed from fear to another emotion. You cocked your head at her, confused as to why she changed. Did she finally give up hope? You started to press the knife in deeper, ready to feel that high-

Your body was thrown against the wall 10 feet away, hearing a man scream for the woman to run. Your knife flew as well, causing you to scramble towards it once you realized what was happening, but before you touched it, it was kicked away.

You ignited your fist, standing swiftly to face your opponent but you were kicked away once more this time slamming your head into the concrete below. It was a hero, you knew it had to be, but why was it so hard to even throw a punch? Your head spun a bit as you stared up at the stars knowing that it would be the last time you’d see them.

A figure came into your field of sight, but you couldn’t focus on what he looked like. He sounded familiar, but that wouldn't have made sense since you were raised to be a villain. That's what Dabi said...

And Dabi wouldn’t lie.

“Tsk tsk... Your father’s going to be one unhappy man”

Your eyebrows crinkled at his words. You didn’t have a father, he had died in a fire, a fire of your creation, so what was the hero even talking about? He leaned down allowing you to see the blonde scruff along his chin and the red visor covering his golden eyes. He took you in, but it felt sweet and concerning. As if he was worried.

You knew this man.

Your eyes began to close as his arms wrapped under your body. “Don't worry doll...” his words, sweet and soft floated in your ears as you began to drift off into unconsciousness.

“I’ll help you remember me”

A beeping filled your ears as well as some hushed discussions going on around you. The world was dark and you soon realized it was because your eyes were closed, but you wanted to open them. You wanted to see the people around you and you couldn’t.

“She doesn't remember me” 

“I believe they brainwashed her more than we thought...”

“Well... Are we going to hold her responsible-?”

“What a ridiculous thing to say?! She was a HERO for fuck's sake-”

“She killed people Keigo”

Keigo... That name... Why did it sound familiar? Your fingers twitched, fighting to see who these three men were. They seemed to stop and you figured they saw you moving, and that's when you noticed the tight restraints on your wrists. Panic flooded your veins, causing you to thrash a bit. Your back arched in the bed, fighting to be free and fighting to see. 

A warm hand grabbed yours, drawing shapes in the palm of your hand as you groaned and moaned. “You’re safe now Y/n... Shh, my love, you’re going to be okay” the hero who you knew now was Keigo whispered in your ear. It was meant to be comforting, but it only caused you to panic more. “N-no. I need Tomu” you whimpered out, trashing your head around and yanking your hand from Keigo's. Why couldn’t you see?!

Finally, after fighting a bit and Keigo trying to calm you down, your eyes finally snapped open. Instantly, you were greeted by heartbroken golden eyes, as if you had done something to hurt this hero. You thrashed a bit more, whimpering as you pushed away from him, afraid he would hurt you-

“THAT'S ENOUGH”

Your blood ran cold, that voice. That tone. You froze in your spot but urged yourself to look at the newcomer standing in the doorway. Endeavor. The man Dabi hated so much for some reason. You gulped as the bigger man entered the room and subconsciously scooted closer to Keigo as if he would protect you from the large man.

Keigo's arm wrapped around your side, pulling you closer to him hoping it would help calm you. Your eyes traveled around to the other two men in the room, All-Might and a brown-haired man stood in the corner, watching Endeavor with stoic faces. Endeavor stopped at the end of your bed, arms crossed as flames shot out from his angry face.

Your body shook in Keigo's arms, causing the blonde to grow concerned about the whole situation. He loved Endeavor, hell, he thought he was better than All-Might. But when it came to you, it didn’t matter who it was.

“Go easy on her” 

Keigo’s soft voice seemed to only make the number one hero angrier, and you could tell it did. You curled back into Keigo, feeling the heat grow before you as the fire hero grew more hostile. Keigo's eyes flicked to you, bothered at how scared you looked. This was your father... Why did he evoke so much negative emotion from you?

“Watch it Hawks. She is my daughter and I will do as I please” 

“I don't have a father” your small voice squeaked, suddenly afraid that the man before you could somehow be the man you supposedly killed. Did Dabi lie? Endeavor’s chuckle was anything but happy, instead, it felt heavy with anger and disgust. His large hands grasped the end of the bed, stabilizing himself as he leaned towards you two. 

