#bullying ruined my life how could you tell /half joking
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irondad-defensesquad · 2 months ago
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in which the bullying particularly stings when peter messes up at the school lab, and flash mocks, "and you call yourself tony stark's intern".
in which peter genuinely believes he's not good enough to be in tony's lab - or hell, in tony's life at all.
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lcriedlastnight · 2 months ago
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Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader
ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo
requests are open!
852 words.
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it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.
"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.
"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.
lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.
"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.
with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".
"well, i guess the most important one is-"
"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.
"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.
lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.
"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."
your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.
"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."
his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..
˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱
lando wasn't to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.
lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.
"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.
"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.
as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.
all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.
that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.
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doromoni · 2 months ago
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Not Over the Papaya | OP81
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⊹ 。•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader
Genre : Fluff Smau
A/N : Tooth rotting fluff coming ur way~ no angst for this chapter hihi enjoy!
Face claim : Jennie Kim
Song: So this is love - Brandy, Paulo Montalban
Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.
Masterlist | Series Masterlist
< Previous | Part 13 | Next >
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Y/N. 3mins
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story replies
markwebber Oi! my feet blur that!
Y/N. get in the bloody car first old man, we still need to fetch 2 more idiots
markwebber Ok fine, tell osc I’m driving us
Y/N. he said sure. NOW GET DRESSED
markwebber ok ok give me a sec
Y/N thank youuu 🫶
Y/bf Ohhh who’s that? he’s hot! 🥵
Y/N. He almost 50 and he’s MARRIED with KIDS
Y/bf Maybe they need a new stepmom
Y/N. GIRL. NO
Y/bf. I’m joking! I’m waiting for Lewis Hamilton … that man could take me. ☺️
Y/N. Y/bf I swear…
Y/bf Ok i’m serious about that ~ I’ll let Lewis ruin my life
Y/N. and i’m sure he’d be lucky to have you, crazy and all
Y/bf hell yeah I’m a catch 🤗
Y/N. you’d be a bigger catch if you went to Australia with me
Y/bf I have to a shoot for my movie you gremlin. I’m sure they cant film when their leading actress is half across the earth
Y/N. ik ik~ goodluck babe! Ughh im so proud of youuuu 🫶
Y/N. 8mins
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charles_leclerc wth?? You’re all together??
charles_leclerc why wasnt I invited?
charles_leclerc Y/N! answer meeee
maxverstappen this is so weird Y/N 😅
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Y/N. 1m
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oscarpiastri I see mom had shown you the albums huh?
Y/N. You looked so cute my luvv 😭 I’m crying
oscarpiastri I do look cute 🤷‍♂️
Y/N. URGH I want to squish ur lil cheeks . I’m having cuteness aggression. I never realized how blond you are 🥺
oscarpiastri yeah, I kinda outgrew it
Y/N. what if we dyed ur hair??
oscarpiastri Baby, I love you but NO
Y/N. I h8 u, go play video games with the other guys~ ur mom’s spilling so many things bout you 😛
oscarpiastri Nooooooooo
charles_leclerc Osc looks cute
Y/N. Ikr??
charles_leclerc Yes… now why am I not invited to go to Australia???
Y/N. 🙊😬
charles_leclerc Y/Nieeee Whyyyyyy???
charles_leclerc Hello?????
Y/N.
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liked by oscarpiastri, danielricciardo,logansargeant, and others
Y/N. I wasn’t depressed, I just needed some sun…. or somebody’s son
oscarpiastri Mama said you could keep me 😌
nicolepiastri NO returns, @Y/N sweetie.
Y/N. No returns… I have some concerns 🙂‍↕️. I feel like he loves Sally better than me.
oscarpiastri That was my childhood room dear!!.
Y/N. that doesn’t explain the huge af cut out 😀
nicolepiastri yeh, he begged for that one.
danielricciardo Ok where are my photo creds tho???
Y/N. Oh.
danielricciardo this is intellectual theft Y/N!
Y/N. Ok fine i’m sorry! Thank you for the most amazing, revolutionary, and inspiring photos taken by @danielricciardo
danielricciardo That’s better. Ur very welcome
logansargeant I didn’t come here to be bullied!!
Y/N. who’s bullying you our precious bbq sauce enthusiast
logansargeant I- ok that’s a step up from ranch. I’ll take it.
charles_leclerc I repeat. WHY WAS I NOT INVITED?!
oscarpiastri ur not Aussie
charles_leclerc Ok??? Logan is American and Y/N too
oscarpiastri right.
Y/N. Sorry kinda forgot about u 😬
charles_leclerc unbelievable! i’m so hurt 😭
Y/N. sucks to be u, cry about it on ur yatch
charles_leclerc Maybe I will! and none of you are invited
Notification : Alex added you to “ Charles the drama queen”
Notification : Alex added Oscar to “Charles the drama queen”
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Extra A/N: Singer!Oscar ran in my mind all week… so fuck it Singer!Oscar.
Also! may I offer my playlist for the one and only~ Oscar Jack Piastri 😗
Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed
Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now
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didasgomas · 4 months ago
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Go too far and you'll get a scar
Day 16 of @augusnippets
Prompts: Humiliation/Dehumanisation/Conditioning
Trigger Warning: Defamation, bullying
Part of "In Mortality", an au of Cut Down The Altar (creator will be in the tags)
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March 19th, 2001
Geraldine Pasque had always been one of the more popular and respected students all throughout middle school for her beauty and intelligence, but she let the fame get to her head one Friday.
The Bilcanna twins, both named Jack, were her targets. The friends of the one nicknamed "Eden" were planning on a night out, and he had offered to cover half of the whole bill, and that had been when Gera made her attack. She made a rude joke, loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear, about his family's businesses and that surely they were borrowing or even stealing all the money they possessed, finishing off with a very mean remark about his mother's pastry shop and an accusation about what really went inside the food.
What she hadn't realized was that she had messed with an apex predator, one who understood their ecosystem's hierarchy and food chain to their core and knew how to use them for his own gain.
She had ruined his fun, so now he would ruin her life.
His group of friends had other friends who knew the entire school. One hundred, two hundred, three hundred was just about the right amount of credit most needed to agree to something so large, and "Eden" and his brother "Lantern" came from two very successful and close-knit families, so asking for extra pocket money for this 'operation' hadn't taken too much talking.
They just needed to pay the right amount of people, and then let the natural course of nature play out.
Accusations, false proof, overnight partnerships for the sake of overnight pamphlets, harsh criticisms or scared tears over phone calls, silence pacts and an agreement of secrecy to never even mention who it was that started everything, that later didn't even need to be put in place, for the others would simply mention who they had heard what from.
By Monday, on the 19th, the twins claimed a sudden double case of influenza, and Geraldine returned to school mostly normal, merely confused as to why her friends had ignored her phone calls the day before.
Everyone paused what they were doing to stare at her, some with hatred, some with disgust, some started mockingly laughing, most started whispering to each other, even to people they weren't familiar with.
"She mocks other people for their money, as if her family isn't in debt" "I think I heard from someone that her brother was in jail twice" "No, that was her dad. That's why she can't even cook, and now she goes around complaining about others' cooking. What a snob!" "I bet she doesn't even know how to turn on anything around the kitchen" "She once expelled a girl from her friend group because of the guy she was dating. I think she's just a jealous brat" "Read one of the pamphlets. If it really were the nerds who made them, then they must be true, they never do things without reason."
She didn't even want to look, much less read the pieces of paper all plastered across the walls.
Trying to reach her locker without having to make eye contact with anyone, at some point she spotted one of her friends walking the opposite direction.
"Heather, we need to talk-"
She was slapped across the face with a harshness that was untypical of her oldest friend.
"Yeah, we need to talk that we're no longer friends, you piece of garbage."
"What did I do?!"
"Don't act all dumb with me! I almost begged you to not tell anyone about my mother's condition, and now I found out you told everyone right the day after! How could you?!"
It was a question that Gera didn't even get to answer, as Heather simply walked away, probably off to find her boyfriend.
Trying to ignore everyone else's gaze, she continued her way to her locker.
Only to find from a distance that it had been busted open, the door almost crushed beyond repair on the floor. She needed to check, even if deep down she knew there was something awful waiting.
There was. All the decorations she had spent so much time collecting were either broken or overhauled by paint and pencil marks. A photo was glued at the center, one of her and her three best friends still in 6th grade, on top of a hill covered in flowers and drinking strawberry juice.
The only one of her friends who had physical photos from that time was Florence, her first ever friend. Gera's face had been scratched up with marker, and the word "Liar" was written above her head.
She couldn't fully remember what had happened next, but she was now in one of the bathroom stalls, trying to keep her crying as low as possible. Could she continue in this school anymore? Could she continue school at all anymore? Would those two continue chasing her? Would she need to drop everything for her own safety?
She had bitten off more than she could chew, and now the entire rest of the meal had been taken from the table.
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stokesy55 · 4 months ago
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I love that idea of mitchy and vk arguing over who got destroyed more, it's gold 😂😂 can we extend that to all the omegas in cricket? they have a whatsapp group where they keep complaining about how possessive all their alphas are, but then it goes into an argument about whose alpha is the most possessive and rough 😂 also jossy's endgame is definitely joey, even though joey is a beta. and i think you have finny as a beta too? so the omegas who're mated to alphas, like vk and mitchy keep teasing jos and stu for missing out on the sheer power of a possessive alpha. 🤪 also if it comes to tattletaling, vk is the one who gets totally bullied by the other omegas, because he has more instances of past escapades than the rest of them put together 😂
this is a normal day in the group:
stu: 😭
starcy: why does every conversation on this group start with crying? 🙄
marn: oh look, stu's crying again, what's new? 🙄
jos: what happened??
stu: you know very well what happened 😭
vk: wait what's going on?
stu: which one of you bitches told finny that jimmy cuddles me to sleep on tours? it's only because i have trouble sleeping alone! we're only friends! i can't even feel my legs anymore 😭
vk: oh stop moaning stu, finny's just a beta! trust me, you'd be having a much harder time if he was alpha.
mark: seconded. speaking from experience here 😮‍💨
jos: hey i won't stand for this beta slander! they can get just as possessive as alphas! you've never seen how joey gets, have you?
marnus: what lies! please have you even met steve? i didn't get a wink of sleep on my wedding night, iykwim 😏😳
starcy: have you seen alyssa in one of her moods? 🥵 i think my throat was sore for the entire next week after the last time.
marky: please, neither joe, steve nor alyssa have got anything on my benny 😏 i couldn't even get out of bed after he found out about my ex-boyfriend.
vk: please, but pat takes the cake. i'm actually surprised at myself for not buying myself a walking cane yet! we've been married for 10 years now, and I'm sure ive spent at least 7 of those limping. 😭
marn: you're such a drama queen 🙄
vk: and don't even try to argue with me on this. i used to sleep with joey, benny, finny, and steve before, and i know how they are. none of them are even half as possessive as pat.
starcy: you haven't been with alyssa tho...
vk: well, never say never... ;)
stu: *screenshot* (it's a ss of the current conversation which he sent to patty 🤭)
vk: you told him?! i was kidding!
jos: 😂😂😂😂
marn: 🤣
vk: you asshole!
stu: good luck coz yours is about to get wrecked 🤣
vk: im flying back to india before he comes home, i have a match next week guys 😭😭😭
*next day*
vk: 😭
stu: *screenshot of headphones* you owe me a pair of this, vk, i could hear you screaming over in england!
marn: steve and i are his neighbours. imagine what we went through 🥲
vk: *screenshot of a wheelchair* you owe me this stu, i don't think I'll be able to move for the rest of my life 😫
stu: 😆😆😆😆
jos: lol should i send over some cushions too?
vk: you better. you have no idea how sore my bum is 😭
starcy: you deserve it for implying you would sleep with my alpha
vk: im sorry okay! there was no need to permanently cripple me over a joke!
mark: stop being dramatic vk, I've been through worse with ben!
vk: shut the fuck up, pat literally almost broke my hips yesterday. i don't think anything can be worse than that. i used to fuck ben before, and unlike with pat, i could at least get up from his bed 🙄😒
marky: want me to tell pat again?
vk: don't you dare.
marky: *screenshot* too late. 🤣🤣🤣
stu: omg you actually did it.
marn: wtf mate i didn't sleep yesterday. now my morning is ruined too 😭
vk: why do you hate me so much?! 😩
(lol im sorry, this got away from me 😭🤭)
Ahahahahhah - this is a very funny idea 😂
Mayhaps a one shot spin off in the future ��
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iwillfeastonyourflesh · 9 months ago
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i dont think im a good person. i think im one of the worst types. i see whats wrong, understand that its wrong, and still i let it happen. sometimes i actively participate in it. my oldest brother is kind, and doesnt let anything anyone says about him stop him from living truthfully. but the things people say are fucking awful, and i know that i wouldnt be able to handle it as well as he does. my other brother saw what was happening to him, and decided to not let it happen to him. he became one of those popular kids that has a huge ego, but he saw my brother and never bullied someone else. i saw both the paths i could choose, and walked in the middle. im friends with people who aren’t actually popular, but act like they are and gossip like it. they’re shit people and bully/talk shit about people behind their backs. this includes me. the girl i talk to the most in the group, as shes in most of my classes, spends all the time shes with me either complaining about her family or making fun of people. if shes willing to talk crap about the people she actually likes in the group, shes def talking crap about me. shes said things to my face before, but other than calling me a loser the thing she said that stuck with me most was telling me i was the uglier version of another friend (im going to call her S). ive always compared myself to S, as shes the one i look most like. having an example of what i should be right next to me all the time sucks, but i don’t blame her for it. i have a lot of other friends, but none that i could fit into the group with. im not sure what to do. i know that a lot of people who are “older and wiser” than me will say that what’s happening to me rn isnt a big deal, and im aware of that. i try not to let these things affect me, as there are people who have actual problems and arent just spoiled kids who make jokes too much and accidentally made people think shes unaffected. a few days ago the friend who i spend the most time with (im calling her C) made a joke about one of our friends to her face, but it was the kind of joke thats too far. in response to her doing this, since i was right next to her, i told a “joke” to her face that was too far. i said something about how she ruins all of our conversations with negative comments, and thats why nobody talks to her. i could tell by her face that it hurt. she was almost silent the rest of class. i feel like complete and utter shit for saying it, but i keep trying to remind myself that she needs to learn. she comes from a rich family, and thinks that the few minor inconveniences in her life matter to everyone. her mom has bipolar, and the meds she was taking for it made her severely depressed and she ended up going to the hospital for it. ever since she came back from the hospital, C’s been acting like her mom is batshit insane. she got on the bus one time upset that her dad yelled at her, and ended up telling me that her moms crazy because shes not doing anything to take care of herself. i know people who were abused by their parents, and got beaten half to death but still sent back to their house because of the fucked up system we have. C telling me that pissed me off bc she gets whatever she wants, whenever she asks for it, and has never had to worry about money or whether or not her family would survive a war. im not saying these things have happened to me, but i dont try and act like my “problems” are the most important ones. im really sorry about this if for some reason you decided to read the full thing, and i apologise for sounding like a whiny brat, but i needed to tell someone and this way ill never know who that someone is, or if there is a someone. i wish you the very best, and i hope everything you want to happen will. good night
“Sometimes you just jump and hope it’s not a cliff.” - Casey McQuinston, Red, White, and Royal Blue
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hotwings0203 · 3 years ago
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Bully!Dabi pt. 3
Tags: @shikamaruscumrag @pinkiy13l @an-ambivalent @luno614 @sukunasleftkneecap
Tw:dubcon, noncon, bullying, manipulation, Russian roulette
“Doll? Come on out and I won’t hurt you too bad.”
You wait with bated breath as he walks right past your hiding place behind some crates, blue fire licking up the sides of his body and held in the palms of his scarred hands.
He’s mad, you know he is. He’s teasing you, of course he is, why else wouldn’t he just turn on the lights and pounce?
No, this is another punishment of sorts. A punishment for escaping your previous punishment from being locked in your room.
Another lash of burning cobalt strikes against a wall about 10 feet away from you, and you curse yourself internally. If only you had just stayed in bed a couple days more, if only you hadn’t snuck out when he left, if only, if only…
“Baaaabbyyyyy”
It sounds so wrong and uncharacteristic coming out from his gravely voice.
You huddle your limbs even closer to yourself, paying no mind to the cramping in your knees from being squished for so long.
It’s been about 25 minutes or so from what you can remember. It’s hard to remember anything that happened this bland morning anyways when the climax of your life was seemingly taking place here, after you entered the wrong room.
You had honestly just wanted a peek outside of Dabi’s room and maybe a drink of water, nothing more.
Or so you tell yourself.
But can you really be blamed? Who else wouldn’t have run out the moment they got a chance after spending almost two weeks in the same shitty room, being used as fuckmeat and only given bread scraps and salty cum as meals.
It didn’t matter how close he held you at night, how his strokes seemed to brush up against all the right places, how he tried catching your eye every time he wanted to talk about anything (which you would never really indulge in, only giving him a soft grunt or a nod). He was a monster, a demon in disguise that was keeping you against your will in his clutches.
A loud crash closer than before hits your ears, and you stifle an impending whimper. You can tell he’s roamed closer than before, finding nothing from his earlier place in the front of the storage room.
“I’m getting pretty fucking tired of repeating myself doll. You must be even more of a masochist than I thought since it’s like you want me to fuck you up even worse than I did before.”
His words are quiet but they do enough to cause a loud beating in your already-pacing heart, so loud in fact that you fear he can hear it racing a mile a minute.
You wonder if anyone is nearby, if they even remember you’ve been missing for a while now.
“Y/N”
“Come out, pretty girl. You know I miss you”
But you don’t miss him.
What you do miss, however, is not being chased into an empty storage room and hounded like a fucking dog. You miss joking with Twice, painting your nails with Toga, making Shigaraki chuckle.
All of a sudden, the crate next to you is covered with hellfire. The flames that are thrust from Dabi’s hands are so wild that they seat through your shirt and prick your skin.
You scream and scrabble backwards, the light of his fire illuminating his face leering up above you in the dark like a ghoul from a children’s book.
You clap your hands over your mouth, ignoring your bubbling skin as fear overrides premonition, but the damage has already been done.
It’s eerily quiet for a minute. Then, he whispers,
“Found you”
Even in the pitch black room you can practically see him lunging towards you, and you scuttle backwards on your hands and feet in terror. His hands miss your bare feet by a few inches, and he snarls before making another swipe.
“Fucking bitch, this is the thanks I get for taking care of you, bathing you, feeding and fucking you?”
You yelp as he lights up the floor on both sides of your trembling body, and you see his figure once more as the blue fire shows the sick grin twisted up on his face.
“Leave me alone,” you sob, clambering up on your feet and running backwards as he advances on you. The smoke from his quirk is filling the room, and you erupt in hoarse coughs as it’s filtered through your aching lungs.
Everything about him is toxic.
“Nah. That’s not how this works sweetheart. You see, I take care of you, and in return, you do whatever the fuck I say when I say it.”
He raises his palms to you and you flinch, covering your head and colliding with the wall behind you. You’re too scared and tired to evade him again as you feel his body cover you and brush against yours as you shake in place, your arms still above your face.
He cooes at you. “There there, my stupid little bitch. You were scared daddy was gonna hurt you, right?”
His stitched palm caresses your bitten bottom lip and trails up to your tear-stained cheek.
After a moment of you saying nothing, he slaps the side of your face, hard, and you gasp in pain. Now it wasn’t just your stomach that felt on fire.
“I asked you a question, you brain dead whore. Are you scared daddy’s gonna burn you? ‘You scared he’s gonna beat you black you blue? ‘Scared he’s gonna cut a gaping hole in your burnt tummy and fuck the gash?” He leans in and lets his raspy words settle over your ears as he tenderly brushes your hair away from it. He softly kisses the shell of you ear, and when you sob quietly he wraps his arms around your middle and hugs you close, paying no heed to how you uncomfortably squirm when your raw torso burns from the contact.
You squeeze your eyes shut and try not to inhale too much, lest the smoke embedded all over his body gets too close for comfort in your system.
“Y-yes daddy. Please don’t hurt me, I was…a bad girl.” You cringe when the words are wobbled out, but you know it’s what he wants.
To humiliate you, to hurt you. Who was he kidding when he said he loved you?
Dabi, however, feels butterflies in his own stomach.
See, this is what you need. To answer to Daddy, to submit to him so that he can take care of you. That’s why you stayed so long in his room, right? It’s cause you knew it would make him happy if you listened to him. You let him make love to you, and treat you like his little girl because deep down, you know this is where you belong.
So why are you fighting him? You never raised a complaint for a week and a half, you only stayed quiet and kept your eyes shut when he asked if you were okay. That means you liked it, right? No real opposition, after all.
Except for now.
