#also frankies shirt says 'i love walking in the woods alone at night'

[wuntrum]

funky belts, funky t-shirts

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Remember?

Summary- 1.9k Frank Adler x You. Frank wakes you up at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am and will not even tell you why. Written for @stargazingfangirl18​ 5k challenge

Warnings- like... barely there mention hint of smut? But just barely? I cant even count it as a warning to be honest. 

A/N- so yes this is written for a soft!dark challenge, but dark writing just isn't happening. I went with just soft and with the prompt of lazy make out session.I really wanted to make sure I was giving something to Siri’s challenge because she works so hard on providing us wonderful fics to enjoy, is incredibly supportive and honestly she deserves it. Much love always babes and thank you for all you do.  

A/N 2- Can be read as a one shot. It is in the same verse as Oppressive. Also trying out a new site to make moodboards. I kinda like it? what do you all think? And I know the Fort Myers pier is made from concrete, not wood, but I wanted wood. So I went with wood. I always appreciate your thoughts on a fic. Alright, Much Love, Happy Reading! 🌊

“Baby wake up.” You heard a husky whisper in your ear as well as a rough scrape against your shoulder from Franks cheek as he pressed in close to your back, the soft hairs of his chest pressed into your sleepy warm skin and you muttered a no into your pillow as you hid your face into the cotton covers. 

He must be out of his ever loving mind to think you were going to wake up at… a quick peek at the old 80’s looking radio clock Frank loved sitting on his night stand. The red numbers were unfocused at first, but blurry sharpened to three thirty am. Yes, your man was crazy to think you were up for anything at all, and the way he was pressed into your ass cheeks, you suspected he woke up early for sex. 

That was going to be a hell no. “Frank go back to sleep. I will fuck you later.” You promised as you shifted back into your warm safe hollow. He chuckled gruffly and his hands slid on your hips to twist you to fast him, causing you to sigh and blink up at him. In the dark of the room, his eyes were a dull blue shining down at you amused. You though were no in that same mood as you blinked up at him, pushing a hand against his chest. “Come on Frank, I'm not in the mood. I was sleeping so good.” 

“You would think I would wake you up just for sex.” Frank scoffed.

“It wouldn't be the first time.” 

“Probably won't be the last either, but that's not what this is about. Come on Sweetheart, get up. I have a surprise.” He tapped your ass and pulled away as you were groaning, knowing sleep simply wasn't going to happen. 

“Adler, I swear to all that is holy, this better be good.” You grumbled as you sat up and tried to wake up. Frank came back out with some clothing for you, a pair of capris, tee shirt and undergarments. You looked at the casual clothing and arched your brows. “Where are you dragging me?” 

“Its a surprise, trust me, those are appropriate.” He started as he dressed in some old faded blue jeans and grey tee. Wherever he was taking you wasn't going to require dressing up too much, so you just pulled your hair back into a tie, and didn't bother with makeup. He kept glancing at his watch, and by three fifty he had you out the door and to his pickup truck. He tossed a bag in the back and when you went to question it, he shook his head firmly in a no while ushering you into the passenger side. “Part of it, just trust me.” 

“I trust you to have something up your sleeve Adler, considering you know I love my sleep in on Saturday Morning.” You grumbled under your breath. Typically you and Frank slept late Saturdays. Mary would go to Roberta’s Friday night for her weekly sleepover that both woman and child insisted on, you and Frank would go to the local bar for a night of cold drinks, games of pool and the occasional dancing when you could get Frank drunk enough to go on the small dance floor. Simple, but you always had a good time. Saturday was recovery day. 

So why was he dragging you out of bed on recovery day? 

“So a hint?” You decide to pester a bit, sliding closer on the bench seat till you were against his side, his arm circling around your shoulder to tuck you in closer and press a kiss to your temple. You could feel his lips upturned to a smirk against the side of your head. 

“You want a hint… It has to be done early in the morning.” 

You rolled your eyes at him with a huff, dropping your hand to dance your fingers against a jean clad thigh, making his eyes dart down to your hand. “I want better then that.” 

“You are not gonna get it Baby, but you can try your best.” 

He really was being serious this time, because he caught your hand from wandering up to far and brought it to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. 

“Alright Adler, keep your secrets then.” You let your head rest on his shoulder and eyes close. Frank was stubborn, always had been. You knew when you just had to let it go. You drifted in and out as he sped along the interstate. Soon he was turning off, but you weren't quick enough to catch what the exit was, so still had no idea. 

“Are we there?” 

“Close, you don't know where we are?” He asked with a slight laugh in his voice. You shrug a bit as you two are driving down the main drag of the area, passing all night gas stations, fast food chain restaurants, outlet stores and parking lots. 

“No clue, every place in Florida has this Frank.” 

He hummed a bit, slowing to an intersection and flicking on his blinker. “True, but you will soon see.” He winked as he made the turn, pulling away from the city-like area and moving towards the beach strip. Where million dollar homes, hotels, and beach side tourist traps laid quiet in the barely morning hours. It was starting to lighten though, you could see the black blue of the night sky make way for lighter purples and pinks. 

So you remained patient, waiting for wherever Frank was taking you. The terrain started to get sandier, the crack of the window took on a breezy salty scent and you could taste the hint of surf and sand in the air. Your lips turned upwards, just that scent alone reminded you of a couple years ago, and it all clicked right where you were. 

Your first overnight away from home with Frank was to Fort Myers, a small rundown motel on the beach. The room was iffy, the Ac barely worked, neither of you dared to use the pool. At the time it was all you two could afford. And it was all perfect. 

Because that morning, before sunrise, you two escaped to the beach, arm in arm and sat in the dunes to watch the sunrise over the crashing ocean, and all was perfect in the world with each other. 

Frank glanced over to see the knowing look on your face, and his own softened in a smile, his hand coming to grasp the inside of your thigh gently, squeezing. “Now you know?” He pulled into an almost deserted parking lot. At the other end were a group of people, unstrapping their boards to get ready to go into the surf. 

“Of course Frankie.” You said with a touch of sentiment in your tone as you leaned over to peck his lips and nip at him playfully. “How can I forget?” You pull away suddenly and jump out of the car, yanking off your shoes to ditch in the truck. Frank followed, doing the same with his own boots. 

You had already taken off into the sand, making your way towards the surf to dig your feet into the wet sand happily. Now it was getting lighter, those dark purples and pinks made way for the reds and oranges as the barest hint of the sun kissed the horizon. 

Frank came up behind, having managed to yank his jeans up partially around his calves and pressed you two to walk out a bit further into the surf, the salt water spritzing you both in a fine cooling mist, clinging to your skin, in your hair, on your clothes. It all brought back the sensations of that first trip together. You fall back into his chest while he dips his head to mouth kisses into your neck, enjoying the quiet of the moment with you in a more physical way for a moment. Making you tilt your head to the side while the sun finally broke. 

From the nearby pier, heavy pelicans lined the side to swoop down, skimming over the water in lines, giving the two of you a show all for yourselves, among the surf the small sandpipers chased after the tiny ghost crabs trying to escape back into the surf, all of it made you smile. This felt like home to you, right here with Frank. 

“It feels like forever since we have visited.” You finally say as you turn to face Frank, the two of you stepping out of the surf, and hand in hand making your way along the beach's edge towards the pier, the sandpipers running away as fast as they could, a few taking to wing to fly several yards ahead of you to start there search in the surf retreating back from the edge once more. 

“Been a couple years at least. I was looking at the calendar and realized an anniversary of ours was coming up.” He mentioned while you two stepped under the pier. A small private world for you two at the moment as far above you people made their way towards the end stretching out over the water, ready to drip lines for fishing in the surf. Here though, underneath it all, was just for you and Frank. 

Nothing but water crashing to the shore, wood above your heads and the morning bringing back fond memories. Memories of shared kisses against one of the ageless logs helping to hold the deck yards above them steady, the way your legs wrapped around his hips as he pinned you in place and loved you so freely out in the open where they could be caught. How afterwards Frank said those words that he never uttered to anyone else in the way he said it to you. 

Fuck I think I love you. 

You thought then you loved him to. Now you knew you did. Your fingers looped in his belt loops and you walked backwards, till your back pressed once more against that sand and salt aged wood, looking up at him in the now very present dawn. 

“You know Frank, I think I love you.” 

“You know what Y/N, I think I love you too.” He winked, sliding in closer till he was pressed against you, his hands cupping the side of your face and tilting up to meet him, his tongue sliding past soft lips to the sweet heat of your mouth and tangling his tongue with yours. It elicited a soft moan from the back of your throat. 

Warming salty air really agreed with Frank, mixing the tastes on your tongue, you curled your arms around his body, clutching at his back as you now clung to him, thoroughly enjoying the way this kiss made you feel. 

The sensations of love and passion curling in your belly and your heart thud against your breast bone, absorbing into Frank as he pressed into your body, trying to daze you from rational thoughts, away from the everyday thoughts. 

Frank had a talent at making you appreciate the here and now. 

And right here, with sand covering your feet, your shirt and pants clinging to you from the ocean spray and your man completely pressing every ounce of his affection into you, you could do nothing but appreciate being in the moment. 

“Scratch that, I don't think, I know I love you Frank Adler.” You managed to break out of his kiss for half a second. 

“I know you do.” He assured you as he grasped the back of your thighs and lifted you enough to fold your legs around his waist. “I plan on showing you just how I feel.” He promised, the glint in his ocean blue eyes turning mischievously playful under that pier.

[walkerwords]

“The New Queen” Negan x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: https://gph.is/g/4be0J8L

REQUEST: From anonymous: “ Can you do a negan imagine where the reader was his real wife before the walkers came and after he starts getting more wives and kinda forgets the reader, she leaves in the middle of the night. Then maybe a year later negan finds out about another community and tries to take their stuff but he and the saviors get captured and they find out that the reader is the leader?” YUP.

Word Count: 3324

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “What The Water Gave Me” by Florence + The Machine

Note: Thank you for the prompt, just a short little stand alone one shot.

-----

This was the fourth night in a row that you slept alone. 

Your hand found the empty space next to you, your nails clawing at the cool fabric. Negan was out once again, most likely with one of them. You knew the other wives were all a part of his tactic to keep his control over the Sanctuary. Just as his brazen actions were on the day you and your husband had stormed the factory and taken control in the first place.

You ignored the bloody bodies that littered the floor of the old building as he walked among his new followers. Occasionally he would look back at you with that damn smile of his and regardless of the things he did, it never failed to make you melt. 

However, that was when you were considered his equal, his queen, the only woman for him. 

Now, you didn’t know where you stood. Half the time you didn’t see Negan. Your husband was always with Simon or Dwight or Arat planning something horrible or looking for more communities to torture. You had overheard Dwight talking to someone about a new place.

Crouched in a dark corner you listened as Dwight recounted what had happened. They had killed all the men, even the boys. Your stomach twisted in on itself. Negan couldn’t have known about that, right? He had rules. Then again, everyone was Negan and his Saviors never did anything without his knowledge. Disgust turned to anger and it was then that you realized that something had to change if you were going to continue to be by Negan’s side. 

As night turned to morning, the door to your bedroom finally opened. You stood by the window watching the Sanctuary wake up for the day, your back turned to him. “Long night?” you asked, keeping your eyes on the rising sun. Negan sighed, collapsing into a chair by the bed. 

“You know me, doll, always workin’,” he said, leaning back. You turned to him and your stomach recoiled at the sight of his mussed shirt and tousled hair. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore. “You’re doing it again,” Negan said. 

“Doing what?” you asked, exasperated. 

“Looking at me like I killed your childhood pet,” he said, rubbing a hand over his cheeks. 

“I’m just tired, Negan,” you said. “Haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“You gotta get out more, (Y/N),” he said, “Get some sun on your back again. Can’t have you going all distant on me, can I?” Negan got up and approached you, his fingers going under your chin to lift your face to his. He leaned in kissed your lips, but you felt nothing. When he pulled back you could smell perfume and you instantly recognized it as Frankie’s. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. Negan grinned at you and then turned to strip off his shirt and grab a new one. You watched as he went around your bedroom getting ready for the day. When he went to pick up that damn bat of his, you turned away again. 

“Might be another long night, doll,” Negan said, “Don’t wait up!” he called over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the room. 

“Don’t worry,” you whispered to yourself, “I won’t.”

-------

That night you didn’t sleep. 

You grabbed enough supplies to get you through at least a week out in the world as well as a couple of weapons you knew Negan kept hidden in the room. As you put everything in your backpack, you glanced down at your left hand. The diamond ring sat proudly on your finger just as it had since he had asked you to be his wife before the world turned to shit. 

You twisted it off and placed it on the nightstand on his side of the bed. You then took out the knife he had gifted you on your first night at the Sanctuary. You stabbed the blade into the wood next to the ring. You couldn’t do it anymore. It was all too much. The blood, the women, the kneeling… he was no longer Negan. At least not the Negan you fell in love with. 

Grabbing your bag, you snuck out of the room. You couldn’t help but laugh at the lack of security outside of your bedroom. You figured he probably had his men watching over the new wives now. The thought only made you move faster through the corridors of the factory. 

You, of course, knew all the checkpoints throughout the place as you were the one to help establish them, especially the watch points. You had been a professor before everything had happened and your concentration was the history of warfare in past civilizations. You figured that was one of the only reasons Negan still kept you around. 

Sneaking through the dark halls, you finally made it outside. The snipers on the North side were screwing around as usual so when you passed through their sights, no alarm was sounded. The wall of the Dead and their groans pierced through the night. Tossing your jacket over the top of the fence, you got over the barbed wire and hit the ground, the moans around you hiding the sound of your boots. You moved through the decaying bodies, taking out a few as you headed for the road at the edge of the Sanctuary. 