“You might not remember anything, but don't you dare forget who you are”

Keigo squeezed your side, reminding you that you weren’t alone here. That Endeavor couldn’t hurt you without one of the three other men seeing. You nodded before looking at your shackled wrists, you were a villain...

Right?

“You said I was a pro-hero, but I don't remember being anything but the bad guy” 

Your question caused Keigo’s breath to hitch and you could hear the gears turning in everyone's head as they tried to explain to you what exactly happened. “Is no one going to tell her or do I have to tell her everything here?” Endeavor snarled, ripping his hands from the metal frame leaving it slightly melted in the form of his hands. 

Oh... He was mad mad.

“We were hoping to have more time” the brunette in the corner stated while looking at a silent All-Might who only nodded at the ground, afraid of looking up at you. Endeavor stormed towards All-Might as if his inability to look at you made the man disgusted. 

“Look at her!” Endeavor snarled, gripping All-Mights bony chin and forcing him to look up from the ground. The girl you couldn’t save! Weren’t you more of a father to her than I was. And now look at you! Pull yourself together and tell her what YOU failed to do” All-Might’s eyes reluctantly met yours, pain evident in the blue orbs. You knew then, that everything was a lie. But once his mouth opened.

You wished that you would have never known the truth.

[i-write-sometimes-blog]

Dinner with the Solos (Rey x Reader High School AU)

Request: this was not. But people asked for more highschool AU.

Words: 1,735

A/N: just a bit of fluff and a lots of Solo reader and big brother Ben content.

The sun was already setting as you walked down the streets, keeping Rey’s hand secure in your own. The closer you got to the house the more nervous you were, this was the very first time you were taking someone to dinner with your family, the very first time with Rey as your girlfriend.

“You okay?” she asked you seeing the concerned in your face.

“Yeah” you sighed and give a tiny squeeze to her hand, stopping in front of your house noticing a very particular car that wasn’t there this morning, your dad’s car.

The nervous feeling in your body grew with the discover of this new information, usually he was not home but when he was the days would become fights and screams between your brother and father. You didn’t need this right now.

“Listen, my family can be a little too… chaotic sometimes” you told her. “And they ask a lot of questions… and...” Rey placed her hands carefully on your shoulders.

“Calm down, Y/N” she told you with a happy face “We have been through a lot, babe. This is just a dinner, we’ll be fine” she said trying to comfort you.

“Okay” you said. She always knew how to cheer you up, couldn’t wish for a better girl. Together you took the final steps to the door and just when you were about to open it the door opened from the inside and you caught your dad’s face.

“Dad!” you rushed to Han and pulled into a hug. You haven’t seen him in at least a month, always busy with his work, you didn’t always had the chance to see him, or at least not as often as you’d like to, but being a pilot meant traveling all the time and you knew it.

“I’m happy to see you too, kid” he chuckled and then he look at Rey smiling for the sight of you being happy with your dad, secretly wishing she had a connection like that with the father she never got to meet. Your old man extended a hand to pull Rey into the hug with you.

“How you been doing, Rey?” he asked when the hug was over and you started walking towards the table.

“Great” she said “I had some trouble with some school subjects but Y/N is alway there to help me” she said giving to that heartwarming smile of hers that made you blush slightly.

“Mom, we’re here” you yelled.

“Coming” you heard her voice from the kitchen and moments later she was there greeting Rey with a warm hug. Oh yes, your family really liked your girlfriend.

“It’s good to see you, Rey” she said. “I’m just finishing some things up, dinner will be ready soon” she informed.

“Do you need a hand?” Rey offered with a kind smile, she was like that always trying to help people, what a kind soul. “I can help”

“No, don’t worry” Leia told her “Why don’t you wait with Y/N until I’m done”

“Alright” she said turning to you. Giggling you both rushed to your room, her feet walking fast through your house well knowing the way to your room from memory of the thousand times she had been there with you.