Dani is honestly disappointed in you right now, you were doing so well…so why’d you have to go and ruin it?
He might’ve softened from the way your body shakes and your sobs are muffled by his smoke-scorched jacket as you press against him for comfort, but the image of you turning around and running away when you saw him earlier hurts him too much.
It angers him.
Why the fuck were you so scared? Hasnt he shown you enough that he loved you? What, does he need to fucking spell it out for you?
Why were your eyes filled with such terror when he caught you? Did you turn away from him and run because you thought he was going to make you look like him, all burnt up and hideous?
Honestly, he would never, but if you’re so hellbent on making him the bad guy, then fine, he’ll play the bad guy.
Anything for his precious little girl.
And so he tightens his arms around you and chuckles cruelly when you whine at the lack of air.
“Well, you were right. I am pretty pissed, I mean I told you to come out and you didn’t listen right?”
“S-sorry,” you weakly choke out.
He laughs even more crazed now, crushing your ribs so tight he could actually hear your breath wheezing out of you, could feel your weak little punches against his back.
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. No no, I want you to beg for your fucking life now.”
Your eyes widen as his arms begin to warm up and become unbearably hot.
“Dabi, no, no please!”
You writhe in pain as he cackles above you, savoring the choked breaths that emit from your wetted lips.
As soon as you begin to see spots, he releases you, and flings you against the corner of the room.
You go flying and bang your head against the concrete wall, his voice muted and swimming around in your ears as you fight for consciousness.
He saunters towards you in all his flaming glory, hands in his pockets as if he were walking out for some fresh air. He crouches in front of you and lifts your head with the pads of his fingers.
“Awww, my poor little girl. That had to have hurt, huh? You’re bleeding,” he cooes and blows a strand of hair away from your eyes.
He’s not lying, you can feel hot blood trickle down the side of your head as your vision sways.
“Stop this,” you pant. “I get it, I’m sorry- you were right and I was wrong, I shouldn’t have ran. I’ll listen to you from now on-“
“-But you said that last time, didn’t you?” He cocks his head and with the light of his turquoise fire against the shadows of the room, he looks like a being from hell itself.
“Remember? When you sucked me off like the dirty whore you are? Remember that you stupid cunt?” His grin becomes more reminiscent of a wolf baring its fangs, and you’re rendered silent in complete terror.
He takes your silence as an encouraging factor to continue his fun.
“You ever played Russian Roulette, Y/N?”
You have enough sense to quickly shake your head, a sinking feeling in your stomach forming at his implication.
“Me neither. But I kinda wanna try it right now. So, back against the wall. Stand up straight and spread your legs.”
You look at him incredulously. “You can’t be serious Dabi.”
He raises an eyebrow and a fire grows in the palm of his hand. “Wanna find out? Oh wait, you already are- now do what I said otherwise you’ll have one less leg.”
You don’t need more motivation to act on his orders.
Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly spread your legs and place your palms flat against the wall.
“Spread ‘em more. That shouldn’t be anything new to you.”
You wince at his dig but continue to widen the stance between your legs.
He smiles at your compliance.
“Good. This should be fairly easy, I mean the room is already dark enough to count as having a blindfold. Whatever you do, just don’t move.”
You wouldn’t know it, but he’s sincerely saying it for your sake. He’s glad for the safety of the dark, because he doesn’t want you to see the way he hastily wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans as he prepares himself for his next move.
The room goes dark, his fire has been put out.
You inhale softly, blood pounding in your heart as your hands shake in anticipation.
Then all of a sudden, a fireball comes barreling right towards you, in between your parted legs.
You shriek and jerk, but luckily you’re saved from being singed.
“I told you not to move, babe.” He clicks his tongue and rubs his erection absentmindedly.
A second, then third bolt of fire comes at the side of your head, singing your hair and then dangerously close to your already burnt stomach.
At each one you sob and do your best not to move, not to take in Dabi’s utterly emotionless face as you wail for mercy.
The last one comes so powerful that as it strikes the wall next to you, flecks of ash sting your cheeks and lips.
Your knees are jelly, your mouth is aching from begging for your life as he wanted.
But you know he’s done when he lets out a loud yawn and groan as he stretches his arm and flexes his fingers.
“A-are we done?” You sniffle.
He says nothing at first. You just hear him ask a couple steps towards you, his boots echoing in the room. You assume he stops in front of you because you can feel his body in front of your kneeling figure.
His hand descends and feels around until he reaches the top of your head. Stroking softly, he twirls locks through his fingers and gently shushes you until your hiccups subside, and you lean your forehead against his thigh.
“‘You happy it’s done? You did so well for me, sweetheart.”
“Yes Dabi. Thank you,” you utter softly, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.
“Yeah? How thankful are you?”
You still at that.
He starts to unbuckle his belt.
You pull your head back, and he pulls his pants down.
“Dabi-“
“Shhh, don’t ruin this. Just keep your mouth shut and let your body do the talking. Show me how grateful you are that I spared your fucking life.”
The gentle way he handled you clashed with his harsh words, and you have a moment of whiplash.
He kneels down in front of you and lets his hands wander in the dark until he meets your torso.
You hiss at the sensitive flesh, but he doesn’t stop. He just moves his hand under your shirt and higher, pushing your bra up until your tits spill from the bottom of it.
He bites his lip as you whimper from his touch, his thumbs swirling around your nipples and prodding the squishy flesh.
Dabi gets more eager when you throw your head back at one particularly rough squeeze and shuffles even closer, his pants and underwear at his knees, member bouncing out in the open air.
“Take your panties off,” he rasps, furiously stroking his cock.
You surrender and slowly pull your sweats off, and then your panties as you hear him lightly panting in eagerness.
The second he hears them drop to the floor he lunges for your feet and yanks your forward, catching you in his lap as you yelp.
It’s pitch black, but he can feel you clear as day.
The tickle of your hair hanging in his face, your sweet smell clouding his rationale, the melodious sounds of fear and pleasure mixed with pain make his prick stand painfully at attention, weeping at the slit for your pussy.
He doesn’t even bother taking your shirt off in impatience, he simply barks at you to hold the hem up so he can feel your breasts bouncing against his face when he motorboats them.
You, however, shakily hold his hand at your waist when he pulls you forward until your bare hole presses against his length, coating it with light juices.
“Oh fuck, doll, your pussy’s practically begging me to fuck it. ‘You like having your life in danger? No wonder you keep fucking up,” he groans as he moved beneath you, letting his hips rock back and forth to gain friction from under you.
“Wait, go slowly-“
“No the fuck I won’t,” he interrupts. You have enough sense to bite back any retorts from the subtle growl in his words.
He lifts you up from underneath your ass, and you raise your hips in compliance as he grabs his dick, circling it around your swollen nub and then pressing it against your entrance.
You breath shakily and run your hands through his hair, not so much in a loving gesture but tightly in futile hopes to deter him in any possible way.
He takes it either way as you wanting him equally, and without further ado he slams your hips down on his whole length.
You howl in pain as he begins bouncing you, pressing down on your shoulders and forcing your poor cunt to envelope him fully at each stroke.
The room is filled with the lewd sounds of your ass clapping on his dick, the mixed fluids from both of your bodies and the harmonies of his low grunts and your high pitched whines.
You can feel his dick twitch violently inside of you as he nears his climax. He flips you over on your back and starts pounding into you, laughing cruelly in your face as you cry out from the intensity of his strokes.
“D-Dabi! Pull out, I’m not on birth control!”
“Good.”
You open your eyes to stare at him in horror, barely making out the marred features of his face.
“I’m gonna fill you up with my babies. You’re gonna be plugged with my cum from now on, ‘s the only way you’ll stop running.”
“Get the fuck off me, this isn’t funny-!”
He grabs your rising fists and pins them back against the floor, crushing your wrists in the process.
“Who said I’m laughing?” And he isn’t laughing anymore, no, on the contrary he looks the most serious that he’s ever been, and that terrifies you the most.
The upper half of his body is suspended in midair above you as his pelvis smashes against your clit in a steady rhythm.
“‘Bet you’d like that, bet you’d like having all your holes stuffed with my kids. They’re gonna grow up and know how slutty their mommy was, they’re gonna watch and learn how Daddy earned his name. You think they’ll cry when they hear you scream for me?”
You want to rip out your ears from the filth pouring from his mouth, but unfortunately your hands are trapped under his grasp.
All you can do is chant “no, no, no,” under your breath as he’s pushed over the edge.
“Or maybe I’ll tie your legs against the barstools outside and let every man out there have his way with you. You missed them, right? I’m sure they missed you too, I’m sure they missed the way you’d fuck them the second they made you laugh,” bitterness seeps into his voice as ropes of cum shoot out.
He moans loudly in your ear and collapses against your body, sweat intermingling in the cervices of your entangled limbs.
It takes around three minutes for you both to catch your breaths, and for him to shakily raise himself on his elbows to peer down into your ruddy face.
“Clean yourself up. You’re going back to my room. And this time, if you try to run we’ll repeat this entire process again, but I’ll actually let everyone have their way with you. It’ll be like an orgy version of Russian Roulette, well all place bets on whose kid it is.”
You don’t miss the rest of the League, anymore
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didyoutrydynamite · 3 years ago
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I feel like Zheng has pulled his family into some rather ridiculous situations due to his “feistiness”
Several Years Ago in Vacuo…
Zheng: Patricia! *jogging up to a woman in the local park waving her down* Heard I’d find you here! Having a good day so far?
Patricia: *forced smile* Mister Zedong, what a… pleasure to see you. It was a good day considering things lately.
Zheng: Ah that’s good to hear. *trying his best to be as friendly as possible* Hey listen I need to talk to you about your son, Connor. You see, it seems Connor and May had a little fight at school-
Patricia: Did they now? Then it must have been your daughter who started it, Connor knows better to get into fights at school.
Zheng: *forced laughter* Well about that. You see when I said “little fight” what I had actually meant was that Connor was picking on May and made her cry.
Patricia: *scoffs* Connor? You’re saying my son was bullying May? Ridiculous. He was probably just joking around and May took it too seriously.
Zheng: *breathes in and out, remembering how Yuanbao said they should handle this like responsible adults* No. No, May took it about as well as she should have. *whispers* Connor was making fun of her eye. He at one point specifically told her “You only have one eye so you can only see half of how ugly you are.”
Patricia: My Connor would never-!
Zheng: My May wouldn’t make something like that up, and she wouldn’t be crying nearly as hard as she is right now. Listen, I will admit, I was livid when she first told me, but Yuanbao told me about what Connor’s going through right now. I’ve represented a few divorce cases in my career so I know how hard it is on kids, so all I’m asking is you talk to Connor and tell him-
Patricia: *snaps* What happens with my family is none of your business, nor your husband’s. And you don’t get to tell me how to raise my child, especially when yours has far more to worry about than her “deformity”.
Zheng: …Excuse me?
Patricia: I truly feel sorry for that girl, having to grow up in a home of degenerate perverts.
Zheng: *eyes narrow darkly* What did you just say?
Patricia: You heard me. It’s disgusting enough to watch you and your “husband” be so free with your perversion, but to bring a child into your home is downright inhumane. If I was that girl’s real parents, I would be spinning in my grave knowing her life will be forever tainted by you two.
Zheng: *his fingers toy with the wedding ring on his hand, taking in the details of what she just said.* So you’re saying I can't raise my daughter because I love my husband?
Patricia: *scoffs* To call what you two have “love” soils everything it stands for. You two have ruined any chance that girl had at a normal life, you should be ashamed.
Zheng: *breathes in, then out and mumbles to himself* So that’s how we’re gonna play this.
Patricia: There’s nothing to be played, I’m simply stating facts.
Zheng: … You know I’ve always liked Marcus, he’s a good man and he always makes the best chicken masala for a parent-teacher conference. It’s a shame what you two are going through, but hey, I’m sure he’s gonna feel a lot better when he can finally share a bed with someone he can actually get him off for once.
Patricia: *gasps* Excuse me?
Zheng: Like I’ve said, I’ve had my fair share of divorce cases, you’d be surprised how important a factor sex is in a marriage. I mean, if having sex with my spouse was like making love to a frigid corpse, I’m not sure if I could-
Patricia: You piece of shit! I am- we’re not-! Our sex life is not the reason for divorce!
Zheng: Is it because he finally held a conversation with you that lasted more than three sentences? Because I gotta say, the impression I get from this current conversation just makes you come off as… What's the word? Oh yeah! A cunt.
Patricia: How fucking dare you? Now you listen to me, this is why everyone despises you and your “family”. Your daughter has never fitted in with the other kids because of how you two destroy her. I heard you’ve even infected her with your mental illness, “came out the closet” as they say it. Disgusting.
Zheng: *angrily snaps* If I have infected May with anything, it is the ability to love who and however she wants! Just like how you apparently taught your son how to be a whiny, hateful little bitch just like you!
Patricia: You can go rot in hell! You, your pet, and your bastard! We are done here.
Zheng: *strides forward and shoves his finger into her shoulder* Well I’m just getting started you old hag.
Patricia: *slaps his hand away* Don’t you dare touch me! *spits in his face* If you ever try to speak to me again, I will make you regret it. *storms away*
Zheng: *wipes his face of her spit* Dumb bitch. *Pulls out the woman’s cellphone he managed to pickpocket as he poked her in the shoulder earlier. He scrolls through her contacts until hitting the call button for a contact titled “Boss”. He holds it to his ear as it rings.*
Boss: Hi Patricia! What a pleasant surprise, what can I do for you?
Zheng: *his aura flares as his semblance activates, and the sound of Patricia’s voice starts to emanate from his mouth.* Now you listen to me- We are done here.
Boss: W-what was that?
Zheng: You heard me!- You can go rot in hell!
Boss: Now hold on a minute Patricia, I know you’ve been really stressed because of your divorce, but that does not mean I will allow you to talk to me that way!
Zheng: What happens with my family is none of your business- You piece of shit!- this is why everyone despises you-
Boss: I need you to calm down right goddamn now, Patricia! Think long and hard about what you’re saying, or I will have no choice but to fire you!
Zheng: How fucking dare you?- you should be ashamed.- If you ever try to speak to me again, I will make you regret it.- Bastard-
Boss: ”I” will regret it?! No, Patricia, you’re the one who’s going-!
Zheng: *click* Try winning your custody hearing without a job, ignorant ass bitch. *stomps on the phone and kicks it into a nearby storm drain*
Zheng: *pull out his own phone and calls Yuanbao*
Yuanbao: Hey, how’d it go?
Zheng: Surprisingly well, she agreed to talk to her kid, but I’m not holding my breath for any real apologies.
Yuanbao: *angrily sighs* Damn brat, to think a kid just says something that cruel and not feel anything.
Zheng: That pimply little prick can go fuck himself for all I care. How’s baby girl?
Yuanbao: I’ve managed to calm her down, but this one is gonna hurt for a while.
Zheng: Then we’ll just have to be there for her. If you plan on cooking anything, don’t. I’m going to get us all some of May's favorites and we’re going to have a family night. I was also thinking of letting her stay home from school tomorrow, let her have a three day weekend. You ok with that?
Yuanbao: Yeah it’s ok, considering the circumstances I’d like her to have all the time she can get. Would hate to leave her at the house alone though.
Zheng: She won’t be, I’ll take the weekend off with her, let Best Dad Zheng help her get back on her feet with a Staycation.
Yuanbao: I’m sure she’d love that, we’ll be here waiting for you.
Zheng: Alright see you soon… Yuanbao, you know I love you, right?
Yuanbao: Was that ever really a question?
Zheng: … Because I do love you, and May. More than anything. Sometimes I feel like I can never say it enough.
Yuanbao: … I know. I love you too, Two-Zed. Now hurry home.
Zheng: Roger that, Cowboy.
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diavolosthots · 4 years ago
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I don't know if I'm too late if so ignore this. Mc trying to take care of Lucifer. Like bringing him food and drinks, trying to make sure stuff is done in the house, stopping the brothers from bothering him.,thanks for reading my request and remember if you don't want to do it or I'm to late delete it.
You weren't too late at that time and I'm in a lucifer mood tonight so this is being done!
Also who else would like to try spicy hellburned chili now that i made it up? Because I do.
Helpful Hands (LUCIFER X GN!READER)
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People always underestimate how much he does for this family, or at least he thinks so. They see mean old Lucifer who only ever bullies and is way too strict. They see the guy who has a patch of gray hair but should be way too young to have it. They see the Avatar of Pride who can’t bear to be defeated for the life of him. Sometimes they see a stuck up asshole who thinks of nothing but himself and occasional torture because he’s viewed as Mr. Sadist. The last part might be mildly true, but only on bad days and only to those who really deserve it. He’s heard it all, from both friends and foes alike, and of course his family. Even Diavolo scolds him at times, which that’s when he’s truly about to snap it because if it weren’t for the Demon Lord he probably wouldn’t be on edge all the time, but more on that later. The point is, though, that most, if not all, of those claims are fault. 
People see the surface level. They see what they want to see and they don’t dare to dig deeper. Maybe they fear him, maybe they’re just too warped in the idea that he absolutely hates everyone that they also turn to hating him. A “I do you like you do me” type of deal, but if they would just take the time… if they would listen and really take a good look at him… maybe they’d realize he’s just suffering. Everytime he gets mad at Mammon or gives a stern, “not now,” that’s him being overwhelmed. Or if his agitation shines through, it’s not because he’s truly annoyed, but because he knows they can do better. He pushes his brothers, absolutely, but only because he knows their true potential. He holds all this weight on his shoulders, for everyone, and instead of giving a small thanks, they ruin his day. It’s hard being the unwanted parent of six, but if he wasn’t, Hell would burn. Or, well, more so than it usually does. Diavolo adds to his work on the daily, and maybe that wouldn’t be such a problem, if he weren’t also the one distracting him from such work and then getting onto him for not having it done. 
It’s hard being him. It’s hard to be the responsible one because you feel like you have to; because you feel like you owe it to them. He blames himself, heavily, for everything that has happened, even though it was their choice to join him. He lays there at night, more often than he likes to admit, and asks himself the big “what if” questions. “What if I didn’t go against them.” “what if I let loose.” “What if I’m being too strict.” Never, ever will you hear him say these things. Pride, ya know? But you don’t need to hear those things because you do know. You see it in his tired eyes and slumped posture once no one is looking. You see it in the way he eats and his coffee outweighs his nutrients. You can tell every time his anger rises too quickly, although he deems himself the rational one. You know Lucifer, even if he thinks you don’t, and you feel bad for him. You feel bad that you’re the only one who seems to see how truly tired he is. How much of a shoulder to lean on he actually needs, and although you’d never dare just go up and offer it, because once again his pride still wouldn’t let him admit that, you try to acknowledge his needs in little ways. 
Coffee was ready this morning, Lucifer noted, but he brushed it off because maybe it was just Beel’s late night or early morning snack; maybe he wanted some? “The pot is full…” and he took advantage of that. Whoever made the coffee, and someone must have because it was still hot and tasted fresh, he thanks them. You smiled to yourself when you saw him with a cup, heading back to his office, “morning, Lucifer. Enjoy your coffee.” He had looked at you, blinking a few times and probably wondering why you’re so cheery this early in the morning, “Good morning, (Y/N).” but that was it. Well, not really. Next thing he knew was that lunch was already done when he arrived in the kitchen to start it. “(Y/N)? What are you doing? It’s my turn.” but you only shrugged, wiping your hands before grabbing the plates and heading out to the dining room to place them, “yeah but I was already down here and didn’t have anything to do. Don’t mind me, just come sit and eat.” He didn’t say it, and he didn’t need to, but he was really appreciative and he even managed a small smile when you passed. 
Those were isolated incidences, though, or so he thought. But now, little by little, he realized more and more things that he had never noticed before. The rooms were clean, or at least the ones he was in, the fridge and pantry was always stocked, even with Beel around, and he rarely ever got interrupted. Of course, he still heard the occasional arguments between his brothers; Mammon stealing the remote right as Belphegor was about to put sleepy time music on… seriously, why can’t the guy do that on his D.D.D.? Or Satan screaming at Leviathan who accidently tripped over Satan’s books in his room while lending him his headphones. Shocker on that one, right? Or maybe it was a disagreement between you and Beelzebub about which spices should be used in the Spicy Hellburned Chili for this wednesday night’s dinner. But all of these were minor and nothing compared to what he usually deals with. At first he was super suspicious though and would constantly check on everyone, but by day three he thought that maybe, just maybe, he had gotten lucky and he finally does have some peace. Spoiler alert: he did. He got way more done than he ever did. 