Slipping over the final fence, you turned to look at the building that had once been your home but turned into your tomb. You were already imagining Negan’s reaction of finding you gone and your ring and knife on the table. You liked to think that maybe he would look for you or even cry in your absence, but knowing the new man he had become, he would probably just go and comfort himself with one of his new whores. He might even get a new one to replace you. 

Taking one last look, you headed North in hopes of finding a new beginning and prayed you’d never see your husband again. 

-----

2 YEARS LATER

A knock at the door to your office had you looking up from the weapon you were sharpening.

“Come in,” you called. The door pushed open and your second-in-command, Ari, stood in the threshold. “What is it? You have that look on your face.” 

“What look?” she asked. 

“The look that says shit is about to hit the fan,” you offered. Ari chuckled. 

“Got some news, boss. Looks like some kind of caravan is moving along the Southern border,” Ari told you. 

“Hostile?” you asked.

“Possibly. They have some pretty big armored trucks and Danny already took out two scouts.”

“Dead?” Ari nodded. 

“They had weapons, wouldn’t say who they were,” Ari said, “He didn’t want to take any chances.”

“No, that’s good,” you said, “I don’t want to take any chances either. Not after what happened with the Rangers.” Ari nodded in agreement. When the group who called themselves the Rangers had attacked the Parthenon, the community you now controlled, you swore that nobody would be coming into your land unless you gave the green light. 

“Orders?” Ari asked. You looked down at the blade on the table before you, the matching one was already slung over your shoulder. 

“If they come to the gates,” You look at Ari with a small devious smile, “take them.”

The caravan indeed arrived at the gates of the Parthenon not long after their scouts were killed. Ari radioed to you and you met them at the front. Your people passed you, nodding respectfully at the woman they called “Athena”. You didn’t like the nickname, but you never corrected them except when it came to your inner circle. It also gave you the illusion of anonymity when it came to your enemies. 

After escaping the Sanctuary, you had walked for days. When the water had run dry and you were close to starving, you had found the Parthenon. You named it that due to the old greek columns that stood at the front of the old plaza. Survivors were already there, fighting to stay alive. They had offered you food and a place to sleep. It was there that you met Ari, Danny, and a few others. They had already begun to fortify the area with fences, but you challenged them to think bigger and so you got to work. 

Two years later and the Parthenon was fortified, armed, and a flourishing community that elected you as the leader. Nobody went hungry, nobody was forced to stay or go, and nobody kneeled. The original Parthenon in Greece was the temple of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war strategy. You figured it was a sign, as did Ari, which is where your flamboyant nickname arose. 

At this moment, however, it came in handy. Ari stood at the watch post above the steel gates that sat between the largest columns. The roar of the trucks stopped before your front door and Ari, trained her gun down on the caravan. “You have one chance at turning around assholes!” Ari yelled down to the anonymous people at your gates. 

“Oh come on! We’re here to make friends, Darlin’!” The world rocked beneath your feet at the voice. It had been two years, but you would never forget his voice. Not his, not ever. You grabbed your walkie immediately. 

“Take them now, Ari! Right now!” you yelled. Ari wasted no time in giving the signal. Your people, the warriors you had trained, came out of their hiding spots both inside the walls and outside. Shouts of surprise echoed across the group. Gunshots went off and curses were thrown, but soon, everything settled. Ari looked to you as you approached the front gates. 

“More blood will be spilled if you try anything in the presence of Athena,” Danny warned who was on the opposite side of Ari. 

“Who the fuck is Athena?” Your teeth gritted as he spoke again, fueling your rage and the sadness that pooled in your chest. You looked to Maxon and Conrad who were the sentries at the gate. 

“Open it,” you ordered. They nodded and took a handle each. Ari and Danny dropped down from their posts and flanked either side of you as the gates were pulled open. Before you were around twenty men and women. Each one had two of yours behind them, guns pressed to their heads as they kneeled before you. A man to the left was the first to recognize you. 

“Holy hell,” he said and you turned to look at him with a small smile. 

“Hello Simon,” you greeted the Savior. Arat was next to him who looked at you in complete shock. You then turned to the man of the hour. Negan kneeled before you as you approached him. He stared at you as if he was seeing a ghost. In front of him lay that damn bat and you could see that it had a lot more bloodstains on it since the last time you had seen the wretched thing.

Stopping in front of him, you leaned down and picked up Lucille. He didn’t say a thing as you held her. You turned the bat over in your hands before swinging it up onto your shoulder and smiling at him for the first time. “(Y/N)?” he gasped. 

“Hi, honey.” 

-----

It took five of your men to bring Negan into the holding cell. 

Once he snapped out of his daze, he became angry again. He struggled against your enforcers as you led them into the jail. It was a small building on the edge of the community that you rarely used anymore. It was usually only used as a Drunk Tank for when Danny went on a run and brought back some whiskey or when you caught him with his moonshine business. The latter wasn’t all that bad as you still had a few jars stashed under your bed. 

Your men hauled Negan into the cell and held him down while Danny attached the chains, securing him. Ari approached you as you stood in the corner of the small cage, watching him. “His men and women are being held in the stables, we have their weapons.”

“Check the trucks, take everything,” you ordered. Ari furrowed her brow. You weren’t plunderers, but these were no normal hostiles. “Trust me.” Ari nodded and then ordered everyone out to start raiding the Savior trucks. As soon as the cell door banged behind you, you stepped from the shadows.

You slowly circled Negan like a shark after prey. Lucille was still on your shoulder, the bat named for his first wife, the one he left for you. “I forgot how heavy she was,” you said as you came around to face him again. You swung Lucille around, testing out a few strikes. “You always made it look so easy.”

“(Y/N)...” he began. 

“No!” you shouted, slamming Lucille against the bars behind you. “You don’t talk, you listen.” He glared at you, fighting his restraints. “You never stopped, did you? You’re still scaring people into submission and killing them when they defy you. All because you want their shit,” you said, stepping closer to him. “And to think I thought you would change in the years after I left. Tell me, Negan, how are your whores?” 

“I thought you were dead,” he said and you stepped back, placing Lucille on the ground, leaning on the end of it. 

“No, but I have a feeling I would be if I stayed in that place,” you said. “When did you notice I was gone? The next day? Or was it one of your sheep that discovered my absence?”

“You mean how we slaughtered people so you could play king to a bunch of idiots that feared you? No, Negan, we didn’t do anything. I just followed you like a scared little girl, but I think we both know I couldn’t do that forever.”

“I found the ring in the morning,” he told you. “Why did you leave after everything we went through?”

“So you left because you were scared?” he asked. You laughed, shaking your head. 

“No, I left because I was sick of being just another one of your toys. You changed Negan and not for the better. You started this whole...empire and left me in the dust. Did you ever think about what would happen when you started taking other women to bed? Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised, I was the one who you screwed while still married to Lucille.” The mention of his ex-wife made his eyes flare in anger. “We both know that no matter how much I loved you, you were not a good man.”

“So you became Athena,” he sneered. You shrugged and started to pace again, Lucille dragging behind you. 

“I didn’t pick the nickname, but yeah, I guess I did. You did tell me I needed to get out more,” you joked. Looking back over at him, there seemed to be something on his mind besides this impromptu reunion. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Negan?” you asked. 

“Why would you care?” he asked. You shrugged. 

“Call me curious.” he thought about it for a moment before leaning back, the chains on his legs rattling. 

“Dwighty boy snuck out with his wife and sister-in-law,” Negan said. You let out a laugh. 

“Ah, so the little bird finally left the nest?” You sighed, “I can’t say I’m surprised, he hated you. I’m surprised he didn’t do it sooner.”

“What the hell happened to you?” he asked, his voice rising. 

“You did!” You hollered, throwing the bat down and crossing over to him, getting in his face. “You became a monster, Negan! The man I loved, the man I married, the one I promised to always stand by became something out of a nightmare. You left me behind when you took the Sanctuary and you never looked back. I was lucky if I got five minutes with you on a good day and that was only if your wives weren’t in the mood for your bullshit. You wanna know why I left? It’s because you left me first!” You pushed him back, taking a few steps back. 

“So this is all my fault? You were too unhappy and instead of coming to me, you take off in the middle of the night and I have to spend my resources and time looking for you!”

“Like you actually cared! You had the rest of them! You had your fucking kingdom and I was sick of waiting for the guillotine to come down on my head because you were bored of me, Negan!”

“Is that was you honestly think of me?” he asked, shocked. “(Y/N), I left Lucille for you! I made sure you survived when the world went to shit! I took the Sanctuary for you!”

“I never asked you to!” you screamed. “I never asked you to become a killer, a looter, a king! I just wanted you, Negan! I thought we would be taking on this world together just as we did with everything else. But I guess you had different plans and apparently I wasn’t a part of them.” 

“Goddammit, you are still so fucking clueless!” he yelled. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“Oh, please enlighten me then,” you challenged. 

“I never cared about them, the others,” he said, “Hell, they were always just for show, to keep their families in line. Yeah, I may have given in to a few temptations here and there, but shit woman, I didn’t love them. I didn’t even like them! You are who I love! Did you ever notice that you were never under heavy watch? That nobody followed you or got in your face? That’s because I trusted you, I saw you as an equal, not just my wife.” 

“You had a shit way of showing it,” you spat back. 

“Please, (Y/N), I love you and I…” he trailed off. 

“What?”

“I got rid of them, the other women,” he said, “I let them go after you left.” You crossed your arms. 

“Why?” 

“Because what was the point? Not like I gave a shit about anyone but you. You were all I had left and then you… Jesus, how do I make it up to you?” You laughed, unable to believe what you were hearing.

“You think all this,” you gestured around you, “is some kind of reconciliation discussion? That we were going to kiss and make up? You really don’t think I haven’t been keeping up with what  you and your Saviors have been up to?” 

“So what? Are you going to kill me?” 

“No, Negan, I’m not going to kill you,” you said softly as you leaned towards him, placing your hands on his thighs. “You’re my guest and will continue to be until I decide otherwise.” Negan looked in your eyes, your breath mingling with his. 

“You can’t keep me here. What about my men?” Negan asked. You smiled. 

“Well according to them and you, they’re all Negan. They stay too,” you said, grinning wider as he sneered. “Cheer up, Doll,” you said, giving him the old nickname he used to call you, “nobody is going to die. People are a resource, remember?” 

“What happened to you?” he asked again quietly. You leaned closer, placing your lips at his ear. 

“I stopped taking shit lying down,” you whispered to him. Leaning back, you looked him over again. “You came here to place me and my people under your boot, but it looks like your my bitch now.” 

“(Y/N), please,” he rasped out.

“Face it, baby, you lost,” you said with a sweet smile. “Now,” you said, picking up Lucille and placing her back on your shoulder. “Are you going to kneel for your new Queen?”

Note: What? Ya’ll didn’t think she’d go back to him, did you? 

[dindjarindiaries]

Thunder - Chapter 7: Lightning

gif via @pascalplease

summary: The group goes on a weekend getaway before they ship themselves off for training and service, completely unaware of the storm that still brews over Frankie and Luciana—which only grows stronger.

warnings: some angst, fluff, soft smut (*gasp*)

rating: M

word count: 6.793k

masterlist

chapter 7: lightning

Frankie never imagined he could have a life so full of sweet torture.

The weeks following graduation and the beginning of his and Luciana’s romantic relationship were full of nothing but close calls, stolen kisses, and lots of secret dates. Frankie came to realize how much more beautiful the view of the stars was from the roof when the silhouette of Luciana on top of him contrasted against them, and Luciana came to appreciate the fact that Frankie’s truck had a continuous seat that allowed for her to be laid back completely against it in the heat of any moment. The day they snuck off to the dive and were caught sharing shakes with their hands folded together over the table, Frankie thought Marlena was going to have a heart attack.

“Are my contacts messed up, or am I seeing this right?” she’d asked when she came over to the table, nearly spilling the drinks in her shock.

Frankie and Luciana had both laughed with pink cheeks. “No, your vision’s alright,” Frankie had assured her, giving his confidante a warm smile that only grew once he met Luciana’s gaze again. He’d also given her hand a squeeze that caused a bright light to flicker in her dark eyes.

“But it’s, you know…” Luciana had trailed off and used her free hand to place a finger over her lips, informing Marlena that things were being kept low-key. She’d nodded in understanding and flashed the couple a wink, simply setting down the drinks and smiling before she’d left them alone again.

But the honeymoon phase is now quickly coming to a close. Frankie can sense it when he and Luciana are alone, a tension growing between them that’s full of unspoken desperation. Frankie’s due to leave for training as a pilot with the Delta Force in a week, which means months upon months of never getting to see Luciana. In the meantime, she’ll be starting a temp job to save up for opening her own business someday. The reality of life is harsh and unrelenting, leaving the couple uncertain as to how they’ll maintain the beautiful relationship they’ve started to nurture and have yearned much too long for.

This doesn’t include how exhausting it is to keep everything a secret. Thankfully, the boys haven’t suspected a thing—even Santiago, which is the biggest relief—but Frankie and Luciana being trapped in the same house with rooms just down the hall from each other has been so torturous that Frankie finds himself tossing and turning more often at night than he’d like, dreaming of the moment when they can be together in all the ways they want to.

Going on a weekend trip with everyone only makes Frankie dread this feeling more.