Both dropped your bags as soon as you reached the privacy of your room, the idea of this dinner to be a disaster still spinning inside your head. You just wanted a nice night with your family and the girl you loved. Rey stared at you trying to understand the things going on with you, her precious hazel eyes desperately searching for answers.

“Babe, you sure you’re okay? You seem a bit worried” she finally said sliding her hand to cup the side of your face.

“I’m fine, just thinking” you told her with a chuckle “Never thought I’d be able to bring you here as my girlfriend without starting a war” you look at her. “A part of me sometimes thinks I’m dreaming and I fear…” you stopped for a moment. “I fear my family won’t accept me, accept us” you said.

“Y/N, your family loves you. There’s no way they would do a thing like that, and even if that happen, which won’t, I’m gonna still be here for you” she told you. She more than anyone understand you and that sometimes a bit of anxiety could hit you with negative thoughts, fortunately she made sure to always comfort you. “I love you, Y/N” she said looking you into your eyes.

“I love you, Rey” you said a smile finally adorning your face. What would you do without her? she was everything you could ever have asked for and so much more. You closed the distance between you with a sweet kiss, savoring every moment. Her free hand reaching for you hips to pull you closer to her warm body.

“Gross” said a deep voice leaning on the door frame of your room that made your brake the kiss and turn to find your brother with an annoyed expression on his face.

“Fuck! You ever knock?” you yelled to him, your face going red.

“The door was open” Ben said.”If you two wanted to make out at least close the damn door, for fuck’s sake!” he said in a very irritated tone.

“What do you want?” asked Rey serious.

“Dinner’s ready” He said before walking away, as soon as you didn’t hear his heavy boots anymore Rey and you bursted laughing before making your way to the dinner table.

The things there started very quiet, a bit of tension on the air that made you slightly anxious again but thanks to Han it slowly left your body. Engines and mechanic, that’s how the conversation started Rey and your dad seemed to have a thing for the way the oil could get in their hands and you already knew that but seeing them laughing over some mechanic joke was heartwarming so you relaxed and enjoyed the sight.

“So, how is it to be a pilot, Mr. Solo?” asked Rey with that light of curiosity in the eyes.

“Just Han” said your dad with a wink “It’s awesome, nothing compares with the beauty of the sky” he said winning a laugh from your mother. “Except my wife, of course” he said with a smirk that made Leai shook her head.

“How romantic, laser brain” she replied with sarcasm in her words.

“It’s a big responsibility, your flying with a lot of lives on your hands and the smallest wrong move could be terrible” said Han looking back at Rey “I love flying, but sometimes when I’m up in the clouds I just want to get back to my family” he said.

“Oh do you?” said Ben with a anger on his voice.

“Ben speaks! This is a miracle!” joked your dad only making your brother a bit more angry.

“You’re not here most of the time” he declared “If that would be really true you’d be here”

“Ben, don’t start now” said Leia looking him with a warning gaze.

“Yeah, Ben. Dad has alway been here when we needed him” you said giving your dad a warm smile.

“He missed your birthday” your brother hastened to respond and then he took a big bite of his food.

“He missed your birthday?” Rey asked very surprised her eyes went from you to Han and then stayed on you waiting for the answer.

“Of course not!” you shook your head and sipped your drink before you started to explain the story to Rey. “I was like nine and I was having this amazing superhero themed party. Dad was in the other side of the planet and was supposed to be here the night before”

“She waited for him in the couch till midnight” interrupted Ben “Y/N was so excited for him to be in her party. Then he called and said he was not gonna be here because the idiot lost the fly”

“Ben” your mother tried to stop him.

“I was the one who had to see her cry, the one who comforted her because her stupid dad couldn’t make it home” Ben almost yelled, that was a memory you couldn’t forget one of the most lovely you kept from your childhood when Ben and you were close, some years before he became Kylo Ren and built a wall between him and the rest of the world, a wall that was slowly breaking down as you two started to talk more.

“So you do have a heart” said Rey looking at your brother “I thought you didn’t care about anyone else than you”

“Nobody makes my sister cry” he responded “That counts for you too, Rey, you better not break her heart” he said and then he gave you a tiny wink and you smiled back at him

“As I was saying” you raised your voice “He called and apologized. And I went to bed all let down and sad because of that. The next morning when I woke up he was home” you said giggling.