That, however, does bother him. He doesn’t know who or why they would do it and as much as he enjoys it, he would also like to have a discussion with them. His birthday isn’t for another couple of months so he knows that that wouldn’t be the reason he’s being treated so nicely, so what else could it be? Mammon would only do this for money and even then he’s pretty upfront about it and begs for it Lucifer immediately after he had done the task, so he’s off the table. Satan and Belphegor would rather die than help him, Asmodeus is too obsessed with himself and Leviathan is holed up more than he shows any signs of life. So, the only other two people are you and Beelzebub, both of which are very nice people and debatably the only ones who truly care about him. The last part is a joke, but you two show it more than others. “Was it you that has been helping me?” But Beelzebub just looked confused, half a bag of chips down his throat as Lucifer asked and something told Lucifer that he wasn’t it. “No, but did you need help?” With a shake of his head and a sigh, Lucifer turned on his heel to go and find you, but not before doing something else. 
“Come to my room, (Y/N).” he had said and for a moment you thought your whole plan backfired and his brothers annoyed him again, or maybe you had forgotten something in it? Were you not careful enough in your attempts to make his life easier? You haven’t even gotten to the best part! “I’m here…” you practically sprinted down the hall while trying to find an excuse for anything he could potentially say, but when he opened the door to let you in, all of those left your mind, “what’s up?” He didn’t look… mean, per se, but he looked stern like always and it kind of freaked you out. Did you do something wrong? Was the coffee not strong enough? You used the wrong spices for the chili, didn’t you? “Do you see this?” Lucifer’s finger pointed out and you followed it, noting it was pointing at his desk, “uhm…. Yes? Am I not supposed to see it? Wasn’t it always here?” “Yes, it has always been there. However, something is different.” You turned to look at him and then back at his desk. Was it new? Did he paint it? Is there a trophy on there you should be aware of? “Lucifer I can’t see--”
When you turned back around, he was holding out two glasses of champagne and a smile was, for once in what felt like forever, gracing his lips. “Exactly. It’s empty. You can actually see it.” he hands you one of the glasses, his smile never faltering, “I had an unusual amount of time this week thanks to a few… coincidences that just so happen to align with my schedule and make my life easier. I know it was you. You made my coffee that morning, and were kind enough to leave the pot. You took up my lunch shift on purpose, not because you were down there. You also took my dinner shift this week, and cleaned the house. I’m assuming you’re also responsible for keeping my brothers in line which is a miracle within itself.” He chuckled softly, shaking his head before reaching out his other hand and tilting your chin up, “I don’t know how or why… and frankly, I don’t want to know. It would ruin the fun of it, but I do want to thank you for it and seeing as I have nothing else to do tonight, or tomorrow, you’ll be staying with me.” You blinked a few times. You could feel your heartbeat speed up and for a moment you wondered what you had actually done, but also, how bad could this go? You had one more thing to give him, anyway. “Works for me. I have one more thing to give you, anyway.” You clink your glass with his before taking a sip, watching him raise an eyebrow while your own eyebrows rose up and your lips turned into a smirk. “Undress for me, Lucifer.” 
You hope he will agree to a massage. Lord knows he needs his shoulders loosened up. 
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bonky-n-steeb · 4 years ago
Text
𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸
𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴
𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍
𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.
ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ
Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!
Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.
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You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.
Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.  
Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.  
You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.
“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.
“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.
“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.  
☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎
The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.
“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.
Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.
You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.
You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.
What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.
☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎
It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.  
Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.  
Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.
All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.  
You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”
Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.
“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?  
Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”
You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.
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cowboycakes · 4 years ago
Text
The Strategy
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Pairing: Zeke Jaeger x Reader
Synopsis: The forest was the last place you thought you'd find yourself infatuated with someone you barely knew - especially not your cocky prisoner.
Themes: angst, flirting, guilty love, big plot twist
Warnings: kissing and suggestive language, bullying / teasing, mentions of death, some anxious thinking, light alcohol and tobacco use, profanity. reader uses she/her pronouns. s4 spoilers.
Word Count: 5.7k
Anon (🐸)'s Request: Hi ! Can I request a Zeke x fem reader imagine/one-shot? Reader is a captain for the survey corp and long time veteran. She is really intelligent and is a strategist for the corp. They kind of hate each other but have a lot of chemistry but start bonding before the forest incident. Sorry if that isn't specific enough and too vague.
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On occasion, you tended to be so logical that it ruined your life. There was no room in your mind for daydreams, love, or speculation. Fate was false - most things in life were completely arbitrary. That was the way you’d trained yourself to think. Not because you enjoyed it, only because it made it easier to survive.
This way of thinking is a result of your lifetime with the Corps. The award of a Captain’s position was the fruit of your labor, along with being revered for your ability to strategize. Many of the most important and most successful missions in recent years had been planned by you. But, the bubbling tension and division within the walls have thrown you for a loop. You’ve attempted to collaborate with Levi in recent weeks to try to pin down any conflict - anything you could do to calm the storm and keep your comrades safe would be worth it.
Instead of being able to act on whatever plans you’d developed, you’d been assigned to the most bizarre mission you’d ever taken part in: babysitting some man in his late twenties, all the way out in a forest filled with towering redwood trees. This mystery man was apparently not to be trusted, he was Eren’s half-brother from Marley and the holder of the beast titan. He’d done tremendous damage to the Corps in the past. His intentions and motives now remained mysterious, but one thing was for sure: his loyalties lied with Eren, not with the Scouts.
You were disappointed and terrified all together. Being so far away from the action left both you and your comrades vulnerable. But, Levi insisted you needed to confine this man far away from society. And although you were a captain, whatever Levi says usually goes.
The forest wasn’t so bad upon your arrival. Damp pine needles that covered the ground coated the air in a sweet aroma. The blanket of shade given off by the trees was temperate in the summer heat. The tents you’d been provided with were sturdy, insulated, and a dark shade of green that complimented the woodland setting. Above all, you were accompanied by 30 trained soldiers and a shipment of high-quality Marleyan wine.
The entirety of your first day in the forest was spent unpacking and setting up your living quarters. Stars now peak through the canopy of branches above, and a cold breeze ruffles the millions of leaves surrounding the camp. The air was chilly despite the heat that blazed earlier in the day.
The cot you’d assembled in your tent is comfortable enough, but the grey sheets you’d just stretched over the mattress still smell stale. You conjure up the idea of going for a walk while your blankets air out. The musty scent sure wasn’t going to lull you to sleep.
Your timid feet crunch on the ground through the forest for a while, away from the camp. The mist of your breath is tangible in front of your face - the light jacket you’d brought wasn’t going to be enough to keep your goosebumps at bay. It’s much more intimidating out here at night than you’d expected. Darkness brought mystery to the gaps between each tree. And the sheer amount of trees beyond the campsite is dizzying, their height is even more difficult to process. They add a sense of company to your walk, although you can’t tell if they are peaceful observers or prying sets of eyes.
It’s surprisingly quiet out here, no animal or human alike made noise at this hour. The silence leads you to pick up on the echo of a fire crackling somewhere. You’re suddenly a bit excited - you’d figured everyone would have gone to sleep by now.
You spot a comforting orange glow coming from the other side of the distant campsite, offset from the main groups of tents. Maybe someone else’s sheets needed time to breathe too.
The light grows brighter as you trek towards it. It leads you to a humble tent and a fire pit with two rusted metal chairs placed on either side of it. In one of the chairs sits a blonde man in a white shirt, with his back turned to you. He has his nose in a poorly bound book - its stitching is frayed and the pages look wilted, as if they’d been dropped in water before. A cigarette smolders in his free hand.
Your feet crunch into the ground a little harder as you approach in an attempt to avoid startling him. The man looks up to you once you’re finally facing each other. His face is foreign to you. Round glasses on his nose reflect a golden luster from the fire in front of him, blurring your view of his grey eyes slightly. Blonde waves are parted down the middle of his head, tousled a bit too perfectly. He has a well groomed beard that compliments his structured face and strong biceps that peak through his shirt sleeves.
He’s handsome, classy, alluring. Nothing like the usual around here.
“Hi, I’m Captain Reader,” you say with a small smile.
“Reader, huh?” he says, folding his book closed, “I think I’ve heard that name somehow…”
“Oh, possibly. I’m a long time captain. I do a lot of strategic work as well, and it's not exclusive to the Scouts. So my name tends to get around.”
“My name is Zeke,” he replies, returning the smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Zeke… did that sound familiar? You couldn’t decide.
You take a seat in the other chair across from the fire, warming your hands once you get comfortable. The embers lit in front of you are only a sad little bundle of sticks, clearly in need of more fuel. Zeke rolls his shoulders back as his eyes focus in on your frame. His attention is definitely not on the book anymore. His body language almost tells you he likes what he sees - he’s open, relaxed, observant. The cigarette has gone a bit limp in between his fingers.
You’re guilty of curiosity too, as your eyes prod his figure. There must be something in the air.
“What’s that book about?” you question, “it looks… well loved.”
He chuckles. “It's a little fantasy piece, actually. Not something I’d usually find myself reading, but I’ve read it a hundred times now. It’s about a maiden who buys her way to heaven, and a prince who rescues her from the consequences.”
“Interesting…” you say, “how does someone buy their way to heaven?”
“With something far more valuable than money,” he explains. You wonder if the sultry undertone he added was all part of your imagination. It was a little grumbly, suggestive.
“And what would that be?”
“Not sure, still trying to figure that one out,” he remarks, bringing the cigarette up to his lips. Light from the fire gets trapped in the smoke and travels up through the dark air as he exhales.
“You’re gonna ruin your lungs if you keep doing that, Zeke,” you joke.
He chuckles again, “So she’s pretty and caring. Guess I’ve lucked out.”
You feel a little heat rush to your cheeks. This innocent, flattered, puppy-love feeling: you hadn’t felt this way in years. You really wish you could just brush it off, it wasn’t something you were used to. Instead, you let your mind wander for only a second - it would be a nice pastime to have a summer fling with someone in this forest. You were more than tempted. It would get your mind off of the impending doom you tended to feel in chaotic times like this. You could live a bit for once.
And the beautiful man in front of you could be the perfect candidate.
“Hmm, it’s convenient that you think so,” you reply, crossing your legs.
“Convenient? For you, or for me?” he questions. “Looking to get something out of your time in this forest, Captain?”
You pause. He’s bold. “Depends… what about you?”
Zeke lifts the book up slightly in his hand and flips it over to examine its withered back cover, “Not sure, maybe I’ll finally experience whatever this book is talking about. Something so desirable I could cheat my way into heaven with it.”
No. His tone wasn’t your imagination.
“I have a feeling you’ll end up being the prince that has to deal with someone else’s fuck-ups instead,” you laugh.
His lips curl back into a smile as he starts to laugh with you. “Doesn’t sound out of character,” he replies.
His pretty blonde hair ruffles a bit as the wind picks up. And shit - is that wind bitter. The miniscule fire wasn’t doing it’s best to warm you. You notice your limbs are shaking, too much for your jacket and hands to conceal. Zeke surely notices too, he’s been eyeing you this whole time after all.
“Here,” Zeke offers, pulling a thick corduroy coat off of the back of his chair.
“No, no. You should wear that. I’m alright,” you protest, rubbing your hands over your arms vigorously to try to stop your shuddering.
Zeke gets up from his seat anyway and crosses the gap between the two of you. You look up to him once he’s standing over you, embarrassed. Two big hands drape the hefty fabric over your shivering shoulders. You immediately feel warmer as your body heat gets trapped underneath it.
“Thanks,” you mutter, pulling on the jacket to adjust it on your arms.
The wind still howls as Zeke goes back to his metal chair. He sits down casually, taking another drag of his cigarette as his eyes move back to you, lingering on you gently -- like he feels satisfied or nostalgic. Your features looked so beautiful in the faint orange light of the fire, as the only focal point in his vision while darkness clouded everything behind you. He couldn’t help but stare.
“I do mean it,” he says as he exhales, “that you’re pretty.”
His words hang there for a moment. They wait for you on a hook, persuading you to take his bait. So he could reel you in.
“Trying to flatter your superiors huh? Well that’s one way to get what you want,” you retort.
“Who says you’re my superior, Captain Reader?” he jokes.
You laugh at him.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, “but I’ve never seen you around before. Are you from another branch of the military?”
Zeke pauses, letting out a huff of air.
“You know, with a reputation like yours, one would think you’d know your enemies a little better.”
Your face drops from a smile that rested high on your cheeks to a shocked, open-mouthed glare. You’re frozen. Why didn’t you assume…
“You’re the other Jaeger…” you trail off.
Zeke brings the cigarette back to his mouth and flips his book back open in response.
You stare down into the fire, unsure of what to do or say next. You were mortified. Maybe saying nothing was the answer - you’d already dug yourself into a hole by flirting with your prisoner. And damn, did Zeke deliberately let you. He knew who you were. He wanted you to feel this way. He led you on.
Who was supposed to deal with your fuck-up now?
You stand up, keeping your eyes on the ground.
“Goodnight, Zeke,” you say quietly, dropping his coat onto the chair.
You move quickly through the dark air that nips at your ears, back to the safety of your tent.
***
“Don’t go off and be an idiot,” Levi warns.
You assure him you wouldn’t, pouring a big glass of wine for yourself with a smile spread across your face.
Levi had been more than reluctant to let your soldiers bring this wine, but you’d done some convincing. This forest had been boring for the past few days. Laughing over a few drinks would be a sure way to liven up the crowd. You were just excited to finally get a taste of this Marleyan wine that everyone had been raving about.
You hadn’t seen Zeke since that night three days ago. Unfortunately, you couldn’t get him off of your mind. Partially because you were horribly embarrassed. And angry. You couldn’t believe you’d walked into his trap like that, practically offering yourself to him as a subject to humiliate. You were sure he’d enjoyed every bit of it.
And the other reason you couldn’t get him off of your mind…
He was a bit gorgeous. And you loved the way he talked to you, how it made you feel. Even though your time with him was so short, you secretly wanted more. You cursed yourself for thinking about him like that after all the harm he’d done to the Scouts. All of it made you sick - it was wrong, it made you feel like you had dirt on your hands.
But what if you tried to talk with him again? Just to sort your feelings out. Then you could be free to forget about him. This time, you would control yourself. You knew who he was now, and what it meant to be speaking with him. You were allowed to speak with him, you just had to be careful if you were going to proceed. None of you could trust him.
But the curiosity was still killing you.
You swirl the wine around in your glass as you dig the toe of your leather boot into the soft ground - trying to decide.
Anxious feet move below you before your mind is ready for them to, back toward Zeke’s tent.
It was nearly sundown, and beautiful purple rays beam through the forest, shattered from full display by hundreds of tree branches. The air was warm tonight, so there would be no need for Zeke's jacket again.
Once you see his camp, you notice he’s back in the same chair again. He’s still reading that torn-up book, this time with a pencil in his hand. He scratches little notes onto the pages here and there.
He looks up once he hears the familiar sound of your boots. The eyes behind his circular lenses scan you, lingering on the glass in your hand. You wonder if you should have brought him one.
“Hi, Zeke,” you say softly, making your way to the chair across the empty fire pit.
“Captain, thought I’d never see you again,” he says, a false excitement stuck in his voice.
You keep swirling your wine around in its glass, waiting for it to air out so you could take your first sip. It smelled divine, so fruity and fresh, in contrast with the earthy smells that the forest gave off.
Zeke looks up to you over the top rims of his glasses, unimpressed. You raise your glass to your lips, almost ready to tilt it back and let the chilled, burgundy wine rush into your mouth.
“That’s sluggish if you,” he remarks.
You pause, letting the cool glass linger on your bottom lip.
“What?” you bark, pulling the glass from your mouth.
He looks back down at his book, “No Marleyan strategist - or any good strategist for that matter - would drink in front of their adversaries. It makes you look sluggish.”
You just gape at him. He’s probably having fun while trying to irritate you. Two could play.
You put your arm out in front of you and flip the glass over, pouring the wine onto the wet dirt below. It splashes up onto your boots as it streams from your cup and runs down to spill into the fire pit.
“Happy?” you grumble, tossing the glass into the dirt. “Probably shitty wine anyway, considering you two come from the same place.”
He snickers, “Not quite. I was hoping you’d just hand the glass over.”
You regretted trying to talk to him now.
“Fine,” you sigh, getting up from your spot and turning back toward your tent. “Keep scribbling in your stupid book.”
“Actually, I was writing the two of us into the story.”
You’re sure he’s just pushing your buttons further - trying to lay another trap for you and capture you in another awkward moment of infatuation. But his words cause you to pause in your steps for a second.
“And what are we doing?” you question.
“We just cheated our way into heaven.”
“Creep,” you grumble before continuing to walk.
***
You hadn’t gone near that wine since. You had a grudge against it now, it completely ruined the mood last time you saw Zeke. But it had sure lightened the mood for everyone else, probably a little too much. Everyone except for Levi, of course. It was nearly impossible to change his mood.
In the meantime, you were still victim to unwarranted thoughts of Zeke in your head. This almost felt like a schoolgirl crush, how he bullied you a bit. This was more like torment, actually, considering you were trying to get him out of your head. But it didn’t change the fact that you liked what you saw.
Lately he was always reading that book and jotting down notes in it. And he rarely left his little corner of the campsite except for when he went on walks sometimes. You’d admire him from afar, careful never to let your eyes meet with his.
You’d take the images of him now burned into your brain back to bed with you, and stare up to the dark tent ceiling above. You’d fantasize about what it would have been like to meet Zeke in another life. One where the two of you weren’t enemies trapped on two different sides of a war. Where you didn’t feel guilt for your interest in someone who had jeopardized you and your comrades. Where the two of you were free to know one another.
You couldn’t pinpoint what kept driving this involuntary curiosity you felt towards him. It was tiring, honestly. But you wanted his company. Maybe you just wanted company in general -- it's not like you got along with him or anything.
Should you fix that? Did you even want to fix that? Would a peace offering be doing too much?
He did mention he wanted your glass of wine…
So one night, you cave. And you march over to the wooden cart that held dozens of cases of wine, an empty glass for Zeke in hand. You’re shocked to see only four measly bottles remain, laying on their sides in the only wooden case left. You could have sworn the shipment was full only a few days ago, but this camp had been set up for weeks now. Everyone here must be just as bored as you were, and several times more thirsty.
You pry open a cork and pour a few inches of wine into the glass, stopping to waft the crisp aroma into your nose. The air tonight was crisp too, it was cooler than it had been in recent days. You were adamant about remembering a jacket this time. The journey to Zeke’s tent feels long under the moonless sky. Hesitancy, followed by regret, pools into your brain as the dim light from his campfire comes into view.
Grow some balls, you’re convincing yourself that all of this means more than it really does. You’re bringing him a glass of wine for God’s sake.
There’s still time to turn around though… you could just finish the glass on your own. Out of range for him to bully you for it.
But he’s sitting there so prettily. He has his boots up on the rocks surrounding the fire pit, careful not to burn their soles in the flames. His blonde locks are pushed back slightly, giving you more room to look at his smooth face. And he’s certainly not busy, just reading his old book. Maybe he still had some compliments left for you despite all the bickering you two had done. Maybe he-
“Haven’t tried any of that ‘shitty’ wine yet, have you?” he questions. You hadn’t even noticed how close you are to him now. You’d gotten lost in him on the way.
“No…” you grumble, “it's for you. A peace offering.”
You stick your hand out. He receives the glass, lifting it up to examine it before taking a big drink.
“Ah,” he breathes, clearly satisfied. “It’s disgusting, Captain. Really.”
You stifle a laugh. “Everyone else seems to think so too. It’s all nearly gone.”
“Hmm,” he says, taking another sip, “None for you, I guess. Might as well just let it run out.”
“I think I will,” you mock, turning away from him to go sit in your chair,
The sizable fire Zeke had put together tonight was quick to thaw the chills on your arms. You really didn’t need your jacket after all, and opted to lay it over the back of your chair. The two of you sit there in silence for a while, taking in each other’s presence, observing the dying light in the forest.
Zeke looks at you eventually. Your eyes instinctually dart away.
“What made you want to come see me again?” Zeke asks.
You frantically search for an answer. You need to be careful.
“Boredom,” you reply flatly.
“You think so?” His attitude is back to how it was the first night you’d met. He’s engaged, focused, yet comes off so casual laying back up against his seat like that. He enjoys toying with you, like a cat to its prey.
Be careful.
“Don’t like my answer or something?”
That wasn’t exactly careful.
“No. You’re just not being honest.” He breathes that last word out like he needs to get a rise out of you, then he nonchalantly takes another drink while he waits for you to respond. Your mouth is open the slightest bit; you’re nervous, angry. He’s in your head now. He was reading you like that overused book of his.
“Then what do you want to hear from me?” you question. There’s thankfully still a false calmness in your voice.
“Just the truth. It’s not that complicated.”
You were sweating in front of this fire now. What was the truth? That you were interested in him? That you wanted nothing to do with him?
Be honest.
“I guess I just like your company,” you admit. Your eyes fall to the rocks lining the fire pit.