The group decided to venture on the true last hoorah before they all would leave for the Delta Force, renting out a large space for the weekend at the local lake. The plot of land included a two-story main house with enough room for everyone, but also a guesthouse that followed down a trail into the nearby woods. The boys figured it could be of use in case Will and Benny threatened to kill each other—though Frankie had other thoughts for it. But even he knew he wouldn’t risk it while being so close to the guys and Santiago.

Frankie thinks of this while he looks upon the site from the house’s back porch, letting out a soft breath as his forearms lean against the wooden railing. From here, he can see that trail leading into the woods, along with the lake that spreads out wide ahead of him. A gentle breeze tugs at the curls of hair around his ears and on the back of his neck, and he readjusts his hat in hopes of refocusing himself. He knows the day ahead will be full of good quality time with the group, which—though it makes him extremely happy—also means he’ll have to act as normal as possible around his girlfriend. Frankie wouldn’t be so worried if swimming wasn’t on the list.

The simple thought of seeing Luciana in a bathing suit was enough to make him want to spiral out of control.

Frankie blinks a few times and gives his head a shake, standing back up from where he’s been leaning as he hears footsteps behind him. He sees Will carrying a cooler and pausing to look at Frankie with a gesture of his hand towards a similar-looking one off to the side. “Hey Fish, mind bringing that one down with you to the dock?” Will asks. Frankie nods without hesitation, grateful for the distraction as he picks up the cooler loaded with drinks and follows Will down the stone-filled path to the dock. Thankfully, Frankie’s already fit himself in his essentials for a day spent down by the lake, one of his usual t-shirts paired simply with his swim shorts as his sunglasses help his hat in shielding his eyes from the sun.

Down at the dock, there’s a few Adirondack-style chairs along with a table. There’s a part of the dock that extends further into the lake, making it ideal for anyone crazy enough to jump off it. Frankie smiles a bit at the sight, always having been a fan of lakesides and the fun that comes with it. It’s slightly nostalgic, since he fondly remembers him and his parents traveling up to a lakehouse his uncle had owned, but it only makes him happier to be sharing this weekend with his newer family.

Frankie puts the cooler down next to where Will’s dropped his by the table. When Will already helps himself to a beer from inside, he offers one up to Frankie, who doesn’t decline as he settles into one of the chairs and takes a sip. He thinks, as he looks out at the lake and draws another sip from his bottle, that he might just be able to clear his mind and relax. But then the rest of the group joins them, arriving in a four-person clump that Frankie tries to resist staring at. Once they come into sight, though, he’s temporarily relieved of the view that could give something away, as Luciana’s hidden it within one of her favorite large t-shirts. Still, he takes another sip of his beer to hide anything he might be displaying unknowingly on his expression, trying to ignore the way he can practically feel Luciana’s gaze burning through him.

“Damn, it’s hot out here,” Benny comments, already sliding off his t-shirt and looking as if he’s about to jump headfirst into the water.

“Hold on, hot shit,” Luciana stops him, chuckling a bit as she presses a hand against his chest. She takes a bottle of sunscreen out of the bag that hangs from her shoulder. “Safety first.”

Benny sighs, taking the bottle from Luciana while trying hard to hide a smile. “Alright, alright.” He laughs to himself as he starts to apply it. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was Fish trying to parent me, not you.”

Luciana shrugs, looking over at Frankie with a sly smile. “Maybe I’ve picked up a few things.”

“Jesus,” Santiago mutters playfully. “We need to stop letting you two spend so much time together. We can’t have two parents around here.”

Frankie chuckles nervously and tips his hat, hoping he can hide his face for a moment as he looks down at the beer resting against his thigh. “It’ll make you safer,” Luciana insists. “All of you. You’re too chaotic for your own goods.”

“And we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?” Benny jokes as he finishes with the sunscreen, tossing it back to Luciana who’s since placed her bag down by another one of the chairs. She catches it swiftly, resting it on the arm of the chair as she shakes her head with a soft laugh. Frankie looks back up at her and feels thankful for the sunglasses that hide his admiring gaze. He can’t stop studying the way her brown eyes sparkle into a golden color in the sun’s lighting, the freckles on her cheeks that he adores so much becoming as prominent as ever. Her dark, wavy hair falls around her shoulders and flows gently with the wind. It looks so soft and Frankie knows it feels even softer. He wishes for nothing more than to run his fingers through it like he loves to.

Frankie can’t believe she’s his—but he also can’t believe that he doesn’t even get to show it.

He thinks he can deal with it at the moment, though he knows that’s bound to change very soon. As the boys prepare themselves to join Benny in the lake, they take their rounds with the sunscreen, but Frankie remains glued to his chair and sips his beer. He watches more closely when Santiago becomes the next one to possess it, reaching everywhere he can before turning to his sister. “Luci,” he calls for her, shaking the bottle in his hand once he catches her attention. “Can you get my back?”

“Yeah,” Luciana agrees, walking over to her brother and taking the bottle from him. Frankie’s distracted for a moment as he hears a splashing sound from further down the dock, and he watches as the two brothers dive in followed by Tom. Frankie tuts to himself, knowing they hadn’t let their sunscreen soak in for nearly half the time they’re supposed to.

“What about you, Fish?” Benny calls to him from the water.

Frankie shakes his head and holds up his bottle. “Can’t let this get warm!” Frankie exclaims back to him. “Plus, I gotta soak in the sun some more. I’m not hot enough yet.”

“It’s like fuckin’ ninety degrees out here!” Benny retorts. “That’s not hot enough for you?” Frankie laughs and simply shrugs in response.

“Relax, Benny,” Will scolds his brother. “He’s Cat-fish. He’ll come in on his own time.”

Frankie lifts his beer to his lips again. “Roger that,” he calls out to them, finally easing Benny for the moment.

His attention draws back to his girlfriend when he hears her brother go on. “Let me help you,” Santiago’s saying, and Frankie looks back to them just in time to see Luciana nod. She crosses her arms to grab the hem of her t-shirt with both hands at once, pulling it over her head in one swift movement. She’s wearing a two-piece suit that’s salmon-colored—which contrasts perfectly with her tanned skin—and is styled with a classic string top and cheeky bottoms. It’s displaying those same assets Frankie had gotten to see that night at the bar, but so much more of them.

Frankie swallows hard. Damn.

It’s not like he hasn’t seen Luciana in a swimsuit before; it’s just different now that Frankie’s with her, knowing that in any other circumstance, he could have the honor of running his hands or even his lips over every curve he’s seeing. Frankie had always wanted to respect her before, and he still does—but now that he has the knowledge of Luciana particularly liking when his gaze admires her in such a way, Frankie’s not afraid to do so anymore.

At least, whenever her brother isn’t watching over her like a goddamn hawk.

Frankie makes himself look away while Santiago applies the sunscreen to his sister’s back, not really wanting to witness the sight and knowing he’ll just wish he could’ve done it himself. He finishes off the rest of his beer but pretends there’s still some in it for the sake of avoiding jumping into the lake just yet. He only looks away from his bottle when he hears Santiago running to jump off the dock—also seeming to forget that his sunscreen’s freshly applied—and sees Luciana finishing the rest just a few steps away from his chair.

Frankie’s gaze studies each movement of her hand upon her skin, rubbing at her arms, and then her legs, and then her stomach, and then her neck and chest. He watches as her fingers take their time rubbing it in, making sure it gets into every necessary nook of her collarbones and then closer to her cleavage. His fingers subconsciously grip the edge of the chair’s arm tighter. Frankie sees her gaze meet his as it flickers with amusement and shared desire.

“Something wrong, Flyboy?” Luciana prompts, making a point to slowly run her fingers back up from the middle of her chest to her neck.

Frankie clenches his jaw before he releases a curt sigh. “Nope,” he answers, clearing his throat as he catches the singular drop of beer that’s left in his bottle. “Everything’s fine over here.”

“Looks like it.”

Frankie watches Luciana’s gaze observe him quickly yet pleasantly, and he shakes his head with a playful roll of his eyes. He looks to the water to see the boys thoroughly distracted with trying to dunk each other under the water and see who can last the longest, and so he drops his voice low as he speaks to her again. “You know, you’re not making this any easier.”

Luciana shrugs nonchalantly, tossing the sunscreen bottle between her hands as she stares him down. “Maybe I’m not trying to.” She smiles slyly as Frankie’s fingers grip the arm of the chair again, both in nervousness and in frustration. He knows that if she acts up any more than this, he’ll break. “Need some help with your sunscreen?” She shakes the bottle at him.

Frankie knows this is a bad idea. He knows that the moment he feels her hands on him, he could absolutely lose his cool—but he also knows that he’s always been a calm man, and he can maintain that if he fights hard enough. He won’t let Luciana win this little game of hers. So, he nods, standing up and setting his hat and sunglasses on the chair as his shirt joins them next. When he faces Luciana again, he sees her eyeing him with her teeth grazing her lower lip. He nearly growls and pulls her to him on the spot, but once again, he reminds himself to have self-control. She meets his gaze and continues to attempt biting back a smile.

“What a hottie,” Luciana comments playfully yet truthfully, walking around him to work on his back. Her voice comes from next to his ear when she continues. “Whoever gets to date you must be pretty damn lucky.”

“Yeah, she is,” Frankie remarks, attempting to keep a smirk off his face as he now faces the boys who are still playing further off in the water. When he feels Luciana’s hands on him, he can tell she’s moving them in a manner that’s unnecessary to the actual application of the sunscreen, and he grits his teeth before he adds something else. “And she’s about to get me in trouble.”

A light scoff comes from behind him. “Trouble?” Luciana’s hand that’s been rubbing into his shoulder quickly drifts off to give his upper arm a squeeze. “I think she likes trouble.”

Frankie swallows hard, attempting to compose himself until she’s finished her work. Once he’s sure that she’s done, he allows himself to get out a proper response. “Good—because now she’s about to get herself into trouble.” He turns around to face Luciana, seeing her staring up at him with a darkened gaze and a raised eyebrow.

“How so?” Her voice is soft as velvet and it makes Frankie wish more than anything that he could just whisk her away.

Instead, he takes the bottle from her hands and tosses it near her bag, grinning when he sees her shocked expression. “You’ll see.” He throws his arm around her waist to hoist her body over his shoulder, laughing as he hears her gasp in shock. She lets out a laugh with him once he starts to walk further down the dock, and her hands lightly beat against his back.

“Frankie! You asshole!” Luciana continues to laugh in sync with Frankie. “Put me down!”

Frankie doesn’t say anything as he walks closer and closer to the edge of the dock. “I thought you said you liked trouble.”

“Morales, I swear to God, if you’re throwing me in the water—.”

“You were being bad, García.” Frankie keeps his voice low enough for only them to hear, despite the fact that the boys are closer now—though still not in hearing range. “And you know what happens to girls when they haven’t been good?” Frankie moves his hands to grip both sides of her bare waist. “They get punished.”

Frankie gives the skin there a subtle squeeze that causes a breathless gasp to fall from Luciana’s lips, especially as he lifts her from his shoulder and tosses her off the dock in front of them. She disappears under the water a moment later, and Frankie laughs when the cheers of the boys ring out upon the sight. As soon as she surfaces, Frankie jumps in right beside her, hoping to catch her off guard with the larger splash as he surfaces with more laughter.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Frankie asks her when he catches his breath.

“Motherfucker!” Luciana curses, splashing Frankie with some of the lakewater despite the laughter that falls from her lips. She swims closer to him and lowers her voice so that she’s sure he’s the only one who hears the words she says next. “Say anything like that again, and I swear I’ll jump your bones right here, Morales.”

Frankie raises an eyebrow at her. “Is that a challenge?”

Luciana smirks at him. “It’s a promise.”

Frankie gives her a nod. “In that case, I’ll hold you to your word, ma’am.”

Luciana smiles and shakes her head before they both swim over to where the boys are still fooling around.

The group then continues to swim until they’ve exhausted themselves, engaging in random games of making the biggest splashes from the dock and intense chicken fights along the way. It’s dinnertime when the group finally hikes back up to the lakehouse, and after taking the time to wash themselves up, they have a cookout and eat upon paper plates at the table on the porch. The sun starts to set while they eat, not sinking too low at all but just enough to make the sky glow with stunning colors. They follow up dinner with a campfire and s’mores, but end up getting sent inside when a rumble of thunder sounds in the distance. They make it inside just in time when it starts to pour, finishing off the night with card games and beer before their exhaustion starts to get the best of them. Everyone heads to bed and decides to call it a night.

Except for Frankie. He’s in his room, sitting on the edge of his bed restlessly—his thoughts laying with the woman whose own room is right down the hall.

He keeps replaying the scene from today over and over in his head. Being around Luciana for so long today, watching her laugh and admiring her various looks and seeing the warmth and love she holds for him in her eyes without being able to say anything or touch her or kiss her drove him absolutely insane. Now, all he can think about is having that opportunity back. He fantasizes about his fingers gliding over her smooth, tanned skin, his lips following them as he proves just how much she means to him.

They haven’t gotten to engage in an activity like that just yet. Frankie’s always put a stop to it whenever they’ve come close. He knows that once they cross that line, it’s truly over for them—they’ll be completely tied to one another, and while that’s all Frankie could ever want, he’s afraid on her behalf. He doesn’t want to share something so beautiful with her and then abandon her a few days later. Frankie would never want to break her heart like that. At the same time, he’s yearning so badly for it that he’s not sure he can handle holding himself back anymore. But he doesn’t want it to happen somewhere quick and uncomfortable, like in his truck on one of their secretive dates. Frankie wants it to be on their own time with their own terms, where he can fully gaze upon her and she on him as they fully reveal just how deep their love goes.

Luciana must be thinking all the same things, because a few moments later, he hears his door open slowly. Frankie meets Luciana’s brown gaze that somehow glitters even in the darkness of the room. She looks to be just as restless as himself.