“Hell yeah I was” chuckled Han.

“He had to catch a fly at 4 am and made it just in time. Sometimes he does have a brain” explained your mother.

“I was so happy when I saw him, I believe it was the best party I’ve ever had” you continued. “It was awesome”

“Yeah, it was” Ben admitted. “Specially when you fell on the cake” he laughed, an authentic laugh, you rolled your eyes and throwed a piece of bread to him, provoking a collective laugh that filled the room with a sensation of happiness. Your eyes lied on the brunette girl by your side as her precious laugh kept sounding, a beautiful melody to your ears. This girl had changed your whole life, everyday you spent with her was always filled with joy and love, she gave you the chance to be yourself by loving you, adoring every insecurity you had and helping you get through them. Never imagined she would also help your family too, right there laughing it felt like it used to be in the past and you couldn’t thank her enough.But for that moment you just took her hand that was resting on the table, entangling your fingers with hers as you gave it a slight squeeze, happy to have her on your life.

[sweet-xoxo-thatcares]

(Pt. 2)

She said but you just ate with one hand, just now.

And then something similar to, I could just do it in the morning, its not like he needs the clothes right now.

Then she says don't do that to your father. You promised that man that you would do it.

I reminded her that I told him I would try.

So, now I was pissed off tbh because I didn't see it as a big deal and plus I was tryna be slow downstairs with one hand. I personally don't care for bats in the home. We had tried the night before to get it out, but I'm easily scared to jumpscares in movies. The bat popped out at me and I went back upstairs to the main floor. Me and my little sisters even went down there together and the bat couldn't get caught.

Ok, so after I talked to my mom. I went back to my room to rant a little bit about it and changed into some long pants. I know bats don't bite, but no one wants to get swayed by a bat in undies. I went back downstairs a little heated and with a broom in my hand. I had to walk past my mother, who was in the dining room, to get to the kitchen, which was where the basement door was. I tossed the dustpan (yes I admit in an attitude like fashion) on the floor, and she immediately rushes over and yells behind me "what you got an attitude for?" As I was near the 2nd step of the basement steps. I remember yelling at her to get her hands off of me and to get out of my face. Because at this point I was already coming down here to do my dad's laundry to not piss her off. Had i had stayed in my room and not done the laundry, i probably would have avoided this fight, but she would have still been angry at me for making excuses about not doing it.

So, yea. She pushes me while I'm on the steps and she's still yelling at me for being disrespectful and then I pushed her back because I felt like I was about to fall. And then I'm so caught off guard by her yelling wayyy to close to my face, and almost being pushed off, two of my teenaged sisters had to grab her off of me, they saw me push and yell back at her before, so one of them locks the chain on the door in front of me. Locking me out, while i was still on the basement steps because my mother kept blocking the door. It happened so fast. So me being pissed off and out of breathe from yelling that felt like screaming, I go face the bat and do the damn laundry like I was supposed to. Since I was down there. And yes I was still heated that she even thought that was fair and reasonable to try and push your daughter down the steps over a dustpan. I go back upstairs to the locked door and asked if I could be let out by my sister. Because I wasn't trying to hurt mom. Mom was trying to hurt me. They pulled you off of me. And may I add this was only the 3rd or 4th fight we've had get that physical in the house to where it only got violent when she would put her hands on me or get disrespectfully close to my face. Except this time she was yelling, grabbing, pushing and spitting in my eyes as she yelled. She knew what she was doing.