***
The discussion became pleasant after that, surprisingly. You guess you just needed to own up to how you felt. Your admittance caused some of the anger and tension tugging between the two of you to subside. The conversation was calm, collected, bouncing around from subject to subject: from the book, to life in Marley, to life in Paradis, to your occupation, and back to the book. Most of it was uneventful, but you liked that. It made it easy to pretend you were talking to him on the first night again, before you found out who he really was.
You left his camp with a giddy smile on your face. You’re on your way back to your tent now, after saying your goodbyes to Zeke. It was late, and you needed to be up early to have an important conversation with Levi. And god forbid he found out about any of this business between you and Zeke. Even though nothing was serious, it would come off unprofessional. And rightfully so.
You’re so lost in thought by the time you’re opening your tent door that you didn’t realize your arms were cold. The jacket you brought was probably still hanging off the chair at Zekes fire pit. It would look suspicious if you left it there and one of the other soldiers happened to see it.
You go back quietly, careful not to let anyone hear your footsteps. A couple of scattered thoughts weave their way into your head on your journey - what if this was another ploy of his? An attempt to get you back where he wants you, this time late at night. But how could it be? You were the one who left your jacket there. If anything, this was your own attempt to lead yourself back to him. Did you want him that badly… deep down?
When you reach your chair, you find it to be empty. You check around its sides, back, and underside - no jacket in sight. Out of the corner of your eye, a sliver of light shows from under the tarp serving as Zeke’s tent door. He’d probably noticed it and taken it inside with him after you’d gone home.
Halfheartedly, you meander to the tent door. You tap on it once the limited glimmer of light from inside touches the toes of your boots.
“Zeke? Do you have my jacket?” you whisper, still flicking the tarp to get his attention.
No answer.
Cold air stings your exposed skin as a draft swoops down through the camp. You also were wary of any observers that happened to be out this late at night. There was no telling what it looked like you might be doing outside his tent at the moment. The more uncomfortable you became out here, the more impatient you got.
“Zeke!” you hiss, whipping your head around your shoulder to double check your surroundings.
Still nothing but silence on the other side. Had he fallen asleep already?
The urge to pull back the tent door hits you. It would only take a moment to retrieve the jacket, then you’d be on your way.
Once again, making this a bigger deal than it really is.
But that didn’t matter. It felt like a big deal. That’s what every situation that involved him felt like. A big, complicated, multidimensional deal.
Be careful.
That wasn’t the answer either. Being careful was a good tactic when it came to strategizing your next moves in war. It was sometimes rendered useless when dealing with love. This was out of your control. And that was ok. That was what compelled you toward him - the mystery, the rush.
Let go.
You grip the tarp, it crinkles under your stiff fingers as you pull it back. A rush of warm air hits you, along with the light of a few oil lamps. And Zeke… shirtless. Sitting on his unmade bed with your jacket in hand.
The sight of his sculpted body in front of you sets a nervous, unprepared spark off in you, causing you to shut the door fast and stumble inside. And all at once, there you were - back in Zeke’s grasp. You accepted that wanted to be there.
“My jacket... ” you say, staring hard at the fabric in his hands, trying to avoid eye contact with his bare chest.
He stands up in silence and comes to your side, raising the jacket up once he gets real close to you. Oh no, he’s draping it over your shoulders again, slowly this time around, taking his time to stare into your puppy dog eyes. Dammit - the hot cheeks, the butterflies, the embarrassment. All of it was back now, in an instant he had you feeling like puddy in his hands. The two of you stare at each other as his hands adjust the jacket around you, stopping to play with one of the buttons on the front.
“You’re forgetful,” he mumbles, still focused on the button on your chest. His tone is sweet and quiet, a small smile appears out of one corner of his mouth.
You weren’t breathing, or thinking. Just looking down innocently at the hand that was so close to you.
“I’m not… normally,” you say quietly.
Zeke’s hands move to grip each side of the front of your jacket gently. His eyes move up from the hands placed on your jacket, and back to you. To your lips. You part them at the realization, swallowing the lump that suddenly appeared in your throat.
He shifts further in towards you, tugging on your jacket the slightest bit.
One cohesive thought rises up in the blankness of your brain. You want to kiss him.
The urge was mutual. Your lashes flutter against your cheeks a few times before you shut them, turning your head slightly to the right. Zeke follows your lead. You feel warm fingertips touch your chin and guide you to his soft pair of lips. His other hand abandons your jacket and comes down to meet your waist, slowly sliding to the small of your back. You melt into his touch, pulling yourself in closer. Chills go down your neck at the sensation of being in his arms, at his mercy. It feels so right, so warm and gentle. You want to keep going - so bad. You want him to hold you, touch you, kiss you harder.
But only for a moment.
You pull away once the guilt hits your core, gently touching your fingers to your lips.
Zeke stares at you, his eyes a bit wider than normal. His arms have gone limp at his sides without having you to occupy them any longer. You can tell there’s something on the tip of his tongue, something that might save the situation and bring your lips back to his. You didn’t want to hear it.
“It’s wrong. This is all wrong,” you say, backing up into the tent door behind you.
You think of the war. You think of your duties. You think of who Zeke really is. Any fluttering in your stomach was gone now, instead it was filled by tinges of regret.
“You’re right. It is,” he responds. He walks back over to his bed and sits on the quilt ruffled at its end. He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his head away from you. “I figured you’d be smart enough not to kiss back.”
You were almost too shocked to notice how much his words burned. Your mouth hangs open as your eyes squint at him a bit. Emotion courses through you as your mind crashes down from the high you were just on. You needed out of this tent.
You grip the tarp resting against your back and fling it open. You felt lost, speed walking away from Zeke’s tent and toward the center of camp. The night concealed the confusion on your face, but only for a minute. A fire glows near your tent, lighting up your surroundings - its Levi. You try your best to avoid him, changing your course to avoid his eyes.
“What are you doing awake, Reader,” Levi questions dully.
You don’t let out any response other than stopping in your tracks.
“Is everything... alright?”
“I just,” you search for anything appropriate, any excuse for your apparent distress, “don’t like being in this forest.”
You both go quiet for a moment, listening to the snapping of thin branches in the fire.
Levi breaks the silence, “That’s actually what I was going to mention to you tomorrow. The MP’s need you for something. I was going to give you the choice to go back, or stay here.”
Going back. Maybe that was the right answer you’d tried so hard to find.
***
You shove all of your belongings into your suitcase early the next morning. It didn’t take you long to decide you needed to abandon this mission. Nothing between you and Zeke would ever work out, and your feelings for him were only a burden to everyone here, and yourself.
You lug your bags to a horse and cart that had been set up for you, tossing them over the cart’s walls and into the back.
Climbing up into the front seat, you notice a gift waiting for you - that overused book. Zeke must have finally figured out how to fake his way into heaven.
You decided to read some of it on the way back.
Zeke sure had written his own story inside of it. All of the notes he’d scribbled in the margins were in another language, presumably from Marley - a secret story you’d never get to understand. Only for him to know.
***
You heard news of what happened in the forest a few days after you arrived home. You couldn’t process it at first, instead you just sat in disbelief and denial. Then the ‘what ifs’ set in. What if you had stayed? Maybe you could have stopped Zeke from doing all the damage he decided to cause. The tear-filled anger set in after that.
There was only one chapter of his book left now. You felt disgusted looking at it, a reminder of everything you’d felt for him. You needed to sit yourself down and get through it so you could finally throw it away - and finally forget about him forever.
You come to the final page. It was intended to be blank, a sort of protectant between the ink on the last page and the back cover. But instead, there’s a penciled in note. From Zeke.
His writing in your language was messy and shaky. You assumed he could read in your language, but may not be practiced in writing in it. This was probably the first message he’d ever written in it. All for you.
Dear Captain Reader,
I tend to avoid feeling guilty for much. I probably won’t feel guilty for everything I’m about to do to your soldiers in this forest.
I did feel guilty, however, when I saw your beautiful face that night you found me alone in the forest. And then I realized you were caring, brilliant, and a strategist that was far smarter than I was.
Well, this was my attempt at strategizing.
Pulling you in and then pushing you away. I hoped the guilt and confusion would make you leave. Make you think you were unfit for the assignment, too distracted by me. Heartbroken, even. Anything to get you out of here.
Now, I’m not too sure there will be anyone to rescue you. I won’t be able to again. Take care of yourself. Stay sharp.
I hope you enjoyed the book. I was really never a fan of the ending.
Zeke
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Author's Note:
Dear anon: You gave me a lottt of free rein with this one, so I hope it was ok ●﹏● (and not too angsty and complicated lol. You said they kinda hate each other but theres chemistry and I just ran with it. Oopsies.) This was one of my favorite fics to write, ever, I think! I had a lot of fun with the dialogue especially. Thanks so much for the request, and thanks to everyone else for reading! Lots of love - Shep :)
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dreampathic · 4 years ago
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❥chapter 02-beefy strong arms
❥masterlist
❥warnings: suggestive themes, sexual jokes, cursing
❥a/n: there’s a written portion 😉😉😉 also my best friend @katiea03​ helped me out a ton with this chapter so please check her stuff out!
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-written portion-
Iwa walks through the front door, running a hand through his hair. He sees Makki and Mattsun on the couch watching a shitty 1980s horror movie.
“Hey,” He nods.
Makki takes a handful of popcorn and turns to Iwa, “Hey baby daddy.” He bites his lip jokingly.
Mattsun turns his head, “Bringing your sugar babies back some money?” Iwa walks up to the couch and slaps both of them on the heads.
“Stop calling me daddy you fucking dumbasses!”
Makki rubs the back of his head, “I know you can hit harder daddy.” Giving a devilish smirk to him.
Iwa grabs the throw pillow next to Mattsun and chucks it at Makki’s face.
“Shut the fuck up.”
Mattsun starts cackling with laughter, but abruptly stops once Iwa takes another pillow to hit him. “OKAY OKAY WE’LL STOP WE’LL STOP!” Iwa throws the pillow next to him, “Fuck you guys.”
He walks away, heading to your room. Your door is wide open, you’re sat on your hardwood floor wearing sport shorts and a black tank top fanning yourself with the dresser instructions.
All of the parts of the dresser are out of the bags, separated in two piles. One with the screws and bolts, and one with all of the wooden parts.
“What the fuck?!” Iwa looks at the unbuilt dresser in disbelief. You look up at him, “huh? what?” He gestures his hands to the floor, “Why is everything out of the bags??”
“The bags were taking up too much space.”
Iwa couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He tried his best to hold in his anger, “YOU DUMBASS WE NEEDED THOSE!” It didn’t work out.
“Why??”
“IF YOU READ THE INSTRUCTIONS YOU WOULD KNOW EVERYTHINGS NUMBERED”
You open the instructions for the first time, read a section, and look back up at him, “Ohhh I thought it was saying how many bags there are.”
Iwa rubs the back of his neck, “I never thought I would say this but YOU’RE WORSE THAN OIKAWA.”
You gave him a look of disgust and stood up from the floor. “How DARE you say I’m worst than Oikawa!”
Iwa rolls his eyes, “I’M NOT WRONG!”
You furrow your eyebrows and grab your phone from your bed, “Don’t make me call him on his date. I’ll do it.” You threaten.
He crosses arms and smirks, “Do it I dare you.” He wanted you to call Oikawa because he knew it would piss him off for you being a cockblock.
“FINE! I WILL!” You scroll for Oikawa’s contact and hit ‘audio call’. Waiting for him to answer, you stare at Iwa with one hand on your hip. When Oikawa picks up he is clearly agitated, “What the fuck do you want? I’m tryna get laid.”
“Iwa-Chan is being mean to me!”
“The fuck you want me to do about that? He’s been bullying me my entire life.”
You frown, “He likes you the best.” Iwa lets out a loud laugh that makes you punch him in the arm. He looks at you with a taken back look because no one ever tries to punch him, because he always punches back harder. But you’re the exception.
“Since when?” Oikawa asks, there is no way he’s the favorite.
You throw your free arm up in frustration, “Since ever!”
Oikawa sighs on the other end, annoyed at his roommate calling him for something so unimportant, “So you’re telling me, you interrupted my chances of getting pussy for THIS?”
Iwa howls of laughter, holding his stomach. You roll your eyes, “Do my feelings not matter?”
“NO not right now!” All Oikawa wants to do is hang up and go back to his date.
“Oikawa-” You try to make him stay on the phone but he cuts you off, “BYE!” He hangs up, leaving you with your mouth agape.
Iwa can’t stop laughing but you punch him again, “Shut up! Help me please!” He sighs, “Fine, I’ll help.”
You give him a wide smile, clapping your hands together, “Thank you Iwa!”
“Yeah yeah whatever,” He mumbled as he took off his work shirt, revealing him in his white tank top showing off his biceps. Of course you always joke around with him about his beefy arms but, wow. You wouldn’t be lying if you said you didn’t imagine those arms wrapping around your-
“Where’s the L screw?” Iwa says, pulling you out of your trance.
“Uhh,” you scratch your head, a bit flustered. “What’s that?”
He sits down, opening the instructions. “You know the metal piece that looks like an L?”
“Oh…” You fucked up.
“Where is it?” He asks, concerned.
“I threw it out.”
This man prayed.
---
Eight hours later, Iwa has been screwing everything in with a knife, almost cutting himself twice. You’re half asleep, leaning on his bicep. You yawn and Iwa looks down to you, “go to bed I got it from here.”
You shake your head, eyes closed, “noooo im helping,”
“you’re not doing anything.”
You open your eyes, looking up at him, “i'm here for moral support!”
Iwa rolls his eyes, glad you can’t see the blush forming on his cheeks. “Just go to sleep”
“No I can't.” You felt bad leaving him to fix your dresser without any company.
He sighs, “It’s fine, just go to sleep.”
You groan, leaning closer into him. “Your biceps are so nice though.”
He really hated the effect you had on him. Making him blush over sleepy confessions, he felt like an idiot getting flustered over you, no matter how much he wanted you to touch him again. “Shut up.” He mumbles.
“It’s a complement!”
“Go to sleep.” He demands.
“Hmph! Fine.” You get up, holding onto his arm for support and plop on your bed, mumbling some nonsense then instantly falling asleep.
Iwa looks over and grins, he wouldn’t have minded your company for a bit longer.
When Iwa finishes up the dark oak dresser, he admires the work he’s done and looks over to your bed, he gives a small smile and leaves your room.
He yawns as he takes off his tank top, throwing it near his hamper and plops onto his bed. He shuts his eyes. Before drifting off into sleep he hears Mattsun from his doorway say, “you’re a fucking simp.”
---
You wake up around the afternoon, first thing you see is your finished dresser. You jolt out of bed smiling wide. You run out of your bedroom and go across the hall into Iwa’s, jumping on top of him yelling, “IWA THANK YOU SO MUCH!”
He opens his eyes right away, “GET THE-” He was about to pry you right off of him, thinking you were one of his other idiot roommates. But he just stood still, cheeks flushing red as your boobs are against his bare chest, trying his hardest not to get a boner.
“THANK YOU THANK YOU! YOU’RE THE BEST!” You shout over and over again pulling him closer to you. He wanted to hug you back, but that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do.
“LEAVE” He shouts. You don’t budge, “WHY.” You could stay like that forever, but you knew at one point you would have to actually leave. “BECAUSE I SAID LEAVE” “YOUR BED IS COMFY”
Mattsun walks by, half-asleep and grumpily says, “simp.” Makki walks behind him scratching his head saying, “you’re just mad you don’t have a hot girl jumping on top of you in the morning.”
Mattsun punches him in the shoulder, “Ow man!”
Oikawa struts in the apartment, hair disheveled, hickies on his neck with a cocky grin on his face, “Guess who got laaaaiid” He announces going straight to the ‘ACTION BOARD,’ erasing ‘2 weeks’ next to his name and writing ‘0’.
“Nobody cares,” Makki exclaims from the hallway. Oikawa quickly turns to Makki and Mattsun, surprised they’re awake at this hour. They usually sleep in till 3pm.
He takes his jacket off and puts it on the rack, “why are you guys up?”
“Y/n is screaming, we’re all up,” Mattsun yawns.
“Especially Iwa,” Makki snickers.
This instantly sparked Oikawa’s attention. No one ever has the balls to wake Iwa up, they know it’s a deathwish.
“She woke up Iwa-Chan??”
“yep” Mattsun nods.
“where's the blood?”
“the only blood around here is in Iwa’s dick.” Makki laughs.
Oikawa instantly runs into Iwa’s room, being the nosey bitch he is. “Aww Iwa you finally have a girl in your bed!” He cheekily says.
As soon as Iwa heard his voice, his blood started to boil and pried you off of him and pushed you out of his room, “LEAVE ME ALONE!” He shuts the door in all of your faces.
You pout, “Why didn’t he want me in his room?”
All of the guys look at each other, knowing the real reason Iwa didn’t want you in his room. Yet all they could tell you without ruining your innocent gesture was, “don’t worry about it.”
---
❥fun facts: 
-they have a ‘sex board’ (well they call it an action board) in their house where they write down how many days they went out without sex on a white board
-Oikawa is NOT Iwa’s favorite
-Mattsun wants a hot girl to jump on him in the morning
❥tags: @pockyxx @cece-lives-here @psychedelicwh0r3 @elianetsantana @elephantloser @reina-de-tay @agaashesmilktea @navymacaroons @victor-criss-bish @langalvr @bakugouswh0r3 @killlerqween @tsukkiswifeey (send an ask to be added to the taglist!)
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axwalker · 3 years ago
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CREEP 3: You're just like an angel
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Pairing: Drake Walker x MC  (Lexie O’Brien) Book TRR
Synopsis: Drake is a hurt, angry teenager. After being rejected by Lexie, he spends two years bullying her until he discovers the horrible truth behind her rejection. 
MASTERLIST HERE
In this chapter: Lexie gets to know more about the boy hiding behind the monster. 
A/N: This is Lexie’s POV. We’ll be in Drake’s head in the following chapter. 
A/N 2: Thank you to my beautiful prereader @burnsoslow​
Your suggestions made all the difference! LOVE YOUU ❤️
A/N 3: Thank you to @mskaneko​ for the edit that closes this fic. It’s gorgeous! I love youu ❤️
Words: 5,108 🙈
WARNINGS: Parental abuse, domestic violence, toxic love, abuse, bullying. 
THIS IS NOT YOUR USUAL MARSHMALLOW DRAKE. He was abandoned as a boy, he’s tortured and he doesn’t know how to express love. 
This is a dark love story. If you think this might trigger you, PLEASE do not read it.  
ALL MY FICS ARE 18+
TAGS ON THE COMMENTS --As this is darker than usual; I’m only tagging the people who commented in the previous chapters. If you want to get on or off the list for this fic; please do not hesitate to ask!!
LEXIE
Watching Drake put my duffel bag on the back of his motorcycle, my pulse is getting out of control on my neck. This is happening. I’m leaving home. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. And Drake Walker, my tormentor, is helping me. He actually defended me. The fact that I’m being helped by the person who called me a future trophy wife this morning makes this moment even more surreal. He’s had this tormented expression on his face for the last half an hour that’s stupidly making me want to hug him or make him feel better. For what, though? I don’t know. I don’t owe him anything, and still, I have this pressing need to wrap my arms around his neck and tell him everything will be okay. 
When it comes to Drake, my emotions have never been truly logical. One second I hate him, and the next, I’m whispering his name in the darkness of my room, my fingers sawing against the wet cotton of my panties. My feelings for him are incredibly confusing…but I know asking him to back off was the right move. Even if I secretly miss his presence everywhere I turn. In my unstable world, there was something comforting about knowing he would always be there. Watching me. Hating me. Wanting me. That last part was never in doubt. He’s made that clear many times. That if I wanted, he would “give me a nice long hate-fuck in the back of his trailer.” And he’d always say, “No one has to know, baby,” in that deep, hoarse tone that keeps me up at night. Makes me shove my fingers down the front of my panties and struggle to breathe, sweating through my covers to an orgasm. I’m having those particularly sexual thoughts when he looks over at me, and I don’t quite manage to hide my lust. His movements slow, a dark eyebrow arching as he fixes on my mouth, my breasts. I’m a real hot mess right now. Beaten and bloody, but there’s no denying he’s still attracted. It’s always there in the rise and fall of his chest, the clicking of his jaw. The tenting of his jeans. How many times have I turned in class and—avoiding his gaze—locked eyes with his jeans instead? At least that’s one thing us poor fuckers have going for us. We know how to fuck.