“Frankie,” Luciana whispers, keeping her voice extremely hushed in fear of waking anyone else up. She gestures with her head to the hallway. “Let’s go.”

Frankie furrows his brow. “Go?” he echoes her. “Where?”

Luciana points with her hand to the window beside Frankie’s bed. “The guesthouse.”

Frankie looks out the window and notices that it’s still storming—badly. He turns back to her with slight concern. “Luci, it’s pouring, and it’s a far walk. And what if someone wakes up?”

Luciana shakes her head. “No one will hear us above the storm.” As if on cue, a loud roll of thunder sounds, proving her point about the volume. “Plus, I’m sure there’s an umbrella somewhere around here.”

Frankie sighs, knowing this is his one opportunity to finally be alone with his girlfriend and maybe even get to talk over everything that’s on his mind. He gives in with a nod, slipping on the nearest pair of shoes and quietly following her out of his room. He closes it behind him in hopes of the boys thinking he’s still in there. Together, they tiptoe past the other bedrooms and down the stairs, relieved to go near the front door and spot a ceramic bucket full of umbrellas. Frankie takes one and readies it, letting Luciana open the door as he unfolds it and holds her close to him underneath it. They close the door behind him and try to hold in their chuckles as they hurry through the rain, following the path down to the guesthouse without causing a lot of noise.

Soon, they’re pushing into the front door of the guesthouse, releasing their laughs there as Frankie folds up the umbrella and closes the door behind them. He rests the now-soaked umbrella against the wall, taking a quick glance over the house. It has a log-cabin feel, fully furnished with a couch, tables, decorations, and a separate bedroom. There’s not much else Frankie’s able to observe before he feels Luciana’s hands on his face, desperately pulling it towards her as her mouth practically devours his own. Frankie returns her kiss with just as much passion, his hands gliding down to her waist and pulling her tight against him. They don’t dare to separate until they’re out of air, breathing in the same space as they pull apart yet remain close. Luciana’s gaze searches Frankie’s with nothing but sheer affection and desire.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” Luciana confesses, pressing another kiss upon his lips and pulling away to brush her nose against his.

Frankie hums in agreement. “You were making it real fuckin’ difficult to keep my hands off you,” he informs her, seeing her smirk before he hides his face in her neck. He places a series of open-mouthed kisses there that leave Luciana sighing with pleasure, hands burying into his thick hair as he licks and sucks at all the right spots. “Wearing that pretty little suit of yours…” Frankie trails off to tend more to one of her sweet spots, smiling against her heated skin when he draws a soft moan out from her, “... flaunting that beautiful body that drives me crazy. You knew what you were doing.” Frankie continues his work on her neck until he’s on the brink of leaving a mark, knowing it’s too risky to go through with it as badly as he wants to.

When Frankie rises back up to meet her face again, he receives a series of kisses along his jaw, making him swallow hard as Luciana begins to respond. “I would’ve let you take me right then and there, Frankie.” Her words ghost softly over the skin of his face, and Frankie never breaks his gaze with her as she faces him seriously. “I still would.” Luciana’s tone is gentle, as if she’s afraid that something louder will break the precious moment they’re in. She searches his gaze for a moment, and Frankie feels his chest tighten in anticipation as she goes on. “Frankie, is that something you’re okay with, or is there a reason you’ve been stopping whenever we’ve come close?”

Frankie releases a soft sigh, brushing a hand over the side of Luciana’s face continuously as he answers her. “I’d love that more than anything, Luce.” His tone matches her, hushed as if someone could overhear it. “I just… I was worried because, y’know, I’m leaving soon, and I didn’t want to make you feel as if I was just using you for a quick fuck before I went.”

Luciana’s brow furrows immediately as she holds his face between her hands. “I know you’d never do that, Frankie. Don’t worry.” She kisses him quickly, pressing her forehead against his afterwards. “I know that this is real. That’s why…” Luciana pauses, and Frankie feels one of her hands travel from his face down his chest and closer to his waistband, “... I want to do this. I want to be able to fully express it—with you. I want to feel this connection and hold on to the memory of it while you’re gone.” Her hand continues to go lower as her lips press against his ear. “I can’t hold back anymore. I need you, Frankie Morales.”

Frankie lets out a shaky breath at her words, wondering how he could’ve possibly been honored with being the man who gets to hear them uttered from her lips. Once her hand hooks on his waistband, Frankie grabs her wrist to stop her, pulling her mouth to his in a heated kiss. Luciana’s hands start digging into his hair and over his back while his drift over her ass, giving it a light squeeze just to feel her moan against him. He wastes no time picking her up so that she wraps her legs around his waist, easily navigating them to the bedroom he’d seen before. Though there’s no one else around, Frankie still closes the door behind them, letting only the pale moonlight hidden behind storm clouds light the room as he sets her back down against the bed. Luciana pulls his body against hers by grabbing the material of his shirt in her fists, instantly tugging at it to try to get it off. That becomes the first thing to go, and the next few minutes are a blur of things getting thrown around and kisses being left on lips, jaws, necks, and whatever else can be reached in the heat of the moment.

Once they’re skin-on-skin, Frankie feels the fire in him blazing brighter than ever before, the warmth spreading from his stomach to his chest as his heart thuds against the skin there. He practically loses his breath when Luciana rolls them over so that she’s straddling him, separating her face from his to take a look at his body. Frankie’s thankful for the darkness of the room as his cheeks redden in sudden embarrassment and insecurity. For a quick moment, he starts to wonder if she’s regretting this, regretting him. His mouth goes dry, and the longer Luciana stays silent with her gaze and fingertips brushing over his body, the more nervous he becomes. All he can hear is the soft panting of their breath and the rain that pours over the house.

“Frankie,” Luciana finally speaks, her tone breathless and thick with genuine emotion. She pauses to look in his eyes again, and even in the darkness of the room, Frankie can read her look perfectly. He sees all the admiration, love, and deep desire she has for him—and it melts his heart. Luciana’s hand brushes over his cheek as she smiles at him. “You’re so handsome. I’ve always thought that, but now that I really get to see it… I just can’t believe it. I’m so lucky.”

Frankie feels speechless for a moment, unable to believe that such an ethereal creature as Luciana would ever say something like that about him. He swallows hard, hands grabbing her waist as he flips them over again so that he’s hovering over her. Frankie’s hands trace over her curves, forming to them as if he’s known them forever. He bites back a smile at the sigh it draws from her lips. “You… You’re a masterpiece,” Frankie confesses honestly, his gaze meeting hers and drowning it with pure affection. “I noticed that from the day I met you. I always—well, I always thought you’d end up with someone who’s just as perfect as you are.”

Luciana reaches for one of Frankie’s hands, leaving a kiss on his palm. “I did.”

Frankie’s heart warms just as much as his stomach, now, and he can’t help smiling before he presses his lips to hers in another heated yet passionate kiss. Their hands can’t stop exploring each other and neither one of them could ever complain about it. They’re taking in each other’s forms, memorizing them, wanting to grab at them and feel them while they can—before it’s too late, when they’ll have to try to imagine them.

After a few moments of exploration, Frankie lets one of his hands go lower, hesitating to wordlessly ask for permission. Luciana’s hand pushes his further, and that becomes Frankie’s cue to go ahead with it. Frankie works her body like he’s always known it, hitting all the right spots that have her gasping and moaning and pleading into the heated skin of his neck. He can tell, though, that she’s trying to hold these sounds back—and that’s something he won’t have.

“Let it out,” Frankie murmurs into his ear, using his free hand to lift her face from his neck. “Let me hear you.” With his words, Frankie adds a new pressure that draws a soft cry from her lips, and he smirks pleasantly at the sound of it. “There you go, baby girl, that’s it. It’s just us out here. Be as loud as you can.”

And Luciana takes him up on that. That fire within Frankie continues to grow more and more as she pleads his name and writhes beneath his touch, and he realizes that even without his own contact—just by making the woman he loves feel so pleasured—he’s feeling something he never has before. He continually mumbles praises when she reaches her first high, stroking her cheek with his free hand as he does so. Her hands grip onto him for dear life and Frankie wouldn’t exchange her touch for anything. Frankie can tell she wants to return the favor for him somehow, but he shakes his head.

“Another time,” Frankie insists, his words breathless as he finds himself unable to wait any longer than he already has to feel her. “Right now, I need you.”

Luciana’s gaze sparkles up at him, and she nods as she brushes an admiring hand over his cheek. “Please, Frankie—,” she pauses as she pulls his lips to his, leaving a quick yet passionate kiss there, “—make love to me.”

Frankie doesn’t need anymore convincing. He entwines one of his hands with hers and keeps the other tight on her waist, pressing his forehead against her own as they finally start to make the connection that brings their love to a physical manifestation. As Frankie slowly eases into his first move, he draws a long, pleasured whimper from Luciana’s lips, causing him to hum as he presses a kiss upon the tip of her nose. “It’s alright, Luce,” Frankie whispers to her, his voice soft even as he grits his teeth to try to keep his own grunt hidden. “You’re alright. Just feel me—feel us.”

“I do,” Luciana breathes, her eyelids fluttering as she stares up at him. “I fucking feel you, Frankie.”

Frankie lets out a light chuckle that’s cut off by his own hiss when he moves again. He earns a similar sound from Luciana, only fueling him further as he moves in a steadier rhythm. Frankie squeezes her hand as they go on, his other hand steadying her as they continue moving together. It’s a feeling so heavenly yet so natural, as if they were made to be together like this. Frankie feels more confident than he ever has before and he swears he’s never felt so complete. His mind, his heart, and his body are all finally finding their matches in a single person, someone whose heart seems to beat to the same rhythm as his own. These thoughts hit Frankie all at once and he’s surprised he’s even able to conceive of them as his body rejoices in what he’s experiencing.

It’s when Frankie hears Luciana’s voice call for him that he finds himself losing any self-control he’d maintained before. “Frankie,” she pleads, as if asking for more. He doesn’t hesitate to give it to her—after all, he’d give her the world if he could.

As he complies with her request, Frankie speaks to her, having to swallow back any other sounds as he absorbs hers. “I love the way you say my name,” Frankie tells her behind gritted teeth, though his voice is full of nothing but admiration. “I love the way you sound. I love—,” Frankie cuts himself off with a groan that he releases into her neck, “—fuck, I love the way you feel. I love you. Shit, I love you so much, Luciana.”

Frankie has to stop himself because he’s coming too dangerously close to that point they can’t return from and there’s no more coherence left for either one of them. He earns a returned proclamation of love from Luciana along with his name when her moment comes, perfectly in time with a roll of thunder from outside as a flash of lightning shows Frankie a quick sight of them joining together, finally becoming one not just in mind and heart but also in body. It’s enough to bring him to a place he’s never gone before, a feeling higher than he could ever go in one of his planes or helicopters, and he swears he’s finally been able to take a star as he lets go and starts to relax in time with the love of his life.

They remain where they are for a few moments as their chests heave in the same, simultaneous rhythm, gazes never separating as they wordlessly appreciate everything they’ve just experienced. Frankie swears that Luciana’s eyes start to tear up, but he isn’t sure if it’s from pain or pleasure. He hopes that it’s the latter and that it’ll dissipate with time—but just in case, he lavishes her face with breathless and air-light kisses, hoping to earn a smile from her as he silently praises her for how she’d taken him.

Once they’ve recovered, Frankie lets himself rest beside her, burying them in the sheets as he pulls her body to his. Their legs tangle together in a desperate need to maintain some kind of contact, and Frankie runs one hand continuously through Luciana’s hair as she buries her face in his neck. He tries not to feel nervous at her silence, hoping it’s just her absorbing the intimate moment they’ve just shared. Frankie swears he’s never felt so connected to another person in his life, and he knows he’d give anything to make sure he never loses it—never loses her.

Suddenly, Frankie hears Luciana heaving a large breath, and he realizes what’s happening. He pulls her away from him so that she’s facing him again, and his heart shatters in his chest when he sees tears falling down her cheeks. Frankie grimaces as he holds her face delicately in his hands, thumbs attempting to brush the tears away as he searches her gaze. “Hey, baby, don’t cry,” Frankie coos gently, resting his forehead against hers. “What is it?” He prays he didn’t hurt her. He knows he wouldn’t forgive himself for it.

Luciana looks as if she can’t speak for a moment, and it makes a pit grow in Frankie’s stomach. He’s rarely ever seen her cry and so he knows that it takes a lot for that to happen. When her lip only trembles more and her eyes cloud with more tears, Frankie’s heart nearly flies through his chest with panic. Her hands thread delicately through his hair as she swallows back a sob. “Don’t leave me, Frankie,” Luciana finally manages, her voice unrecognizably broken and desperate as her eyes finally fall closed. A cry breaks through, and Frankie feels his entire body practically go numb with heartbreak as he pulls her to him again. She hides her face in his chest as he coos sweet nothings into her ear, stroking her hair and willing himself not to have a similar reaction as he works to comfort her.

“Shh,” Frankie mumbles, lips brushing against the shell of her ear as he continues to comfort her. “It’ll be alright, Luci. Take a deep breath.” Frankie feels her chest rise and fall against his own, and he smiles slightly at her effort as he presses a kiss into her hair. “There you go, baby. Just relax. I’m here.” Frankie only relaxes himself once he feels Luciana do the same, and when he’s certain that she’s calmed back down, he pulls her away to rest his forehead against hers again. His thumb strokes over her cheek as he goes on. “I know it’s gonna be hard, Luci, but we can do this. Alright? Think about it. We’ve waited a long fuckin’ time just to get to this point. We can do it again.”