My sister opens the door, and she's still tryna get into it, getting in my face again. At this point I really didn't feel like talking but something didn't feel like me actually talking. I was holding myself back from not punching her in the face. But I need block my face from her face by putting my hands up, palms side to me, so she wouldn't keep spitting on me. Sorry this is all I can remember, spitting, yelling, those crazy eyes, and me holding my adrenaline back. I was yelling at her at her in a direct tone like my father. In defense mode, while she kept lunging forward yelling over me, "Weren't you being disrespectful? Weren't you being disrespectful? Didn't you have an attitude? Didn't you throw something in my house? You gonna disrespect me in my house?" Meanwhile I'm yelling in a more broader tone than I was earlier, because she's not listening to me. She's just tryna get me to accept her point so there wouldn't be a discussion. I yelled how is it logical for you to push me down the stairs over me throwing a dustpan. She was acting like i threw across the room. I said yea, I threw it, admitting the action, but how is that being disrespectful to you're? She said it was because I had an attitude and that I disrespected her rule, not to throw things in her house. But then I brought up my case, how is me, my feelings towards you, an attitude, justified to be pushed down the stairs She? She wasn't hearing it. Nor did she want to. My sisters tried to back her up by saying mom, she's not listening. There's no point. Like there was no point in arguing. But she just kept yelling that same line "you were being disrespectful, so yes I get to put my hands on you." "By pushing me down the stairs?" "Yes, if you living in my household, and you being disrespectful, yea, I get to beat you down, stomp you, all I want to if you living in my house and being disrespectful" I said that sounds crazy. "She said if you don't like it you can call your grandmother. You can get the fuck out." And I said so if I have an attitude, you gon really do that. That sounds fucking ridiculous. She said call your grandma. And she got closer to my face with her hazel eyed contacts now creating this dazed out look I've never seen before from her upclose. She said "You didn't know you was living with a lunatic? I'm either all right or all left." And I said "oh yea, that sounds bipolar." I felt like I was talking to a Villian. Cruella De Vil. Harley Quinn. All mixed together. That wasn't the mother I knew. She had reached a new level of pissed off.

She laughed and said "Well, if you don't like it, Call your grandma. Leave." And I said bye. She still blocking the walkway. "You act like I wannabe here" I said putting up my dad's front. She said what you still here for? You said bye." I said "Greyhound don't open until the morning, so I'll leave in the morning." She ended it with following me still yelling talking about me wanting to have the last word. I said what you still talking and following me around for. You're the one who's still yelling. Tryna prove your point.

I couldn't believe i held my breath in my chest that long. I hadn't cried until I tried to lay down in my bed. But I couldn't because I was still petrified in the disbelief that my mother would try to go that far to prove to me that I was wrong. Yes, I admit having an attitude and yes I know we not supposed to throw anything in the house. But the dustpan was not directed at her, the attitude was. And she didn't like it. And popped off. But how is my punishment fair, but you still think that you were right to do that to me because you're my mother. I'm 24, and I still lived at home with my mother. My dad didn't get off until 11 that night, he probably would have done what my sisters did, except not lock me in the basement. Encourage us not to fight. But usually if he yells at me for doing something wrong, i cry and just walk away.. Because i hate disappointing my father. I love that man. He said on the phone, what did i do to get her there ever? I said she got mad at me because I threw q dustpan and i had an attitude when i did. And i mentioned the previously discussed argument about his laundry. He said yea, but yall don't be cleaning up the house too good, plus she had a bad day at the store earlier too. I was a little sick from hearing that,, because now I'm hearing what i heard all these years from him, differently this time. He had been enabling her behavior when she pops off like that.

And since I could remember growing up with my mother, she always disliked a sour face, a frown, or even just us crying after they would yell at us or discipline us. Forcing us to change our faces and to fix our attitudes like nothing ever happened. Is emotional manipulation of power. It taught me that I'm not allowed to be mad, sad, or get upset at my mother and father for whatever reason. And its sad to say, to this day I can't talk about how my parents actions towards me made me feel growing up and now as a 24 yr old. I still lived in that trapped, child mentality that those negative feelings were wrong. I was wrong to feel that about anyone and especially my parents because I should have been grateful.

But I never thought those lines they told me in order for me to stop having an emotional tantrum or to stop crying in anger, fear, and punishment; to correct me....ended up affecting my relationships with other people. My friends and significant others, whenever I am mad at you I fear that I will get angry like my mother and lash out at you, I fear that you will turn away and reject me, punish me with neglect of emotional support if I tell you all of what you make me feel. Because I am such an emotional, sensitive person, I know words hurt and I hate being controlled. But I also hate hurting other people. I don't know how to calm down immediately after someone close to me does or says something that I don't like without responding in the way that normal people do. So I either hold it in, runaway, or I cry it out later in a boiling rage in my room or in my journal. Most likely tumblr for people to see.