 Well, if I thought sympathy was a strange emotion regarding this boy, jealousy is even more confusing. Why should I care that he’s been with other girls? Obviously, he must have been with hundreds of girls to get good at sex. It’s none of my business, is it? I’m almost rid of him. And I don’t want to be jealous. Still, when he holds out his hand to help me onto the bike, I ignore it with a raise of my chin and climb on myself. You’re almost rid of him, Lexie. Get a ride and say goodbye. Unfortunately, I may have been a little overenthusiastic in asking to be taken to a motel. I’ve never been to one, but I know a credit card is required—and I don’t have one of those. Nor do I have enough cash in my wallet for more than one night. I need to figure out an alternative plan fast. Still looking damned tortured, Drake places his helmet on my head and gently buckles the chinstrap. Swallowing loud enough to hear over the passing cars. Helmetless, he brings the engine to life, the vibration so exhilarating; I wrap my arms around his middle on reflex.
I can feel taking a deep breath. “Lexie…” He can’t see me, so I give in to the impulse to press my cheek to his leather jacket, absorbing the warmth and his smell, earthy and so masculine. 
“Yes?” Drake clears his throat, his voice even more profound. “My dad left me a cabin a few towns over. Near Portavira lake.” He pauses. “It’s very rustic, but I’ve been fixing it, so it’s clean, and it has a bed and some supplies. I could take you there. You’d be safe.” 
It’s dangerous to start accepting more favors from him, but what choice do I have? My father made sure that I’m helpless. He did it with my mother and now me. Isolated us from everyone who might be a friend. I’ll accept his offer, but only because here and now, I promise myself I’ll find a way to help myself in the future. To leave my father and his house of horrors in the past. Maybe it can’t be done entirely alone. Maybe accepting help is the only option. That doesn’t mean I’m forgetting the way he treated me. Yes, I’m attracted to him but I also hate him. He’s made my life miserable for two years and I won’t let him --or myself, forget that. Maybe he’s hiding right now but I know Drake--as my father, has a monster underneath. His monster might not slap me or make me bleed but that doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Poisonous words can hurt as much as one well-delivered blow.  
“Okay,” I say, feeling him relax. “Thanks.” I’ll accept his help for now and leave as soon as I can. 
He responds by turning on the engine of the bike again. That’s when I hear my father yelling my name from the back door of the house. His hands are tied behind his back, and he’s limping, blood coming out his nose. 
“Alexis Jade O’Brien! You get your ass back here right now, or you’ll never be allowed back! You’ll be dead to me!” 
He has to be joking; he’s been dead to me since the first time he hit me. I look back at the pathetic old man with every ounce of rebellion I have. Baring my teeth, I give him the middle finger and dismiss him. Forever. 
“Good girl,” Drake murmurs a second before driving away. I don’t look back a single time. We drive for half an hour. After twenty minutes on the highway, the trees grow denser and denser, the road deserted. We don’t pass a single car on the way to the cabin, which comforts me when I should be worried. Shouldn’t I? I can’t allow the last two years of em2otional battle to mean nothing. To melt away in the face of tonight’s act of kindness. I meant what I said. I need Drake to leave me alone. To release the hold he has on me. I’ve cut one negative force out of my life tonight. The last thing I need is a replacement. But as I grow tired against his strong back, his woody and manly scent lulling me, encouraging the trust he doesn’t deserve, I worry leaving him might be easier said than done. Especially when we arrive at the cabin, and he lifts me off the bike, cradling me to his chest like I’m made of crystal, a moment too long before settling me onto my feet. It’s hard giving up his warmth, but I push off his chest, creating distance between us. He watches me back away like I’m breaking his heart. 
“There is a shower inside,” he says quietly. “You can finally get the, uh…” He blows a breath. “…the blood off.” The sun sets as we stand there. It’s nothing like the light of the night we kissed. This time it's brighter, more intense. It must be the higher elevation. 
“You’re not hurting anywhere else?” 
“I’ll be fine.” Why is he breathing so fast? “What’s wrong, Drake?” 
“What’s wrong?” He fights through a humorless laugh, sliding his hand through his hair. “Where do I start? Most urgent is…I know you’re going to want me to leave you here alone, and I don’t think I can. Look, if you want to lock the doors, I’ll sleep outside on the ground, Lexie, but please don’t ask me to go.” 
He’s right. I was going to tell him it’s OK to go back to his trailer. There was a convenience store with a payphone a mile down the road. If there is no working phone in the cabin, I can still make calls, if necessary. I’m not sure what my next move will be, now that I’ve run away from home. But I know I’ll never be able to think with a clear head as long as Drake is around, looking at me like that. “Drake…”
 “It’s just that once I leave, I know that’s it. You’re going to shut me out again. And this time, it’ll be your choice.” He paces away, still raking his fingers through his hair. “I deserve to be cut off. Fuck, I know that. Believe me when I say I hate myself right now, but if there was something I could do to make up the last two years to you, even just a little—” 
I shake my head. Nothing can make up for the two years I spent loving him while he tortured me. There will be nothing between us. 
“I understand.” His fingers rake his hair one last time. “You can go in the cabin. I’ll sleep outside; that way, I’ll be sure your—father won’t be back.”
Despite myself and my better judgment, I worry about him. “Outside? It’s cold and dark; I can go to a motel.” At least for one night, I’ll figure out what I’ll do after tomorrow. 
“No way. Look, I won’t be able to sleep anyway. Just go inside and try to rest; I’ll be fine. I’m used to it.”
Used to what? Sleeping outside? “Isn’t there a couch or something?”
He shakes his head. “The cabin was in ruins until six months ago when I started working on it. There’s only one bed, but there’s a rug next to the fireplace. Please don’t leave. I—I need to know you’re safe.” 
I know Drake would never abuse me physically. I might be naïve, but I just know he would never do it. And as much as it’s difficult for me to understand why I feel safe with him here. Still, I have to be smart, my instincts tell me to trust him, but my instincts have been wrong about him before. 
“Does the room lock?”
“It does with a bolt that can’t be opened from outside. But you’re safe with me, Lexie. I swear.”
It’s his miserable look that makes me decide. “Okay, if it locks, I can stay here.”
We go inside, and he leads me to his room. When my bag hits the floor next to his bed, I get even more nervous. I just left everything I know behind me and have no idea what’s coming next. School will be over in a few weeks, but I can graduate earlier, thanks to my credits. I’ll need a job, save some money, get an apartment and apply for college in Cordonia. It’s overwhelming. 
I don’t want to cry in front of Drake. I don’t want to show him I feel weak, sad, and pathetic, but something inside of me suddenly breaks, and before I can’t do anything to stop it, I’m sobbing.
Drake is sitting on the bed in a second, and he’s pulling me into his lap, trying to calm me down. “Shh Lexie, it’s okay. Cry all you need to. I’m here. It’s okay,” he repeats in a litany as he rubs my shoulders, kisses my cheek, then my nose. Why do I feel so safe with him? Why, after everything he put me through, do I want to be here with him more than anywhere else? 
“Let it all out, Lex. You’re so strong, baby.” He takes a cloth handkerchief from his pocket and uses it to gently clean my tears. The piece of fabric seems so incongruous in his rough hands that I can’t help but smile a little. 
“Is this yours?”
He shrugs. “My dad collected them. After he died, my mom gave all his stuff away. This handkerchief is the only thing I have left of him. And this cabin.”
“I’m sorry, Drake. I don’t want to ruin it.”
He smiles. “Ruin it? Impossible. If anything, now it's even more special to me.” 
The softness in his eyes looks so sincere it scares the hell out of me. I can’t let myself forget who Drake really is. I stand up from his lap and put my bag on the bed. 
“I’m really tired; I’d better go to bed.” 
“Okay … can I just look at your wounds?” he asks as he inspects my face. “You have some nasty cuts,” he adds, his fist clenching. 
When I nod, he takes my hand and leads me to his bathroom. The room is as simple and modest as expected. Block walls, no tiles on the floor, no curtain on the shower, and an old toilet. A million years away from the white marble bathrooms in my house. 
He follows my gaze and blushes. “I’m sorry. This is not what you’re used to. I—uhm, I’m slowly putting it together when I have time and some money. I’m good with my hands.” I look at said hands, and there’s no doubt he’s good with them. They look big and calloused. Capable and rough but so gentle with me. I want them all around my body. As if he had listened to my silent demand, he grabs me by my waist and sits me on the counter next to the sink. My legs part on instinct, and he puts himself between them. We don’t talk for two long minutes until he opens the faucet and wets a towel. 
“I just got the water running this week; Come on.” Gently --almost reverently, he washes and cleans every cut, every injury. Softly he brushes his thumbs over my face. He doesn’t speak as he does, but there’s a tension between us. A raw feeling that has always been there. 
“Tell me about yourself,” I blurt out, desperate to break the moment. 
“There’s not much to say. Sorry, Lexie!” he exclaims when I wince. “Does this hurt?”
“A little. I. need a distraction. Why do you live alone? I know your dad is –uhm, gone, but where’s your mom?”
“Gone too.” 
“Oh, I’m sorry, Drake.”
“Don’t be. She was a bitch. She died in a car accident two years ago. She was living in Texas back then.”
“I don’t get it. Two years ago, you were here in Cordonia.” 
“Yeah, she left me after my dad died. Took my sister and left me here. Reminded her too much of my dad, she said.” 
I remember Jackson Walker. Everyone in Portavira does. He was Liam’s dad's bodyguard and died protecting him. But that was five years ago. If his mom left just after his passing, that means Drake has been living by himself since he’s thirteen years old. It can’t be.
Drake turns around and opens a box in the corner of the room. When he turns back, he’s holding a Band-Aid. 
“I keep these around. Construction can get nasty sometimes. Come here, Lex.” He cups my chin with one of his big hands while he cleans a cut next to my eyebrow. His touch is leaving goosebumps all over my skin. I hate to be this affected by him.  
I clear my throat to avoid the embarrassment of talking in a squeaky voice. “So, who were you living with?”
“No one. My aunt got custody when my mom left, but her husband didn’t want kids. He made her choose between him or me, so I’ve been living on my own since I’m thirteen.” My heart breaks then. Not only at the fact that he had to live by himself when he was still a child, but at the way he says it. Matter-of-factly. As if it was the most normal thing in the world that his mother, his aunt, and his uncle abandoned him. As horrible as my dad is, I’ve never had to fend for myself. And my mom loved me so much. If cancer hadn’t taken her away, she’d be here fighting for me. Drake has no one. I can’t help the tears glistening in my eyes. “Hey! Don’t cry, Lexie,” his thumb moves from my eyebrow to my cheek as he wipes the tears off my face. ”I prefer to live by myself than go to a foster house. And Leona checks on me now and then.”
“If your mom died, where’s your sister?”
He takes a deep breath but doesn’t pronounce a single word for a few minutes. Finally, he clears his throat and speaks. “Savvy was with my mom in the car. She died too.” 
I want to say something. Anything. But I can’t. Nothing seems like enough. Sorry is such an empty word—a stupid cliché. I’m horrified at my own muteness, so I do the only thing I can think of. I hug him. At first, he just stands there, his arms hanging at his sides. But soon, I can feel him giving in, his heart beating hard against my chest. He encircles his arms around me, wrapping me in the tightest hug possible. I don’t know who’s comforting whom anymore. I only know that I love being here, and I hope it’s giving him a little solace, this hug.
 It doesn’t mean I’ll forgive or even forget what he put me through, but no one deserves to go through that kind of pain alone. 
“I’ll be outside, Lexie,” he says when he finally lets me go. “If you need anything, anything at all, just call for me, okay?”
“Wait!’ I yell, so he turns around. “Are you really going to sleep on the floor?”
He shrugs. “I don’t mind. I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he hesitates as if he’s going to add something important. “Good night, Lexie.” 
“Wait,” I feel my cheeks redden just thinking about what I’m about to propose. “You can sleep here, I-I know you won’t hurt me.”
“Never,” he says, a determined look on his face. “I would never hurt you that way, and you have no idea how much I regret how I’ve treated you in the past. But I’ll be okay sleeping outside. I know you’ll feel better sleeping here by yourself.” 
I can’t deny that. I meant what I said about trusting him not to hurt me, but I can’t forget what he did either. “At least take this pillow and the blanket. I’ll manage with the pillow and the cover left.” He hesitates, so I insist. “Please. I won’t be able to sleep otherwise.”
After taking them and giving me one of the saddest smiles I’ve ever seen, he closes the door behind him and leaves me alone in the room. I lie on his bed, incapable of sleeping. The pain in his eyes when he told me about his little sister haunts me all night long. 
The following day I toss around in bed, confused and angry at myself. I can’t have feelings for Drake Walker. I can’t forget the insults or the anger in his eyes, the hurt that his words caused me every -single time. I just can’t. I hate what happened to him. I genuinely do, but iI have to think about myself. Denying that I’m attracted to him would be preposterous. Our chemistry is strong and undeniable, and it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere. Maybe that’s it. Perhaps I just need one night with him, so I can move on with my life. Get him out of my system.
When I finally leave the bed, I find a note under my door: Went to buy some groceries, be back soon. DW
I go to the room where I assume he’s going to build the kitchen. For now, there’s only a more-than-a-few-years-old microwave and a cooler. I open the cabinets, but there’s barely anything there. 
Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door. I feel my heart slamming in my chest; if it’s my father, I have no means of defending myself. I’m about to escape through the back door when a woman’s voice starts yelling.
“Open up, Drake. I’m not in the mood today.” 
I open the door because the voice sounds familiar. I recognize Leona, the principal’s assistant. And I know she’s related to Drake.
Leona arches an eyebrow when she sees me. “Ms. O’Brien, what on earth are you in my nephew’s cabin? Does your father even know where you are?”
“I’m 18. I don’t have to tell my father where I am.” I answer in a much bolder tone than I feel.
She shrugs, clearly uninterested. “Well, I brought this to my nephew. Tell him I want those signed by next week. We’re not going to lose thousands of euros because of some dumb nostalgia.”
She hands me a big manila folder, I take it, but she doesn’t let go. “Maybe you’re the one who can convince him.”
“Convince him about what?”
“His father Jackson left him this piece of land, but it isn’t worth a dime without cattle or money to invest in it. But, a couple of months ago a big company approached us, they wanted to build a landfill here. Drake refuses to sell. He thinks he’s going to honor his dead father by rebuilding this old piece of crap, but he will never have the money to do it.” 
“Never.” The deep voice that comes from the entrance startles us both. “This was my dad’s dream. He wanted a ranch, and one day this place will be one,” Drake says, “I told you already, Leona. I won’t sell; I don’t care how much they’re offering you to convince me.”
“I’ve never denied that they’re offering me a commission for the sale, Drake. But I still think it’s the best move for you.” Leona leaves the papers on the table, turns and leaves the cabin. 
“You love this land?” I’m genuinely curious. 
He slowly nods. “It’s all I have left of my dad. He’s the only person that ever gave two damns about me.”
“That says more about your family than about you, Drake.”
He looks directly at me. His gaze doesn’t leave mine for a long minute. I want to get closer to him, to touch him. Not only to offer some comfort but because my body reacts to him in the wildest way. Just standing next to him in the kitchen, I feel my heart beating faster, my hands trembling harder, my sex getting wetter. The response he gets from me is maddening. And it’s making me insane. There’s no freaking way in hell; I’m going to have feelings for Drake Walker.
“I- I need to take a shower. I’ll eat later.” Without giving him any time to respond, I run to the bathroom and shut the door. I open the shower and get inside, desperate for some release, anything that’ll take my mind off him. His stupid perfect smirk and deep eyes. That voice of his, intense, soft, and deep at the same time. Those big hands, calloused and capable. Hands that I just know would know precisely how to touch me. Before I realize it, I’m coming as quietly as I can. Sadly, my relief only lasts a few minutes, my body needs him --Drake Walker, and no substitute would do. 
When I come out, he’s waiting for me with a hot cup of coffee and a couple of white chocolate-strawberry muffins---my favorite kind. 
We eat in silence, but I don’t feel the weight of it as I usually do. Ours is a companionable silence. 
After breakfast, we decide to take a hike next to the lake. A bit of exercise and the lake’s breathtaking landscape might be exactly what I need to stop thinking about my father and the confusing feelings I have for Drake. 
“I think I need a job. Do you know how I can get one?” I hate that I’m so spoiled, but I’ve never lifted a finger in my life. I have no idea how I can get a job. 
“Uhm sure. Here in Portavira?”
“Actually, I was thinking of moving to Cordonia city after graduation. “Drake stops walking for a second. “It’s too late to enroll for next semester, but I can get a job and start college next year.”
He finally starts walking again and nods slowly. “What do you want to do?” 
I blush. My dreams don’t include being famous or rich. All I want is a good, quiet life. Falling in love, having a family. Doing a job I’d enjoy and traveling as much as possible -even if it’s on a low budget. “You’ll think it’s dumb.”
Drake looks at me. “I swear I won’t, Lexie. There’s nothing you can say that I’ll find dumb. It’s just not possible.”
“I love books. They offer you new worlds. They allow you to escape and be someone else for a few pages. You can never be alone when you’re reading a book. I’d love to have a job where I would be surrounded by books. Maybe become a librarian and then open a bookstore one day.”
Drake nods but doesn’t reply. I knew he would find my dream stupid.
“I know it’s not much-“
He stands in front of me and tilts my chin until our eyes meet. “It’s amazing, Lexie. I was just thinking how great you’d be at it. Remember the top 5 assignment for Mr. Daniels?”
Of course, I do. Mr. Daniels, our English teacher, asked us to make a list of our five favorite books and recommend them to the class. 
I nod. “Yeah”
“Well, I read all the books on your list. I checked them out of the school’s library and fuck, I loved them all. Especially the one from that Krakauer guy.”
“Into the Wild?”
“Yep. I really enjoyed it. The way that guy Christopher reinvented himself spoke to me.” He holds my gaze. “You’d be an awesome librarian, Lex. You would also be an amazing writer. I remember that short story you wrote for Mr. Daniel’s class. The one about the lonely girl and how she traveled through time with her mind. You have no idea how much I loved it.”
I can’t believe he remembers that story. We had that assignment more than a year ago. “I’ve always wanted to write, but my dad thinks my stories aren’t good enough.”
“Your father is a dick. Your stories are amazing.” 
He looks at me in a way that makes my knees weak. The intensity in his eyes is overwhelming, so I feel it again. The connection with him. The desire. Maybe the only way this would go away is if I give in to it. 
“There is something you can do for me,” I say, surprising myself. As soon as those two words are out of my mouth, though, I know there is something I need from Drake. 
And he’s the only one who can give it to me. “Get you out of my system.” 
He stands still as a statue. “What?” 
“Get yourself out of my system.” It starts to rain, and it makes me speak louder, feel bolder and freer. “For two years, you provoked me, insulted me, stalked me, bullied me…” He makes a frantic sound, his eyes slamming shut. “And yet, I still—I still can’t stop thinking of your hands that night in my garden. How big and warm and rough they were. I can’t stop imagining you taking off my clothes. Even the ugliest things you’ve said to me, I imagine you saying them in my ear while you…while we…” 
Drake falls toward me a step, clutching the center of his chest. “Lexie—” 
“Please, get yourself out of my head. One night together. Okay, Drake? So I can get on with my life knowing fantasy was way better than reality. That I built up some unrealistic idea of what we’d be like together that we can’t possibly live up to.” My throat closes. “Get me on the road to forgetting you. Please.” As we walk, I can see the mixture of devastation and hope in his eyes. 
“And what if reality lives up to the fantasy?” 
“It won’t,” I say fast, with conviction. It couldn’t possibly live up to it. And yet I suck in a nervous breath when he crosses the divide between us, every cell in my body craving him. Fight or flight. In a matter of moments, he’s gone from wounded animal to determined predator, the rain causing his dark hair to hang low over one eye, dripping, his hands ready at his sides. 
“Are you so sure, Lexie?” 
Damn my hesitation. “Yes,” I whisper. “You’ll prove me right in one night. I can move forward without feeling like I’m leaving something behind.” 
“What if your fantasies come true tonight? Could we ever move forward as…as an us?”
 I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. “There can never be an us, Drake. Not after everything that’s happened. I’ll never change my mind about that.” I shake my head. “How can you think I would?” 
“Maybe I think if I want it hard enough, it’ll come true.” 
“It won’t,” I whisper, starting to ask myself if I’m making a mistake. Opening myself up for even more heartache and pinning for this man than I’ve already lived through. It feels like a lifetime’s worth. “One n-night.” 
“No backing out from this point on?” My heart beats urgently. 
“No backing out.” 
He’s silent so long; I’m not sure he’s going to respond. And then, all at once, he reaches me in two strides and scoops me up into his arms. I realize he’s going to bring me into the cabin, “I’ve been studying you for years, Lexie O’Brien. I’ve been hanging on to your every sigh, every expression, and mood. Years. If you don’t think I’ve obsessed weeks of my life away over how you’d like to be fucked, baby, you’re sorely mistaken.” We reach the house in a matter of minutes, and he doesn’t stop; he just keeps going until we’re in his room. And oh God, I have made a severe miscalculation. Because Drake’s showing me exactly what’s always been in my heart and mind when I thought of us together, it’s my fantasy come to life, the two of us wrapped in the arms of the other. And as he turns me, urging my legs around his waist, his ravenous mouth bearing down on mine, I realize I might never recover from this. 