Frankie earns a small smile and giggle from Luciana at that, and he smiles wider himself as he presses a gentle kiss upon her lips. When they break apart, Luciana nods, placing her hand over the one Frankie still has on her cheek. “I know. I just…” she pauses, gripping his hand tight as she looks longingly into his eyes, “... I love you so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you.”

“You won’t be without me.” Frankie says the reassurance softly yet with confidence. “You’ll have these memories and the reassurance that I’ll be coming back to you later to finish this life and love of ours. And I wouldn’t be opposed to going old-school and getting some letters.”

Luciana chuckles. “I can write letters. I’ll address them to Flyboy.”

Frankie laughs, brushing his free hand through her hair as he keeps her close. “Perfect.” He then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Just like you.”

Luciana scoffs playfully and rolls her eyes. “How charming.” She presses another kiss to his lips. “By the way… I like it when you use ‘baby girl.’ Keep that habit up.”

Frankie smiles at her. “Noted.” He then invites her to relax into him again, leaving a kiss on her head once she’s nestled her head back into his neck. “Now rest, baby girl. Can’t let anybody know that we weren’t sleeping during these hours.”

Luciana giggles against the skin of his neck. “I’ve never had someone tire me out like this after just one round, Morales. Add that to your confidence checklist.” She presses a kiss to his neck when she hears him laugh in response. “Goodnight, babe. I love you.”

Frankie can’t help smiling yet again upon hearing the words, and he pulls her as close as possible as he closes his eyes in contentment. “I love you, too.”

In this moment, Frankie doesn’t give a damn who knows anymore. He would shout it to the whole world if he could. All he knows is that he’s found his other half in the woman who’s curled up into his side, and even though he’d tried to reassure her that everything would be okay, he knows his heart’s going to be ripped in half the moment he has to leave her.

next part: chapter 8: hail

thunder tag list: @youhavereachedtheendofpie @charmantbarnes @theindiealto @fangirl-and-stuff @phoenixhalliwell @maybege @housekenobi​ @seawhisperer @mrsparknuts @saltywintersoldat @softpedropascal @i-hide-inside-my-head @sunshinepascal @domino-oh-damn @thirsty-flygirl 

permanent tag list: @mikahid @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rachelloveseveryone @theindiealto @hiscyarika @burningsoulbloodyheart @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Empty Frame

A/N: Continuing to check off the smooches with another one shot, not connected to anything at all. I had no idea what to do with this prompt until this morning and it all just sort of fell together. This one is #19- one more left for Billy! 

Word Count: 2,464

Prompt from: @audreychaz

Billy hadn’t added many personal touches to the place. Growing up without much privacy or many possessions taught him that practicality should take precedence over sentiment, his years of military service enforcing that idea. Only carry with you what you need to survive. Don’t get too attached to things that can break or get lost or stolen. You ran your hand along the back of the couch as you walked through the space, taking in its emptiness. Furniture. That’s it, that’s all there was. No decorative items, no plants to bring some color to the room, no blankets draped on the chair to make it warmer or more comfortable. It was just a space to be in, and on first glance it would be impossible to know who lived there. No clues, no cues no context, just your standard New York apartment, creaky floorboards and crown molding, walls painted in neutral tones. It could even be a model just for show, staged to create the illusion that it was ready to live in. 

The sound of the shower, muffled through the walls and through two closed doors, was the only thing that made it clear that the dwelling wasn’t uninhabited. That, and the hefty, packed bag that sat by the entrance, his name embroidered in bold block lettering with olive green thread. Your eyes fell to the pack, stuffed with necessities, and it hit you like a punch to the gut that the place was about to become infinitely more empty. You closed your eyes and turned away, swallowing the tears that threatened to spill. No. Don’t start that. Not yet. 

Clearing your throat, you pulled your sweater more tightly around your body and left the living room, suddenly unable to share the space with that bag and what it stood for. You padded down the short hall, socked feet taking you to the bedroom. You opened the door, the sound of the shower becoming louder, the air a bit warmer from the steam, the clean scent of his soap overwhelming your senses. The bedroom looked more lived in. Pillows and sheets still ruffled from when you’d lazily pulled yourselves from them a few hours earlier, last night’s clothing in a pile on the floor. Reaching out you touched the mattress, pressing your hand down into it. Images from the night before and from countless other nights filled your mind; his hands on your thighs as they hooked over his hips, his breath on your throat as his beard raked against your skin, your fingers in his hair and your name falling from his lips. Removing your hand, the images vanished and you felt a sharpness in your chest that you weren’t ready for. 

The pipes shuddered in the walls as the cascade of water hitting the tile slowed to a drip and then stopped. You heard the shower curtain, it’s metallic rings clanging together as he pulled it aside, followed by a sniff and the rickety towel rack as he yanked the towel from the bar. He’d be getting out of the bathroom soon, and then you’d only have an hour or so with him. That sharpness deepened and twisted, but you shook your head. He hasn’t left yet. 

You crossed to the dresser, to the one spot in Billy Russo’s home where he’d dared to display a personal item: a photo of himself and Frank, drenched in rain and covered in mud, lips and noses bloodied, and smiles wide with their arms thrown around one another. He’d told you the story behind the photo one morning while you walked around the room wearing the first rays of the sun and one of his shirts, sleeves too long and bottom hem reaching almost to your knees. 

“That was one’a the toughest days in trainin’ I ever had.”  He spoke from the bed, lounging with one arm bent behind his neck and his eyes focused sharply on you. You picked up the frame and turned around towards him. He beckoned you back over to the bed with a tilt of his head, and you obliged, climbing in next to him as he moved into a seated position. Licking his lips and raking his hair back with one hand, he continued. “We just finished up this brutal two week camp, Frankie and me and our unit. This was the last night.” His arms came around you as he pulled your back to his chest, one hand leaving your body to take the frame. “It was about 37 degrees that night, been rainin’ for hours, and we’d just finished a 12 mile run wearin’ all our gear.” He laughed. “The last fuckin’ thing any of us wanted to do was take a bunch of punches and get thrown in the mud, but” he shrugged. “Gotta prove yourself, ya know? So Frankie pumped me up, told me these guys ain’t shit, that I’m tougher than they are.” You listened raptly, noting the difference in his voice when he talked about Frank as opposed to any other friend or acquaintance. “I stumbled my way through that goddamn gauntlet and I waited for him on the other side, and when he got to me I socked him right in the gut.” He laughed again. “Fucker laughed so hard. He’s the toughest son of a bitch I ever met, and that’s not the last time he’s got me through some tough shit. Frank’s like my brother, only family I got.”  

“I’m glad you have each other, Billy,” you’d turned to kiss his cheek as he set the frame on the bedside table. 

“Yeah, yeah me too.” Both hands were on you again, gripping your waist to turn your body. He pulled you on top of him then. “But I’m even more glad I got you,” he growled low into your ear, the rest of the morning melting into the sheets. 

The photo was as much a part of the room as the pillows on the bed or the clothing on the floor, so its presence wasn’t out of the ordinary. What shocked you was the addition of a second photo that you hadn’t noticed last night. Your breath escaped your lips in a rush and for a few seconds it was impossible to take another. Your trembling fingers came up to the second frame, the same plain, simple black wood design that held the picture of Billy and Frank, this one also containing a snapshot of a moment in the rain. 

It had been a hot summer afternoon, the two of you walking down by the waterfront in Hunter’s Point. You’d sat for a while sharing a carton of french fries and a few beers at a bright yellow picnic table, music and chatter filling the air as seagulls and pigeons swooped low to dine on fallen crumbs. It was in that perfect pocket of time when he’d been back from deployment for long enough that things felt normal again, and his next was far enough away that neither of you were thinking about it. It was just an average day, no special meaning other than his hand around yours; a Thursday, if you were remembering correctly, that you’d spontaneously used a vacation day for. You’d been so engrossed with one another that you hadn’t noticed the ominous clouds gathering on the Manhattan side of the water, or the increasingly empty tables and sidewalks around you as people started heading for shelter as the storm rolled in. By the time the sky darkened enough to get Billy’s attention, it had opened up, dousing you both in a matter of seconds, your squeal pulling genuine laughter from deep in Billy’s soul as his arms wrapped around you. He tugged you under the covered picnic area to get you out of the downpour, but you were both already soaked, your t-shirt sticking to your skin and your hair plastered to your face. Looking around you realized that you were alone, save for the workers in the food stall, withdrawing from the windows so they didn’t get splashed by the fat raindrops. “Hey,” you looked back up to him, blinking water from your eyes as he grinned. “You okay?” 

You bit your bottom lip and looked up at him. “Yeah, Billy, I’m okay,” your voice came out in a breathless laugh. 

“Good,” he swiped a droplet of water from your bottom lip, staring at you like it was the first time he’d seen you, like the rain had turned you into something else. “You know somethin’?” he asked, a tilt to his head. 

“What’s that?” You asked, clinging close. 

“You’re perfect.” He said it matter of factly, as though he’d just had the realization and couldn’t imagine why it had taken him so long to come to it. “You’re perfect for me.” 

Without giving you time to respond, he caught your lips with his own, his hands moving over your rain slicked body to cradle your head and pull your hips closer to his. He kissed you slowly, tongue easing between your lips and tasting of rain and beer and the words he wasn’t saying out loud. I love you. You felt it in the beat of his heart as he pressed you closer to his chest, and you responded immediately, gripping his hair in fistfuls to lock yourself into that kiss. I love you too Billy. You said it back with a roll of your hips into his, pulling a soft groan from his throat as you tugged gently on the long locks twisted around your fingers. It was different from the kisses you shared in bed in the dark; short little nips, biting lips and tongues fighting for dominance, when your hunger for each other eclipsed everything else. This was slow, building and deepening with each movement of your tongue, each pass of his lips over yours, every flex of his fingers. This was a promise, an offering, a pledge. It was more than he’d given anyone, and you knew that without question, trying to give him just as much back. 

When he finally broke the kiss he didn’t pull away immediately, instead pressing his lips to yours once more, leaving them there for long seconds, his breath mingling with yours as you both fought to steady your lungs. He moved his fingers in your hair, other hand climbing between your shoulder blades to hold you close. “Perfect,” he said once more, so softly it was almost washed away with the rain. 

You laid your head against his shoulder, heart glowing so much that it was hard to believe that you were standing in the middle of a storm. You hadn’t said the words, but you felt them and you knew that he did too. The idea came over you as suddenly as the sky had opened up; you wanted to capture this moment, this change, forever. Pulling your phone from your pocket, you kissed him again, snapping a photo that caught the slight smile on his lips as yours reclaimed them. 

Your fingers slid over the glass as the tears you’d been fighting all morning finally formed in the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t heard the door open, too lost in the perfect memory of the afternoon that you held in your hand. He came up behind you, hands planted on the dresser on either side of your body, pressing himself against your back, lips in your hair. “That was a good day, wasn’t it?” One arm came around your waist, hand closing around your far hip as the other reached around to take the photo from your hands. He pressed a kiss to the side of your head as you let go of the frame. 

It was a perfect day. “Yeah, Billy, it was.” You turned to lean against the dresser, wiping at your eyes so you could look at him clearly. “I didn’t know you had that picture...I…” 

He dropped his hand from your hip, turning the frame over in his grasp to open the back of it. “You posted it on...I dunno instagram I think? Or you sent it to me or...somethin’...and I printed it out…” The back of the frame popped open and he lifted the glossy print away from the glass, setting the empty frame back on the dresser. “Wanted to put it here,” he indicated the dresser and the framed photo of him and Frank. 

“What are you doing...why did you take it out?” You felt a few more tears roll down your cheeks at the realization that framing that photo meant that he’d added you into his family. 

He smiled, eyes scanning every inch of your face before leaning in to kiss the corner of one eye. “Takin’ you with me.” He answered. “Takin’ that perfect day…” he leaned further in, arms coming around you to hold you to him and lips coming up to whisper in your ear. “Takin’ my perfect girl with me.” 

Your heart swelled as waves crashed against and inside of it. “We’ll have lots of perfect days when you get back home, Billy,” you said, assuring yourself as much as him. 

“Yeah,” he said, pressing another kiss behind your ear before he disentangled to finish getting dressed. “Yeah, we will.” 

Two hours later, you were almost on borrowed time if Billy was going to make his flight. “Alright, you ready?” He asked, as though you were the one that was leaving civilian life to head to an active war zone. You nodded, but then froze mid nod and ran back to his bedroom. “What are…” You were back in seconds, and his eyes were drawn to your hands. “What are you doing?” 

You were holding the frame that he’d taken the picture out of, lips pressed together to fight against the tears that threatened to fall again. No, hold it together until you’re back home. Don’t let him leave with your tears. “Just gonna hold on to this…” you said quietly. “Til you get home.” In your head, the empty frame was already on your bedside table, already in a spot where you could see it as soon as you woke up or as you were drifting off to sleep, reminding you that the man you loved loved you, too, that he was coming home to you, that you’d have so many frames to fill in the future. You sniffed, hoping he’d understand. 

He nodded, reaching for your hand to lead you out as he locked up. “Good idea.” With a click of the lock, the apartment was left even emptier than usual; Billy taking all that he had, all that he needed with him- his gear, the necessities, and you.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @suchatinyinfinity @thebbtongue @lexxierave @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @songforhema @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @lysawayne @roses-in-your-country-house @ymariejp @belladonnarey @audreychaz @songtoyou @breanime @luminex3 @stories-you-wont-hear

[rad-neto]

“Feels Like Drowning.”

@lawlu-events | FOR THE LAWLU BIG BANG 2018 | artwork by @ariririsu 

He was in love.