After that happened with my mom, I called a cousin to ask to come pick me up (because I have yet learned how to drive do my punk ass anxiety that I will definitely get over this year after this scenario) and after she couldn't, I tried to fall asleep. But my body was so in pain, my heart broken, and me in fear kept watching the door in my room. Hoping my mother wouldn't try to do something else to me or make me sleep outside on the dirt. This was when I noticed something had been dripping on my leg, and it was coming from my hand. I had realized my mom must have stratched off the boil of my burned hand because there was a stratch mark down near the side of it towards my wrist. I didn't understand why God wanted me to prepare for being on my own this way, but then I thought maybe this was teaching me a lesson. Don't be like your mother and hold stuff in. Because she probably was holding stuff against me and that dustpan was the cherry on top 🍒.

Because I had recently popped off in a text that I didn't know was gonna be sent to somebody I still cared about, (I blocked her, thinking it blocks both ways) and I sounded just as enraged as her. And somebody else who broke my heart too. These people broke me and wanted to express myself. But there are healthier. And I ain't gon lie, As brave as I felt in my dad's argument voice, standing tall, defending myself; that was the most scariest moment in my life. I could have fell, had I not pushed my mother back. I woke up with my back, my hand, and my chest in pain. Packed up my stuff, said goodbye/I love you to my sisters, my hamster Coco looking waking up early like "bitch what's going on? I heard some crazy shit?" and called a lyft. My mother and father didn't even turn around from the couch to say goodbye to me. No I love you's. like we used to. Nothing. My dad didn't even text me later on that night until I got to Grand Rapids. He said how's it going?

Did he really want an answer? I said peaceful. Safe.

He encouraged me and said that you can do it, the career, the car, the loft (I always talked about getting one) and I just felt heart broken then.

Even on the bus ride there, it felt I had an out of body experience. I watched all of the people I love leave me and who I didn't say goodbye to, because we were no longer talking or just didn't know I was leaving I thought of too. My ex friend Charles felt sorry for me. And I couldn't call Jay, that hope you die message...pretty sure they wouldn't care or thought I deserved it for being cruel. My life flashed away in one night.

And everytime I closed my eyes all I could see was her spitting into my eyes. Her face, so full of hate yelling at me. And my left hand will forever be a message. Like Zuko from Avatar scar on his face. I felt like Anakin from Star Wars. I felt like I had just lost my mother. My whole right side from where my heart used to be. I felt so cold, so numb. And with my scar exposed, people at the bus kept looking at me like she's crying and her hand looks gross. My anxiety, my adrenaline, was in pure shock. Because reality set in on that bus ride. You're on your own.

And real life is a bitch. There are no happy endings. No one to save me. I had to do what I could to protect me. And I'm so glad my dad's energy took over, protecting me from doing any more damage. Cause if I had tried to fight her back with my fists, she probably would have called the cops on me. And my father wouldn't have wanted to speak to me.

I'm grateful for my grandmother giving me a place to lay my head on her couch with her and taking care of my wound on my hand and encouraging me to read the Bible for comfort right now. Cause she knows how homesick I am and how depressed I already was before the fight.

I have to heal from this wound on my hand and in my heart. I thank God for me even still being alive. Cause it could have been alot worse. I still need to forgive my mother, Jay, Ayunna, Charles, and all my other exes who disappointed me, let me down, and couldn't care enough about me because they were emotionally unavailable at the time. I need to move on from this fear of abandonment, neglect, and stand up for myself. I need to grow up and be the mother and father to myself that I wished I had. The ones where they emotional support and calm you down when you get angry to talk me through my feelings and pain. Ones that don't encourage me to fight or let somebody walk all over me just to keep peace. I need stability, courage, strength, self-love, and The Love of God to keep my head afloat. To keep moving forward.