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hms-tardimpala · 2 years ago
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I love Cobra Kai, it's my Cringey Bad Show With Moments Of Brillance™.
(long-ass gushing/rant and spoilers ahead)
Cobra Kai requires constant suspension of disbelief, it doesn't have the best pacing, half the humor is horrendous, the character writing is often stupid as shit, it's such a dumb show!
It also has insanely satisfying setup-payoffs, good dramatic irony, it's at its funniest when it's self-aware and laughing of itself, which it does gladly, and it goes to the trouble of giving you gray characters who go through multi-seasons arcs to better themselves (or the opposite). It's such a fun show!
And very importantly in today's media landscape, it pulls off being the necromantic resurrection of a beloved 80s franchise. It could easily have kept the black-and-white naive, squeaky-clean tone of the Karate Kid movies, but it said "Fuck it" from the first episode. It respects its KK roots but expands on them, adds depth and layers it didn't have to. Does it always do it well? Hell no. But seriously, this show didn't need to make that effort. With its premise, it had no right to be that good.
Obviously the show leans heavily on nostalgia, but it manages not to be a total nostalgia fest and brings some interesting things to the table.
Now, having just finished S5 (a lame season, but which had moments that made me cheer and curse out loud), I want to say how much I love how dark CK can get.
Like, it starts easy. A bullied kid, some teenagers slugging it karate-style at a school dance, a tournament to tell who's the winner. Then the brawls get less and less funny. There's slut-shaming. More kids get involved, more get hurt. A teenager gets his spine broken in his high school staircase. This is more the real world than KK, so you've got kids going to juvie for their actions, others who are scarred and traumatized for life.
Then the show goes further. Adults are involved in this now. They beat each other up directly and by proxy through children. There's breaking and entering, destruction of homes, arson. An adult sexually harasses a teenage girl in a precarious living situation. Vietnam veterans' trauma and domestic violence get discussed. There's physical and psychological abuse and manipulation left and right, between adults, between teens, from adults to kids. A grown man destroys another's hard-earned mental health because he feels lonely. There's assault and attempted murder. Kids breaking each other's bones in public settings.
And season 5! The violence keeps escalating. It's the only language some of these kids know by now. And the adults who taught them are just as traumatized and wrapped up in it and they can't stop either. There's arson again, people's lives are getting ruined by what started as a petty rivalry. A teenager is forced to injure herself to prove her loyalty by a group of adults who won't let her leave. A man teaches a child a karate strike that can break a ribcage and suffocate an oponent, and the only reason it doesn't happen is the child in question isn't strong enough yet, but he tries. You've got a sword fight and a man left to bleed out in a pool. A group of four men trying to beat one to death because they've been ordered to. A guy gets his finger cut off. Constant child endangerement and serious injuries that are ignored, and the psychological toll of all that isn't even acknowledged by the characters most of the time.
And of course all ends well, wounds heal and nobody dies, and it's not even gory, but still, it gave me the chills. As someone who enjoys on-screen violence immensely, it's very rare that I wish said violence would stop. That show is unbelievable, ridiculously over-dramatic, cheesy, and also too fucking real sometimes. Like a guy who's always laughing and making jokes, and one day he has too many drinks and lets slip something that reveals how much trauma he's suppressing.
I love this show and these characters. Out of this huge ensemble cast, there's only one character I haven't changed my mind on from the beginning and gone from hating or loving them to the opposite. (and it has great ships for all tastes!!)
Anyway, season 5 was awfully bad. And I enjoyed it. I'm done talking about the karate soap opera on this tumblr for a while, I think.
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redrobin-detective · 4 years ago
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all's well that ends well to end up with you
I actually wasn’t planning on contributing to the Danny Phantom Side Hoes Week (great name I love it) but I had this in the back of my head so I figured it was a good opportunity. The prompt was Sam and Happiness. ____________________________________________
Sam wasn’t sure when she had become so comfortable with her two best friends, when she had learned to tolerate, even appreciate, their idiosyncrasies. The easy answer is it started with the portal, with Danny’s powers and the resulting responsibilities that resulted and it was true in a way. But Sam can’t help but wonder if, even without that, if they would have ended up like this anyway. 
“Hey, what movie are we doing tonight?” Danny asked, falling onto the couch next to her and leaning his full body weight onto her. His head rested languidly on her shoulder, perfectly at ease as his hair ghosted across her collarbone. 
The natural chill from his body leeched into her. She used to hate the cold, hate how it withered her plants along with all of her energy. Up until high school, she slept most nights with heavy blankets, warm socks and the heat turned up high. But Danny developed an ice core and without even realizing it, the cold turned from an annoyance nuisance to a cool comfort. She leaned into his freezing touch, relaxing from the now familiar sensation.
“Something funny please,” Tucker begged, sitting on her other side. Their shoulders were flush against one another but neither of them moved. “Things have been too heavy lately, home boy needs to chill out.”
“Sure thing, bud,” Danny grinned, leaning over to brush his freezing fingers along the back of Tucker’s neck. Tuck didn’t flinch and shy away like he used to, instead leveling Danny with a dry look that was ruined by the small smile. Sam wasn’t the only one who had learned to love the cold. 
“Dude, that joke stopped being funny sophomore year,” Tucker said with an eyeroll. “But my point stands, please pick a comedy oh merciful deity Sam.” Tucker took a bite from his pizza, a horrible meat monstrosity with ham and sausage and pepperoni. So close to her, the smell wafted over her way and she wrinkled her nose but didn’t say anything. 
“You got to pick last week,” Sam said with a raised eyebrow. “And you unjustly used your power to subject us to an Adam Sandler movie.”
“Ironically,” Tucker insisted with a wry grin. Without being prompted, he passed her a slice of her vegetarian pizza and Danny his pepperoni and pineapple. The local shops must have their orders memorized by now, one pizza split three radically different ways. It would probably be more efficient to order different boxes but they just didn’t do separate. “Plus that movie’s a classic, we never did finish it. We could-”
“You get your turn the week after next,” Danny insisted, “Sam gets to pick tonight.” He glanced up at her through his bangs, “but if you happen to choose a horror movie I wouldn’t complain.”
“Dude, don’t we get enough of that in our normal lives?” Tucker said, rolling his eyes even as he adjusted himself so his legs were over the side of the couch and his back was up against Sam’s arm. He must have seen her distaste at the smell of his pizza and moved to block it. 
Truthfully, she’d left her near manic hatred of meat behind in freshman year. She could credit maturity or just changing tastes but really it just became exhausting arguing with him over something so pointless. While she won’t ever like meat, she did like Tucker and accepting his differences from her, the things that made him happy, was an easy transition to make. 
“Yeah but its so exaggerated and the people being hunted are so stupid that it makes my dumbass mistakes look genius in comparison,” Danny chuckled, eating the toppings off his pizza first like the unnatural abomination he was. “But seriously Sam, it’s your pick. I get to choose next week.”
“Stop being such a gentlemen Danny and help me bully Sam,” Tucker grumbled, leaning around so his head was practically in her lap to stick his tongue out at Danny who reciprocated in kind. She was a young woman with two boys half lying on top of her and she had never felt so safe and secure in her life.
“Like either of you could tell me what to do,” Sam sniffed despite the blatant lie. Those two had her wrapped around their fingers but she knew they felt the same about her. She wasn’t a kid anymore and soulmates seemed like such an overused term but it was hard to find another word that fit them so well. “We’re watching Cabin in the Woods so everyone shut up.”
“A horror-comedy with a dash of trope subversion? Nice pick,” Tucker smirked up at her with a knowing look because he got it too. Danny, eternally clueless, just hummed in approval. He looked a little sleepy there on her shoulder and she doubted he would make it past the opening sequence. They rarely finished movies these days, but that’s not what weekly movie nights were about, not really.
Danny nodded off, still slumped onto her shoulder, about 15 minutes in. By now, his chill had sunk deep into her and she leaned into that familiar touch. Tucker had long since finished his pizza and ended up with his head up against her thigh. Her fingers rested comfortably on the junction between his neck and shoulder, playing lightly with his hairline. He fell asleep about midway through, just as the monsters came into play. Her two boys, two thirds of her soul, cuddled on top of her and peacefully asleep. This is why they never finished movies anymore, the comfort of each other’s presence being more than enough for them to be lulled to sleep.
She felt her own eyelids drifting and she turned down the volume and settled herself in. She never slept half as well as she did in her warm, expensive bed than she did on a couch surrounded by her friends. Someday they’d need to talk about this, figure out what they were and what they would do about it. Everyone already thought they were already dating but it was much deeper, more complex then that. But for now there was only the drone of the movie, Danny’s cold muscle on one side and Tucker’s bony warmth on the other. 
Happiness like this wasn’t found, it was built up bit by bit with trust and love and understanding. So long as she had her friends, no matter how bad things got, it would work out. She fell asleep with the dual temperatures of her boys leaving her in perfect equilibrium.
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briefinquiries · 4 years ago
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Luke Alvez x Reader: Without You
Request: “could you write something about Luke falling in love with his childhood best friend please 🥺”
Tagged: @ssaic-jareau , @alvezstan , @saintd0lce , @ogmilkis, @reidswords , @ssa-morgan , @garcias-batcave ,  @akimagies, @zhangyixingxing1​ , @sskhair
Word count: 11.3k
Warnings: PTSD, blood mention, gsw mention, smut
A/N: Wow, I really took this request and ran with it.  I really didn’t need to write an 11k fic but here we are!!!! 
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You’re 8 years old and have never felt so happy before.
You’re riding your bike through the fields with Luke right beside you, the setting sun creating a thousands shades of orange, pink and purple in the sky up above.  And you’re going faster, faster, faster until your legs burn.
As you return to your house to eat ice cream, pistachio for you and chocolate for Luke, you think to yourself that you’re so glad the boy moved here.  You can’t imagine happiness without him. 
He came to your school at the beginning of the year.  At first he didn’t say much.  He was quiet and shy and always staring down at his shoes.  You stick up for him in the classroom when the mean boys start picking on him for the color of his skin, and again in the cafeteria when the bullies make jokes about the strange lunch his mom packed him.
“Thanks,” he had told you quietly, his gaze not meeting yours.
Luke has this big smile that makes your tummy feel all funny, and a pair of big, mocha eyes, so beautiful that you think you have a new favorite color. 
You always hang out at each other’s houses after school, and you spend your weekends playing soccer, or running through the woods near your neighborhood.  
Your first summer is amazing, and your cheeks hurt for the most of it, because Luke makes you smile so much.  He’s just so endearing and funny, and he always has the best jokes.
Your dad has a week off from work at the beginning of July, and he spends it building you and Luke a treehouse just over the hill in your backyard.  Hammers and nails are off limits, he says, but you and Luke help by lugging pieces of wood from the pile near the garage up to the tree line.  
After sticking an assortment of glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, you decide that this tree house is the greatest creation to ever exist.  You spend hours hiding away in the tiny space, existing in your own little world that summer, one consisting of nothing but good things and each other. 
An owl hoots in the distance on the first night you and Luke decide to spend the night in the treehouse, making you jump.  He squeezes your hand in the darkness, scooting his sleeping bag closer to yours. 
“It’s okay,” he assures you, “I’ll protect you.”
... 
Luke just turned 13 years old and he jumps out of his bedroom window to walk the few streets separating him from you at nightfall.
You help him through your own window, whispering words of comfort as he wipes his wet cheeks.
“Are they arguing again?” You ask softly.
Luke nods, closing his eyes, wishing he could undo all of the fighting going on at his house lately.
You hug him tightly, letting your head rest on his shoulder as you squeeze around his middle.  After a few moments, you retreat to your bed, pulling back the covers for him.
You lay facing each other, you wiping Luke’s tears each time they escape his beautiful eyes, Luke gripping onto your shirt like his life depends on it.
... 
When you turn 15, you have your first kiss.  It’s with a boy from your class named Ben and you’re too excited to wait until school the next morning to tell Luke, so you send him a text.  
It goes unanswered.  
You see Luke the next day at his locker, pulling out a chemistry textbook. 
“Did something happen to your phone?” you ask as you approach him. 
“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. He doesn’t even look at you. 
You frown.  “Well did you get my text?”
“Yep,” he says in the same fashion. 
You obviously sense something is off, so you abandon your exciting news and instead ask, “Do you want to talk?”
Luke slams his locker, more forcibly than necessary, and finally meets your eyes.  “Why don’t you talk with Ben?” he asks, before brushing by your shoulder and disappearing down the hall. 
You stand, stunned, by his locker when the morning bell rings loudly.  A sea of students hurry out of their homeroom classes, when a group of girls pass by you, one muttering, “Slut,” so only you can hear. 
“What?” your head turns sharply in their direction. 
“She called you a slut,” another says loud and clearly, before they all giggle in unison and stock off. 
Before you’re even able to process the comment, a couple of boys approach you. 
“Hey, if I’d known you put out that easy, I would’ve hit you up a long time ago!” 
“Yeah, can I get in on the action Ben’s getting?” 
Your head is spinning wildly but you quietly mutter, “I don’t know what you’re talking about-”
“Ben told us what happened with you two last night!” 
With a dry mouth you sputter, “We j- we just kissed,” but you already have a feeling that’s not what Ben told the entire school.  
You look around, noticing an unusual amount of people staring at you as they walk by, all sneering or laughing or whispering.  
“Would you open your legs for me too, Y/N?”
Your cheeks feel incredibly hot and your chest starts to tighten.  The comments and slurs get thrown your way with ease, each one tearing your heart deeper and deeper.  Your eyes burn hot with tears, now sliding down your cheeks, wet with embarrassment and humiliation. 
You take a few slow steps backwards, away from the boys taunting you, before you turn on your heels and rush to the staircase, keeping in mind that the bathroom on the second floor was always less busy than the one by the office.  You push your way up through a crowd of students, not bothering to apologize or say excuse me. If you opened your mouth, you knew you’d only sob. 
When you finally push your way through the bathroom door, you sigh a shaky breath of relief to see it’s unoccupied.  You waste no time in flinging yourself into the last stall before you shut and lock the door with your shaking hands. 
You back up until you feel the cool wall behind you.  Slowly, you let yourself slide to the floor, your knees pulled tightly into your chest, and you cry.  You stay like that, even after the warning bell for first period rings, even after the late bell rings.  You don’t care.  You’d make a home in this bathroom if you had to.  If that meant you never had to face all those people calling you names again.  
You’re not sure how much time passes, but eventually your muffled cries are interrupted by a soft knock on the outside bathroom door.  You hold your breath. 
You hear it push open, and then Luke’s voice calls your name.  
You don’t respond. 
“I know you’re in here,” he says.  “I can see your shoes.”
You’re too embarrassed to face him, so you still don’t respond. 
“C’mon,” he pleads, knocking on your stall door now.  “Open up or I’ll just crawl underneath.”
He waits a few moments before he sighs, “Okay then.” 
You see him drop to his stomach from the gap under the stall and crawl through the space, inching forward until he is inside with you. When he looks up, his eyes immediately soften upon seeing the tears streaming down your face.  
“C’mere,” he mutters.  He moves so that he’s also sitting back against the wall and stretches his arm so that it’s wrapping around your shoulders.  You willingly scoot into his embrace, laying your head on his shoulder and letting yourself cry more.
He doesn’t say anything at first, just lets you ruin the fabric of his t-shirt as your tears soak through it.  
Eventually, you sniffle and wonder, “Why’re you here?”
“You weren’t in first period, and I got worried,” he states simply. 
“Did you hear those things they’re saying about me?”
“Mhm,” he hums. 
“They’re not true.”
“I know.”
“My first kiss sucked,” you pout. You wish you’d waited for someone better.  For someone you loved and trusted. What would it be like? You wondered just then, to kiss Luke.  Your cheeks feel hot at the thought. 
He rubs your shoulder soothingly, stirring you out of your own head.  Eventually he says, “Ben’s way bigger than me, but I can try to fight him or something- if you want me to.”
You let out a small chuckle.  
“Yeah, I mean I’ll definitely get flattened, but I would do it-”
That gets you laughing even harder. 
“Thanks, Luke,” you mumble into his chest. 
You’re 17 and drunk the very first time Luke kisses you.
You’re at a playground, sitting on the swings, half a bottle of wine sitting precariously between you both. It’s the early hours of the new year, and you can taste fireworks on your tongue. You know it’s cold outside, can hear the wind whistling over the buzzing in your ears, can see Luke’s breath dance across his lips. You can’t feel it though. Between the alcohol and Luke - mainly Luke - you feel warm, like your belly is a heater, warming you from the inside out, skin prickling with electricity. 
You’ve thought about this before. Maybe it was the early sun trickling in, highlighting Luke’s dark complexion just right, but you looked at his wild hair and eyelashes curved against his cheeks, and you knew you had never, and would never, see anyone more beautiful. 
That was the morning you realized that you were in love with your best friend. You didn’t cope well, and if you were being honest, you still don’t. You’ve become good at compartmentalizing though - and lying, and pretending, and telling yourself it can not, and will not ever be.
Except you never factored in this- never factored in too much alcohol, and Luke’s mouth, and Luke’s hands, neck, and tongue. The first few minutes of New Year’s you think, feel, taste and breathe Luke, and you allow it.
You didn’t even want to leave the party. But, Luke had pleaded, flashed you a stolen wine bottle tucked under his coat, and you couldn’t say no. You can never say no to Luke, and that’s the problem. You’re supposed to be strong, but Luke is your kryptonite. Sometimes that scares you so much that you want to run away, so far away, but you can never get far. That’s the other problem. The last thing you ever wanted to do was rely on someone to breathe, and without meaning to that’s exactly what you’ve done with Luke.
Luke’s lips are suddenly against yours.  His fingers are burning embers against your cheek. You would never admit that all you want to do is bring him home, hide under the warm blankets, and kiss Luke until your mouths are raw, until you swear that your breaths are one.
“Y/N,” Luke murmurs into your mouth, and you kiss the words away.
You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing, whether it’s been minutes or an hour, but you’re breathing heavier than you ever had 
For a moment you feel like you might be dreaming, reality hitting as harsh as the wind outside.
“Hey,” Luke says, softly pulling away. 
You blink, once, twice, eyes dark. “Hi.”
Luke leans forward, and brushes a kiss above your eyebrow, allowing it to linger no more than a second. “Happy New Year.”
Luke and you hold hands all the way back to the party, his body is warm and solid against your side.
You wake up the next day with a funny feeling in your stomach, but when you get a text from Luke asking how you are, you lie and say everything’s fine.
Promise we won’t be awkward about this?  Luke asks.
About what?
Don’t.
Nonsense, it made us better friends.
PROMISE you won’t be awkward about this?
You get up, go to the bathroom, then make a cup of coffee before replying back with a simple, ‘promise’. You’re definitely going to be awkward.
The next day, while eating a bowl of cereal and watching television with your parents, you receive another text from Luke asking if you want to get food. You say you have a late family dinner. It’s clearly a lie, just like Luke knows it’s a lie because he doesn’t text back at all. By the third day, when you reject Luke’s invitation to come over with an excuse of having to babysit, you’re filled with guilt.
This time, Luke replies, Y/N, you promised.
It’s not awkward.
Luke doesn't answer, and on the fourth day he doesn't try at all. 
New Year’s is not brought up again.
When you turn 18, you decide to go to a college that’s two hours away.
Luke is already enrolled in a local university, he’d started classes the week prior. But today was the day that you were officially moving.
You say your goodbyes in your room, because you’re going to leave in a few minutes now, and you really don’t know when you’ll see each other again.
“Don’t cry, please don’t cry..”
Luke hates this, he hates that you’re going to be so far away, he hates that it’s making you so sad, he hates seeing you cry.
You share an embrace for the tenth time that day, and neither of you want to let go. 
“I could always just drop out and come live under your bed,” he suggests with a smirk, “I’m sure your roommate wouldn’t mind.”
You think that he’s probably kidding, he has to be, but all you can think to do is laugh, nervously, and say, “Oh, god.”
“You know I’d follow you anywhere,” Luke drawls, gushingly. Then, suddenly, he wraps his arms around you again, this time tackling you onto your mattress playfully.  You both land on your sides, and when you open your eyes, you realize Luke’s close enough so that you can feel his eyelashes fluttering.  
You laugh, and attempt not to focus on Luke’s breath against your chin, warm and sweet. “As lovely of a trophy wife you’d be, you know you have to go to school.”
Luke sneaks his hand under your shirt, and grabs a hold of your bare waist, tickling. “Trophy wife, huh?” he teases. 
You squeal, flailing as you try to knock Luke’s hand away. 