A simple conclusion brought together by a series of not exactly unfortunate events. He was quite simply in love and almost terrifyingly so.

Oh god.

He was in love.

It wasn’t as simple as he thought it was going to be, actually. In fact, he is rather terrified. He was in love and scared and he had never felt something as amazing as those two emotions smashed together like some disgusting sandwich.

At twenty-seven years old he fell in love for the very first time and it felt like drowning.

Trafalgar D. Water Law, P.h.D. in a lot of things that aren’t particularly important to this story. But he was a medical person, to be unspecific. He was medical and magical, like most folk were. Magical, that is, not medical. Although there were plenty of medical people out there, just to clarify. But Law was a wizard as well as a surgeon and it came in handy in tricky situations, he supposed. Like saving the life of a seventeen year old boy who had gotten himself impaled on a thing. Yes, a thing, just a thing because a surgery that happened two years ago was two years too long for him to bother remembering what exactly a person was impaled with because two years ago it didn’t really matter to him.

Two years later it did matter a lot more than he expected because two years later a lot of unexpected things began to occur in his life, that on any normal day he would question, but there was no normal day left for him to be allowed to ponder those thoughts. Two years later, he met a boy named Monkey D. Luffy, a wizard like him. A freakishly powerful wizard who could probably split mountains with a simple armament spell casted on his fist. Not only that, but Luffy had, like, a lot of insanely powerful wizard friends who scared Law a lot, not that he would ever admit that.

But he supposed it was his fault anyway for saving Luffy’s life two years ago.

It started in January. He received a knock on his door at five in the evening. It was a Saturday and it was his day off and he was just about to order some dinner from that Thai restaurant down the street when it happened. With a sigh, Law set down his cell phone and walked up to the door, opening it without checking the peep hole first. On the other side was two men. They were both the same height, roughly. One had wavy blonde hair and a burn that covered the left side of his face which would seem terrifying if it weren’t for the fact that his smile was gentle and kind and not at all psychotic like you would expect. The other had black hair and several freckles decorating his face. He didn’t look as friendly as the other man, but Law willed himself to be unbothered by it.

“Can I help you?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as impatient as he felt.

“Sorry for bothering you,” the blonde one said. “But we had just moved in next door and we kinda felt the need to introduce ourselves to the neighbors. My name is Sabo and this is my brother Ace and we also have a little brother named Luffy but he’s out with his friends right now so it’s just us at the moment. I made casserole as a gift.” He held up a foil covered container Law just now noticed and before he could say anything it was pushed into his hands.

From a crack in the foil, he could smell the dish and its savory, cheesy aroma had his stomach aching. “Thank you,” he said, almost unsurely. “I’m Dr. Trafalgar Law, it’s a pleasure meeting you.” Again, with the formalities. He was tired of speaking so politely after having to do so much of it at the hospital already.

The brothers left him with brief instructions of how to heat up the casserole if it gets too cold before returning to the apartment beside his. He really was grateful for the food, it saved him from wasting money on mediocre Thai food takeout. Law spent the next few hours preparing and eating dinner alone while watching reruns of Doctor Who on his box TV.

While being a surgeon does get him a lot of money, Law was more of the type to conserve his money rather than spend it recklessly on things that weren’t essential to him like a fancy house or car. Hell, he didn’t even drive to work, he took the bus just so he could save a couple dollars that he could use to pay rent and his bills.

He shoveled another bite of casserole into his mouth, chewing slowly as he watched the opening sequence of the Doctor Who episode began to play. One might think a life like this was lonely, but he didn’t mind it. Not at all. Not even a little bit. Not even when he wakes up alone in his bed, the sheets cold and the silence deafening. Not even when he eats dinner alone, watching television until he passes out on his couch. Not even when he unlocks the door to his apartment and walks into an empty home. He wasn’t lonely. He wasn’t lonely at all.

Suddenly, his door blasted open and he was sprayed with bits of wood and brick.

Of course he was surprised by this. Exploding doors was not a common occurrence. It wasn’t even mentioned in the advert when he found this vacant apartment a few years ago.

Law coughed up the smoke that had invaded the lungs, swiping at the dust in the air as he stood from his seat and approached his ruined doorway. On the floor of his apartment was a boy. A boy wearing a straw hat and sandals. The boy laid there for a few moments before slowly detaching himself from the ground, dust and debris covering every part of him. He coughed once.

“Hi,” the boy said cheerily, grinning at Law.

“You destroyed my door.”

Sabo and Ace suddenly appeared from what used to be his doorway, concern etched in their expressions. “Luffy!” Sabo exclaimed in surprise. It took him a moment to connect the dots and his pleasant surprise turned to disapproval. “Luffy, what did we say about using destructive spells indoors?”

“Not to?” the boy answered unsurely, looking up at his brother with an innocent and sheepish smile.

Ace grabbed Luffy by the collar and dragged him out into the hallway as Sabo repeatedly apologized for his brother’s behavior and that he would deal with the damage immediately. Law could do nothing except blink as the three of them disappeared, the door repairing itself after being hit with a quick spell from the blonde brother.

He believed those brothers were the most bizarre neighbors he had ever met in his entire life.

After tidying up his apartment with a series of cleaning spells, Law went to bed. He slept only briefly before waking and, well, getting on with his day. It was still the weekend so he intended to spend what was left of it relaxing, something he didn’t get to do often on any other day. He wore comfortable clothes: a pair of joggers and a plain t-shirt. He thought of all the things he needed to do and was glad that he didn’t need to leave his apartment at all unless he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. Not at all.

Law laid on his couch and read a book. And it wasn’t a medicine related book at all. It was a book with a real story, with characters and plot and it was the best thing he had ever read since before he became a surgeon. What was he even reading? Probably Neil Gaiman or something, he had a handful of his books. But it didn’t matter to him because he was actually reading a book because he wanted to not because he had to. And he liked that. Doing things for pleasure, not for work. And that was something he was not going to do today. Work.

A knock on his newly-repaired door interrupted his book reading and he grumbled as he doggy eared the page he was on and set the novel on his coffee table.

Who dares to interrupt my reading time? He thought in a very Mufasa sounding voice, which he immediately regretted and erased the memory of ever thinking in such a way. It was embarrassing to say the least.

Opening the door, he saw the straw hat boy from last night. Luffy, he believed. Law rose a brow at him, urging him to speak.

“Uh, well,” Luffy began, frowning in thought. “Sabo said I had to apologize for breaking your door last night. So, sorry, I guess.” He grinned brightly and it was almost blinding.

Despite his words, Luffy didn’t sound very apologetic at all. Law decided to ignore that and tell him he already forgave him so he can go back to his own apartment so that Law could be left alone, again. But then Luffy held up a pie dish.

“Sabo also made you this! As a gift. It’s really tasty, Sabo always makes tasty things, but not as much as Sanji does. Sanji’s my friend! He cooks in a real fancy restaurant downtown. But he’s also very good at kicking things and it’s fun when he and Zoro fight all the time. Oh, Zoro is my other friend, he has green hair and uses three swords to fight and it’s super cool! One time he fought a dragon can you believe that? Because I can, I saw it with my own two eyes,” Luffy rambled, pointing at his eyes for emphasis.

It was clear that he had more to say and Law wasn’t really interested in any of it, but he was trying not to be rude so he did something he wouldn’t have expected himself to do in a million years and invited the boy into his apartment. Luffy walked in cheerily and set the pie on the table, sitting on top of it as he continued to talk about his friends.

“Besides Zoro and Sanji, there’s also Nami, Robin, Chopper, Usopp, Franky, Brook, Jinbei,” he counted them off on his fingers as Law grabbed plates for the pie. “Nami is real mean sometimes, and stingy and greedy and other bad things. But she can be nice, too. She lives on a tangerine orchard with her big sister Nojiko. Nojiko is nicer than Nami but Nami is my friend because she’s mean. It’s a whole thing.” Law sliced the pie and scooped a piece for himself and Luffy. “Robin is super serious. Well, sometimes she makes a joke that I don’t really understand and she says weird stuff like “I hope we don’t die” or something like that. It’s weird but kinda funny too, especially when she scares Nami and Usopp. Speaking of Usopp, he has this real long nose, he looks kinda like Pinocchio and—yes, I’d like ice cream with my slice, thanks—and he’s a real wimp but he’s brave when he wants to be and that’s what’s great about him.” Law set the plate of pie beside Luffy and sat down in front of him with a bored expression. “Then there’s Chopper who’s a talking reindeer. He’s also a doctor and he’s super funny. Do you know any talking animal doctors?” He shoveled a portion of pie into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously.

Law had made himself tea and sipped from his mug before answering. “Yes, actually, I do. One of my colleagues is a polar bear mink,” he said, taking a bite of his own pie.

Luffy’s eyes lit up like light bulbs. “A talking polar bear?” he exclaimed excitedly, bits of crust and filling spraying from his mouth and Law had to grimace.

“Yes,” he confirmed, pulling out his cell phone and browsing through it to find a picture. Once he found one, he showed it to the boy. “His name is Bepo and he works as my assistant surgeon.”

Luffy grinned at that, teeth stained red from the cherry filling and crumbs were wedged between them. It was a hideous smile and yet Law found it strangely charming. Which he would never admit. Ever. He put his phone back in his pocket and focused his attention onto his pie. When he looked up, he saw that Luffy had practically inhaled his slice of pie and he was unsure if he should be impressed or horrified.

“Oh yeah,” Luffy burped. And I mean actually burped. Somehow he managed to create words from a disgusting noise. “I forgot to introduce myself. Sabo says that’s bad manners.” Obviously Luffy had been minding his manners throughout his entire visit. “My name’s Monkey D. Luffy! I’m gonna become King of the Wizards!”

It was a ridiculous ambition because becoming King of the Wizards was a myth and more of a children’s fairytale, but he decided not to say anything about that. “Dr. Trafalgar D. Water Law,” he introduced in turn. “I’m a surgeon at the hospital downtown.”

“‘S nice to meet you, Torao!” That wasn’t his name but okay, whatever, he was tired.

Luffy hopped down from his seat on the table and dusted the crumbs off his shorts. “Thanks for the pie. I’ll come again later to hang out! We’ll be the best of friends!” And then he waved. And then he left.

Law should be upset that Luffy had just invited himself over for whenever he felt like coming, but he was terrified to find that he was actually looking forward to his next visit. He was just too damn charming.

Luffy visited frequently. At first, he came only on the weekends, but then he started visiting in the middle of the week, and then he started bringing along some of his friends. The first time, he had showed up with his brother Ace. Now Law was fine with that because Ace was also his neighbor and he did his best to make them comfortable and to avoid the intimidating glare he would feel directed at the back of his head every time he turned around. Then Luffy began bringing others to his apartment.

He met Zoro on a Wednesday, after he had finished up at work and got home early that evening. He hadn’t even changed out of his clothes yet when there was a knock on his door. His heart leapt in his chest as he expected it to be Luffy on the other side (but again, he would never admit that his heart did any acrobatics in his chest at all) and he opened it to find, yes, it was Luffy! But also a tall green haired man standing right behind him.

“Heya, Torao! I brought Zoro with me this time! I told him you had a cool sword and he said he wanted to see it,” Luffy was already walking past Law and into the apartment, friend in tow. Law watched as they approached the nodachi displayed on his wall, a cursed sword that his uncle Doflamingo bought for him as a Christmas gift, but he wasn’t superstitious so he kept the sword because it looked like a cool decoration.

“Hey, Torao, what was your sword named again?” Luffy asked suddenly.

Law shut the door and joined them by the nodachi. “Kikoku,” he answered. “It’s supposed to be cursed.”

He would have found the way Luffy looked absolutely thrilled at the prospect of a cursed sword worrisome if it weren’t for the fact that his chest felt incredibly tight and his cheeks felt they were burning at four hundred and fifty one degrees Fahrenheit. But besides that, Zoro looked just as excited as Luffy, in his own way of course.

“A cursed blade, huh? Just like my Sandai Kitetsu,” he patted the hilt of one of his swords for emphasis. “You ever used it before?”

Law suddenly felt a bit suspicious. “Er, no, not really. I’ve only ever used it as a decoration,” he answered unsurely.

Zoro frowned. “Disappointing.”

It was then that Law realized that Zoro might have intended to challenge him to a duel had he been able to use Kikoku. He already didn’t like this. Luffy took control of the conversation from there, talking excitedly about his day and how he saw his friend Jinbei riding an actual whale shark in the ocean. And after sharing a dessert and some tea, Luffy and Zoro left and Law was left alone.

He was afraid that this would become a thing. Not the whole Luffy visiting situation, that was already a thing and a thing that he enjoyed, but he meant Luffy visiting with his other friends. From Zoro alone Law decided that meeting the rest of Luffy’s crew would be a stressful and possibly terrifying experience. He didn’t want it to happen again.

It happened again.

Luffy returned on a Saturday with not just one, but two friends accompanying him and Law had to refrain from groaning. He could refuse to let them in. He should refuse to let them in. But Luffy’s gleeful grin and the excitement that twinkled in his eyes, those things made it difficult for Law to do anything except for step aside and invite them into his apartment.

This time it was Usopp and Chopper who had entered his abode and they were surprisingly pleasant company. Usopp and Luffy shared a bowl of snacks on the floor while they played a game of Go Fish. Law actually managed to befriend Chopper as they exchanged medical advice and patient stories.

“Nami was actually my first patient,” the reindeer doctor had told him. “She had caught a really bad fever so Nojiko and everyone brought her to the nearest clinic. My mentor Doctrine was out when they came so I did my best to help and that’s how we all became friends.”