Once you’ve finally calmed down enough to stop flailing, you sink back onto your side, eyes flicking over Luke’s complexion. You realize your faces are inches away again, and Luke is very blatantly staring at your mouth.
You’ve been wanting to kiss Luke again. You’ve never said it - you haven’t even talked about New Year’s, but you thought about it. You can feel yourself become weaker and weaker though, and you know it’s only a matter of time before Luke breaks you completely.  You can’t have that.
You think that as horrible as it will be to leave, maybe a break is exactly what you and Luke need right now; before you do something stupid, something irreversible, something you won’t be able to ignore quite so easily.
You don’t want to ruin what you two have. You cannot lose Luke.
You blow a puff of air into Luke’s face, as if that itself will blow away the tension building up between you. You sit up, feeling Luke’s eyes on you, you’re not sure how much longer you can do this when you hear your mom’s voice calling up the stairs, saying you’re going to be late.
...
When Luke’s 21, he gets a new girlfriend named Kate and stops visiting you at university so often.  
When Luke introduces you two during winter break, you’re able to identify that weird feeling in the pit of your stomach as jealousy. 
Even though you smile and shake her hand, you can tell through a gaze that doesn’t quite meet yours, that she already doesn’t like you.  But boy does she really like Luke. 
The two are inseparable the entire month that you’re home, and she’s always hanging off his arm or touching him around you.  At first, the three of you spend time together, never just you and Luke.  Anytime you invite him anywhere, he brings her along.  
You find it particularly irritating when he brings her to the late showing of a movie you’d both been looking forward to all semester, and instead of paying attention, the two of them spend half the film attached at the lips or whispering in each other’s ears. 
After that night, you see Luke less and less.  And eventually, he stops returning your calls altogether.  
Before you know it, you’re off for another semester at school without so much as a ‘goodbye’ text from your best friend. 
It’s your busiest semester yet, so you spend a lot of time shoved between a textbook or working tirelessly on your computer.  No matter how engaged you were in your school work, the distance between you and Luke still plagued your mind. 
You missed Luke’s company, missed the way he made you laugh.  You missed his attention, his hugs.  Everything.  And you found yourself wishing you could be the one occupying all his time.  
You find yourself shooting him a text every now and then, wishing him well or asking what he was up to.  You’re never met by more than one or two word responses, and it just doesn’t sit well with you.
Until one day, you check your phone after a lecture to find three missed calls and almost half a dozen texts from Luke. 
You hurry to open them.  
Hey, can you please answer?
Seriously, I really need to talk.
Can I drive up today?
I know it’s late notice, but please?
Screw it. I’m heading out now, see you in a few hours.
When Luke knocks on your dorm room door, you open it to see him standing before you with the deepest purple bags you’d ever seen underneath his eyes. 
His hair was a disheveled mess, and he looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks.  But he’s there.  And it’s been so long since you’ve seen him or heard his voice.  Without much thought, you rush over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and resting your head on his chest. 
It takes him a moment to reciprocate the hug, but once he does, it’s tight and secure and all so familiar. You stomach flutters when you realize that this is how things should be between you and Luke.  Comforting and close. 
You hear him sniffle from above you. “What’s wrong?” you immediately ask, stepping aside as a gesture for him to enter. 
He takes the hint and strides past you, letting out a breathy sigh before sitting on the edge of your bed. 
“Kate and I broke up,” he states.  “She cheated on me.” 
He buries his face in his hands and shakes his head. 
“I can’t believe I was so stupid.”
“Oh Luke,” you say sympathetically.  You join him on your bed and put a hand on his back, rubbing it soothingly. “I’m so sorry.”
“And can you believe that she accused me of cheating on her with you? She was constantly telling me I couldn’t see you because she was jealous- and the whole time it was her- cheating on me!”
Your face twists into one filled with surprise.
“What?” you say.  “Is that why you’ve been so distant?”
“I was trying to do the right thing- trying to make her happy.”
You nod, understanding his predicament.  
“That was so shitty of me,” he admits, “I’ll never do that again- put someone above you.  You’ve always been there for me.  I’m sorry. I just- God, I was so damn depressed when you left.  I know I never told you that, but like- I missed you.  A lot. And I graduate soon and I have no clue what I’m going to do afterwards. It’s scary and- I just- I needed a distraction.  Kate was a good distraction.”
You rest your head on his shoulder, telling him that you forgive him.  
“You deserve someone who’s going to treat you so much better than that,” you tell him, your gut twisting.    
“Like who?” he asks, looking up at you. 
Your mouth feels dry and for a moment, you contemplate just telling Luke what you’re thinking, someone like me.  But you don’t.  Instead you smile softly, “Someone great.”
A look (was that disappointment?) crosses his face, before he sighs.  “I think I’ll just settle for wallowing in my own sorrow for a bit.”
Wallowing in sorrow looks like binge watching docuseries and consuming an absurd amount of popcorn for Luke.  And that’s exactly what you and him do for the next two days that he spends with you in your dorm room. 
You laugh and talk about things you’ve been deprived of for the last few months.  The stress of university melts away, because Luke’s here, and that’s all that really matters. You finally have your best friend back. 
When Luke turns 23, he makes the world around you shatter into a million pieces. 
“Th-the army?” you ask, your eyes immediately glistening with tears. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know- I mean, you’re doing so well, you’re starting grad school in the fall, you know what you're going to do with your life.  But I don’t.  I can’t keep working these meaningless jobs, I gotta figure something out.  And my dad served.  He said it helped straighten him out.”
“You don’t need to be ‘straightened out’,” you argue.  “You just need to find what you’re passionate about- I’ll help you research ideas, we can do job shadows-”
“I already signed up,” Luke blurts out.  He’s fiddling with a hangnail on his thumb, his gaze refusing to meet yours.  “I leave for training camp on Monday.” 
You shake your head, while simultaneously backing out of his room. 
“Y/N-” he pleads, he reaches out to grab your wrist, but you yank your arm away. 
“No,” you snap.  “If you wanted my approval, y-you don’t have it.”
“C’mon,” Luke’s head falls to the side as he sighs loudly.  
“I can’t believe you’d sign up without telling me.  What if you get hurt?  What if you get killed?”
“I’m not going to get killed-”
“You don’t know that!” By now there’s a steady influx of tears streaming down your face.  “I’m not gonna sit by and just tell you I’m okay with this, cause I’m not.”
“Y/N, please-” Luke whispers.  “I can’t do this if you’re mad at me.”
You wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand and sniffle. “Good, then don’t.”  
With that, you storm out of Luke’s room without looking back. 
You spend the rest of the day crying.  The idea of Luke being so far away was terrifying.  You didn’t know how to do this- life- without him.  
On Friday night, just two days before Luke would leave for training camp, you sat on the floor of your bedroom flipping through an old photo album your father had gotten you one Christmas.  It was stacked full of pictures from your childhood.  You weren’t surprised to see that most of them contained Luke.  The two of you had been inseparable for such a long time.  
There was one photo, in particular, that caught your attention.  You took it out of the sleeve and ran your thumb over it.  It was a picture of you and Luke, you were maybe 9 or 10.  It was the first summer he had invited you to his family’s lake house for the week, something that had later become one of your many traditions.  
The two of you were standing on the dock that outstretched into the lake.  Luke was only slightly taller than you by then- as you stood, hand in hand, facing the camera with wide, cheery grins on your faces.    
“Are you sure you won’t get annoyed with me if I’m here the whole week?” you had asked him only moments earlier. 
He looked at you, puzzled, like the idea was so preposterous he couldn’t even fathom it. “Of course not, you’re my best friend.”
“Really?” 
He nodded, his grin stretched so wide across his face that it made your eyes crinkle.  
“You’re my best friend too,” you had told him. 
That’s when his mom had come out onto the deck and called to the two of you.  “Smile!” she instructed, snapping the pic.  “Adorable! I hope you two get married one day.”
You don’t even realize you’re crying until a tear lands directly on top of the photo, and you’re forced to think about when the hell things ever got so complicated.  How did you go from the two best friends in this photo, whose biggest fears were the dark and snakes and whether or not you’d annoy each other after a week, to this? How do you tell your best friend you don’t want him to join the Army because you can’t bear the idea of being so far away from him?  How do you tell him it’s because you love him?  
You couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment where things went so astray.  It was like a gradual incline up a mountain, that you didn’t even notice you were climbing until you were standing at the wide open summit, looking out into the vast unknown.  This was you and Luke’s peak, and you could either calmly descend on a trail, or tumble over the cliff entirely. You couldn’t believe that the little boy in that photo, who was missing his two front teeth and hadn’t quite grown into his nose yet, was about to join the Army.  
But the real shock came when your eyes trailed to the little girl beside him.  She’s wearing her pineapple two piece bathing suit and her hand is squeezing his so tightly, like her life depended on his touch… which it probably did.  You thought about how angry she would be at you if you didn’t say a proper goodbye to her best friend.  
You slip the photo back into its protective sleeve and rush to grab your keys. 
Luke’s dad smiles wide when he sees it’s you ringing the doorbell at dinner time.  
“Hi, Mr. Alvez,” you say.  
“Hello!” he greets, not even hesitating before wrapping you in his big arms.  The Alvez family loved to hug. “Are you joining us for dinner?”
You shook your head, “No, I’m sorry to interrupt.  Is Luke home?”
“Yes, yes, one moment.” He turns around to call his son.  
You hear Luke’s heavy tread come closer.  When he reaches the door, you offer him a pathetic smile- a peace offering.  Luke gives you a half smile back. 
“Thanks dad,” he says.  His father offers you a wave before he heads back into the house.  Rather than inviting you in, Luke steps outside and shuts the door behind him. 
“Hi,” you say weakly, when you finally have privacy. 
“Hi,” he replies. 
On the way over, you had prepared an entire speech to win Luke over.  You had enough time to rehearse it twice in the time it took to travel between your apartment and his house.  But now, standing in front of him, your mind went blank.  All you could think about was how much you loved the boy standing in front of you, and how painful it was that you had to bury that feeling, and say goodbye instead. 
Finally, amidst the awkward silence, you whisper, “I don’t want you to leave.”
Luke crosses his arms and huffs, his biceps flexing as he shrugs. “Yeah, I know. You made that clear.”
“But I’m really proud of you,” you finish. 
Luke’s folded arms fall to his sides.  “You are?”
You sigh.  “Of course I am, Luke.  I mean- I wish you were staying.  And I’m going to be worried about you, probably non-stop until I see you again.  But I’m proud of you.”
Luke’s face softens. 
“Thanks,” he whispers. “I was really scared I was going to leave with you still mad at me.”
You smile sadly back at him, then.  “I was never mad at you.  Just selfishly wished you would find your life’s purpose here at home.”
After a moment of silence, you ask, “Can we just spend some time together before you leave? Like we used to?”
Luke flashes his white teeth in his signature grin that reaches his eyes, “I’d love that.”
It’s eight thirty at night, and Luke is already drunk.  
You’d stopped at a nearby gas station and Luke spent $17 on cheap wine and a couple of bags of candy.  
“Who knows when I’ll get this again?” he says while throwing a Swedish fish into his mouth in the passenger seat of your car. 
When you pass by the highway (which would lead you back to your apartment) Luke turns, throwing you a confused look.  “Where are we going?” he asks. 
You grip the steering wheel and shrug.  “It’s a surprise.”
“Oh my god!” Luke exclaims when you pull into the driveway of your childhood home.  “Y/N, I’m trashed- I can’t- I can’t see your parents like this!”
You shake your head and turn off the ignition.  “They’re not home.  Plus, we’re not going in the house.”
Luke follows you clumsily as you both make your way into the backyard and towards the fire pit, but you don’t stop.  Instead, you make your way up to the tree-line, to the familiar oak that held so many of your childhood memories. 
“Do you think you’ll be able to climb the ladder, Drunky?” you asked him teasingly.  
Luke snickered.  “Are you kidding? I could climb this thing in my sleep.”
He’s speaking, of course, to the familiarity of the treehouse.  You two had spent so much of your childhood in it, hidden away from all your worries of the world.  You hid from school bullies and math tests and fights between your parents. It was your sanctuary, your own personal solace. 
When you peak your head into the old wooden room, you’re surprised to see how much smaller it looks. Luke actually has to duck his head to fit inside, but once you’re sitting, it’s cozy.  The two of you pass the bottle of Chardonnay back and forth as you sit on an assortment of duvets and comforters that softened the wood paneling. 
“Do you still remember that…um, that guy- that blonde guy,” Luke clicks his tongue as he tries to remember,  “What was his name? Charlie?” Luke slurs, he’s now very drunk. 
You answer with a hum and glazed gaze and Luke quirks a smile before draping an arm around your shoulder.  
“I heard...” Luke drawls, giggling a bit as he squeezes your arm, “He got…married. Like, a year ago.” He laughs again. “God, didn’t you have like…the biggest crush on him once upon a time?”
“I was ten, Luke. Let it go,” you say.
Luke hiccups and nuzzles your neck. “I remember you tellin’ me he smelled like sunshine.” He giggles and snorts and giggles some more. “Sunshine. Like god- what does that even smell like? You were a creepy ten-year-old.”
“And you’re drunk as shit,” you answer.
Luke chuckles and lifts his hand off from your shoulder.  You’re surprised by how cold you feel without it there.  He slides onto the floor then, so that he’s laying flat on his back.  
“I was always so jealous of Charlie.” he whispers.
Something twists inside your stomach.  It’s just the alcohol, you tell yourself. You lay so that you’re next to Luke and lean your head against his shoulder, gazing at his soft features. 
Luke instinctively reaches for your hand and laces your fingers together. 
“The stars-” he notes, staring up.  “The stars are still here.”
You turn to look up at the ceiling and see that he’s right.  The glow in the dark stars you’d stuck on the ceiling remained.   
Two minutes later, Luke’s snoring. You sigh, more fond than anything.
“Sunshine…hm…” Luke mumbles in his sleep a few minutes later. His grip on your hand tightens. “You smell…like sunshine, Y/N.”
You smile.
Charlie did smell like sunshine. His sunny composition and presence always seemed to be able to light up the room whenever he was around. It’s one of the main reasons ten-year-old you had a crush on him in the first place. But the crush lasted no longer than a month. 
You cozy up against Luke’s chest, listening to the soft ticking of his heartbeat underneath his t-shirt.  
He smells like cheap wine and tangerine shampoo.
But above all, Luke smells like sunshine.
You’re 24 and waiting anxiously at the airport with Luke’s mom and dad.  You feel silly holding up the flimsy cardboard sign with bubble letters spelling ‘Alvez’, but you know it’ll make Luke smile- so that was all that mattered.
You hadn’t seen Luke in 4 months, which felt like an entire lifetime.  Your stomach had felt butterflies during the past week and a half, as you anxiously awaited his return.  But now, there was a full on swarm in your abdomen.  
You’re bouncing on your tippy toes when the plane lands, trying to see above the crowd of people that are coming off the plane. 
There’s a man in the distance wearing an army uniform, that you can only assume is Luke, except it doesn’t really look like Luke at all.  This man is taller and his shoulders are broad and muscular.  But as he looks around the airport and spots the neon sign, beckoning him, his eyes finally lock with yours.  There’s no mistaking those mocha orbs.  You barely can feel your own legs as you drop the sign and rush over towards him.  Luke barely has time to set his bags down before you’re launching yourself into his arms, your legs leaving the ground to wind around his waist.  
“Hi,” you say, feeling stupid that you were about to cry. You swallowed hard, trying to tame the urge, but Luke wrapped his arms tightly around your torso and inhaled the smell of your hair, and you felt tears well up behind your eyelids. 
When Luke pulls away, you keep your eyes closed, already embarrassed and trying to keep any tears from falling. 
Luke’s thumb rubs across your cheek. “I missed you.” 
All you could do was nod in return.  But what you were really thinking was, I missed you too. So much. Please don’t leave me again. I love you. 
Luke sighed, then, and kissed your forehead, lips lingering on his skin for a beat longer than normal. You closed your eyes to the touch. “Let’s go home, yeah?”
The ride home from the airport felt short.  You sat in the backseat with Luke while his dad drove, and his mother turned from the front seat to talk with Luke the entire way home.
But you couldn’t help but notice that Luke didn’t have much to say.  
“You look good,” she told him, her red lips smiling wide. “You look strong.”
Luke offers her the slightest nod in affirmation. 
“Wait ‘til you see the driveway, your father’s just got it repaved.  There’s no more bump at the end, so your car won’t bottom out.”
“Oh and the neighbors finally cut down that god-awful maple tree in the front lawn, so we actually get some sun in our yard.”
“And oh my goodness, O’Riley’s closed down! Can you believe it?”
It continues like this.  Luke’s mom fills him in on things that happened in the months he’d been away, and Luke just barely nods to acknowledge it.  You could tell there was something bigger on his mind.  You want to ask him what it is, but you’re too afraid to. 
It comes up anyway. 
You’re sitting around the long, rectangular table that’s been in Luke’s kitchen for as long as you can remember.  There’s a plate of chicken and rice in front of you and you’re about to dig in when Luke clears his throat. 
“I have to tell you guys something,” he says.  
He glances at you first, it’s quick, but you can see the worry in his gaze.  Your stomach knots up and suddenly, you’re not hungry.  
“What is it, mi hijo?” his mom smiles warmly as she plants another large scoop of rice on Luke’s plate. 
“Th-they’re uh- they’re sending me to Iraq.”
His mother lets out a high pitched whimper and his father drops the fork in his hands.  But you- you stay absolutely still. 
“What?” his father gasps. 
“You said no combat!” his mother is already on the verge of hysteria.  
“That was this round, Mama.  I was doing basic training.  But now- now I’ve got to actually serve.” 
She’s shaking her head.  “No, no- Luke, it’s too dangerous!”
“I- I don’t have a choice,” his words are weak and laced with fear.  It was something you’d never heard in his voice before. 
Luke looks to you for comfort, but all you can do is stare down at the colorful plate in front of you, too stunned to speak. 
Your brain was on a loop, the same phrase spinning in your mind like a merry-go-round.  Luke was going to war. Luke was going to war. Luke was going to war. 
You’re 26 when you graduate school and land your dream job. 
You relocate to Washington D.C..  Your eyes are in awe as you drive through the city, the monuments and tall structures visible in the distance. 
Your dad cries when he hugs you goodbye, his arms wrapping around you tightly after helping to unload all your furniture from the U-Haul truck.  
It’s all very exciting- moving to a big city and starting your career.  
But you can’t help but notice that something, someone, was missing. 
... 
Luke is 28 when he gets shot.  
He’s lying, face up in the middle of the desert with a bullet lodged in his chest, and the first thing that enters his mind is you. 
He was going to die and all he could think about was that he’ll never hug you again, never see your warm eyes.  He never got a chance to tell you that he loved you.  
Your face was the last thing he saw before he passed out. 
The next thing Luke knew, he was lying in a hospital bed with sterile, white walls surrounding him.  He blinked up at the ceiling and made an attempt to sit up, but felt a shooting pain down his shoulder and back, so instead he fell against the bed, groaning.  
A nurse appeared above him and started speaking.  
“Can you hear me?”
Luke nods in response. 
She began inspecting him, lifting the neckline of his gown to inspect his shoulder.  Luke grits his teeth.  
“Do you know where you are?” she asks, writing something down on a scrap of paper before looking at him. 
Luke shakes his head.  
“You’re at a military hospital in Germany, everything’s alright, you’re okay,” she clips a heart rate monitor on his index finger before continuing.  “You were shot, the bullet just missed your heart, went clean through your shoulder instead.  You’re very lucky.”
Luke listened as she spoke about his vitals and apparent surgery and the extent of his injury.  After a minute or so, he just kind of tunes her out, her words blending together until one sentence in particular captures his attention. 
“-so once you’re a little more stable, you’ll be able to fly home.”
“Home?” Luke speaks his first words since waking up, his voice is cracked and his lips are dry. 
“That’s right,” she nods.  She explains to him that he would be honorably discharged, the Army feeling like his injury would prevent him from continuing to serve.  He would be sent home. 
Luke was quiet as she went on.  She talks about it like it’s a good thing, like he’s going on vacation, but Luke’s chest sinks.  He was getting sidelined- no, removed from the game altogether.  He felt like a failure and a coward- and what if people back home thought of him like that, too?  
A tiny bullet hole, no more than 10 millimeters wide, was taking the only job he’d ever been good at away from him.  
What would he do?  The army had become his life- his passion.  Where would he work?  Behind a desk?  Watching the clock tick until 5pm everyday?  Luke feels sick at the thought.  
The nurse used the word “lucky” two more times before leaving the room.  But Luke bit his lip, secretly wishing he would’ve just died out there in the desert.  
The plane ride home takes an eternity.  Luke can’t sleep, not even a little bit.  His arm is slung uncomfortably in a sling, and even though his shoulder is better, it still hasn’t fully healed. 
His parents met him at the airport.  It was odd that they were alone.  Every other time he’d visited home, you’d been right there beside them.  
Of course he was excited to see them.  But going home also meant going back to the aimless drifting he’d struggled with before enlisting. The feeling of having no purpose or reason.  
All Luke was ever sure of growing up, was that he loved you.  He watched as you left for college to pursue your passion, and never looked back.  He was happy for you, but it made him feel all the more stuck.  He never had any career goals or plans, and when he pictured his future, the only thing he was ever able to see was you.  
But when he quickly learned that his love would never be requited, that your friendship mattered more, Luke tried finding meaning elsewhere.  
The Army felt good, it felt right.  And Luke did well- he thrived, he moved his way up the ranks quickly.  He finally felt at home, for the first time since you’d left for school.  
Luke decided it was a good thing you weren’t with his parents.  He wasn’t ready to face you.  He wasn’t ready to admit he’d failed, at the one thing he cared about, the one thing he tried at.  
His mother hugged him tight, her arms embracing him just as lovingly as always.  She held him extra long. 
Pulling into his driveway for the first time in over a year and a half felt strange.  
“You painted the house,” he observed.  The classic, signature white color replaced by a dark, navy blue. 
“Yes,” his dad nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt.  “We did that last year.”
Luke nods.  It looked nice, the coat of paint fresh.  But it didn’t look like his home. 
He felt even stranger when he stepped inside to see all the furniture rearranged and everything just looking so different. 
“You knocked down the wall-” Luke noted.  
This time it’s his mother who answered. “Oh yes.  You know all those home improvement shows… always talking about open concept houses,” she mused.  “We decided to try it.  Doesn’t it make everything look bigger?”
Luke hums in response, but all he can think of is that the wall that was knocked down was the one you and him used to mark your height through the years.  He walks over to where it once stood and pauses, thinking back. 
“No, no, do me first!” you were eight years old and had jumped up and down excitedly, before stilling with your back pressed against the wall.  “I know I grew!”
Luke’s dad chuckled softly and made a tiny mark at the edge of the wall right above your head. “Look at that!” he exclaimed.  “You did!”
“Take that Luke!” 
Everything was a competition between the two of you.  
If only you had known back then that he would grow to be almost almost ten inches taller than you.  
Luke blinks the memory away before realizing his mother had asked him something, that he completely missed in his daze. 
“I asked if you were hungry, hijo.”
Luke shakes his head.  
After sleeping on cots, or even the ground for the past year, Luke found it hard to get comfortable in his soft, childhood bed.  He tossed and turned before realizing he was only going to keep getting more and more frustrated if he continued to lay here and try.  It didn’t matter if he didn’t get any sleep, it’s not like he had a job to do the next day. 
He decides to wander downstairs and into the living room, cursing under his breath as he stubs his toe on the edge of the couch.  Damnit, that used to be against the wall, he thought. 
Luke sits on the couch like that for a while, the silence was so loud.  He barely hears the light flick on in the hallway, or his dad approaching.  
“What’re you doing up?”
His father’s voice makes him jump. 
“Oh-” he says, startled.  I feel empty?  I feel alone and scared and lost?  I have no clue what the hell I’m supposed to do now? That was the truth.  But instead, Luke settled for, “My shoulder hurt.”
That seems to satisfy his dad.  
“I’m glad you’re home, son.” He says, joining him on the couch. 
Luke nods and lies through his teeth.  “Me too.” 
A couple of weeks after Luke arrived home, he saw his doctor to get the sling off his arm. After being told he’ll need physical and occupational therapy to fully recover, he signs some papers and heads home. 
When he pulls into the driveway, there’s an unfamiliar car parked in front of the garage with D.C. plates.  He doesn’t have to wonder long, who the mysterious guest is.  As soon as he opens the front door, it’s revealed.  
You’re standing with your back to the door, talking to his mom in the kitchen.  And god, Luke hadn’t been sure if he was ready to see you, but as soon as you turned around, he exhaled a shaky breath that he felt like he’d been holding in since he got home. 
He wants to rush over and pull you into his embrace, wants to hug you and never let go. 
“You’ve been home two weeks?” you ask slowly.  “Two weeks and you never called me?”  There’s hurt in your voice, but you still speak gently. 
Luke fiddles with the keys in his hand and shrugs.  You always took his breath away.  This time, that didn’t work to his advantage.  
You sigh. “Forget it, it doesn't matter.  I’m glad you’re home.”
With that you cross the room, closing the distance between you two.  When he opens his arms, and you still fit perfectly in his embrace, your head resting just above his heart, he finally, after two weeks, feels at home.  
Despite his protests, his mother throws him a welcome home party that evening.  Friends and family file into their two story house, and it’s all a lot to handle, but it’s okay- because you’re there. 
“How’re you doing?” you ask Luke, nudging his shoulder softly.  You’ve got a beer in your hand, which Luke notes as odd.  Last time he saw you, you didn’t drink beer. 
Luke smiles, “I’m good.”
He was getting way too good at lying. 
“So D.C., huh?” Luke asks, taking a sip of his own drink. 
You nod.  “Yeah, yeah I got hired at the firm I did my internship at.  It’s been great, I really like it.”
“Kinda far away,” Luke muses, he hates how petty his own voice sounds. 
You scoff. “So’s Iraq.”
That’s when Luke realizes he never told you why he was home, and that you probably assumed it was just a visit.  He clears his throat and is just about to speak when his cousin comes over, loud and seemingly already drunk. 
“Luke!” he calls.  “Luke! Welcome home, man!”
He pulls Luke in for a hug, making him wince as he pats a little too close to his bullet wound. 
“Your mom told me you were shot!” he boasts, like it’s something Luke should be proud of.  “You gotta tell me that story man!”
Luke notices your head snapping in his direction at the news of his injury- the news that until just now you had been totally oblivious to. 
Luke takes a large sip of his drink.  “Yeah, uh I don’t really remember much.” Another lie. Luke remembers every excruciating detail of that day- and he experiences it all over again every night. “Just went out for a mission then woke up in the hospital.”
There’s an awkward silence. Luke shrugs.  “Probably not the great war story you were expecting.”
You clear your throat before standing up, casually walking away from Luke and his cousin.  He sighs sadly as he watches you go, knowing he had disappointed you yet again. 
When his cousin finally started mingling with other guests, Luke was able to head off in search of you.  If he knew you at all, you’d escaped somewhere quiet, where you could process.  
But then again, you’d both changed. 
Luke finds you on the second floor patio, you’re leaning against the railing and staring straight ahead.  Only when he slides open the glass door do you turn.  
“Hey,” he whispers. 
“Hi,” you reply quietly.  Your voice isn’t nearly as angry as he thought it would be. 
“I- I should have told you I was shot.” 
“Yeah you should have.” You sound like you’re on the verge of tears.  “You could have died.”
He nods slowly.  
You bit your lip. “You also should have told me you were home.”
He nods again. 
But then you sigh, feeling defeated. “And I should have told you I moved to D.C.”
“It’s okay,” he shrugs. 
But you disagree. “We used to tell each other this stuff, Luke.  You used to be the first person I told anything to.” Your voice lowers as you whisper, “What happened to us?”
Luke’s at a loss for words, because he wished he had an answer for you.  He wished he had all the answers for you.  But instead he fumbled with his hands and shrugged. 
You study him up close for a moment.  It was unsettling how his face almost seemed unfamiliar after so much time spent apart.  
“We should get back to the party,” you say. 
Saying goodbye to you that night felt odd for Luke. 
“Think I’m gonna head home,” you told him. “Just wanted to say bye before I left.”
“Okay,” he mumbles, nodding slowly.  
You hugged him tightly, giving his hand one last squeeze before pulling away.  Luke felt unsettled the second that you walked out the door. 
Luke has a nightmare that night, which isn’t unusual.  He’s lying in the desert, with a hole in his chest, bleeding, and no one comes to save him.  And he cries out for help, but instead, more and more sand blows over his body, burying him deeper and deeper within its depths.  He keeps calling out, but his lungs are filling with the stuff.  Suddenly he can’t speak- he’s going to die here-
Luke shoots out of bed, his forehead slick with sweat while he pants.  He rubs his eyes viciously.  It was a dream, he thinks to himself.  Except it wasn’t. 
You’ve been in bed for a few hours when your phone rings on your nightstand, waking you up.  Groggily, you unplug it and check the screen, your eyes narrowing when you see it’s Luke calling you. 
“Luke,” you mumble into the line.  “It’s 2am-”
In response, all you hear is Luke’s unsteady breathing.  It immediately makes you sit up straighter in bed. 
“What’s wrong?” you ask, worry clouding your voice.
He inhales sharply, like he’s- crying?  Luke never cried. 
“Luke-” you plead.
You only wait another moment before you launch yourself out of bed.  “I’m coming over.”
“No,” his voice sounds like it’s on the verge of breaking. “Please- I can’t… I can’t be in this room anymore.”
You sigh, his sad voice making your insides squirm. “Okay,” you whisper.  “Do you want to come here?”
“Can I?” he sounds so small through the line, like he’s just a little kid again.  Suddenly you’re picturing Luke the first day you ever met him, it makes your chest ache.  
“Yeah, of course. Just- be quiet, my parents are sleeping.”
Luke climbs through your childhood window, like he used to when you were kids.   After he stands up straight and you get a good look at him, you sigh softly.  He looks like he quite literally rolled out of bed and walked here, which you suppose is exactly what happened.  He’s in an old t-shirt you recognize from his college days and a pair of sweats that hang low on his hips.  His tight curls are slightly disheveled, like he’d been rolling around on his pillow.  
He stands in your bedroom for the first time in years and even though he’s taller and more muscular, he still looks small.   
Luke looks around your bedroom and smiles weakly.  “It looks exactly the same,” he notes.  
You nod,  “Yeah-”
He doesn’t respond.  Instead he finds his way to your bed, where he sits.  Immediately, he brings his thumb to his lips and starts chewing on the nail, a habit he’s had since childhood.  
You narrow your eyebrows at him. “Luke, what’s going on?” you ask. 
He doesn’t answer right away, and you watch as his leg starts jiggling wildly. 
Finally, he takes a deep breath.  “I don’t know, being home- you’d think I’d be happy? But everything feels so strange and unfamiliar.”
You quietly join him on the edge of your bed, never looking away from him as you sit down. 
“My parents repainted the house.  And I know that doesn’t seem like a big deal, but everything just... looks different.  And they rearranged like, everything.  The cabinets and the furniture, and my dad got a new car.  I don’t know, maybe it’s me.  Maybe I’m different.” 
His pain is so raw and visible that it makes your chest ache, because what Luke feels, you feel too.  You put a shaky hand on his broad shoulder.  
He swallows the lump in his throat.  “I actually miss Iraq.  It was dangerous and far away from home, but I felt like I had a purpose, you know?” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head.  “I keep having this nightmare- where I’m laying in the sand after being shot.” He touches the spot on his chest the bullet burst through.  “And I’m laying there and I can feel it- like I feel the pain and I can feel the warmth of the blood running down my chest-  And I feel like I’m going to die.  Like it’s right there, you know? And then suddenly, all I can think about is you.”
You’re taken aback by Luke’s statement.  
“Me?” you whisper. 
“Since I’ve been home, I’ve just been- god, I’ve been so scared and lost.  But with you, first at the party today, and now- it’s the only time I’ve felt like myself.”
You’re at a loss for words.  Partly because it was two in the morning, but mostly because Luke, to this day, knew exactly what to say to make you flustered. 
He turns in his spot on the bed to look at you, his sad eyes meeting yours. “God, I’ve always just needed you so fucking bad,” he admits.  “I mean, ever since we were kids I’ve needed you.  And I think I always will.” 
You can hear your own pulse in your head, it’s pounding rapidly at Luke’s sudden declaration.  Paralyzed, you just stare at him, trying to process what he was saying to you.
“I thought I was going to die,” he breathes.  Then, he chuckles darkly, turning away.  “Sometimes I wish I had.”
His honesty makes you want to vomit- because the idea of living in a world without Luke was just so, so wrong. 
You bit your lip.  “Show me. Let me see it.”
Luke hesitated briefly before reaching for the hem of his shirt.  He peeled off the fabric revealing the skin that puckered around where the bullet had shot through his body. 
Luke barely felt it when you traced your fingertips over the mark, but he could see, when he turned his head, the tears glistening in your eyes. 
“I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” you said quietly, staring at the scar tissue.  “I don't know what I would have done if you hadn’t come home. I think that would have broken me, so even if you’re not glad you’re alive right now,  I’ll be glad for the both of us.”
Those are the words that make Luke slowly start to lean in closer to you, watching you carefully, as if he expected you to pull away – you realized that’s exactly what Luke was giving you the opportunity to do. You didn’t, of course.  And slowly, Luke’s lips connected with yours.  You kissed gently for a moment– his lips moving in sync with yours.  When he pulls away, he’s breathless. “God, I never thought I’d get to touch you again.”  His hands slide towards your hips, his fingers sliding underneath your shirt so that he’s touching your bare skin.  
Luke deepened the kiss suddenly, his lips growing needier by the second.  He gripped your hips and tugged you towards him swiftly, guiding you all the way to his lap, where you moved to straddle him. 
Luke kept his hands firmly planted on your waistband while yours found their way to his hair.  You tugged on the strands on his neck while trying not to focus on the fact that you could feel him hardening through his sweatpants beneath you.  
Luke broke away, but only so that he could start kissing you down your neck.  You sighed, tilting your head so that Luke could access your throat better. Your arms wrapped around Luke’s strong shoulders, and you kept them there, squeezing his biceps.
Luke’s kisses trailed down towards your collar bone, where he pulled the fabric back, giving him more skin to graze.  He let his fingertips dance to the hem of your shirt, where he tugged gently, a hint that he wanted it gone.  You obliged, gripping the cotton and shedding the layer quickly.  Your hips rolled and you arched your back when Luke started to suckle on the tender skin just above your breast, his tongue snaking down to graze and flick your nipples. 
Your breath was coming in fast as Luke kissed and sucked at your chest. You almost pouted when he pulled away, but before you had a chance, his arms were winding around your waist and he was flipping you onto your back.  
Luke paused for a moment to gaze down at you on the bed, his eyes dark with lust.  
“Beautiful,” he whispered.  
His fingers danced down your hips, barely grazing the skin before reaching the band of your sleep shorts.  
“Please,” you groaned, desperate for Luke to do something- anything.  
Luke hummed, then, and reached underneath your shorts, pulling them down and around your legs in one swift motion. 
Being exposed in front of Luke should have made you feel vulnerable, maybe even a little embarrassed.  But it didn’t.  Instead, you looked up at him, feeling safer than you had in a long time. 
The touch of Luke’s hands down your thighs sent your hips up off the bed, seeking friction and Luke, the jerk – the wonderful, beautiful, perfect jerk – didn’t even warn you before dipping his head between your legs and licking a long stripe up your burning heat.
You gasped, fighting to keep your hips still. You let your fingers find their way into his hair, and Luke gently licked up and down, like he knew exactly how to move to make you squirm. After a moment, you realized that you weren’t going to last long like this, and you needed to feel Luke, all of him before you burst.
“Luke, I -” you whined, pulling at Luke’s hair desperately. Luke sucked down where he knew you were most sensitive. You groaned. Your toes were already curling hard enough to make a joint pop.  “Please, Luke-” you pulled at his hair.  “Want you-”
“I’m right here,” he mumbled against your skin.  
“No,” you shook your head, needing him to understand.  “Want you- in-inside me,” you mumbled. 
Luke looked up from between your thighs, and for a moment you thought you might die right there and then.  Death by oral.  Honestly, you wouldn’t complain.  He licks once more up your entire slit before he crawls up the bed, his arms on either side of you, trapping you underneath him. 
You were looking up at him adoringly, with tears in your eyes. But before you could say another word, Luke was leaning down and kissing you again, murmuring sweet words against your lips that you couldn’t understand, because you were too focused on the way Luke felt so hard against your thigh.  
You let your hand trace down his back, only stopping when they’ve reached his sweats.  Your fingers snake underneath the fabric and tug them down.  Luke reaches down and aids your efforts.  It takes a moment for him to shimmy out of his shorts, but then he’s there.  On top of you.  
 “This okay?” he asks as he lines himself up with you.  
You nod. 
Despite what was literally 20 years of build up, things were sloppy and quick.  There was a certain eagerness in your movements, like you’d both been craving each other for far too long.  Your hand cupped the back of his neck.  Luke presses his forehead against yours right before sliding into you, making you exhale in pleasure.  
“Fuck,” he groans, the words escaping his beautiful, flush lips. 
You hum softly in agreement, it was hard to find the words.  You desperately just wanted to savor this- him. 
Your grip tightens around his neck, your fingers digging into his skin as he hits a certain spot inside of you, your body jolting against his.  
His head dips down to your neck and he begins suckling on your soft skin. 
“Luke,” you moan again, but your voice cracks, betraying you slightly.  
“I know,” he whispers, his hips rocking against yours as he slides in and out of you. 
You bundle the sheets beneath you in a tight fist.  If your eyes weren’t closed, you would have noticed the smirk that lingers on Luke’s lips, knowing it was him that had you writhing like this.  
Your walls begin to tighten around him, the sensation making him bite his lip in pleasure.  
He reaches one of his hands down and gently lifts your leg.  You let out a gasp once he’s able to push deeper inside of you.  
Luke picks up the pace of his thrusts, his own orgasm approaching quickly with yours. 
There’s a guttural feeling building in the pit of your stomach and you know you’re not going to last much longer. 
Luke reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together as he brings your arm above your head. 
“Luke- I’m-” 
He presses his forehead against yours and nods.  “Me too,” is all he can manage to say. 
Luke grunts as he feels your warm walls clench around him.  It’s like a wave washes over your entire body- your back arching into the feeling, your head tilting back in elation.  A final cry escapes your lips, but Luke keeps his hand planted firmly on your hip as you squirm beneath him.  
His thrusts grow sloppier as the same pleasure takes over his own body shortly after.  He twitches inside of you, his arms almost giving out as his orgasm takes over. 
He breathes your name as he reaches his climax, his body shaking from the rush.  
As the feeling subsides, he slowly pulls out of you, flipping his body so that he’s laying on his back, beside you.  You both stare up at the ceiling, panting and out of breath.  
Slowly, he perches himself up on his elbow, his hand tucking a stray hair behind your ear.  You look over at him, your cheeks blushing a bright shade of red.  Gently, he dips down and kisses you softly.  It doesn't last long before he’s pulling away.  
Suddenly, a wave of emotions hits you like a bus, because holding back this secret that you were in love with Luke was exhausting.  You start to cry then. Tears leave hot streaks down your cheeks, but you don’t bother to wipe them.  You barely notice Luke’s face contort into a look of intense worry. 
You wonder if Luke will regret all of this in the morning, because now, you weren’t sure you could ever stop loving him.
“What’s wrong?” Luke’s voice is soft as he sits up in bed.  “Did I hurt you?” his eyes are darting up and down your body anxiously. 
You shake your head frantically, as you sit up with him. Luke takes the throw blanket at the end of your bed and wraps it around your shoulders lovingly.  His arm hovering, like he’s too afraid to touch you.   “I-” you stammer, trying to find the words.  “I-I’m in love with you” You finally blurt out through muffled sobs. “I’m in love with you- and I’m so afraid of that.”
The tension in the air is thick and stiff and if the clock wasn't blinking, you would have guessed time was standing still. But now too many moments are passing by with neither of you saying anything and it is as if both of you can feel the spin of the earth in the silence. 
“A-afraid?” he stutters. 
You nod, biting your lip.  “Afraid because I don’t know how to do this- I don’t know how to live without you- and-”
Fingers suddenly graze across the edge of your chin and Luke’s lifting your head up.  “I have loved you for so long,” he presses his forehead against yours.  
Doubts and reality began clouding your mind.  “But- I live in D.C. now, I have a job there and an apartment- That’s like… like four hours away-”
But Luke shakes his head.  “What if I moved there?”
“What?” you whisper.  “You’d move to D.C. with me?” 
“I’d follow you anywhere,” he states simply.  Reminding you of the day you left him for college. “Who knows?  Maybe there’s something there for me, too.”
His gaze slowly meets yours as he pulls your face towards his own, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The kiss is broken after a second, when Luke pulls back and whispers. “I don’t want to do any of this without you anymore.”
And suddenly, time begins again. 
And you’re pulling Luke back to you, kissing him deeply and without care or caution. He runs his fingers through your feathered hair as more tears of relief stream down your face. Years of restraint finally melting away as he pulls you closer, closer, closer, trying to make up for the lost time and only feeling you press into him as if to say more, more, more. 
And though you’re not quite sure what you’re feeling right now, you know that you want to live in it forever. 
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