Law thought that those were strange circumstances to become friends under, but then he remembered how Cora-san had adopted him after Law had stabbed him with the intent to rob him of all his belongings, and the thought was dismissed.

He wasn’t surprised the next day when Luffy decided to show up with a cyborg of all things standing in the hallway.

Law was able to meet a majority of Luffy’s friends in about a week, and he sure had a lot of them. He met a fishman, a mermaid, a skeleton, and other interesting species. It was... a lot to take in, even if he was a wizard who could do things just as bizarre with a wave of his hand.

But he felt that he was barely anything at all when Luffy was far more powerful than he was, both magically and physically. That fact would have hurt his pride if he didn’t find it insanely attractive. And that was something new to him. Admitting that he found Luffy attractive. He had come to terms with his emotions after spending many sleepless nights having arguments with himself over whether or not he was completely infatuated with an idiot wearing a straw hat.

He cried himself to sleep after that realization.

When Luffy showed up on his doorstep on a Saturday, a bouquet of flowers in his hands and a wide grin on his face, Law was confused.

“What’s this for?” he asked, staring at the arrangement of carnations and daisies that had been pushed into his arms.

Luffy gave a short laugh. “Sabo said ‘If you’re gonna take Law to Sanji’s place, you gotta give him a gift first.’ So I asked Robin to make you something nice and she gave me those,” he said as though everything was explained perfectly. “Oh, right. I forgot to say that I was taking you to Sanji’s restaurant tonight! It’s real fancy but I don’t think he’ll care if we show up in regular clothes. I don’t have anything nicer than this anyway.”

Law was so confused.

Was this- Was this a date? Was Luffy taking him out to dinner? On a date? Was this really happening right now?

Before he could ask any one of those questions, Luffy took him by the hand and dragged him out the door. Law managed to shut and lock it as he was taken away and maybe his spotted jeans and black and yellow hoodie were too casual for a fancy restaurant, but he felt that he couldn’t care because this might be a real date with Luffy.

Oh god. This might be a real date with Luffy.

He tried not to think too hard about this entire scenario as he sat beside Luffy on the bus. He tried not to think too hard about their hands still clasped together as Luffy rambled about how delicious Sanji’s food was. He tried not to think in general.

The bus stopped a street away from a big, shiny restaurant that had people lined up outside in the chilly night as they waited for a seat to be open. Luffy ignored the line completely and a tough looking guy dressed in a kitchen apron and had a silver name tag that read “Patty” in bold text escorted them inside. Law had to keep his jaw from dropping because Luffy wasn’t exaggerating when he said this place was fancy.

It was a French-style restaurant. Its tables were all decorated the same, adorned with candles and flowers for the centerpieces. The tablecloths were a pristine white, not a single stain could be seen. The china was the finest porcelain he had ever seen, making his own traditional Japanese tea set look like a children’s play thing. There were three golden chandeliers that surrounded a large modern styled glass chandelier in the center. A spiral staircase sat off to the side that led to upper level and balcony seating. The ceiling had a gorgeous mural of some biblical painting that he didn’t know the name of.

Law had never felt more insecure than he did in that moment.

Patty lead them through the restaurant to a set of double doors in the back. They were brought through the kitchens that was a cacophony of clattering dishes and banging pots. But despite the noise, the food smelled amazing. His stomach growled as they passed and he tried to pass it off as background noise, ignoring the embarrassed flush that spread across his cheeks. There was another door at the back of the kitchens and when it was opened, he saw a corridor that lead to another door.

Just how big was this restaurant, anyway?

Naturally, they walked to the end of the hall and behind the other door was a private room. There was a table set up like all the other ones were. White tablecloth, flowers and candles, blue velvet seats. There were floor to ceiling windows on the other side that looked over the ocean. It smelled like roses.

A part of his brain nagged at him, telling him that this was disgustingly corny. He was about to voice that opinion, too, until he saw Luffy’s face, slightly dimmed by the lack of light but his always present smile was brightening it ten times better than any candle could. He realized that Luffy was smiling at him.

“Do you like it?” Luffy asked him, and it took him a moment to understand that he was talking about the room. Why was his brain functioning so slowly tonight?

“Yeah,” he said and his throat felt dry and he needed something to drink but all he did was sit down and watch as Luffy sat in front of him.

Patty poured them their waters and left the jug on the table before exiting the room. Law lifted his glass and took three large gulps, leaving only a quarter left. He has never felt so nervous before. Luffy was staring at him. Simply staring at him. Except it wasn’t that simple because Law felt extremely vulnerable under that gaze. He didn’t know what to do or say. It was incredible.

“Sanji is making us a special meal,” Luffy told him, breaking the silence finally. “I already told him that you don’t like bread so you don’t have to worry about that.”

Law was going to die.

He was going to die in this five star restaurant with a beautiful view of the ocean, sitting in a private room with this person who he was absolutely head over heels in love with and he was okay with that. But before he could actually pass on to the afterlife, the door opened and a blonde man with a cart of food entered the room.

“Sanji!” Luffy greeted excitedly, grinning at his friend.

The chef returned the smile and put out his cigarette on an empty tray that was sitting on top of his cart. “Alright, shitty customers. I have your first course, the entrée,” he removed the lid of one dish. “Vichyssoise, a thick soup made of boiled and puréed leeks, onions, potatoes, cream, and chicken stock. Please enjoy.” Sanji set two bowls of the soup in front of them before leaving them alone once more.

Luffy immediately lifted the bowl of its plate and tipped its contents into his mouth hungrily. Law had lifted his spoon to his mouth but paused to watch him consume his soup in a messy manner. He blinked a moment before tasting his soup carefully. It was delicious.

Sanji returned a few moments later with wine. “Luffy can’t have this but you can if you want,” he had said but Law refused. He was hesitant about consuming alcohol when he was already drunk on his own emotions. If that even made sense.

Sanji shrugged and left again and by the time Law had finished his soup, he returned with another cart of food. “Voilà votre plat principal,” he said as he introduced them to their next dish and this routine continued all the way to their final course. They had ice cream sundaes for dessert and even though it was simple, with just ice cream with wafers and syrup, it was just as delicious as the rest of the meal had been.

When Law asked how much it all cost, Sanji had insisted that it was on the house. In his surprise, he looked to Luffy who happened to be looking right back at him with that grin on his face and he was falling in love all over again.

They left the restaurant, after thanking Sanji and everyone else for the pleasant evening, and Luffy was walking back to the apartment with him (I mean, of course he was, they were neighbors) and it was a long walk but not unpleasant. Somewhere along the way he had realized he had forgotten to bring his jacket and it was kinda chilly, but he didn’t want to say anything and he didn’t have to because Luffy just looked at him and cast a warming spell and suddenly he felt like he was wrapped in a soft blanket. Law felt like he was blushing and he hoped that it wasn’t obvious, but Luffy didn’t say anything about it as he held his hand again and talked about the stars and how maybe he should be an astronaut.

When they got to his apartment, Law paused by the door, one hand on the knob as he considered what to say. “Thank you,” he muttered, facing away for a moment before turning to look Luffy in the eye. “I had a nice night.”

Luffy grinned and their hands were still connected and Law was about to pull away when suddenly he was being kissed and even though it only lasted a second it sent sparks throughout his body and he could do nothing but stare as Luffy let go of his hand and escaped to his own apartment.

The next morning, Law couldn’t help but wonder if that was all a dream.

He got up like he always did but he was sort of in a daze. He still hadn’t been able to process everything that happened the previous night because Luffy had kissed him. And he was ninety percent sure that they had just went on a date.

He even thought that this was some sort of spell and did some extensive research on the possibility of last night being just a very realistic illusion but he knew in his gut that it had really happened.

Jesus Christ.

All of that really happened.

Law held his head in his hands as he leaned over his mug of coffee, sitting at his dining table in utter distress. This was not good for his heart. He was behaving like a twelve year-old girl with a crush and it was the worst. A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts and wiped at the bags under his eyes before answering. Luffy was standing there and he decided that this boy was going to be the death of him. He was going to die of exploding emotions. Or something like that.

“Torao!” Luffy greeted excitedly.

Law wondered how he could do that. Act so casual like he hadn’t kissed him last night. Then he remembered that Luffy doesn’t even know the word “shame.” He stepped aside to let him in and Luffy immediately jumped onto his sofa. He joined him silently.

They had to talk. Law needed to sort out his feelings and the only way he could do that was talk about them to Luffy of all people.

“Last night,” he began quietly as Luffy was surfing through his channels on the television. “When you, er, kissed me.”

“Oh, that? Sabo told me it’s what I’m supposed to do after walking you home. He said it’s “the nice thing to do,” Luffy commented as he stopped his browsing and settled for an old western playing on some obscure channel.

Oh.

“And the dinner?”

“An excuse to get you to meet Sanji and taste his food. He’s a real good cook, right?” he grinned at him.

Oh.

That made... sense. He supposed.

Law didn’t say anything for a long while. Luffy was expecting an answer from him and he gave a mumbled “yeah.” The boy returned his attention to the television then and he was left to his thoughts. Of course it was all just in his head. He couldn’t believe he thought that Luffy actually felt that way about him. Ah, he wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

“I have to get ready for work,” it was a lie. “I’m working overtime.” It was Sunday and it was his day off.

“Oh, okay,” Luffy said, surprised. “Guess I’ll just come back later. Have fun being an adult!”

And then he was gone.

And Law was alone.

Instead of trying to move on from his supposed unrequited feelings, he locked himself in his apartment, ignoring his door for the rest of the day and ate away his emotions. The next day he’s going to see that he’s gained half a pound and he’ll regret it then, but right now he’s going to eat everything in his refrigerator and watch Mamma Mia! until he passes out with a bucket of ice cream in his arms and a spoon in his mouth.

Law definitely wasn’t avoiding Luffy.

Waking up at an ungodly hour to get ready for work and leaving before anyone else should be awake is not avoiding. Staying late at the hospital until it’s practically midnight and then going home is most definitely not avoiding.

And it wasn’t like he was losing sleep over this, he slept plenty in his office during his breaks and he slept for four hours at home and he was a doctor, he knew that four hours was the absolute minimum to having a healthy rest.

He also ignored Luffy’s text messages.

Not that he would call it ignoring.

More like setting aside for later. If later meant never.

But everything was fine. He spent less time at home and worked more. He wasn’t stressed at all. He was eating protein bars for breakfast and bland hospital food for lunch so his diet was set. Dinner didn’t even happen. He was fine. Everything was fine. He’s got everything worked out and it’ll all blow over like the toupee on Donald Trump’s head.

So it didn’t “blow over” like he hoped it would.

The weekend came and he really couldn’t handle any more overtime so he stayed home. And of course there was a knock on his door. He wanted to ignore it. He was going to ignore it and hope that whoever was at the door would go away.

“Hey, Torao, it’s me.”

Damn. Why did the universe seem to hate him?

“Uh, I get that you’ve been busy and stuff, but you haven’t been answering my texts and stuff and it’s got me kinda worried. If you’re in trouble I can help you out, y’know. ‘Cause we’re friends and all.”

Law still didn’t answer. He remained seated on his sofa, wrapped in a warm blanket. Luffy didn’t say anything for awhile after that and for a moment he thought he left. But then he started talking again.

“If you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s okay. I’ll just talk to you. You don’t have to listen if you don’t wanna, but I’m gonna do it anyway.” And he did. Luffy was outside his door for hours, talking about what he did all week, describing a new dish Sanji made, telling him about some mini-venture he went on with his friends.

“The other day, I was talking to Sabo about you,” Law perked up at that. “I told him that I really liked hanging out with you and stuff and that you’re probably my most favorite person in the entire world, besides Ace and Sabo, of course. I told him that some day, Torao and I are gonna get married because that’s what you do when you want to be with someone forever, right? And I wanna be with you forever, Torao because you’re my bestest friend and I’m never gonna let you go.”

Law opened the door suddenly and Luffy was standing there, a surprised expression on his face.

“That was really corny,” Law said, frowning. “And bestest is a stupid word. And you can’t just decide to marry me out of the blue there has to be some sort of build-up.”

But Luffy just blinked at him and there was a plate of half eaten steak in his hands that he just noticed and suddenly Luffy was grinning like an idiot.

“I saved some of Sanji’s dish for you but I got hungry so I ate some.”

Law couldn’t believe that he was so in love that he let Luffy into his apartment to share half a lukewarm steak.

[closethegoddamndoorswat]

1-20 or all of them if you're up to it !

1. what is your favourite plant?-Roses2. do you believe in aliens?-Fuck yes, impossible there ISNT life in the infinite universe.. otherwise, thats fuckin scary3. name three artists ( musical or art ) that have inspired you or impacted you.-TOP, MoSup, Para(wh)more4. who are your favourite people in the world?-Ryan, Ava, Ezra, Zaria, my parents and brothers.5. talk about your crush or someone you love.-They're a literal child. We are constantly touching each other and always laughing. I smile the second I see them, even if it's Monday and I spent last night *alone*6. what is your favourite dog breed?-MUTT MOTHERFUCKER7. write a short story or poem about what your favourite season feels like to you.-fuck i suck at poems. Here goes:Wind flies in hair, as do hands.Sun reflects off of the water,The water that jumps with circles.The color of moss hides underneath cracks in bridges.The warm feeling fills everyone.8. what are your favourite names?-Toni (ayyy)-Maxine-Mackenzie-Josh-Frankie9. do you enjoy reptiles as pets? why or why not?-Yes, cuz theyre sick as frick! One if my brother's had a gecko once..10. how does art or music make you feel?-Limitless. Incredible. Free. Warm. Impacted and impactful. Lived and loved. Inspired. The last one is my favorite feeling.11. do you prefer the beach or the mountains?-FUCCKKKKK NOT THIS QUESTION!! Ive always lived on/near the seacoast, so imma say looking at the beach from the summit of a mountain12. indoor gardens or outside gardens?-idgaf, as long as it smells nice13. do you like long hair or short hair?-SHORT SHORT SHORT! Doesnt get your hand tangled and knotted into hair, easier, doesnt fly into your face constantly.14. what is your favourite childhood memory?-jumping off of this 20 ft. Boulder we had in the backyard of our last house. We were like, 8.15. what is the dreamiest/most surreal thing that has ever happened to you?-fuck! im not sure.. maybe going for a walk in the woods in winter, and taking pictures of mini streams?16. where do you feel time stop?-concerts17. what is your favourite breed of cat?-uhhh farm cats.18. are you pro freckle?-I AM THE MOST PRO FRECKLE FIGHT ME19. what is your favourite thing right now?-either the pond across the street or music.. probably both20. what is your hidden talent? (example: memory, double joints, etc. )-u can fuck up my hair so bad and give me five seconds and it'll be perfect again21. what is the best dream you've ever had?-i dont really remember dreams? OH THERE WAS THIS ONE TIME I DREAMT THAT THERE WAS A SCHOOL EVENT AND AS I WAS LEAVING SCHOOL JOSH DUN WALKED BY CARRYING BOXES (for some reason) AND W I N K E D AT ME. Vivid purple hair and tattoo too, but he was just in skinny jeans and a gray t shirt.22. are you a good plant owner?-FUCK NO, i can harvest amazingly well, but anything else it will probably die. Thats why i deal with eggs and money at the farm i volunteer on.23. what is your favourite article of clothing?-skinny jeans or this pink hoodie shirt thing i have24. how many languages do you know?-3!! English, Spanish (semi-fluently) and sarcasm/teasing.25. what is your dream vacation?-concerts in Italy with the people i love the most.26. do you believe in zodiacs/horoscopes?-not really nah27. if you could have any superpower, what would it be?-invisibility. Id sneak into sooo many concerts.. also then i could just walk outta school28. who is the most unproblematic person you know?-everyone in my fucking life is problematic, are u new here?29. do you know how beautiful you are?-actually, yes. not to be cocky, but i can look confidently in the mirror on a good day and smile at the fact that i find myself good-looking.30. what is your favourite feeling?-a song hitting u so hard that music or words or ANYTHING just doesnt sound right. Also, finally writing good lyrics, a pen working really well, a good pillow, a good cup of hot chocolate. Running my own hands through my hair.31. what is your favourite cold drink?-ICED CHAI TEA.32. what is your favourite hot drink?-hoy chocolate binch33. what has been the highlight of your week?-umm ?? Are u new here?? ((maybe my bro giving me my xmas presents late? Idk))34. who are your favourite tumblrs?-too many, love everyone ever.35. what are your favourite sounds?-the sounds of pasta cooking, scrapig your spoon against italian ice. the sound of loud chatter and laughter and a fire crackling.36. what is your aesthetic of choice?-every aesthetic ever i love ALL aesthetics i kid u not.37. if you could spend a day with anyone, who would it be?-.. Ryan, it's been .. awhile.38. do you like anons? why or why not?-yes, because theyre people that are speaking to me.39. what is the nicest thing someone has ever said about you?-"youre.. you."40. list the top five things you love about yourself or your life.-my hair! My lips, my eyes/eyebrows, my voice, my loved ones.41. have you ever seen the ocean?-seen it? HONEY. IN THE SUMMER I'M AT THE OCEAN OR IN SOME BODY OF WATER EVERYDAY.This was fun, made me think about things i dont usually.. ❤️❤️

[viralhottopics]

Exclusive: Bestselling author E. Lockhart to publish a new YA novel

Image: delacorte press

Bestselling author E. Lockhart has a new YA novel hitting shelves this fall.

SEE ALSO: Read an exclusive excerpt of Jeff Zentner’s upcoming ‘Goodbye Days’

Announced today, Lockhart’s Genuine Fraud will be released Sept. 5 by Delacorte Press, and imprint of Random House Children’s Books.

Edgy and inventive, Genuine Fraud is an instantly memorable story of love, betrayal and entangled relationships that are not what they seem. Lockhart introduces readers to the story of Imogen and JuleImogen, a runaway heiress, an orphan, a cook and a cheat; Jule, a fighter, a social chameleon and an athlete. This is a novel about intense friendship, a disappearance, murder, bad romance, a girl who refuses to give people what they want from her and a girl who refuses to be the person she once was. Who is genuine? And who is a fraud? You be the judge.

Lockhart is a staple in the YA world, and she’s perhaps best known for her haunting We Were Liars, a deluxe edition of which will be published this May.

MashReads spoke to Lockhart about Genuine Fraud, her career, and her advice for 2017. Then read on for an exclusive excerpt of her upcoming novel.

When did you first know you wanted to be a writer?

I read Joan Aikens The Wolves of Willoughby Chase in third or fourth grade and immediately began writing novels about Victorian orphanages, windswept landscapes and cool uniforms.

What draws you to writing YA books?

In young adulthood, people separate from the values and embraces of their families of origin and begin to define themselves as individuals. That process of separation and self-reinvention is extremely interesting to me. Genuine Fraud is very much a YA novel, even though it doesnt take place in high school.

Is your writing process different depending on the genre youre writing?

Genuine Fraud is a psychological thriller, and the only other such book I have written is We Were Liars. All my other books are comedies! The thrillers have intricate plots that require more planning.

Genuine Fraud sounds a bit like an oxymoron. Do you have a favorite oxymoron?

Film producer Samuel Goldwyn is often quoted as saying, I never liked you, and I always will. My new novel is in something of the same spirit.

Genuine Fraud is another suspense novel, like your emotional bestseller We Were Liars. Can you give a hint as to the emotions readers are likely to have?

Both books have twisty plots, but with Genuine Fraud youre unlikely to need a tissue. Rather, I recommend Rolaids and seltzeryoull want a strong stomach.

Youre known for writing incredibly strong and complex female characters, particularly Frankie Landau-Banks, who is seen by many as a feminist icon. The women in Genuine Fraud seem to be in a similar vein. Do you feel you have a responsibility as a YA writer?

Thank you. I am a feminist, most certainly, but my responsibility as a novelist is not to provide role models. My responsibility is to try to write something that feels true to me on some emotional and intellectual level. I write to make a piece of narrative art that represents the inside of my head. I hope that if I have done so well enough, people will respond to it.

As its a new year, what is your advice for your readers for 2017, both for life and for aspiring writers?

Raise your voice. Its an everyday practice. As a writer, as an activist, as a friend and colleague, student or teacherraise your voice in protest, in apology, in curiosity, in praise, in self-expression.

What were some of your favorite books of 2016?

I read a lot of travel stories and novels written in the nineteenth century. I read cookbooks and middle-grade fiction and comic essays. But Genuine Fraud is a complicated portrait of an extremely difficult person, and a twisty thriller as welland here are two 2016 books I read while I was revising it that fit that same description and are incredibly juicy: Girls on Fire by Robin Wasserman is an adult novel about young women behaving more than badly, raw and gorgeous. My Sister Rosa by Justine Larbalestier is a YA novel about a boy whose younger sister is a psychopathchilling and thought-provoking.

Image: Delacorte press

It was a bloody great hotel.

The minibar in Jules room stocked potato chips and four different chocolate bars. The bathtub had bubble jets. There was an endless supply of fat towels and liquid gardenia soap. In the lobby, an elderly gentleman played Gershwin on a grand piano at four each afternoon. You could get hot clay skin treatments, if you didnt mind strangers touching you. Jules skin smelled like chlorine all day.

The Playa Grande Resort in Baja had white curtains, white tile, white carpets, and explosions of lush white flowers. The staff members were nurselike in their white cotton garments. Jule had been alone at the hotel for nearly four weeks now. She was eighteen years old.

This morning, she was running in the Playa Grande gym. She wore custom sea-green shoes with navy laces. She ran without music. She had been doing intervals for nearly an hour when a woman stepped onto the treadmill next to her.

This woman was younger than thirty. Her black hair was in a tight ponytail, slicked with hair spray. She had big arms and a solid torso, light brown skin, and a dusting of powdery blush on her cheeks. Her shoes were down at the heels and spattered with old mud.

No one else was in the gym.

Jule slowed to a walk, figuring to leave in a minute. She liked privacy, and she was pretty much done, anyway.

You training? the woman asked. She gestured at Jules digital readout. Like, for a marathon or something? The accent was Mexican American. She was probably a New Yorker raised in a Spanish-speaking neighborhood.

I ran track in secondary school. Thats all. Jules own speech was clipped, what the British call BBC English.

The woman gave her a penetrating look. I like your accent, she said. Where you from?

London. St. Johns Wood.

New York. The woman pointed to herself.

Jule stepped off the treadmill to stretch her quads.

Im here alone, the woman confided after a moment. Got in last night. I booked this hotel at the last minute. You been here long?

Its never long enough, said Jule, at a place like this. So what do you recommend? At the Playa Grande? Jule didnt often talk to other hotel guests, but she saw no harm in answering. Go on the snorkel tour, she said. I saw a bloody huge moray eel.

No kidding. An eel?

The guide tempted it with fish guts he had in a plastic milk jug. The eel swam out from the rocks. She must have been eight feet long. Bright green.

The woman shivered. I dont like eels.

You could skip it. If you scare easy.

The woman laughed. Hows the food? I didnt eat yet.

Get the chocolate cake.

For breakfast?

Oh, yeah. Theyll bring it to you special, if you ask.

Good to know. You traveling alone?

Listen, Im gonna jet, said Jule, feeling the conversation had turned personal. Cheerio. She headed for the door.

My dads crazy sick, the woman said, talking to Jules back. Ive been looking after him for a long time. A stab of sympathy. Jule stopped and turned.

Every morning and every night after work, Im with him, the woman went on. Now hes finally stable, and I wanted to get away so badly I didnt think about the price tag. Im blowing a lot of cash here I shouldnt blow.

Whats your father got?

MS, said the woman. Multiple sclerosis? And dementia. He used to be the head of our family. Very macho. Strong in all his opinions. Now hes a twisted body in a bed. He doesnt even know where he is half the time. Hes, like, asking me if Im the waitress.

Damn.

Im scared Im gonna lose him and I hate being with him, both at the same time. And when hes dead and Im an orphan, I know Im going to be sorry I took this trip away from him, dyou know? The woman stopped running and put her feet on either side of the treadmill. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Sorry. Too much information.

Sokay.

You go on. Go shower or whatever. Maybe Ill see you around later.

The woman pushed up the arms of her long-sleeved shirt and turned to the digital readout of her treadmill. A scar wound down her right forearm, jagged, like from a knife, not clean like from an operation. There was a story there.

Listen, do you like to play trivia? Jule asked, against her better judgment.

A smile. White but crooked teeth. Im excellent at trivia, actually.

They run it every other night in the lounge downstairs, said Jule. Its pretty much rubbish. You wanna go?

What kind of rubbish?

Good rubbish. Silly and loud.

Okay. Yeah, all right.

Good, said Jule. Well kill it. Youll be glad you took a vacation. Im strong on superheroes, spy movies, YouTubers, fitness, money, makeup, and Victorian writers. What about you?

Victorian writers? Like Dickens?

Yeah, whatever. Jule felt her face flush. It suddenly seemed an odd set of things to be interested in.

I love Dickens.

Get out.

I do. The woman smiled again. Im good on Dickens, cooking, current events, politics… lets see, oh, and cats.

All right, then, said Jule. It starts at eight oclock in that lounge off the main lobby. The bar with sofas.

Eight oclock. Youre on. The woman walked over and extended her hand. Whats your name again? Im Noa.

Jule shook it. I didnt tell you my name, she said. But its Imogen.

Jule West Williams was nice-enough-looking. She hardly ever got labeled ugly, nor was she commonly labeled hot. She was short, only five foot one, and carried herself with an up-tilted chin. Her hair was in a gamine cut, streaked blond in a salon and currently showing dark roots. Green eyes, white skin, light freckles. In most of her clothes, you couldnt see the strength of her frame. Jule had muscles that puffed off her bones in powerful arcslike shed been drawn by a comic book artist, especially in the legs. There was a hard panel of abdominal muscle under a layer of fat in her midsection. She liked to eat meat and salt and chocolate and grease.

Jule believed that the more you sweat in practice, the less you bleed in battle.

She believed that the best way to avoid having your heart broken was to pretend you dont have one.

She believed that the way you speak is often more important than anything you have to say.

She also believed in action movies, weight training, the power of makeup, memorization, equal rights, and the idea that YouTube videos can teach you a million things you wont learn in college.

If she trusted you, Jule would tell you she went to Stanford for a year on a track-and-field scholarship. I got recruited, she explained to people she liked. Stanford is Division One. The school gave me money for tuition, books, all that.

What happened?

Jule might shrug. I wanted to study Victorian literature and sociology, but the head coach was a perv, shed say. Touching all the girls. When he got around to me, I kicked him where it counts and told everybody who would listen. Professors, students, the Stanford Daily. I shouted it to the top of the stupid ivory tower, but you know what happens to athletes who tell tales on their coaches.

Excerpt copyright 2017 by E. Lockhart. Published by Delacorte Press, an imprint of Random House Childrens Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

Read more: http://on.mash.to/2jOItND

from Exclusive: Bestselling author E. Lockhart to publish a new YA novel